Collective Resistance, Ancestrality and Black Women’s Power
Learning from a Quilombola Human Rights Leader from Brazil
Wellington ‘Dinho’ Gabriel is a community leader from the Quilombo Pitanga dos Palmares community in Bahia, Brazil. In October 2024, Dinho spoke at an event at the United Nations, ahead of UN Special Rapporteur Mary Lawlor’s presentation to the United Nations General Assembly on the situation of Human Rights Defenders.
Following this, we interviewed Dinho who shared with us how his community faces immense danger for being on the frontlines of extractivist capitalism. The Quilombola communities, who once resisted slavery to protect their ancestrality and lands, are now battling against corporate industrialists and exploitative governments. In a country currently described as a constitutional democracy, their resistance has been faced with brutality: in the past years, Wellington’s father and grandmother were assassinated. Wellington’s presence and voice at international stages is a sign of their continued struggle. He calls on the international community to support the Quilombola community’s struggle for the right to their land, access to socio-economic rights and protection of human rights defenders. You can follow Wellington on Instagram @wellingtonpacific.
Pictured: Wellington ‘Dinho’ Gabriel and a colleague on Columbia’s Morningside Campus: Photo captured by Luna Borges
Could you start by telling us a little bit about yourself and your community?
I’m Wellington Gabriel also known as Dinho, I am a community leader from Quilombolo Pitanga dos Palmares, which is one of the more than 6500 quilombos that has been historically targeted in Brazil. My father, Flávio Gabriel, known locally as Binho do Quilombo, and my grandmother, Maria Bernadete have both dedicated their lives to our struggle. Both had their lives taken in this struggle for defense of the territory.
Every Quilombo is forged by our ancestry, by those who came before us. Every Quilombo is synonymous with resistance. They are sacred territories that our ancestors chose to live in and resist, to fight against all the “owners”, the mill owners, the slave masters. Some quilombos adopted more energetic actions of revolution – to directly combat slave society – others have engaged in peaceful resistance, which is the case of Pitanga dos Palmares.
You are the first person from your community in the United States, right? What did you come here to talk about?
I was invited here by the Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights defenders, Mary Lawlor. I gave a speech at the UN headquarters at Mary’s invitation which was very significant for the whole Quilombola community of Pitana dos Palmares and they were following me remotely. In my speech, I emphasized the existence of the prison in our community land, because it illustrates our economic and social vulnerability, and how long it takes for public policies to reach us. The State is much quicker to punish and attack us than to educate and strengthen us. The geographical proximity of the prison is telling: it is right near our house, but the school is not. The youth of the community are much closer to a criminal record than to a high school certificate.
The prison complex was set up within our territory, instead of a shoe factory that would have employed members of the community. A large road runs through our land which was constructed without economic compensation for our residents. There is also a dam that was built causing the flooding of a significant part of our territory and lastly, and no less importantly, the Quilombola community has to pay a toll to access the city center itself.
It is important to find mechanisms to put Quilombola leaders in spaces of power and create visibility, because we are realizing that there is collusion between the criminal organizations that operate in the peripheries for private interests. When the private actors want to take our lives, they blame drug dealers from the periphery. Having support from national courts and international organizations causes private actors to be more cautious when threatening our leaders.
What is the connection between human rights defenders and protection and preservation of your ancestral land?
The connection that human rights defenders have with the land is very strong. Slavery was a crime that lasted for centuries. Everything we look for and strive for is connected to reparations for the violation of slavery. So the intersection of the continued struggle for land fits in perfectly with human rights.
A major challenge for the community is that companies and private interests are very active in our territory. For example, few people know this, but one of the largest diamond fields in South America, is located in Quilombola territories. Their extractivism directly affects 12 Quilombola communities. Our ancestors, for reasons not known to us, chose territories to take refuge in where people can find gold, diamonds. However, these resources that can be exploited cause suffering and risks that repeatedly haunt the Quilombola communities.
We have seen statistics from Conaq (National Coordination of Quilombola Rural Black Communities) saying that crimes committed against quilombolas have increased, especially against Quilombola women from 2019 to 2024. Why has this violence increased and what have been the State’s measures in the face of this reality?
Everything in a Quilombo comes from a very strong feminine force. The world is feminine, there’s no other way. And that is why women end up protecting their territories even more, not just as leaders and human rights defenders, but as mothers, because they are both daughters and mothers of that land.
