Something must be done, my friend: Reflecting on “I’m Still Here” from a Buddhist view

(Erasmo Carlos – É preciso dar um jeito, meu amigo)

Flowing through my mind, these are the words of Erasmo Carlos’ 1971 song “É preciso dar um jeito, meu amigo.”[2] This song is also part of the “I’m Still Here” soundtrack—a Brazilian masterpiece that evokes resistance against military coups and authoritarian regimes. MPB (Música popular brasileira, or Brazilian popular music in English) was an incredible driving force not only in denouncing the horrors of the military dictatorship in Brazil, but also in giving hope and uniting people to mobilise against it.

Music was one of the many fronts to resist the appalling violence, but the engagement of the Catholic Church (with the expressive participation of Liberation Theologians) and the Brazilian Bar Association were of utmost importance in bringing dictatorship down. The 2006 movie Batismo de Sangue (Baptism of Blood), shines light on the experiences of Frei Betto during that time, when the Dominican Order directly opposed the regime.[3]

Brazil, as well as all Latin American countries, is also the land of Liberation Theologies. It was home to many amazing women, such as Eunice Paiva, the main character of “I’m Still Here” (brilliantly played by Fernanda Torres), who became an activist and lawyer to bring justice and defend Human Rights.

Even though “I’m Still Here” won an Oscar, and other international prizes (such as Best Actress at the Golden Globes), these recognitions are a small victory compared to the power of memory and resistance. The rising tides of authoritarianism, fascism, xenophobia, neoliberalism and neocolonialism suffocate peoples into submission, the movie brings a Brazilian contribution to the world: hope—not as a passive word, but a doing verb.

Paiva, the historical person and her representation in the film—in my eyes, a bodhisattva[4]—brought hope into the fight for human dignity in Brazil, by overcoming obstacles and many personal losses. The movie highlights this in ways words cannot express, and perhaps “I’m Still Here” is art at its finest—not an art just there to be seen, but an art that unites, engages, and mobilises into action, praxis—and walks side by side with Liberation Theologies, Engaged Buddhisms Humanistic Buddhisms, or other religious movements.

After the kidnap of her husband Rubens Paiva, Eunice decided to act. She became a lawyer and human rights activist, fighting for those who were marginalised and full of fear. The amount of blood and violence during that period of time still haunts many generations of Brazilians—and the same pattern happened at the same time in other Latin American countries, such as Argentina and Chile.[5]

Perhaps we are unable to imagine what it was like if we come from countries that never turned to authoritarianism, experienced war, or if we never lived outside of our own bubbles, but luckily “I’m Still Here” pokes us out of our shells and can help us understand a small fragment of what the world looks like when the extreme right is in control.

Eunice Paiva fought back and stood still, always with a smile as a weapon, and once again has become a symbol of resistance and fortitude for Brazilians. For those who watched the impeccable Fernanda Torres as Paiva, she confesses in an interview: “While I was interpreting Eunice, there were more than a few times when I cried after some scenes because it was so heavy to carry that burden with self-control, with a smile”.[6]

But Paiva should not be celebrated only by Latin Americans. She is a contribution to the world—and especially in dire times such as these, with genocidal projects around the world (in Gaza, the Democratic Region of Congo, Sudan, etc.)—someone who suffered a great deal, and instead of shying away, fought for human rights for all.

Paiva was a Catholic, but believed that Human Rights are everyone’s rights—and took to heart defending the rights of the indigenous communities, that were severely repressed during the military regime.[7] Even though she was not an actual theologian, her son, Marcelo Rubens Paiva—the author of the book I’m Still Here—shares her advice to us: to always live according to Christian ethics and read Liberation Theology.[8]

In my first article for Practical Theology Hub—What is generosity from a Buddhist perspective?—I pointed out that generosity is not only giving alms, but implies changing the very way we live to help others.

In a way, Paiva can be thought of as an example of giving fearlessness. According to the ethics of a Bodhisattva, fearlessness is offering protection against the different kinds of fears.[9] She protected not only her own family, but many other families, communities, enduring so much pain while keeping a smile on her face, and ready to help those who crossed her path.

