The day Brazilians stopped laughing

Led by an extreme-right president, the polarised country lost one of the few people loved by both sides. The comedian Paulo Gustavo was 42 years old, healthy, and committed to the WHO protocols. His death gave a face to the big crisis the country faces.

Brazilians are proudly able to keep a good mood under any circumstances. Football, politics, religion, impeachment, wedding, divorce… even heated discussions can end with a big laugh. Preferably at the bar, with ice cold beer. Or, in the age of Twitter and Whatsapp, with a meme — a funny gif, sticker, or a TikTok video. This week, however, there was no joke that could contain our tears. The greatest comedian of this generation, Paulo Gustavo, became yet another victim of COVID-19, putting the entire country in mourning.

At home, it was quite embarrassing trying to explain to my boyfriend, who’s not Brazilian, why I was mourning for someone I didn’t know personally; And also why, among the 425 thousand Brazilians who died, this one was so special that a mass was celebrated by the feet of Christ the Redeemer, in Rio de Janeiro, and broadcasted nationally. But deep down my pain strangely made sense.

Firstly, a little context. Among many characters, the comedian starred “Minha Mãe é uma Peça”, a movie that reached its third chapter in 2020 and became the biggest box office in national cinema, with BRL 143.8 mi (USD 24.4 mi) — leaving behind the long-awaited Frozen 2 and Star Wars: The Rise of the Skywalker. The trilogy won Brazilians’ hearts in dealing with everyday family issues, using humor to address the struggles that LGBT people face to gain acceptance in Brazilian society — a story based largely on the protagonist’s own experience.

With no prior health conditions, he was admitted to an intensive care unit on March 13. Since early in April, the Brazilian star had been kept alive by an artificial lung used only in extremely severe pulmonary infections. Due to an air embolism in his lungs, which spread to his nervous system, his situation became irreversible. Fans followed it all through social media, where Gustavo’s husband, Thales, and his mother, Andrea Lucia, begged for prayers and positive thoughts. At this point, empathy is inevitable, as all Brazilians either lost someone for COVID-19 or experienced the disease themselves — or even both, my case. But something became clearer with his death: the current infection wave in Brazil is indeed claiming younger and younger victims.

His death ironically put president Jair Bolsonaro and former president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, his political arch-rival, on the same page. Often downplaying the virus, Conservative Bolsonaro tweeted his sadness over Gustavo’s death by writing that “with his talent and charisma [he] conquered the affection of all Brazil.” Da Silva, leftist, said he was “a great Brazilian who celebrated our country with so much joy.”

The tributes reflects the importance of this Brazilian symbol, that defied all the odds as an outspoken gay artist and thrived in a homophobic country. Hearing the president commanding us to “stop being a country of sissies’’ to face the virus “like a man”, did not stop the comedian from going in the opposite direction. He was often asking his 16.6 mi followers on Instagram to stay home if possible, besides campaigning for vaccinations, and calling for civil action — he even donated BRL 500.000 to an association of hospitals in the Amazon lacking oxygen. Like most Brazilians, he was terrified. But fear alone does not protect us.

Since the beginning of the pandemic, the political polarisation underway in the country is reflected between those who stick with the World Health Organisation recommendations, and those who follow President Bolsonaro — who usually has a negative answer for each proposed solution. Lockdown? Harms the economy. Vaccine? He refuses “to be a guinea pig”. Mask? Another homophobic answer, this time, “masks are for fairies”. While the leader encourages the nation to rebel against what is the closest we have to a protocol, everyone committed to do the bare minimum is exhausted. And that’s why this death has affected us so personally.

The grief kept spreading over the week, as the following day of the artist’s death, we had to watch the president suggest, once again, that the virus is part of China biological war; triggering, once again, a diplomatic conflict with the main supplier of the already delayed vaccine production in Brazil.

Despite Bolsonaro’s insinuations, China defeated the virus long ago. Same for the UK and the USA, who once led the death tolls alongside Brazil, and are now at the massive vaccination phase. Still topping the ranking, the US, with 328 mi inhabitants, lost 592,410 people until reducing the number of deaths to one digit in April. With 211 mi, Brazil registered 425,711 losses until this article was published. And if the virus had “waves” in other countries, a huge tsunami has been with us since last November, when daily death numbers started to oscillate between 1000 to 3000 people, reaching a ridiculous 4000 record in April.

The fact that the Brazilian people, besides smiling, are extremely gregarious people explain these figures. But many are trying to keep things smaller. The holidays season in my family, for example, resumed to me, my parents and brother. One of these nights, I remember laughing until my belly hurts with a Christmas special made by Gustavo. After his death, fans remembered that he finished that show asking us to keep the smile under the masks because the hug-time was coming. “Laughter is a form of resistance”, he said.

A good mood indeed helped us navigate the darkness taking over the country. However, it’s inevitable to think that it also allowed it to establish in the first place. Many Brazilians in denial still mock the ones wearing masks or avoiding agglomerations. What reminds me of 2011, when Bolsonaro was also a joke himself. As a deputy, he was not ashamed to say on humor TV shows his sons were educated to never date black women; or that gays were not hit enough when they were children. While some people laughed at his absurd and outdated positions, others who internally agreed with him identified an option.

Confronting the country’s “macho” syndrome, now hidden behind conservatism or extreme-right speeches, is undoubtedly necessary. But the timing couldn’t have been worse. As parts of the population still march — masks off — in Bolsonaro’s name, we can’t avoid thinking about another macho-president, Donald Trump. In a similar journey, he also minimised the pandemic for the economy’s sake and had deniers following him until the very end. However, a stronger system has set a limit on where a crazy president’s narrative can go.

Trump’s actions didn’t stop the country’s chief medical advisor, Anthony Fauci, to work. In Brazil, we had nothing less than four Health ministers; and vaccine negotiations were dropped 11 times by the president, that kept insisting on hydroxychloroquine and other preventive myths until very recently. Even a national vaccine, which we’re all so proud of, was the result of the local effort of a state governor.

This May 4, however, was not just the day when Brazilians had to swallow another 3000 avoidable deaths, including that of the dear artist. A Parliamentary Commission of Inquiry that investigates the government’s actions to combat the pandemic has also started to hear witnesses. The inaugural hearings had Dr. Luiz Henrique Mandetta, the first health minister sacked by Bolsonaro, talking about how the president considered issuing a decree expanding the use of chloroquine for COVID-19 patients, though studies found it ineffective; following, another doctor, the second health minister Nelson Teich, explained that he chose to step down because he couldn’t reach an agreement with the president.

Of course, irony found its way. General Eduardo Pazuello, Bolsonaro’s ally and the one who, despite not being a doctor, remained as a health minister longer, refused to testify on the grounds that he had been in contact with someone who had tested positive recently. That happens one week after he had a photo without a mask in a mall going viral. Also ironically, a Ministry page advising the preventive use of hydroxychloroquine disappeared when the Inquiriment started. Boom. As it was never there before. Even if we all saw it…

At different times, we might have laughed at the string of absurdities. Maybe some memes would be circulating in WhatsApp groups. But we can’t laugh anymore — we hit rock bottom. If before individual scars belonged to the more than 400.000 Brazilians who lost their loved ones to the virus, the loss of the comedian is now a shared trauma. And of course, the economy, which Bolsonaro was so eager to save, is also crushed.

From the mourner’s silence, a disturbing laugh continues to echo from those who insist on marching against common sense. As Brazilian composer Roberto Frejat once sang: laughing is good, but laughing at everything is despair.