A essa altura, outros amigos fotógrafos intervieram para tentar acalmar os ânimos e também começaram a ser agredidos verbalmente pelas pessoas que se amontoavam ali.

Os policiais próximos do tumulto fizeram o que passaram o dia todo fazendo: Ficaram de paisagem.

Os gritos cessaram e segundo alguns que estavam ali e afirmaram categoricamente, eu era um petista. Engraçado pensar que eu nem sabia que o era, até porque eu justifiquei meu voto nas últimas eleições (mas votaria na Dilma se tivesse votado).

Hoje senti na pele a tal da polarização que tanto se fala. Ou você é uma coisa ou você é outra e ponto final. Alguns amigos disseram que eu havia vacilado em entrar na pilha do velho (velho no sentido de retrógrado e anacrônico e também da idade), mas chega uma hora que não dá para ouvir tanta besteira e se calar.

Sempre pensei que o trabalho de um fotojornalista é o de mostrar a realidade e provocar mudanças, mas além de disso acho que o principal é não perder a capacidade de se indignar com as injustiças.

Posso ter errado do ponto de vista jornalístico, profissional, porém não me arrependo e faria tudo de novo se fosse necessário.

O Brasil está ferrado como está? Sim, sem dúvida alguma, mas se essas pessoas são a única solução, então infelizmente o país tem um triste futuro pela frente.

E quando eu estava indo embora, cutucaram meu ombro. Uma moça que estava ali e que eu nunca tinha visto. Ela estava ali para encontrar com o namorado e não me conhecia, mas quando me virei para ela, me deu um sorriso e disse:

— Parabéns pela coragem em enfrentar eles pelo que é certo.

Errei? Talvez tenha errado, mas quer saber? Foda-se, não tem preço a consciência tranquila por ter feito o que é certo.

Ou pelo menos o que acredito ser.

Eu fotografando de cima de um trio-elétrico. Foto: Fernando DK

ENGLISH VERSION

The day I was called ‘petista’

Everybody has limits, even the jornalists and photographers, and even though it is hard to reach it, today I did.

And crossed its line.

I will start this text with two apologies:

1st — I know that several times I have criticized the attitudes of some photographers that let themselves be carried away by the heat of the moment when they should only observe and register, but today I was the one who saw myself in that situation;

2nd — I will not use journalistic language in this text. Since I have already crossed the boundries once, I will seize the opportunity, so prepare yourselves, I will not hold my tongue.

Well, I knew today would be a bizarre episode, full of things that as friend of mine would say (nice regards to you my dear friend Americo), would make a monkey throw up.

Usually I adopt a political attitude to only register photographically the events without any interference, no questioning nor interfering beyond necessary for the job, but I think everybody has limits, besides I have already left behind a long time ago the illusion that impartial journalism exist. By the way, this was a nice discovery, because I could understand that I can take a side and still do a good jornalistic job.

(Photo)

“The frying pan was made in France and the wooden spoon in Italy, but I bought them with my money. “ said the lady’s companion.

By the afternoon, a Free Journalist ‘s group member decided to perform where a Brazilian flag was extended and a person laid over it, all covered up of blood (ketchup by the way) while her mother mourned her death. After that, a post was hang with the saying ‘Red is missing in this flag’. This is for sure that anyone with a minimum of common sense would have noticed that it was referring to the slaughter happened at the weekend in Barueri and Osasco, but since the ‘blood ‘ was red, that was enough to decree that they were ‘petitas’. With no judgment, no chance of defending, just a jury/judge/ executor, or better saying, a bunch of dumb people that had no idea of what were saying.

(Photo )

Performance done by journalists members criticizing the violence in the slums and the murders happened this weekend in Barueri and Osasco.

Of course I am not naive to think that this performance regardless it has a critic and ‘policized’ background, had some teasing, but so far it should not be a problem since everyone said it was a pacific and democratic protest (need urgently to review the concept of democratic) besides they did not mention “the ones that should not be named “ (just so there are no doubts, I am talking about Dilma, Lula, and PT)

During the performance, while the actress was laid down, two people of those good souls decided to join it in a way of their understanding of democracy: a lady in her 40s, very well dressed decided to paint the actress’s forehead with the paints she was carrying. Another guy, more euphoric, got a plastic cup, also full of paint, and threw at her.

The actress, as good dead, did not move, did not complain, just kept herself motionless, doing her job and showing them the reality that most people would rather ignore.

(Photo)

Protesters paint and throw paint at the actress during the performance criticizing the violence against the black young people in the slums.

When the actress stood up at the end of the performance, she remained still, just starting and ignoring the screams that called her bandit, hooker, thief and other names.

As it was not enough, another protester decided to put a sticker on her forehead, trying poorly to draw attention or possibly what scares me most, of thinking that he was doing something good, something right.

