Featuring Juliana Tupinambá. Fall 2024

Abstract:

Juliana, a woman of the Tupinambá people from Olivença in Bahia, offers a powerful account of historical injustice and present-day resistance rooted in her community’s deep connection to territory. Speaking from lived experience, she interweaves personal testimony, political critique, and anthropological reflections to expose the long arc of violence that has marked the lives of her people— from first contact with European colonizers to the contemporary criminalization of Indigenous movements. Her narrative reframes the Tupinambá struggle not only as a fight for land, but as a demand for memory, self-determination, and environmental justice. She recounts how the Tupinambá were among the first Indigenous peoples to be invaded and enslaved, paralleling the exploitation of Brazilwood with the exploitation of her ancestors. In southern Bahia, colonial strategies forcibly grouped different Indigenous peoples under designations such as “Pataxó Hã Hã Hãe” and erased others through labels like “Caboclos” Despite this, the Tupinambá never left their ancestral territory and, in the 1990s, began a grassroots process of cultural resurgence and territorial reoccupation. Their official recognition by the Brazilian state in 2002 was not the beginning, but a milestone in a centuries-old resistance. Juliana places particular emphasis on the Tupinambá Cloak, recently returned to Brazil, as a sacred being rather than an artifact — an elder embodying the history, knowledge, and spiritual continuity of her people. Its repatriation is framed as both a political and ancestral victory, closely tied to the community’s right to territory and autonomy. The talk also highlights how cultural resilience sustains the Tupinambá struggle. Ceremonies like the “pulling of the mast” are described as acts of spiritual guardianship that reflect both ancestral cosmology and adaptive resistance. These rituals, often syncretic due to centuries of religious suppression, affirm that cultural practices and territorial defense are inseparable. Juliana denounces the criminalization of Indigenous leaders, particularly in Bahia, where paramilitary violence is often supported by state complicity. She critiques the legal and political frameworks that deny recognition to communities deemed “integrated” or “mixed,” exposing how such classifications serve agribusiness interests and perpetuate exclusion. Closing with a call for global solidarity, Juliana situates the Tupinambá struggle within a planetary urgency. Indigenous territories are bastions of ecological conservation and cultural wisdom. Defending them is not symbolic — it is essential to ensuring a livable future. In her words, justice for Indigenous peoples is justice for the Earth. Demarcation of Indigenous lands is not only an Indigenous right — it is a collective necessity.

Introduction:

Juliana, a woman of the Tupinambá people of Olivença in Bahia, Brazil, speaks from a place of living memory, resistance, and intimate knowledge of her territory. Her narrative reclaims the history and ongoing struggle of her people, one of the first to encounter colonization in what is now Brazil. Juliana states: “We were the first to be colonized, the first to be enslaved, the first to be raped and murdered. And yet, we are still here.” By interweaving the legacy of invasion with present-day legal threats and violence, she situates the Tupinambá struggle within a broader framework of environmental justice, cultural survival, and political resistance.

A Legacy of First Contact:

The Tupinambá people were among the first Indigenous nations to be invaded, enslaved, and violated by European colonizers. Juliana draws a direct parallel between the exploitation of Brazilwood (Pau-Brasil) — the first tree to be extracted in large scale from the land — and the exploitation of her people. As Juliana explains: “The first thing to be extracted from Brazil was the Pau-Brasil tree, but what they were really taking was our people — our blood, our knowledge, our land.” Before the enslavement of African peoples became the dominant labor system in Brazil, the colonizers had already attempted to enslave Indigenous communities, especially those of the Tupi and Macro-Jê language families along the coast. In southern Bahia, this history is inscribed in the landscape and continues to shape political and cultural realities. The region includes the Tupinambá territories of Olivença and Belmonte, and the Caramuru-Paraguaçu Reserve, where multiple Indigenous peoples, including the Kamakã, Kariri-Sapuyá, and Tupinambá, were forcibly relocated and grouped under the designation Pataxó Hã Hã Hãe. This imposed identity, Juliana explains, was a colonial strategy to dispossess peoples of their ancestral lands and erase their specific histories and languages. Despite these attempts, the Tupinambá of Olivença never left their territory. Their continued presence was strategically denied through the classification of “Caboclos de Olivença,” which aimed to strip them of their Indigenous identity and facilitate land grabs. In the 1990s, they began a resurgence grounded in both cultural revitalization and territorial reoccupation. Their official recognition by the Brazilian state in 2002 marked a turning point in a long-standing grassroots struggle.

