Qual o destino das personagens que criamos
Translator: Leonardo Silva
Reviewer: David DeRuwe
Hi everyone!
It’s Mauro Sousa speaking.
I have a story to tell you,
a story that is really important to me.
I call this story “Mariana’s Destiny.”
This story started in my mother’s womb -
yes, when I was inside her womb -
and, according to her,
I was in a position
where the ultrasound couldn’t identify
whether I was a boy or a girl.
She got just one ultrasound test
throughout her whole pregnancy.
So, until that moment,
I was a huge question mark for them.
But as my father was coming
from having six daughters before me -
six female children -
they were almost certain
I’d be the seventh, right?
So, even not knowing for sure,
that’s what they were anticipating.
That’s why, until the day I was born,
my name was Mariana.
My parents had not only decided
that my name would be Mariana,
but they were also picturing
Mariana’s destiny:
“She’ll have a great childhood,
good education, good college degree,
she’ll work -
so long as she keeps
the family business going -
she’ll get married, have children,
and she’ll live happily ever after.”
It’s worth mentioning that my parents
could afford to plan that for a daughter.
So that was from the perspective
of an economically privileged family.
Mariana, in this story,
represents exactly
all of those expectations
that had been built up for me
before I had even been born, you know.
So Mariana was a prototype;
she was the role model.
Because I’ll tell you what, folks:
being unsure about something
is always uncomfortable.
So we come up with names, answers,
we develop theories,
we create characters, or gods -
all because we’re afraid of the unkown.
So that’s how Mariana was created.
The year was 1986,
and the world’s reality
already dictated pattens to be followed.
Brazil had just been through
the dictatorship regime,
so sexism was already around,
dominating the collective unconscious.
Not that it’s different now,
but at that time, it was worse.
AIDS was spreading around the world
as the “gay cancer.”
Madonna was at the top of the charts,
breaking down taboos.
Denim jean outfits were everywhere.
The economy was weak.
And “Turma da Mônica”
was booming, you know.
The trademark that my father,
Mauricio de Sousa, had created
already was nationally known.
It was already putting out books, comics,
films, products, even TV shows -
that is, it was a success, an empire.
My father was already a reference
as an enterprising artist.
And there I was - or rather, Mariana -
amidst all of that,
about to be born.
And there’s something unique
about this story, my story -
I think, by the way, that that’s why
I’m here giving this TEDx talk.
Because I was born
to Mauricio de Sousa’s family,
I’m one of the characters
in “Turma da Mônica.”
So everyone already knew who I was,
without me having to do anything.
What I am, what I do, what I say
carries weight in itself,
and people’s expectations
about me are already high,
just to live up to this position
of “the son of Mauricio”.
It’s like I’m a high jump athlete
whose goal is to jump higher
than everyone else,
except that instead of starting
with the bar set low
and gradually going higher,
the bar I had to jump over was high
from the very beginning.
So I had to be someone already,
even though I wasn’t, yet.
But the question is:
is it a burden or a gift
to have your destiny plotted for you?
Then, finally, I was born!
“It’s a boy! It’s a boy!”
the doctor shouted,
grabbing me from my mother’s womb.
My father was holding a camera,
one of those old cameras,
and he was so thrilled
that he dropped the camera -
and that was recorded.
But then, I wasn’t Mariana.
I wasn’t what they
had dreamed about for nine months.
Not that that was a problem,
but, still, that was kind of
the first deconstruction of myself.
And at that moment,
this new gender didn’t change
the course of things much
because as it turned out, as a little kid,
I could already speak English,
I already played sports,
I already played musical instruments,
I studied in the best schools,
I was healthy -
all of this so that I could be
that perfect person,
just like Mariana.
I’m so grateful for all those
opportunities that I was provided with,
but I wasn’t Mariana.
And then?
Then Mariana became
my own unconscious judge,
like that tiny little devil
or that tiny little ghost
speaking in your ears or your mind,
sentencing you if you deviate
from the norms of the system.
After all, I was predestined.
So even when I was still very little,
I already had to face dos and don’ts.
At eight, nine years old, for example,
I loved to play with Barbie dolls,
with my sister Marina.
So, I would comb their hair,
I would change their clothes,
I would do “fashion shows” -
to me, that was awesome -
but I would play secretly
because Mariana already reprimanded me:
“Boys play with toy cars.”
It might sound like a silly example,
like a minor thing,
but to me, it wasn’t.
