by Jill Langlois

It was 2021 and the bus heading to the Indigenous Women’s March was silent. The 15-hour ride from Belo Horizonte to Brasília was usually rich with spiritual songs and stories, sung and told by the dozens of women representing several of Brazil’s 305 Indigenous peoples – but this year was different.

The masks they wore to protect themselves from Covid-19 made sharing difficult, and the focus of their trip that September was particularly sombre. Just one month earlier, Daiane Griá Sales, a 14-year-old girl from the Kaingang people, and Raissa da Silva Cabreira, an 11-year-old Guarani-Kaiowá girl, were sexually assaulted and killed in crimes that took place in two separate regions of Brazil. 

This time, the group headed to the event – which brings together thousands of women from across the country, drawing attention to violations of their rights, the importance of gender equality and the preservation of Indigenous cultures – wanted justice for the young Indigenous girls, for all those who came before them and who they were sure would come after.

“The March removes the invisibility of Indigenous women and girls,” says Avelin Buniacá Kambiwá, who was on the bus to Brasília that day. “Within the broader Indigenous movement – the fight for territory, demarcation, the fight against exploitation and invasion – women end up being somewhat invisible, even though we are the ones on the frontline. Even though it’s our girls who pay the highest price. We can’t let Daiane and Raissa be forgotten and we can’t let this ever happen again.”

There were 394 femicides of Indigenous women and teenagers between 2003 and 2022, according to a study conducted by the Federal University of Paraná in partnership with the Ministry of Indigenous Peoples. Of  those, 149 were in the state of Mato Grosso do Sul, where Cabreira was killed.

The extreme level of violence directed at Indigenous women and girls across Brazil is something the women themselves have long been aware of, but also something they are sure hasn’t been getting the attention it deserves.

The first march was held in 2019. Photo: Katie Mähler/Apib Comunicação. CC BY-SA 2.0.

“We knew we had to step up and do something to protect ourselves, to protect one another,” says Kambiwá. “When we, as Indigenous women, decide to go out and raise our voices, under our own banner and focusing on different issues based on the contexts of each woman’s life and reality, we can bring more visibility to the cause, and above all, more courage to talk about what’s happening and denounce it.”

The lack of attention on the lives and wellbeing of Indigenous women and girls, as well as the importance of their role in protecting their own cultures and land, is what pushed the National Articulation of Indigenous Ancestral Warrior Women, better known as ANMIGA, to organize the first Indigenous Women’s March in 2019. An organization of Indigenous women from every region of the country, it has become a reference for how to create dialogue about the rights and roles of Indigenous women led by the women themselves.

Now in its fourth edition, the march, which takes place every other year, is not only for Indigenous women to gather and discuss the most pressing issues they face amongst themselves. It’s also meant to put pressure on politicians and other decisionmakers in hopes of making real change.

In 2023, a special session of parliament was held for the women.
Photo: Gian Martins/Mídia NINJA. CC BY-SA 2.0.

On the first day of the 2023 March, more than 500 Indigenous women occupied the National Congress and witnessed Indigenous Congresswoman Célia Xakriabá file Bill 4381/2023, which establishes a policy to combat violence against Indigenous women. It was the first time a bill was translated into an Indigenous language in the history of the Brazilian parliament.

“Where there is struggle, we go, where there are women crying out, we go,” Xakriabá said at the time. “Defending Indigenous women is defending the land; it is defending the planet.”

Another historic moment during the 2023 march, made up of some 8,000 women, happened on its last day, when it finished with a roundtable discussion where five government ministers, including those representing the Ministry of Indigenous Peoples and the Women’s Ministry, signed a set of acts to implement public policies to protect Indigenous women. In particular, some were directed at assisting Indigenous women in situations of violence with specialised services that address the specific needs of women living on Indigenous territories.

Photo: Katie Mähler/Apib Comunicação. CC BY-SA 2.0.

ANMIGA hopes this year’s Indigenous Women’s March will have just as much impact. Called “Our Bodies, Our Territories,” it’s set to take place from Aug. 4 to 8 and, for the first time, will have a partner event: the first National Indigenous Women’s Conference.

Almost four years after the murder of 14-year-old Sales, the man who sexually assaulted and killed the young teen was convicted and sentenced to 36 years in prison. Kambiwá says it’s exceedingly rare for a white man to be convicted of committing this type of crime against an Indigenous girl.

“I’m at every March for my mum, for my grandma, for my great-grandma, and for those who are to come: my daughters, my granddaughters, my great-granddaughters,” says Kambiwá. “I’m part of this movement in honor and in service of women – of who we are and who we will be. It’s almost a duty to be here.”

– Jill Langlois is an independent journalist based in São Paulo.

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