Reparative Memory and Cultural Resilience:

One symbolic cornerstone of this movement is the return of the Tupinambá Cloak. Far from being a mere object, the cloak is recognized as an elder — an entity imbued with the science, history, and spirituality of the Tupinambá people. Its presence in Brazil, even though not yet in Olivença, is understood as an act of political and spiritual reparation. Juliana recounts that, since the early 2000s, elder Amotara has led the community’s efforts to demand the cloak’s return. For the Tupinambá, this return is intimately tied to their right to territory and self-governance. The cloak’s return is seen not only as a symbolic victory but as a reaffirmation of the right to exist, resist, and govern according to ancestral principles. As Juliana affirms: “It’s not just a piece of clothing. That cloak is a person, an elder. It holds the strength of our ancestors, our memory, and our science.” This reverence for ancestral memory is inseparable from cultural practices that have endured despite centuries of suppression. The colonization process sought to erase not just lands but languages, traditions, and cosmologies. Juliana highlights the concept of “memoricide” — the destruction of collective memory — and its lasting impacts. Yet, the Tupinambá continue to perform rituals and ceremonies that affirm their cultural survival. A powerful example is the “pulling of the mast,” a ceremony today infused with Catholic elements but rooted in Indigenous cosmology. Once based on the traditional log race, the current version involves bringing a large mast from the forest or the sea to the center of the village, symbolizing protection and ancestral strength for the community. It embodies how cultural practices have been resignified, preserving their spiritual essence while adapting to centuries of suppression. In Juliana’s words: “Our culture was never extinguished. It was hidden, camouflaged — but it never died.” Even as the state refused to recognize many Indigenous peoples, especially in the Northeast, until the late 20th century, the Tupinambá and other communities maintained their cultural life in covert and strategic ways. The current resurgence of Indigenous identities in Bahia reflects decades of cultural continuity and territorial resistance. The reoccupation of ancestral lands has gone hand in hand with revitalized ceremonies, language recovery, and renewed demands for recognition.

Environmental Guardianship and the Criminalization of the Movements:

Juliana draws a clear connection between Indigenous land rights and environmental protection. In the face of intensifying wildfires and deforestation, she emphasizes that Indigenous territories remain the most preserved ecosystems in Brazil. These lands are not only central to cultural identity— they are essential for climate stability. Yet, these guardians face a barrage of threats. In southern Bahia, criminal militias often act with the complicity of state forces to intimidate, attack, and delegitimize Indigenous communities. Juliana denounces the criminalization of Indigenous leaders and the planting of false evidence to frame them as criminals. The media, in many cases, reinforces these narratives, portraying Indigenous peoples as “fake” or as land invaders. This violence is underpinned by a persistent policy of integrationism, in which only those groups deemed “pure” or “isolated” by state authorities are considered deserving of land rights. Juliana rejects this framework, affirming that all Indigenous peoples — urban, mixed, or isolated — have the right to territory and recognition. These distinctions, she explains, serve the interests of agribusiness and development projects, enabling the legal occupation of Indigenous lands by denying their occupants’ legitimacy. “This denial of the identity of being ethnic — it is not by chance. It is entirely correlated with the territorial issue. If these people are not recognized as Indigenous, this does not guarantee them the right to their territory.” Central to this conflict is the “temporal framework” (marco temporal), a legal thesis that denies rights to Indigenous peoples who were not occupying their lands on the exact date of the 1988 Constitution. Although the Supreme Court ruled the thesis unconstitutional, Congress passed Law 14.701, opening the door to leasing, land grabbing, and the rollback of demarcations. A similar threat looms in the form of PEC 48, which would further institutionalize these exclusions. Juliana also critiques the establishment of a Conciliation Chamber under the Judiciary, which she views not as a forum for genuine dialogue but as a tool to undermine Indigenous rights. Rather than external arbitration, she insists, Indigenous movements must be protagonists in determining the future of their territories. 

Colonial Continuities: From Invasion to “Legalized” Land Grabbing:

Despite appearances of progress, Juliana affirms that colonial violence persists in rebranded forms. As she puts it: “Even though the nomenclatures have changed, we still remain in that time of 1500, when the invasion occurred. What was once called commercialization is now called capitalism. What was once an invasion is now sanctioned by legislation that allows the continued theft of Indigenous lands — even those already demarcated.” This enduring colonial logic is now embedded in legal frameworks that legitimize territorial theft. Slavery has morphed into structural racism and economic exclusion. The suppression of religious freedom and cultural expression has been replaced by policies that erase Indigenous identities and restrict their rights. She explains how miscegenation and forced integration were systematically employed to erase Indigenous presence, especially in the Northeast. The classification of “integrated” versus “isolated” Indigenous peoples continues to shape who is recognized and whose claims are honored. These frameworks are not neutral; they are tools of exclusion that serve capital interests. Yet Juliana affirms that the Northeast today is a powerful front of re-existence, where communities long considered extinct are asserting their histories and reclaiming their futures.

Climate Justice and the Collective Future:

Juliana closes with an urgent call to action: “Aligning and supporting the demarcation of territories for Indigenous peoples is also supporting the survival of humanity. It is supporting us to have again — and to continue having — the ability to breathe, this breath that is life. And there is no life without a standing tree.” In her view, the struggle for Indigenous rights and the demarcation of Indigenous lands is not merely about legal recognition; it forms part of a broader planetary agenda for climate justice. In the face of ecological collapse, Indigenous territories are vital sanctuaries of biodiversity and sustainability. Without standing forests, there is no breathable air; without water, there is no future. Indigenous knowledge and stewardship, she argues, are indispensable to crafting effective responses to today’s environmental crises. The answers will not come from abstract science or corporate summits, Juliana reminds us, but from listening to those who have always known how to live with the land. Justice for the Tupinambá is inseparable from justice for the Earth. 

The complete lecture can be accessed at: