WITH OPEN ARMS

Zoom in on the lives of the gay community in São Paulo, Brazil

As part of his ongoing project to peer inside queer communities around the world for Elska magazine, its founder Liam Campbell visited São Paulo in Brazil as the country emerged from lockdown. Capturing images of men from the city, Campbell discovered that, in spite of Bolsonaro’s homophobic regime, Brazil’s LGBTQ+ people are welcoming and eager to share snapshots of their lives and loves

CIRIACO V

“I have to accept that I like my comforts. I enjoy quiet and safe sex, preferably in a massive, comfortable bed; affectionate, if possible, with a lot of gazing into each other’s eyes. And if it’s not too much to ask, followed by a wonderful meal — preferably cooked or bought by my partner. No, I am not that crazy, young, sensual, and adventurous boy that I would like to be, and who those viewing these photos might think I am.”

Without a doubt, Brazil has to be the most easy-going society I’ve ever been to. In most cities I visit, I tend to meet and photograph around a dozen guys, but here in São Paulo I am practically bombarded by people who want to take part. They don’t seem to have any of the worries I’ve heard from would-be participants in other parts of the world: “What if my mum or boss sees these photos?”, or “I don’t feel confident enough to do a photo shoot.” In Brazil, the men I meet are proud to show themselves off, to represent their country, and find the idea of being photographed fun. I have a list of 50 people who want to take part before I even leave for São Paulo.

The first guy I message using a more spontaneous recruitment approach via the apps on my first day in the city is Ciriaco. He says he’s just about to grab some lunch, but afterwards he’d be happy to meet up and do a photo shoot. Within an hour of that first message, we are together, me with my camera and Ciriaco, embracing the moment.

LEO F

“It was 1:26am when he sent me the first message. He was cute, like a teddy bear, and had great artistic tastes… but then he disappeared. Three months later, I got a message from him, he asked me how I was doing, if I was well, if I was quarantining. I started looking back at our messages and thinking about how cute he was… Our conversations continued this time, and they were getting longer and longer, perhaps due to the loneliness of isolation.”

I come to Brazil at a beautiful but unfortunately brief moment, just as the country is relaxing lockdown and welcoming in a post-COVID era. It is late November 2020, when new COVID-19 cases have decreased to less than 1 per cent, just in time for the Brazilian summer.

President Bolsonaro’s Trump-style denial of COVID-19 and its devastating consequences have led to the highest overall death count in the world, after the USA. Yet walking around São Paulo, there’s a conviviality that feels like an integral feature of Brazilian society. Large groups of friends cluster together and there are many public displays of affection. I notice several queer-looking thicc boys walking around the city who can’t stop hugging and kissing

each other. (I later find out that there is some sort of ‘Bear Pride’ event taking place that week.)

When I meet Leo for our photoshoot, the Brazilian love of affection takes over and he gives me a big hug to welcome me to Brazil. I tend not to be a very tactile person, not usually going further than shaking hands when I meet someone new, but I feel like I could get used to this.

I say to Leo that Brazilian people can’t seem to handle staying apart for a virus, but he shoots my theory down and makes it clear that what I am seeing is just starting to emerge as the pandemic is ebbing away. He tells me a familiar story of quarantining, of climbing the walls and loneliness. But he also reveals some of the good that’s come from the past year, specifically how people have started to treat others with a little more consideration and to cherish relationships more than ever. Old acquaintances have come out from the woodwork to become real friends, and guys you once flirted with online have reappeared for more flirting and want to get to know you properly.

Now that people can finally connect physically again, Leo is looking forward to taking the emotional connections forged over the past months to the next level. His story is about a guy he passed off as a onetime fling and how during the pandemic something real developed. I don’t know how the story ends, but I like to think that they’re together now.

BRUNO V

“At 10am, I was sent to the operating room. The surgery takes around five hours. When I opened my eyes, my mother was there, looking at me. I felt like the happiest guy in the world, even though I was feeling groggy and fell asleep quickly. A few hours later, when I woke up again and could have a real look down, I could see with my own eyes that my breasts, which made me hate my body for so long, were no longer there.”

I didn’t know what sort of shoot Bruno wanted to do. Nudity is never a requirement in any of my work, but in some cities guys opt to bare all more than in others. In Latin America and southern Europe, men tend to be more free, while their counterparts in East Asia and northern Europe are often more reserved.