This is why crimes against the lives of female leaders within Quilombos have increased. It is a statistic that is in line with the growth of extractivism in Quilombola territories. The State has shown itself lenient, compliant, and, behind the scenes, a potential partner of those agents who promote murders and crimes against the lives of Quilombola people.
The government should mediate in these agrarian conflicts. It should closely monitor the Quilombola community’s demands and make sure that the companies don’t override free, prior and informed consultation. The government is being slow in titling our territories but at the same time is quick to release environmental licenses for these businesses.
In this context, what motivates you as a human rights defender?
I am driven by the unconditional love my father had for the Quilombola territory. My father was totally dedicated to the community struggle. When I lost him, I started to understand why he had such a hard time. It was very difficult for my father to submit a CV to a company to be able to work, but he had a collection of letters to send to the Secretariat, to town hall, or to the State government, to improve the lives of the residents. That was his life’s work, his passion. It is impossible to separate him from the community struggle.
My father was a man who shared the food in his fridge with anyone who came knocking at the door in need. What I have in my head, in my spiritual guidance and mind (Ori, in Yoruba, could be translated as ‘personal divinity’), is the figure of my father, the smile of my father every day strengthening me. He had a beautiful smile.
Pictured: Wellington ‘Dinho’ Gabriel posing with a photograph of his father Flávio Gabriel. Photo captured by Luna Borges
What does collective protection mean to you? What would be effective protection in terms of the community?
Collective protection for us means strengthening the articulation and sustenance of a Quilombo. In the heart of each Quilombola is where the collective protection lies. It means connecting yourself to a collective identity that transcends selfish and individual desires.
When it comes to collective protection, the State is a crucial stakeholder, so it needs to be part of the discussion and assist us in articulating this protection. For example: when we are trying to protect communities against armed groups, the public security department should protect communities that suffer from crime and violence. This is the only way to prevent violence and murder.
The Special Secretariat for the Promotion of Racial Equality should encourage more meetings of Quilombola leaders in Bahia, so that we can discuss what our threats mean in real terms and which policies should be in place to protect us. Every defender who is threatened is impeding some public-private interest that goes against the interests of the community.
How should the State deal with the protection of human rights defenders and quilombolas?
When my grandmother joined the Human Rights Defense program, the State installed cameras around the house. She lived in the firm belief that she was being monitored by the police and the Department of Public Security. When her life was taken, everyone discovered that the cameras were broken – they weren’t even being maintained. I doubted the credibility of the program from then on. After my grandmother’s death, I quit my job and became the head of the leadership of the Pitanga dos Palmares Quilombo. I did it because I did not want Quilombola leaders to feel intimidated by the State. The government gave me no choice but to join the program, even though I didn’t want to, so today I find myself in a struggle and abandonment from the State’s institution who should be offering concrete support for me and for the entire community.
What can the international community do to show solidarity with your community?
I invite all these international organizations, including the UN, to join us in this struggle. For example, at this very moment, the Quilombos are self-organizing to discuss the approval of a (Projeto de Lei Nº 24.745) that was conceived by the Bahia State legislative assembly determining that our population, the traditional people from three Quilombos, no longer pay a toll to circulate our ancestral lands. We want this Bill to be passed.
It’s a struggle that I call on all international organizations to provoke the Brazilian State into. Because we know that the Achilles heel of these governments is international repercussions. We know how much the influence and participation of international organizations can affect decision making from these leaders, then, not just for Pitanga dos Palmares, but for all of Brazil’s more than 6500 Quilombolas. It is very important that we have this engagement from these organizations.
The original interview was conducted in Portuguese.
Melody Dodoo is a second-year law student in Columbia Law School’s Human Rights Clinic who focuses on gender justice.
Luna Borges is a Lecturer in Law and Supervising Staff Attorney at Columbia University’s Human Rights Institute and Clinic, where she spearheads projects on systemic inequalities, and the protection of human rights defenders in historically targeted territories in Brazil.
Muskan Tibrewala is an LLM Student in the Columbia Law School Human Rights Clinic and a human rights lawyer from India.
Wellington ‘Dinho’ Gabriel is a community leader from the Quilombo Pitanga dos Palmares community in Bahia, Brazil.