It’s almost midnight and I’ve arrived at home about an hour ago. I couldn’t get there before the police started to ”’conduct”’ the people to Quinta da Boa Vista Park. We could hear the gas bombs exploding and the shooting, but we couldn’t get through - they had closed every passage way.
Slowly, we managed to conglomerate those that hadn’t been able to pass and the few that had manage to come back; we all met in the subway’s descending ramp (don’t even ask why there’s one, it makes as much sense as you can imagine). After talking for a while - between us, for the police force didn’t reply and didn’t care to hear us - we decided to continue with the protest without the others - as much as our hearts went out for those who were on the other side, being chased inside a park and locked up in it while the police went on with the bombs and rubber bullets, we couldn’t let our fight die.
We closed up the street that lead to Maracanã Stadium (although, when we did, there was no traffic coming) and we sang. We clapped and asked for peace, we asked them to respect us. We asked them not to be violent. The (civillian?) policy created a blockage, cutting one of our ways out, towards the city centre. We kneeled on the street floor, raising our Brazil flags and our posters up high as we sang the National Anthem. We were cheering, asking for a better health system, a better education system. We were singing peacefully, all standing together quietly. There were just a few of us, but we were using our voices for those who had been locked up on the other side of the station.
The Special Ops Police (yes, the same one you’ve seen in Elite Squad), or maybe the shock tropes (it’s hard to tell them apart in the midst of the smoke) came towards us, from the opposite side from where we were facing. One of the journalists warned us, and half of us - that didn’t amount to 200 at this point - turned to one side, the other turned to the other police forces, all of us pleading for them not to use violence.
They didn’t hear us. There was no dialogue. What was there were the sounds of shooting and the gas spreading, six at a time - and the rubber bullets, that initially were shot to the air. Naturally, we spread around, but we were still united, sharing fabric sunk in vinegar to help us breath and asking for peace. We crossed to the other side of the avenue, and some of us (my husband included), knelled with the national flag to ask for peace.
The only peace we got was that they shot above the flag - all the tropes reuniting and trying to surround us. It was impossible not to run, for there was no way to breath. But I need more than oxygen to live - I need freedom and dignity, which they fought to take from us alongside with the air.
We moved away with little organization. One of my friends was hit in the shoulder by a rubber bullet. He is 6.3 feet tall; so imagine how high up they were shooting? Had I take one step to the side, it would have hit my head. We were already spread, but they didn’t stop.
I got lost from my friends as I struggled to find a place I could BREATH - I couldn’t see from the amount of tears that, although had been forced by the police’s weapons, were a honest reflection of how I felt. They stayed behind, still trying to talk to them, while I walked forward, to were the air was still clean from the gas.
I stopped to offer help to a couple girls who seemed to be a few year younger than me - like most of my followers. There were just the three of us, alone, in a street corner when the police came for us, moving away from the boys that were trying to parlé and aiming for us. The gas bomb missed us by an inch, and we moved inside the street in something resembling a jog.
As we turned the corner, there was a young woman crying, clearly having (more than the usual) trouble to breath. She tried to support herself against the police car, clearly dizzy. The policeman pushed her away, telling her he didn’t want anyone there. I had no time to see more, for the black pick-ups were already closing the street and shooting against us. The bullets may be made from rubber, but that doesn’t rub away their violence.
We ran, what else could we have done? We were a few, isolated, targets. On the street, we saw more people running - sorry, not people, mostly girls. About 80% of the people I saw on this street were females. One of the rubber bullets hit my calf - luckily, it didn’t hit properly. It’s not purple, but it is really swollen.
We were lucky that one of the men opened up his bar and asked us inside - for when we reached the other corner of this hardly 900ft long street, the police was waiting, hiding behind the corner. He locked us away from them while they kept on throwing bombs, including inside the other open establishments where babies, children, and whole families ate. If they hadn’t protested, they wouldn’t have stopped.
Getting out of that bar was like stepping into a different world from the one I had just left - everything was quiet, a regular suburban street. People were listening to music, drinking their beer, making their barbecue. There were no policemen. The reporters from one of our portals, Terra, were also there, sending their shooting material and reuniting the rubber bullets and the rests of bombs they had found on that street. It filled up his hand.
It was luck alone that allowed me to meet my friends again - nothing but that. It took us a long while to be willing to walk back to Maracana, all tired, with our eyes and our mouths burning, tachycardia and all the jazz. As we walked back, we saw that some people had managed to remount a small protest party, that sang in the end of one of the streets that leads to the stadium. They were completely peaceful, but still the police surrounded them and didn’t let the other people enter the street. They had dogs, horses, armors and guns against posters and words.
