Bruna Frascolla
From 16th-century Angola's nganga-ia - transvestite priests with unchecked power - to Brazil's Supreme Court equating transphobia with racism, history echoes.
In 1591, a slave named Duarte was harassed by a colleague, Joane, who wanted to be used by him as a woman. The dialogue between Duarte and Joane, which took place in Bahia, Brazil, was conducted in the language spoken by blacks, which their Jesuit owners did not understand. They relied on a Portuguese interpreter who had lived for a long time in Angola; through him, Duarte was able to convey his complaint to the Jesuits, who sold Joane to a man named Bastião de Faria. Nevertheless, Joane continued to pursue Duarte, asking to be used as a woman. Duarte tried to dissuade him by arguing that they would be burned at the stake if they did so, but Joane countered that they wouldn't, noting that Francisco Manicongo-a slave belonging to the cobbler Antônio Pires, who lived on what is now Ladeira da Misericórdia-did this with many other black men, and no one burned him.
1591 was also the year of the Holy Office's visitation. Duarte appeared to file a formal complaint, which is how we know this story. When the Inquisition knocked on Francisco Manicongo's door, they found him dressed as a woman. Centuries later, historian and anthropologist Luiz Mott discovered the case records in the Torre do Tombo archives in Lisbon.
Separated from his wife-since lived in times where divorce did not exist in Brazil-the former Dominican novice published an article in 1985 that rescued Francisco Manicongo from historical obscurity, describing him as "Brazil's first transvestite" and a "courageous homosexual", using masculine articles and inflectional endings (Portuguese, like other romance languages, has more gender issues with articles and inflectional endings than pronouns). By then, the researcher had already become a gay leader-specifically, the leader of Brazil's longest-running gay rights group, the GGB. It was a time of political opening and redemocratization in Brazil, a period when minority rights organizations were springing up everywhere.
In the twenty-first century, we have not only divorce (legalized by the Lutheran president Geisel) but also gay divorce-since same-sex marriage now exists. It was not a decision made by the people, but rather by the body that gained sweeping powers during the return to democracy: the Supreme Federal Court. This court interprets the Constitution much as Calvin interpreted the Bible in Geneva, and it wields power over authorities that resemble the power Calvin held over Servetus. Recently, the court ruled that "transphobia" is equivalent to racism and that "transphobic" slurs are the same as racial slurs. The result: for the first time since the return to democracy, Brazil has a political refugee in Europe. This is Isabella Cêpa, who could face 20 years in prison for "transphobic" tweets and for stating that the transvestite Érika Hilton is a man.
In this new climate, the story of Francisco Manicongo took on a life of its own-and Luiz Mott, the man who discovered it, was branded "transphobic." Collectives of identity-politics activists, with no understanding of how historical research works, decided to condemn Luiz Mott for "deadnaming" Xica Manicongo and for referring to her as a "homosexual" rather than a "trans woman." (Xica is a nickname to Francisca, the feminine version of Francisco.) In 2022, Érika Hilton herself drafted a bill to name a street in São Paulo after Xica Manicongo, stating in the document: "For years, historiography portrayed Xica as Francisco, murdering her right to memory. Only through the movement of transvestites and trans people within academia did it become possible to bring to light the truth about Xica Manicongo's story" (Mott, Xica Manicongo, p. 203).
Thus, in 2026, the octogenarian Luiz Mott published Xica Manicongo: Brazil's First Transsexual, a book that is simultaneously a piece of academic erudition and a reckoning with the activist movement he helped found. Mott recounts the known story of Francisco Manicongo, as well as the history of that story itself, interwoven with the history of the LGBT movement in Brazil.
For starters, we discover that in 1985, transvestites referred to themselves using the masculine gender and considered themselves simply faggots who dressed as women. Today, Érika Hilton identifies as a transvestite, yet if a Brazilian were to say "o travesti [the transvestite] Érika Hilton" (using the masculine article), they would risk arrest for racial insult. The practice of using the feminine article (a travesti) instead of the masculine (o travesti) was introduced in Brazil in 1997 by Luiz Mott's GGB group, following the Argentine example. A transgressive innovation turned into an oppressive standard in less than thirty years. We also learn that activists embellished Francisco Manicongo's story to such an extent that they claimed (and Mott cites all the tall-tale tellers) that the name "Xica" was used during his lifetime and that this brave figure was burned at the stake by the Inquisition. It is a fabrication: the name "Xica" was bestowed by a transvestite friend of Mott's, and no homosexual in Brazil was ever burned by the Portuguese Inquisition or by secular authorities (even though such punishment was technically prescribed). The last record we have of Francisco Manicongo indicates that he pledged to wear the male clothing provided by his master. Duarte was advised to continue distancing himself from Joane and ignoring his pleas.
