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If you read something about "Jesus in a Guava", know that you are in the middle of a state problem. Internet made jokes about Damares Alves' statement: The future Minister of Women, Family and Human Rights said she climbed a guava tree to kill herself at the age of 10.
Later, it became clear that Damares claimed to be a victim of pedophilia and that he wanted to kill himself for it. Then the regret covered the social networks – the joke was turned against us. In the championship of virtues promoted by the identity of left, fingers have been pointed and some are today close to the relegation.
I did not make any jokes, but, I confess, I'm laughing. What am I funny about? Imagine a character so Middle Eastern mounted on a tree baptized in Native American language. This awakens a climate of self-deprecation, typical of the perception that Brazil is peripheral and backward. I would add that in the soup of our very European language, Native American words always sound between the funny and the ugly. "Guava" is not an elegant word, but certainly delicious, as wrote the poet Jackal. I doubt that Jesus despised a fleshy guava, caught directly in his peeled trunk, if the fruit was at Capernaum.
Otherwise, it is interesting to note what makes one religion respect another. Combined with creeping evangelical conservatism, which makes Damares the enemy of any public policy in favor of abortion, her religious experience is precisely what makes her laugh. Of course, because the other reason to laugh at the joke is the sum of two postmodern prejudices: the first with a belief, the second with the believers. A contemporary vision of Christ is for these people the guava of faith. There are much more elegant visions of what is meant by progressivity, which leads to much more likely behaviors and conversions.
(Whatever it is, everyone finds the religion that he has to look for.)
Damares did not hide his childhood pains during interviews and will even publish a book on his Christophania. For all this and because he is a prominent evangelical figure in Brasilia, he is supposed to have seized this suffering – anyone who has witnessed a neo-Pecostal cult realizes that the testimony personnel on past suffering is indispensable.
However, the testimony does not end with a pain story awaiting reception. On the contrary, it puts the accent on the idea that we accepted Jesus and that it was through him that he triumphed. Damares says that she was not offended by the profusion of memes, and I believe her because she has certainly repeated her story in conversations and pulpits. Today, she loves this story as much as actress Hannah Gadsby dreamed of being when she recorded
Nanette
, an exasperated feminist stand-up of Netflix.
Her revealed victim condition, however, sacralised her on the left, who was watching the mood and speech. That was a failure: many of those who made jokes went back to Facebook to greet virtue, erase posts and apologize, even if they did not make fun of the abuse but of cristofania. Most of those who laughed of course did not know the motives that had led Damares to the tip of the guava, but they were still ashamed. Worse still, they will treat Damares as the poor that she is certainly not, and they will confuse what is personal with what is political. After all, "whoever makes a joke makes a joke," says one of the unwritten commandments of this post-Christian religion, in which everything is read in a totalitarian way, which obstructs the exit valve of humor.
They ended up locking themselves into the trap of identity: Bolsonaro put an "oppressed" at the Ministry of Women, Family and Human Rights. The jokes, they have lost their grace, and it remains only to patrol each other.
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