Natalia Becattini, a musician in one of the city’s blocos, says this renaissance was a decidedly political moment. “It was a political process, a left-wing rebellion,” she stressed.
Fernanda Branco Polse is a member of Truck do Desejo, a bloco in Belo Horizonte created for members of the lesbian, bisexual and trans communities. According to Polse, the Belo Horizonte carnival began as part of a protest movement against the former mayor. When the mayor banned the use of a major city square as a party space, protesters occupied the area in bikinis and with their loudspeakers. “Since then, it’s been a carnival of struggle and resistance,” Polse said.
Ironically, the city government has now started to get involved in Carnival – something not all blocos are comfortable with. “It’s like they’re trying to appropriate a spontaneous, popular event to somehow standardize our carnival,” Polse said. In addition to investing in carnival infrastructure for the first time, the state of Minas Gerais also spent more than 6 million reais on advertising across Brazil with the slogan “Feel at home in the streets of Belo Horizonte.” In a move likely calculated to enrage Rio residents and cause the ad to go viral, the poster was even plastered on Rio metro billboards.
But the Belo Horizonte Carnival’s newfound popularity among hip Brazilians isn’t just the result of savvy advertising. Gustavo Jreige is the host of Festa VHS, a popular LGBTQ+ party in São Paulo. Although he usually spends Carnival in São Paulo, this year he goes to Beagá. Jreige says Belo Horizonte is in a sweet spot: it’s well organized, but not too organized; and it’s big, but not too well established yet.