For me, as a Buddhist, I cannot help but think of the inspiring example of Ārya Tārā, a Buddha that vowed to always aid sentient beings in female form. She is known to Tibetans as རྗེ་བརྩུན་སྒྲོལ་མ་ (Wyl. rje btsun sgrol ma), meaning saviouress or protectress. What does she protect sentient beings from? One of her vows is to save beings from the eight great dangers,[10] such as torture, the oppression of kings, poverty, among others.

Image: Ārya Tārā. Photo taken by the author.

The oppression of kings is something we today can understand as oppressive structures, or as Gustavo Gutiérrez would say sinful structures. Oppressive structures require the excessive use of violence—be it in speech or in bodily actions—as a mechanism to conform and subdue, instilling fear in people, so no one dares to go against the powerful.

And how can Ārya Tārā help? She is the symbol of one who is able to quickly engage in action. She gives hope, removes fear and tends to the needs of those suffering from injustices. In one of the stories about her origin, she was born from the tears of Avalokiteśvara, who was watching the sufferings of the world with great sorrow.[11] As soon as the teardrop fell, she emerged and was ready to aid all sentient beings.

When oppression is on the rise, it is not fear and silence that should prevail, but compassion—as the desire to remove the sufferings of others—and loving-kindness—the desire to give happiness to all beings. Removing fear can mean empowering people through empathy and solidarity, enabling them to feel they are a part of a community.

And as a part of a community, we tend to each other with great love, ready to act when injustice or oppression appear. Like Tārā, our left foot should be in meditative position—meaning we always reflect and observe critically—and our right foot slightly extended, ready to act for the benefit of all beings.

Whenever I learn of someone who dedicates her or his life to helping others, I recall Ārya Tārā and her vow to protect all sentient beings. Even in the most desperate times, there is always hope. Paiva shows us this as well—there is always hope—and as portrayed in the movie “we will smile,” and we will break oppressive systems down.

To conclude, I cannot recommend “I’m Still Here” enough. It can be more than a history lesson, but an example of how to act to help others, using our abilities to denounce injustices locally and globally. Eunice Paiva’s example can also help us to understand better what Christian ethics or Bodhisattva ethics means—in our daily lives. We can always choose to protect others, using our voices and bodies for the benefit of all beings, together.

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References

[1] In English the words can be translated as: “But I’m not going to stand silent / Comfortably accommodated / Like so many out there / Something must be done, my friend / Something must be done, my friend”.

[2] In English “Something must be done, my friend”.

[3] The movie is based on the homonymous book written by Frei Betto, and published in 1982.

[4] A bodhisattva is a person or being who is developing her or himself to reach the goal of awakening, to better aid and benefit all sentient beings.

[5] All military dictatorships in Latin America were due to the direct aid of the US government, with the objective of controlling the entire region.

[6] “Enquanto eu interpretava Eunice, houve mais de uma vez em que eu chorava após algumas cenas porque era muito pesado carregar esse fardo com autocontrole, com um sorriso”. In: CNN Brazil News interview: https://www.cnnbrasil.com.br/entretenimento/chorava-apos-algumas-cenas-diz-fernanda-torres-sobre-ainda-estou-aqui/

[7] There is a touching video with one indigenous community, in Inhaã-bé, celebrating the Oscar and praising Eunice Paiva: https://g1.globo.com/am/amazonas/noticia/2025/03/03/ainda-estou-aqui-indigenas-celebram-conquista-do-oscar-dentro-de-cinema-em-aldeia-no-am.ghtml

[8] The interview with Marcelo Rubens Paiva can be read in Portuguese: https://www1.folha.uol.com.br/ilustrada/2025/03/eunice-paiva-ainda-esta-aqui.shtml

[9] Je Tsongkhapa, The Great Treatise on the Stages of the Path, vol. 2 (Snow Lion, 2004), 122.

[10] Sometimes it appears as sixteen dangers, or in other texts it appears in higher numbers. See Susan Landesman, The Tārā Tantra, Appendix II.

[11] Susan Landesman writes about the stories of Ārya Tārā’s origin in her The Tārā Tantra. See previous note for reference.

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© Patricia Palazzo Tsai, 2025.

This work is licensed under Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0).

Cover Image: Estela Piccin (Lobsang Lhamo) for the author’s piece.