(NNPA) - Brazil has long been the best kept secret of the Black Diaspora. Its population of more than 100 million Blacks (51 percent of the total population) makes it at least the second largest Black population in the world. This nation has been a sleeping giant in the global arena but is taking big steps to enter into the distinction of a First World Nation. Right now it is a leader of the emerging Second World nations and takes the leadership role with India at all global and United Nations conferences and summits. Brazil's President Lula da Silva proudly considers himself the leader of "People of Color". On the other hand, Brazil's bid via Rio de Janeiro was a super winner. It vowed to rebuild the slums of Rio and empower the masses. The infrastructure, job opportunities and contractual bidding would be thoroughly diverse and would make the Olympics Committee proud. It was a slam dunk! In the end it was Rio de Janeiro in first place, Madrid in second, Tokyo is third and the stinky Chicago bid dead last.
In this, he's not unlike his counterparts in the United States, where black people also have an extensive vocabulary to describe variations in skin tone. In the United States, one can be "high yellow" (i.e., of very light skin); one can be "red" (i.e., with a reddish tint; one of Malcolm X's early nicknames was "Detroit Red"); or one can be any of a number of synonyms for dark. Like, for instance, "Smokey." In fact, the famous (and "high yellow") Motown singer William Robinson was given that nickname in affectionate irony by one of his father's friends - sort of like calling a fat guy Tiny. The same is not true in Brazil. And if the United States is a country where black people with light skin used to sometimes "pass," i.e., pretend to be white, well, in this country "passing is a national institution." So says Elisa Nascimento with a laugh. She is white, American-born and the wife of Abdias do Nascimento, a 90-year-old black Brazilian artist and political icon. And the insistence of some Brazilian blacks on "passing," she says, has political consequences in that it tends to distort statistics on black life. "The way racism works in Brazil . . . there is a hierarchy, and so people tend to identify themselves lighter than they necessarily would be." "It was a rough time," she says in her imperfect English. "For me, was impossible to live there. We could not be married. Why I married with a black guy, you know? So when I say to you that Brazil was different . . . even my first husband didn't think of himself as black. In Brazil, he was a Brazilian, even though he was black. He never thought of himself as someone different from me because he was another color."
