Photo credit: www.bbc.com

Tessa Moura Lacerda’s Journey Towards Truth and Recognition

Tessa Moura Lacerda serves as a philosophy professor at the University of São Paulo, yet her personal narrative is steeped in the political turmoil of Brazil’s past. On a rainy August morning in 2019, she stood outside a government office alongside her mother, grappling with disbelief and triumph. In hand was a document they had fought fervently for—a corrected death certificate for Tessa’s father, Gildo Macedo Lacerda.

The certificate starkly noted: “unnatural, violent death caused by the State to a missing person […] in the dictatorial regime established in 1964.” Gildo’s tragic fate was sealed in 1973, during the harshest years of Brazil’s military dictatorship, where his voice was silenced at the young age of 24 as a result of torture.

A national truth commission later estimated that during this period, at least 434 individuals were killed or reported missing, with thousands more subjected to detention and torture. Tessa’s family lived in continual fear of the regime’s oppressive reach. Gildo and his pregnant wife, Mariluce, were arrested on October 22, 1973, in Salvador, Bahia, for their involvement in a leftist movement advocating for democracy and opposing military governance.

While Mariluce endured torture before being released, Gildo disappeared and is thought to have perished shortly thereafter within a military facility in Pernambuco. Witnesses from the prison described chilling scenes of Gildo being taken for interrogation, underscoring the horror that engulfed him in his final moments. The official narrative at the time was distorted by the media, which reported he had died during an unrelated incident, obscuring the truth about his brutal murder.

Despite a law enacted in 1995 allowing families to request death certificates for the disappeared, Gildo’s original certificate lacked any reference to the cause of death, a glaring omission reflecting the lingering shadows of state denial. His remains are believed to be in a mass grave, yet they have never been located.

Confronting Absence and Trauma

Tessa, who never had the chance to know her father, has expressed how Gildo’s absence has profoundly influenced her life. Growing up, Mariluce gradually revealed her husband’s story to Tessa. However, the absence of formal recognition and the inability to hold a burial ceremony led to a haunting uncertainty for her.

“As a child, I fantasized that perhaps he had escaped,” Tessa reflected. Now, as an adult, the emotional scars of her father’s loss manifest in various ways, including persistent nightmares and an overwhelming anxiousness about her children’s safety. She described this experience not as something mystical but rather as an ingrained trauma—something she feels she was “born with.”

It took until Tessa turned 18 for her birth certificate to correctly acknowledge Gildo as her father, necessitating a lengthy legal struggle. Thus, correcting his death certificate held profound significance for her, serving as both a tribute to her father and a testament to all those who suffered similar fates under the dictatorship.

The Brazilian government recently announced plans to amend the certificates of individuals recognized as victims of the regime, affirming the state’s complicity in their deaths. Tessa emphasized that achieving this validation was not only for her father’s memory but also a step toward healing for all families impacted by the dictatorship.

Brazil’s Supreme Court head, Luís Roberto Barroso, endorsed this initiative as a legitimate reckoning with the past. An awakening to the consequences of this violent history has emerged, especially bolstered by cultural works like Walter Salles’ film, *I’m Still Here*, which foregrounds narratives from the era.

This film, rooted in the realities faced by victims’ families, has reignited discussions surrounding Brazil’s troubled history. The film’s protagonist struggles with the decades-long wait for recognition of her husband’s murder, echoing a broader societal thirst for truth and atonement.

Collective Trauma and the Way Forward

As the camera rolls on collective family traumas, viewers become acutely aware of their shared grief. Audience members, like Marta Costta, whose aunt was killed by the regime, have described emotional reactions while viewing the film. These accounts serve as a reminder that the legacy of the dictatorship continues to shape Brazil’s collective psyche.

Marta’s work to document Helenira’s fight against oppression exemplifies the ongoing struggle for acknowledgment. The acknowledgment of these brutal histories through amended death certificates is viewed as crucial, allowing families to articulate their suffering and the state’s acknowledgment of its previous actions.

Despite this progress, both Tessa and Marta emphasize the need for further steps toward justice. Current amnesty laws shield military officials from prosecution, and an apology from the government remains absent. Tessa argued that Brazilian society must confront its history to honor the memory of lost lives and prevent future atrocities.

The scars of the dictatorship are deeply embedded in the national consciousness, with individuals like Tessa, Marta, and Eunice championing the fight for recognition, accountability, and remembrance. The triumphs and tribulations of their journeys underscore the importance of telling these stories, ensuring that the lessons from the past resonate in the present and the future.

As Tessa asserts, her commitment remains steadfast: “I will not stop fighting until the end of my days. I will bury my father.”

*I’m Still Here* is set for UK release on February 21, 2025.

Source
www.bbc.com