I am proud to say that I am a quilombola (someone from a community with a history of resistance against slavery), educator, singer, and writer. I was born in the Quilombo do Campinho da Independência. That's why I believe that our ancestry accompanies us from the moment we are born and takes care of us until we die. That's how I understand my mission and struggle.

Since I was young, one of the things I always wanted was to study because I loved reading. But my aunt/mother believed that the education I needed was to learn household chores so that later I could work in someone's home. Today, I understand her, but I wasn't interested in that at the time, and I'm still not because I don't consider myself a conventional woman. As a child, I went to Rio de Janeiro, started my life, got married young, and had my first child. I began working in garment factories, and it was in those places that I realized the working conditions for women weren't good. That awakened something in me, and later, working as an educator for the children in the favela where I lived, I truly became a leader in the Matinha favela.

I would talk to mothers to better understand the violence they experienced, working to find ways to improve living conditions for the children and their families. I became more involved in political activism and understood the injustices women faced. At that time, I didn't identify as a quilombola woman; I only said that I was a woman from the favela. It was only later that I understood that favelas are urban quilombos and that women's history is, in fact, an ongoing fight for rights that will never end. Because we have people on the other side who are not willing to give up their privileges. So, if women don't come together and strengthen themselves in groups and organizations, we won't make progress.

In 2004, I permanently returned to the Quilombo and thought, "Now I can finally rest, right?" But living there, I realized that the problems were almost the same as the ones we faced in the favela. So, what was the solution? To get involved again. With the help of spirituality, as I became an Umbanda practitioner, I understood that it's no use; this is my mission. If I don't do it, I'll come back with it, so I want to see if I can resolve it now.

*This was written based on the story of Laura Santos.