Even based on my experiences of a very nude Brazil, I didn’t expect Bruno to be fully naked in front of the camera. Of the many trans men I’ve photographed all over the world, none has wanted to take everything off. Being nude is already a huge show of vulnerability, but in the trans community, where they are often reduced to their genitalia, it takes even more courage.

We are sat in Bruno’s bedroom, having just done some shirtless shots by the window, when he sits on the bed and starts playing with his cat. Suddenly, he removes his underwear with the cat still on his lap; I capture them that way. When the cat eventually gets bored of the attention and walks away, Bruno allows me to continue snapping. I suppose he feels that I see him simply as a man, not as someone with scars and different genitalia. I just hope that others viewing his pictures see what I do: a warm and sexy man.

ALEXIE A

“A giant projector was screening a huge rainforest on one of the dance floors… I closed my eyes and danced beside Eduardo, allowing that sensory wave to approach our dancing bodies, while we shared the same glass of Catuaba strategically. Every time we exchanged that drink, those green eyes crossed mine. The warm breath was also close enough for me to know I could not go back. No one, not even my husband, seemed to see our magnetism.”

Alexie is late for our meeting. Trying to be relaxed, after an hour of waiting, I lose patience and send a somewhat aggressive text: “So, are you coming?” His reply is another picture message, again with him on the plastic sun lounger, but this time with his shorts pulled down. He is semi-erect. OK, so at least he’s not shy, I think.

After another hour of waiting, he messages to say he is outside, in a taxi. I jump in and we go to a park, where we alternate between shots of him looking fierce among the trees and lakes, and some of him being naughtier, at one point baring all from within a thicket of wild Swiss cheese plants.

Back at his, we continue the shoot and chat more about the city’s famous nightlife. He tells me about his favourite clubs, and his heart sinks when I declare that I don’t like techno, so he suggests a more chill place that even does a “naked night”. After explaining how although I’d love to go, I’m still experiencing too much COVID anxiety, he suggests we get naked right there and then. It’s not quite a nightclub and we might not have a caipirinha in hand, but I make us a coffee and offer my guest a slice of cake.

KEVEM M

“He suffered for his appearance, even believing it when he overheard that he was the ugliest person in his family. People sometimes asked him if he was adopted because of his skin colour, which was darker than the others. This kid grew up with trauma and got through his teenage years by having to learn how to hide his desires, having to swallow his tears quietly, because boys don’t cry.”

When I started Elska, I really just wanted to find a way to combine three things I loved — travel, photography and men — into something tangible. But very quickly I found that my work has a positive impact. Many of the guys appreciate that the men I feature are diverse and unconventional in their beauty; seeing people like them depicted as sexy and desirable gives them confidence. I didn’t ever feel that I was making a concerted effort to showcase diversity or foster self-confidence; I simply found something beautiful in all of them. Recognising different kinds of beauty is instinctive for me.

It surprises me when I meet guys like Kevem, who tells me about how much ridicule and abuse they’ve experienced for not ticking every box of attractiveness and cis-male desirability. When we meet, Kevem doesn’t want to talk about the story he sent me, which discusses his long road to selfacceptance. As I mention how he wrote it in third person, how he distances himself from it through language, I understand it’s because he’s not yet reached the end of that road.

MIKE F

“I realised that it was dance where I wanted to forge my career. With a lot of help from my mum, I started to dedicate myself, especially to ballet. I did every class I could, and in the beginning it was very difficult, in no small part because I started very late, at the age of 18. And coming from a simple family from the outskirts of São Paulo, I did not have a lot of resources. Still, I did not give up.”

Meeting Mike makes for one of the most memorable experiences I’ve ever had in this job. After a long taxi ride through morning rush-hour traffic through a maze of narrow, hilly roads, I finally approach his house. I focus on a tall, brown body dressed in just a tiny pair of rainbow-coloured shorts and some Havaianas. This has to be Mike.

Face to face with him, all I can focus on is how he has the courage to stand in a busy street so exposed, wearing next to nothing. We go inside and he pours me a glass of water. I take a long drink and, before I put the glass down on the dining table, he stands fully naked before me. I then have to ask him to get dressed, so we can take a few street shots. He throws some clothes on and we set off.

As we walk, I ask, “Do you always dress like that?” He responds, asking why foreigners always dress so conservatively. During the shoot, Mike moves like a dancer: graceful, always interesting, flexible. I could photograph him forever; he is genuinely entrancing.