Favelas are informal communities in Brazil, mainly populated by migrants and descendants of Brazil's slaves. Challenges in accessing housing has historically resulted in leading poor and marginalized populations to settle on the hills of Rio, providing proximity to employment but at the expense of poor infrastructure and security. Favelas symbolize informality and inequality across Brazil. Mainstream perception about favelas often includes stereotypes of crime-ridden environments controlled by drug gangs. As a result, favela residents, known as "favelados," face systematic stigmatization.

The history and ongoing struggles of Brazil's favelas is complex and cannot be captured in brief paragraphs, nor am I qualified to be the narrator of their story. In October 2023, I worked in three different favelas, and I'm only offering a small glimpse of my experience spending a few days in Rocinha, Brazil's largest favela and the second largest "slum" in Latin America.

The story begins when I met Layana de Souza in Lausanne in 2022 at an Olympic Summit, where young leaders and entrepreneurs from around the world gathered with common interest in using sports to address social challenges in their communities. Layana stood out due to her unwavering belief in her work. Despite receiving a basketball scholarship in the USA and completing her Masters in Georgetown, Layana returned to Rocinha and established Mudando o Placar¹. Alongside her coaching staff, Layana offers free basketball classes for young boys and girls in her favela but the true impact of her work goes way beyond teaching them how to shoot hoops.

One year later, after almost a day of traveling, I made it to Rocinha to experience Layana's work firsthand. With over 100 kids enrolled, Mudando o Placar offers a total of 18 hours of basketball classes per week with young girls representing almost 50% of the cohort. Due to the lack of appropriate education available to accommodate the large population of Rocinha, the majority of the kids study in public schools nearby the favela. While the basketball classes offer technical sports coaching, Layana focused on providing a setting where the competencies gained on the court can translate into behavioral skills in the streets. This was crucial in the context of Rocinha and I knew that the only way to truly experience the power of the grassroots social innovation was to dive deep into the setting it was placed in. That is why once the morning training sessions concluded - after I was embarrassed on the court by the young girls - it was time to explore the favela.

Layana gave me a brief on what to potentially expect in the journey that awaited. She kept it short, sweet and simple: "Don't take photos of anyone holding a gun". As we strolled through the narrow streets, I understood why she asked me to keep my phone away. The sight of young men carrying large guns was constant. This kept on increasing in volume, as we made our way through an open-air drug market that can only be reached by foot. Tables were lined up next to each other, with the letters "C.V" spray painted on them. This referred to Comando Vermelho, the gang that is in control of Rocinha. Behind the tables, young teenagers in shorts and havaianas were carrying guns almost bigger than them. Some were buying drugs in broad daylight in a sight that appeared as casual as queuing up to order a shawarma from a street vendor. The initial visual shock made me numb; it almost felt cartoon-ish. Within my line of sight, I saw two groups of kids. One group was playing football while the other right across them were carrying AK-47s and M-16s. In the midst of it all, Layana was sharing a laugh with one of her neighbors while I was trying to avoid being identified as a gringo.

When looking at Rocinha from a distance, you can only see homes piled on top of each other - almost making it seem there are no roads or space at all. On the inside however, walking through it felt like navigating a complex maze. Jumping from one stairway to another, not knowing where each path could lead, and what one could stumble upon. Tangled and knotted barbed wires were visible running in every other direction above the streets. These are known as "gatos" and are strung by favela residents to provide people with cheap electricity and phone service. This is symbolic of the informal governance of the favela where crime can somehow also serve as a form of distributional justice. Each turn at the end of each alley brought unknowns and all I could think about was the juxtaposition of danger and routine that was profoundly present. Each step felt like a revelation. Each step was also a reminder of how important Layana's work was.

Despite distinct geographical and historical contexts, it was almost impossible not to draw comparisons between favelas and Palestinian refugee camps. Both are marked by overcrowded and informal living conditions, with limited access to essential services and persistent economic disparities. Social stigmas and negative stereotypes have marginalized both groups. Nonetheless, the profound resilience and strong sense of community pride is evident amongst "Favelados"² and "Abnaa' el Mokhayam"³ who have reclaimed pride in their identities. Despite prejudices around these communities, one experiences love and warmth more than anywhere else. Somehow I felt much safer and at ease in Rocinha more than the days that I spent in Rio's Copacabana.

Entrepreneurship, at its core, is about solving problems, and both favelas and our camps have their fair share of problems. Layana's work goes beyond her individual success story; it creates a ripple effect with everyone she engages with on a daily basis. Using my limited and improvised Portuguese, I managed to ask some of the kids at her academy about their dreams, and you can instantly notice the emergence of new young leaders, aspiring to become doctors, nurses, cops, lawyers, and athletes. None of them showed any desire to leave Rocinha but would rather impact their communities, mirroring Layana's return from the United States to Rocinha. In settings where your life path is already defined for you, the ability to dream is a luxury of its own - a sentiment I have witnessed firsthand in Palestinian refugee camps. At a surface level, Mudando o Placar may seem like another sports academy, but in reality, it is the embodiment of social innovation. In order to address social challenges and transform communities, there is a need for such grassroots programs to ensure sustainable community development.

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¹ “Mudando o Placar" means "Changing the Score" in Portuguese, with a mission to provide young boys and girls a space to grow and flourish on and off the court.

² “Favelado” describes individuals who live in favelas but also gained discriminatory connotation, used in pejorative and negative situations, expressing the structural racism and social prejudice of Brazilian society. Across many contexts today, favelado has been reclaimed to express pride by those belonging to the group.

³ Similar to "favelados", residents of Palestinian refugee camps refer to themselves as children of the camp.

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