Now, of course, in the midst of the crowd that was leaving the game, in the heart of the international coverage, they did nothing. We had peace at last - not because they respected us, but because they feared that they might inflame the crowd that clapped their hands in support on the other side of the police force and then got stuck in the middle of opposing forces, as we had been.
When it comes to tactics and planning, the police’s actions today were perfect. But we aren’t bandits, we’re part of the people they swore to protect, asking for our rights without shrinking away from our duties.
My eyes and my mouth are still burning, all this hours afterwards - even though I drank tons of liquid. My head is still aching, as is my leg. But this is a small price to pay if you come and join us; to help us avoid out History to repeat itself. 1964 was just yesterday, and it started the same way - and soon we were stuck in a dictatorship, all our basic rights denied. 1968 was just this other day, and the police did the same to people all over the world as they tried to fight for a better life. Don’t let it happen again - help us raise awareness to this situation.
Vem pra rua, and changebrazil
We need your help. We -really- need your help. No need to do anything but reblog. Our ship is being sunk by itself and we need you to help us not to drown.
I just watched this video and I’m feeling so tired and disgusted. I don’t know if all my followers know but I’m a brazilian, and I just want you all to please watch this. Please.
I know what is happening, I know how this country is FUCKED UP. I know that a lot of people mock us, tell shit about us and it makes me really angry and sad… but then I remember how many bad things are happening a long time ago. How we are treat like stupids, how our health care, education, transport, pretty much all of the things, are in a really bad situation and needs improvement right now, and I just feel tired. I’m sick of this I’M SICK OF WE BEING TREATED LIKE THIS IN OUR OWN COUNTRY AND I REALLY WANTED TO BE WITH THESE ONES WHO ARE PROTESTING, BUT I’M SADLY NOT(YET). BUT I FEEL PROUD BECAUSE THESE PEOPLE ARE THERE! THEY’RE DOING SOMETHING! Some people say ”But god! The government just increased the price of the bus some cents, that’s not so much” YEAH, BUT OUR TRANSPORT IS AWFUL, ALWAYS CROWDED, NOT COMFORTABLE AND WE’RE PAYING MORE AND MORE AND MORE. THAT IS NOT RIGHT. And in this video, they are just protesting, claiming for NO VIOLENCE! NO FUCKING VIOLENCE! AND THE POLICE THROWS GAS BOMBS AT THEM I MEAN WHAT THE HELL IS THAT. JUST WHAT?!!! THEY WERE DOING NOTHING! JUST USING THEIR RIGHTS TO PROTEST AND SHOW THEIR OPINIONS. And is always like that, it is not the first time. I want this to stop! Not the people protesting, but this violence! I want this people to be taken seriously. Is not just ”LOW THE PRICE” BUT WE TRYING TO MAKE THEM TO DO SOMETHING, WE WANT OUR FUCKING CORRUPTED GOVERNMENT TO REALIZE THAT WE’RE FUCKING TIRED OF EVERYTHING BEING LIKE THIS AND THAT WE WANT THEM TO RESOLVE ALL OF THAT.
AND WE ARE ALSO GOING TO HOST THE WORLD CUP!!! SOMETIMES I LAUGH JUST TO NOT CRY BECAUSE OF THIS. THEY CARE MORE ABOUT THE STADIUMS! WHAT ABOUT THE FUCKING REST? I’M SICK I’M JUST SICK OF THIS! So are these people in the video. I can’t believe how they were treated in it, jfc! AND THIS COUNTRY IS A DEMOCRATIC ONE. I DON’T EVEN WANT TO IMAGINE WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF WE WEREN’T.
I’m so angry because of this video… police is here to protect us, not to shot us, throw things at us.
I want these people to be remembered, because they’re starting something that I honestly think is going to make our voice be heard and things will start changing. I really hope that this happen. We can make our voice be heard. We can change it. And we will.
“all slytherins are evil”
“all gryffindors are good guys”
“ravenclaws are nothing but nerds”
“hufflepuffs don’t do anything”
Name one evil Gryffindor. One.
peTER PETTIGREW YOU LITTLE SHIT DO NOT QUESTION ME
Now, that’s easy. What I’m yet to find is a truly stupid Ravenclaw.
So yesterday I was in St Andrews and I climbed to the top of St Rule’s tower and this was carved into the railing at the top. I’m really glad I was the only one up there because I let out a little squeak and started giggling like a maniac. ALL MY STUDENT PRINCE FEELINGS. ALL OF THEM.
have you ever cried over a character
i don’t mean in the way a lot of people say like “OMG ALL MY FEELS MY CREYS”
have you ever felt such emotion towards a character that you just cried
because you wanted to be with them and help them and make them feel better
because they’ve helped you so much but you can never do the same for them
You just broke me, congrats.