'Gaymers' takes Brazil by storm
In May, Jair Renan, the son of President Jair Bolsonaro, was banned from the stage after leaking Covid-19 misinformation and inciting gamers to break social isolation. His father also has a hard time communicating with the game crowd - which was once a strong foundation among his voters.
"Anyone who watches gayers immediately knows the side on which we stand," said Lola, referring to politics. She emphasizes that her audience should be critical and knowledgeable and debate the subject with a lot of charisma. It's hard to imagine that she's new to streaming - having started her channels when the pandemic hit Brazil - because she's coming across as an experienced professional.
Mother of the Brazilian Gaymers
Samira Close is one of those familiar benefits. She is the sledgehammer of Wenesson Pereira da Silva, a 27-year-old male from northeastern Brazil who worked as a seamstress and telemarketing operator before becoming a climber.
The son of one evangelical mother, Wenesson never considered streaming as a career while growing up. He did not have the financial means to invest in equipment for gaming, which, back then, was nothing but a hobby. First, he took part in streams of friends. Over time, fans began to comment on his humor and lack of energy and asked if he would consider making his own channels. "Why not?" he thought, looking for solutions to pay for the electronic and internet bills.
Samira Close was born in 2014, and 10 days is the longest she has been offline ever since. Samira is now streaming from its shiny workstation to nearly 900,000 fans who like to interact with them. Mother of God- a nickname won by its fans.
Samira’s live streams range from five to 10 hours a day and, at its peak, gather more than 15,000 viewers simultaneously. She plays a variety of games: from Free fire to Resident Evil, depending on how she feels.
Overall Samira has a very optimistic aura. She speaks cheerfully - as if she were always close to joking. She has a lasting, almost sarcastic smile on her face, and uses her beard as a statement. “When I decided not to shave, I wanted people to understand that I was not there for a woman, that was not the point. It's just what I wanted it to be and it was in line with my message "you can be whoever you are and do anything, you don't have to meet any expectations, even the pull ones," she says saying.
Thinking back, Samira says that she could not identify herself in the gaming streamers she saw before she started her channels - not only in terms of looks but also the movements, the humor, discuss the topics they have chosen. The only thing they had in common was their love of games.
But sometimes shared interest is not enough for a community to come together. “When I started, I was not taken lightly by other players. They cursed me, they mocked me, I felt a lot of hatred, ”she recalls.
Separation within the game community
Seventy-four percent of adults who play online games have experienced harassment or embarrassment, according to a League Against Defamation report from July 2022. When they were talking about LGBTQ + players in particular, 35 percent said they were harassed because of their identity. “We live in something I like to name post-Gamergate,” explained Goulart, the doctor of social psychology.
Gamergate (GG) was a year-long online harassment campaign that began in 2014, with members coordinating a series of abusive and violent attacks against gamers and developers. female. According to Goulart, GG members cited what appears to be a culture war over, in essence, two things: the multiplication of gamer identity and growing social criticism, such as discussions about race, gender, and diversity. within video games.