The conflict between wanting to play,
not allowing myself to,
and not understanding exactly why
made me become a child
who was much more insecure,
more isolated, and more frustrated -
and no kid deserves that.
I really believe in free childhood.
I couldn’t even be fat.
At the age of 12, I already weighed
more than what I weigh today.
So I’d wear baggy clothes.
I’d tie sweatshirts around my waist
like this to hide it, even in the summer.
I would -
Well,
I wanted to be like the Barbie dolls,
that were thin and blonde.
And Mariana would confirm that.
She’d say, “Mauro, you’ve got to be thin.”
By playing with the dolls,
I would magically become them,
since being myself
wasn’t that interesting.
It was around that time,
at about the age of 12,
that I realized that I was gay.
As homosexuality wasn’t discussed
in schools, on TV, at home, anywhere -
or rather, it was discussed,
but always in a pejorative way -
that was how I felt,
like an embarrassment.
I felt sorry for myself.
Although I hadn’t been born
to a religious family,
and hadn’t had a religious
or confessional education -
in a country that is religious though -
Mariana would warn me,
“God created man and woman.
Gays can’t raise a family,
can’t procreate -
it’s a sin.”
That’s what it was like for me
until I turned 18.
That was when I finally came out
to my family and to my friends.
So years of lies had passed,
years of pain,
of hiding, of living in the closet.
I envied Mariana.
I hated her.
But what I didn’t know
was that while I
was figuring out the world,
my parents were figuring me out.
Unlike me, they already saw Mauro.
They no longer saw Mariana,
especially my mother.
Always very attentive and sensitive,
she’d been watching me for a long time,
and she’d been waiting
for the right moment to talk to me.
I remember it quite well;
it was a Sunday night.
I was really sad.
She noticed it, and she seized
that moment of my frailty
to take the initiative to talk with me.
She told me …
She told me she knew everything:
that she knew I was gay;
that she knew that
I’d been dating Márcio, my ex;
and that she loved me,
exactly the way I was.
Then she hugged me,
and I plunged into her arms,
in tears,
tears of liberation,
of relief,
of happiness,
of love.
If God exists, she is my mother.
She saved my life.
She gave me a future.
That was the most important day of all
because since then,
I’ve been able to express my feelings,
my ideas, myself.
I was born again,
and that was when Mariana,
the villain, was defeated.
Because it’s amazing, folks,
how sexuality guides our lives,
much more than we can imagine,
for the good or the bad,
and family support is what guides us
in the right direction.
Sexuality and family have to be in tune.
As soon as my family and I aligned,
all of a sudden, very quickly,
I became a superhero
to myself.
When I thought I should behave
in a certain way,
I had the courage to have doubts,
to be vulnerable,
to be contradictory,
to be “imperfect.”
I allow myself to like Barbies,
I allow myself to eat without guilt,
I allow myself to be effeminate.
I allow myself, as an entrepreneur,
to be more unattached from labels,
and I’m very proud of my origins.
I’m very proud of working with my family.
In other words,
despite everything that happened -
I’m getting a little emotional.
All these considerations, though,
have a daily impact
on all the aspects of my life,
from my professional life -
I’m now the director
of the department of shows,
presentations, and amusement parks
in my father’s company.
Of course, in addition to the projects
related to my department,
I’ve also been engaged in bringing in
this culture of diversity and inclusion,
of deconstruction and innovation.
This is in the hope that we can be,
for the families
and the children who like us,
the role model and the reference
that I didn’t have growing up.
Of course it also impacts
my personal life, my love life,
with Rafael, my husband,
with whom I’ve been together
for 13 years now,
and with whom I have
a perfectly imperfect life.
And that was how Mariana’s story ended.
My evolving was the weapon
I used against her
because I believe -
and it might sound romantic,
but I’d rather see it as optimism -
I believe in evolving.
I do think that we are better today
than we were yesterday,
and that we’ll be better tomorrow,
including when it comes
to respecting individualities,
because evolving
is inherent in us as humans,
and denial is like
shooting yourself in the foot.
Not that I don’t keep
creating projections of myself
and living for them.
I still get a little confused
about who I really am,
in terms of whether what I am is genuine
or if I’m just following social pressure
over what I need to be,
but at least, it’s not Mariana anymore.
That one’s gone.
Now I create other characters,
maybe Cláudias or Robertos or Marias.
How about you?
What’s the destiny of the characters
that you create for yourselves?
Thank you.