Brazil battles sexual abuse norms
Officials trying to curb all-too common Amazon crimes, but fairy tale an obstacle
BREVES, Brazil — For years, Brazilian authorities have been fighting against the sexual abuse of girls, with education campaigns, hotlines and stricter laws. But in the heart of the Amazon, they are confronting an unusual foe — a mystical pink river dolphin.
Amazonian folklore has long warned pubescent girls of the dolphin, which according to legend would seduce them and get them pregnant, only to leave the next day.
When Marili Pinheiros, 33, bathed with her daughters in the local river, she would scour the muddy waters for any signs of the sleek, pink creature coming up for air.
“I was scared that he would impregnate them,” she said.
But when her 9-year-old daughter was sexually molested, a 51-year-old neighbor, not the dolphin, was to blame, she said.
“I never suspected it,” said Pinheiros, adding that she found out the neighbor was giving her little girl money and food in exchange for groping sessions.
Sexual abuse is the second-most-common offense against children in Brazil, after neglect, according to the Ministry of Health.
The government has made some strides in recent years to curb it. Reports of sexual abuse rose 83 percent from 2011 to 2017, according to government figures, reflecting an increase in awareness.
But authorities say the toughest battle is against deeply ingrained cultural norms that have masked and excused abuse for generations.
Many residents believe sexual relations between older men and underage girls is acceptable. Over the years, the myth of the pink river dolphin has been used to explain away unintended pregnancies, often resulting from such relationships. It has become so widespread that some wholeheartedly believe it.
In the Amazon jungle, where families suffer chronic poverty and low levels of education, a vast network of rivers isolates communities from authorities attempting to deter the exploitation of children. A 2010 government investigation deemed Para state, in the Amazon region, the most critical area in the country’s fight against sexual abuse because of the high number of cases there.
In an effort to rein in sexual violence, the Para state government has pioneered victim centers that include police stations, medical clinics, the offices of social workers and psychological trauma facilities in a single building. Since their inception in 2004, the centers have assisted more than 17,000 sexual abuse victims, helping them press charges against abusers, providing free abortions and treating sexually transmitted diseases.
But the fight to change the culture surrounding sexual abuse has sometimes put the government at odds with locals in a region that has a complicated relationship with girls and their sexuality.
In a region with little opportunity, where one breadwinner will often support an entire family, whole communities will cling to the myth of the dolphin to protect aggressors, according to experts trying to discourage sexual abuse in the communities.
“We are fighting a legend,” said Pablo Cardoso, 45, a psychologist who has treated child victims of abuse in the Amazon river basin. “People blame the dolphin to try and protect the perpetrators. Especially when the aggressor is the provider, people will protect him.”
Cardoso, who often works with local police and social workers, has been subject to death threats from aggressors and family members trying to preserve their sole source of income.
A popular government cash-transfer program known as Bolsa Familia, credited with lifting over 30 million Brazilians out of extreme poverty since 2003, has brought these Amazonian districts into regular touch with the government for the first time.
But as these communities slowly integrate into Brazilian society, many are pushing back against government definitions of consent and abuse.
Officials are trying to turn the story of the dolphin into a conduit for a national discussion about sexual abuse. Teachers are integrating the legend into lesson plans about identifying and reporting abuse.
Despite these efforts, some residents are pushing back against what they consider excessive government interference in the way things have always been.
When police burst into Janette Bahia dos Santos’s home looking for her teenage daughter Leticia, the mother was furious. Leticia, 13, was dating a 28-year-old family friend. Their relationship violated the law, which establishes sentences of up to 15 years for men who have sex with children under 14.
“It’s not a crime — it’s private,” said dos Santos. “Here in Breves, this is normal.”