Transcription of the manuscript:

Dear Panmela,
My name is Cristina Lopes Afonso. In my house they called me Nega or Tina. Today, I am better known as Dr. Cristina, the tenth daughter of Maria Madalena Pereira and Gabriel da Anunciação Afonso. Granddaughter of Jesuína and Aprígio and Tereza and Manoel Francisco. Sister of Julieta, Martinho, Ruth, Dirce, Antônia, Diniz, Elisabeth, Nino, Gil, Gilmar, Adriana, Solange and Zeca. I make sure to say everyone's names, because they were, are and will be the basis of all the love I carry in life.

But I am writing to tell you how the year 1986 transformed my life. I had just graduated in Physical Education from the Federal University of Paraná and was anxious about moving to Germany and doing postgraduate work. I was 20 years old, and the future I dreamed of so much was starting to come true. My boyfriend at the time, a respected physician 16 years plder than me, seemed uneasy about the idea. For me, the relationship should end.

On February 6th, we had lunch together in the apartment that my brother, me and a friend shared in Curitiba. We ate, drank a little and talked about breaking up. That day something was different. He started criticizing my way of dressing, my earrings and said he would kill himself if we didn't stay together. Then he asked me for a box of some products he had bought, repeating that he would commit suicide if we broke up. I was very scared, but I tried to convince him that this was not the way.

We were in the kitchen. Then he took a bottle of alcohol and threatened to throw it at me, asking: “what if I kill you?”. At that moment I realized that I had no control over the situation and I tried to leave the room, but the door was locked. He had never hit me or even threatened me. That's when he threw the liquid that was in the glass on me, and with my hands on my face I saw him light the matches. I started screaming for help, but it was too late: the fire had taken over my body. I remembered my mother, now deceased, and my father. It was like a cry for help. My brother, who was coming down the stairs, heard the noise, broke the door and did the right thing: he smothered the fire with a blanket and took me under the shower.

Panmela, I had 85% of my body burned. There was no hope of survival. I mean, my family was still clinging to one chance: to come to Goiânia. My father sold a farm with a closed gate and my brothers came to donate skin and take care of me. They took turns in care. What was next to impossible has happened. In Goiânia I was reborn: a transformation in the geography of my skin and my life.

I tell you with all the truth: there is no way to overcome a crime like that. Physical marks are visible every day. But when I look at myself, I feel like I've become a stronger woman. Because it was love that saved me. I survived because of the solidarity of so many people. I resisted to do justice. Because from that day on I would fight for no woman to feel what I felt.

And we have this connection, you know. We women share, even if intimately, the pain of the other. Because we know what we all go through on a daily basis. And that should make us stronger, because we need those ties to achieve much-needed change.

My convicted aggressor. The first conviction of a aggressor with the victim still alive. We made history. And I don't forget that at the end of the trial, right after the sentence, more than 400 people sang Maria Maria, by Milton Nascimento. A musico of fight, my mother's name and the faith I carry in my heart.

Today, before her eyes, I assume that I am exactly where I would like to be after so many battles and challenges: alive, smiling and fighting for better days.

My dear, I hope that this project can reach many people, raising awareness and enabling reflections that can prevent other women from experiencing violence. May the impulse always be for experiences of love. We have a bond that unites us and a struggle that unites us. A big hug and may we all be well.

Maria Cristina Lopes Afonso