(Photo)

A protestor puts a sticker on the actress forehead during the act criticizing the violence in the slums

After that, I moved towards the gentleman who threw the paint on the actress and also the lady who painted her face and asked if I could record their statement about what happened and also about what they did.

The dude (this is how I will call him since he did not want to tell me his name ) said “no dude, better not “ and the lady said “I don’t want, I don’t authorize it.” Then I asked them why they had the courage to throw the paint, but did not have the same courage to speak and to be recorded, and the answer was the first drop out of my limit control.

The dude calls me quietly and whispers in my ears that he did not want to speak because he had already been part of political parts and this would be frown upon. Weird, isn’t? Throwing paint at someone isn’t frown upon, but giving an interview telling what they had done that is really frown upon.

The lady said she did it because it was a ‘petista’ teasing, then I said that the act did not have to do with PT and that was a critism of the murders that happened in the weekend.

Very politely (and arrogantly) she told me it was not the right place for it. If they wanted to protest they should go to Osasco instead of in Paulista. I felt pity (about the human being she is) and I asked if the violence in the slums should not be taken to the streets, but she said “no, slums issues should be solved in the slums” and after saying this phrase full of kindness, democracy and justice (it is good to remember that from on an on we could hear in the parades someone saying that they were not there because they carried about themselves, but because they want a better country for everyone) she ceased talking by saying “you don’t agree with me, and I don’t with you, so there’s no reason to talk.” I am not sure, but for me it sounded like ‘you are with me or against me.’

(Photo)

Selfies and photos with the policemen of ‘tropa de choque’ that posed next to the blinders tank recently bought were common during the whole day.

I left the place and went to the corner where the actors had gone to keep on the intervention, nearby some policemen.

Once again they were followed by several people that kept with their demand screams (the names I told earlier, remember? ‘Petistas’, hooker, thief, miserable, and other names. Remember?) By this time I was frustrated and sick and tired of it, but still kept being determined to only observe until the moment I heard a gentleman who is his 60s calling them ‘petitas’. I stopped and asked (believe me, I was polite) if he knew it was critic to the slaughter that happened in Osasco and what he thought about it.

“It’s very good they did it. They had to kill indeed. “

That was it, then all my patience and tolerance were gone. Another man of the same age came to say that the slaughter was drug dealer killing drug dealer, and I said no, that was the police job for certain.

Done, the politeness was over. Between questions if I knew what was an enquiry and that the newspapers lied, it came to a point in which I was a “fool” and soon I was a trash and God knows what else. Then I confess that I was sick and tired of this and started to argue.

Was I wrong? Maybe, but I am not meek and mild and it took a while to get mad. It was insane arguing with him, disconnect arguments, a blind anger with no sense. When he scold me for the first time I asked if had ofended him or if he knew me to say that kind of thing. He said I was ‘petista’ and that I was photographing for free. I told him I was not, I was taking photos for an agency and then he asks me if want to photograph a birthday or a weeding for free.

Someone could understand it?

Then I started to joke and said he should play bingo or feed the pigeons instead of being there talking nonsense, but since I am not a bad person I also told him he should control himself especially in his age so he doesn’t suffer a heat attack (I was being ironic in case someone did not notice it.)

It would be funny if it was not tragic hearing an old man (but remember the mean people also get old) said:

This is a pacific and respectful protest. You bullshit!

If this is a respectful and pacific protest I would like to know in his point of view what is an agressive and disrespectful one. No, actually I don’t.

(Photo)

Protester dressed up as ‘capitain america’ an another asking the American president, Barack Obama, for help.

By this moment some photographers coleagues came by to calm things down and also were scolded by the people around it.

The policemen nearby spend the day doing the same thing: just standing.

The screaming ceased, and according to some people who were there said I was ‘petista’. Funny thinking that I did not know what was it, even though I justified my vote in the last elections (but I would have voted in Dilma if had voted).

Today I felt the polarization so much talked about. You are either one thing or the other, and that is it. Some friends told me I made a mistake of arguing with the old guy. But sometimes it is hard to hear so many foolish things and hold our tongue.

I always thought that a photo jornalistic job is to show the reality and make changes, but besides it I think the main thing is not to loose the capacity of getting angry with the injustice.

I may have been wrong in the professional and journalistic point of view, but I don’t regret it, and would do everything again if needed.

Is Brazil so bad as it is? Yes, no doubts of that, but if those people are the only solution, then unfortunately the country has a sad future ahead.

And when I was leaving, I was poked on the shoulder by a lady who was there and who I have never seen before.

She was there to meet with her boyfriend and she did not know me neither, but when I turned to her, she smiled and said:

- Congratulations for your courage facing them for what is right.

Did I made a mistake? Maybe I did, but you know what? I don’t care, there is no price for a peaceful mind for doing the right thing.

Or at least for what I believe it is.