The Battle for Truth: Families Strive to Acknowledge the Past in Brazil

Tessa Moura Lacerda's long struggle to correct her father’s death certificate reflects the ongoing challenges faced by families of victims of Brazil's military dictatorship. The recent film "I'm Still Here" has reignited national conversations around this traumatic history, as many seek recognition and justice amid a polarized political climate.

In a significant legal and emotional victory, Tessa Moura Lacerda and her mother stood outside a government office in São Paulo on a rainy August morning in 2019, clutching the corrected death certificate of Tessa's father, Gildo Macedo Lacerda. This long-fought document officially states his cause of death as “unnatural, violent death caused by the State to a missing person” during the dictatorship that plagued Brazil from 1964 to 1985.

Gildo, arrested alongside Tessa’s pregnant mother in October 1973, was presumed to have died under torture just six days later at a military facility. His story is emblematic of the era, during which a truth commission reported that a minimum of 434 individuals were killed or disappeared amid an atmosphere of state-sponsored violence. While Gildo's remains are believed to be among unidentified mass graves, the original death certificate issued in the 1990s left his cause of death blank, leaving the family grappling with grief and unacknowledged trauma.

Describing her father’s absence as a profound void in her life, Tessa revealed the layers of trauma that shaped her existence. "It's like I have a corporal memory of this fear," she expressed, admitting that the past intricately intertwines her present fears as a mother. Her personal journey of validation mandated that her father's death be recognized not only for her own healing but for all victims of the regime.

In December, Brazil’s government pledged to rectify the death certificates of all recognized victims, marking a crucial acknowledgment of state responsibility. However, until recent months, only a few families like Tessa's successfully obtained this bureaucratic correction — a process hindered by political shifts, notably when Jair Bolsonaro’s administration dissolved a special commission that addressed such cases.

The recent film "I'm Still Here," created by BAFTA-winning director Walter Salles, has sparked renewed debate about the dictatorship's legacy. It illustrates the story of Eunice, a widow enduring a similar struggle for acknowledgment after her husband was killed. Eunice’s decades-long fight for a death certificate, which denied her formal recognition and access to her family's resources, mirrors the experiences of countless Brazilian families still seeking closure.

As Brazil remains sharply divided politically, echoes of the past resonate in contemporary discourse. Extremist rhetoric and attempts to clarify historical narratives reflect ongoing struggles against the memory of dictatorship. Bolsonaro’s nostalgic references to military rule amplify the urgency for films and conversations that combat forgetfulness.

For women like Marta Costta, whose aunt was brutally killed during the dictatorship, the experience of watching "I'm Still Here" reignited painful memories. Reflecting on the collective trauma, she expressed the need for familial histories to be recognized in order to prevent future atrocities.

Though the recent steps to amend certificates are commendable, Tessa and Marta emphasize the ongoing fight for justice. The legacy of the dictatorship remains marred by an amnesty law that allows perpetrators to evade prosecution, leaving families without accountability or formal apologies from the military.

“Brazilian society needs to recognize this history,” Tessa stated firmly. The collective acknowledgement of painful histories is essential for healing, fostering a generation unbroken by the lessons of the past. With unwavering resolve, Tessa stated, "I will bury my father," reaffirming her commitment to remembering and advocating for victims of state violence. The emotive narrative surrounding “I’m Still Here” opens pathways for dialogue as Brazil grapples with its contested memory and future on the brink of acknowledgment and reconciliation.