As for the academic erudition, Mott cross-references the scant biographical information on Francisco Manicongo with the history and customs of the Kingdom of Kongo, a territory that roughly corresponds to present-day Angola. The primary sources are the sailor and cartographer Antonio Pigafetta (1491-1534), the Capuchin friar Giovanni Antonio Cavazzi da Montecuccolo (1621-1678), and the military man and New Christian Antônio de Oliveira Cadornega (1623-1690). Two things struck me: 1) that before the Portuguese arrived, the Kingdom of Kongo lived under the tyranny of transvestites; and 2) that these transvestites were raised as girls by their own mothers.
Let us take a look on the accounts. Friar Cavazzi reports that "among the sorcerers, there is one who [...] is called nganga-ia, quimbanda, or 'chief priest of the sacrifice.' [...] To signal the role required by his ministry, he wears women's clothing and adopts the mannerisms and bearing of a woman, also calling himself the 'Great Mother.' There is no law to condemn him, just as there is no action forbidden to him. Thus, he always goes unpunished, even when shamelessly indulging in his immodesty [...]. Given the authority enjoyed by all these nganga, there is no jaga [warrior leader] [...] who does not seek to keep one of them by his side; without the counsel of their approval, he would not dare to exercise any act of jurisdiction nor make any decision." (Mott, pp. 110-111)
Regarding how the nganga-ia was chosen, a Jesuit provides a clue in a 1582 chronicle concerning a much-feared sorcerer who, after having his hair cut and his female attire replaced with male clothing, "confessed that he had been born a man, but that the devil had told his mother to make him a woman, or else he would die" (Mott, p. 104).
Nowadays, we know that mothers who impose a trans identity on children are key figures in trans activism. The tragic cases of Jazz Jennings (the first trans reality TV star) and Avery (who appeared on the cover of National Geographic) are the most notorious; both are now castrated individuals incapable of experiencing sexual pleasure. Yet, if the reader wishes to see with their own eyes a mother mistreating a trans child, they should watch this video telling the story of Josie Romero. The child asks if his mother would still love him if he wanted to be a boy instead of a trans girl; he explains to her mother that it is his duty to obey her, and weeps when his mother assures him that she will never force him to be a boy. The child was castrated.
We know, or think we know, the origins of this: pharmaceutical lobby and "woke" ideology. They employ psychologists to tell parents that their children will die (by suicide) if they do not comply-much like the demons of the sixteenth century. Anyone who believes no child should undergo this must agree that, in Angola, Catholicism replaced a belief system that was objectively evil.
The picture becomes even more striking when we consider that the Angolan example sheds light on the present: if transvestites can do anything and are regarded as true luminaries, it is not absurd to view them as simulacra of religious authority in this secular age. What would Comte say if we told him that the metaphysical stage was succeeded not by the positive stage, but by the most brutal fetishism of the theological stage?
To illustrate this point, let us look at the latest developments in the Isabella Cêpa case (which I wrote about here and here), developments that involve myself. Érika Hilton appeared on the 20 Minutos talk show, hosted by journalist Breno Altman (who is affiliated with the Workers' Party), and he read out my question. In short, I asked whether she intended to put all of Brazil in jail, just as she had sought to do with Isabella Cêpa. The response was affirmative and included labeling Isabella Cêpa a criminal, as well as equating anyone who does not believe women have penises to Nazis.
Obviously, accusing someone who has been legally cleared of wrongdoing of a crime is itself a crime. Naturally, Isabella Cêpa decided to sue Érika Hilton. Unfortunately, however, she also sued the interviewer-who acted like a true atheist and treated the transvestite as a human being rather than as an untouchable priestess in the manner of Angolan paganism. Clearly, the only reason Érika Hilton has not learned how to conduct herself in public, despite being in her second legislative term, is that influential sectors venerate her like an Indian cow (which is a very peaceful animal) or rather an nganga-ia of the Kingdom of Kongo.
Given that the Supreme Court ruled in 2023 that interviewers are liable for the speech crimes of their interviewees, Isabella Cêpa has become un-interviewable, unless she finds a way to avoid referring to Érika Hilton using masculine articles and inflections. (Suggestion: say "the person Érika Hilton", since "person" is feminine in Portuguese.) It should be noted that the journalist in question is already facing numerous lawsuits due to his anti-Zionism. The response Érika Hilton gave on his program was used in a documentary by the women's association Mátria, which portrays Isabella Cêpa in a favorable light.
And while the lawsuit against her was dismissed, at the end of last month, another woman, influencer Bianca Barreto, was sentenced to two years in prison and fined 20,000 reais for stating that a trans politician (who is married to a female and is the parent of a child) is a man. Will this case also need to reach the Supreme Court ? And if it does, will Bianca also need to seek asylum in a First World country to dissuade the justices ? How many lawsuits will it take to reverse this decision that equates transphobia with racism?