Rio de Janeiro - Something that Cariocas take for granted (along with music, samba, futebol, the beach, the mountains, the beautiful blue sky) is the incredible variety in the combinations of skin color, eye color, hair color, hair texture, facial structure, etc. which you can see every day in all the people who pass you on the sidewalk. American author Ursula K. Le Guin, in imagining a world without racism in her novel The Lathe of Heaven, has her character George Orr dream into existence an Earth in which everyone has a skin of a uniform light gray. Her fantasy could not take her to a reality where racism was absent, and diversity was present. She evidently had never been to Rio at the time when she wrote the book. Closer to the Brazilian reality is the vision of another science fiction luminary Gene Roddenberry, who envisioned “Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.”
Brazil's heritage as a nation of varied origins where everyone contributes to making a unique culture has been part of the national ideology since the early 20th century, when it was reflected by song lyrics exalting the three races of Brazil – the Indians, the blacks, and the whites. As composers David Nasser and Alcir Pires Vermelho wrote in the lyrics to their song Canta Brasil, a hit in 1940 when first recorded by Francisco Alves, "the forest gave your nights their exotic rhythms, and the blacks brought from afar their storehouse of laments; the whites talked of love in their songs, and from this mixture of voices, your song was born." This ideology continues strong today, when the trademark of the Brazilian government is “Um País de Todos” (which can be translated as "Brazil – A Country for All, but also as "A Country belonging to everyone") includes six colors for the six letters – the blue, yellow and green of the flag, and the white, black and red of the three races.
Intermarriage between groups that in other lands would never mix has been common in Brazil for centuries. The memoirs of a member of an important German family in Rio, the Wehrs (active in music publishing) remark on the fact that the many single German men who immigrated to Rio because of the 1848 revolution were not welcomed by the Portuguese elite as potential son-in-laws. Solution: they married the free women of color in the city, and the next generation would have German surnames, but look rather different from their grandparents' generation in Germany.
Diversity is not just to be found within the city of Rio, but within individual families. Five children from the same parents may look significantly different from each other in any or all of the characteristics which for North American eyes are racially significant. And of course siblings who are half-brothers or half-sisters, who share less of their genetic material, are frequent in Rio, given its liberal attitude toward divorce and remarriage. The whole concept of "race" comes to be problematic when virtually the entire population has roots in two, or three of the three "races." And even if people persist in drawing lines, the fact that someone classified as "black" in the United States can be considered "white" in Brazil (1) show exactly how arbitrary and culturally-determined these lines are.
What does this mean in practical terms? To me, it seems to mean that for Cariocas it is much easier to feel that the person whom you see in the street, who may have different hair, or different eyes, or different bone structure, or lighter or darker skin than you do, is nonetheless a member of your same family. The norm in Rio is that your husband or wife will not look like you, and that your children may look like one parent, or like the other, but not both. My wife Deborah (a native Carioca) and I went shopping in the Madureira district one day. The saleswoman who was helping us asked if we were brother and sister (we both have blue eyes, and light skin, though Deborah's hair is "rebellious" – curly and hard to manage). "No, we're married." "Ah! So your children will look like both of you!" (Something completely out of the ordinary, by her lights).
It means that Cariocas do not self-separate, do not isolate themselves on the basis of a perceived racial identity, but participate in a common Carioca culture. There is no equivalent for the sort of exclusionary identity politics practiced in the United States, the social markers in dress, in speech that set people apart. No Carioca can tell (nor indeed is concerned to know) by listening to another person speak if they are white, black or brown. (They are sensitive to social status – nuances of middle class, upper middle class, etc., and Cariocas all want to move up – that is why they all live beyond their means.) All Cariocas want to dress in order to fit in, and not to stand out. Everyone knows which the most fashionable brands are (Osklen, for example), and if your economic status means you can't afford the original, you can certainly find a knock-off at from the local “camelô” (street vendor) that is in your price range. It doesn't hurt that all school children must wear the standard uniform to school (and since this is Rio, and the weather is always warm, the uniform is a t-shirt).
Cariocas will tell you that racism is present in Brazilian society, but in general they have never been to the USA and have no conception of what a deeply-rooted racism in a society without centuries of intermarriage can actually be like and feel like. On the other hand, Americans who arrive in Brazil can feel like a tremendous weight has lifted from their shoulders, one they were not even aware they were carrying. You may feel nervous if you enter a favela (as someone who is economically better-off, and not a member of the community) but you will never feel that you are in the wrong place because of the color of your skin.