A permanent state of discomfort | Priscila Gama | TEDxUFTM

In Brazil, a woman is raped every 11 minutes. Outraged by the reports coming out of the #meuprimeiroassedio (#myfirstassault) campaign Priscila Gama, architect at Divinópolis in Minas Gerais, aims to drastically reduce this figure. After graduating from the Federal University of Viçosa, she created Malalai, a startup that develops personal safety technology for women. After all, fearless women change the world.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at http://ted.com/tedx

The first time I watched a TED talk,

I thought, "I want to do that."

I watched and I thought,
"I'm going to to do that."

I had no idea what would bring me here.

When I got my invitation,

I was so excited about checking
another item off my bucket list.

I had to decide what to talk about

and I mulled it over for weeks,

until I understood
that what brought me here

was my own story.

Someone once asked me
if I enjoyed Christmas.

I said I thought it was alright.

It was just a bit sad.

In the same way, my story
is not actually all sad,

but I am who I am today

either because of something
that went wrong

or because of something
that is, in a way, sad.

Maybe that is why
I've never viewed sadness

as only a bad thing.

There's a great advantage in being

an overlooked child.

I've never been a child who ...

I've forgotten the word.

I was always an introspective child.

I don't have many photos of me
before I was five,

maybe ten or so,

and I'm not smiling in any of them.

My mom says that I didn't smile

because I already knew life was hard.

There's a great advantage
to being that child.

You become an expert in observing people

and interpreting reactions.

It's a bit like being able to read minds.

So even in a text message,
I can tell if something is wrong.

I call myself an overlooked child
because I know now it wasn't shyness.

Of course, being here
is making me nervous,

there are 100 people judging me,

but it's not shyness.

Although my family
have never had many possessions,

my father always made sure
we lived near downtown.

That's why I grew up
in a nice neighborhood

because he didn't want to rely
on public transport.

I went to a good public school.

Then I won a scholarship
for a private school,

an English scholarship,
and a cram school scholarship.

I even got a scholarship
for accommodation and food

at the federal university.

Maybe that's why, nowadays,
I find paying bills strange,

but I also find it pretty satisfying.

Not spending money,

but knowing that I have money
to pay my bills.

All these scholarships are linked

to a lesson that my parents,
perhaps without realizing, taught me:

People will tell you "no."

Each time they do, find someone
who can tell you "yes."

Most of my adolescence,
my parents didn't have money,

but they knew people.

My mom could teach networking
classes on empathy.

She never attended
any meetings at my school,

but every time she did go to the school,
it was because I was being bullied.

There wasn't a word for it back then,
at least not in Brazil.

Unfortunately, a problem
without a name doesn't exist.

There's no reason to find a solution
for a problem that doesn't exist.

When I was eight,

I remember the teacher asked me
to get her some water.

When I got back,
she was lecturing my classmates

on the problems I was facing in class.

I didn't go back in!

I stayed outside,

waiting for her to finish
so they didn't see me.

She finished by saying,
"We'll all die and turn to dust."

Since then, I get really uncomfortable
when I'm the subject of attention.

Something that bothered me a lot,

a statement that made me
really uncomfortable was,

"We've been talking about you."

I am a middle child, I have two siblings,

and I've lost count how many times
I heard my mom say,

"You are not different from anyone.

Everything they can do, you can too."

At that time, I realized
that something in the first sentence

contradicted the second and vice versa,

but I didn't understand what.

Nowadays, I know that,
if there is a "we" and a "they,"

we were actually different.

We just weren't as bad
as they wanted us to believe.

My sister and I loved a specific doll

which was very expensive at the time.

Each of us had one,

and we also had the dolls' husbands.

Our dolls, in all our games,
were always very independent.

They were business women,

and their husbands didn't
have names or professions.

Their names were whatever was on the box.

(Laughter)

No one taught us that at home.

But I'm from a matriarchal family,

so I grew up listening
to the women in my family say

that we shouldn't rely on men.

I'm getting a bit lost.

Once, I got obsessed
with the idea of having a doll

that looked different, like us.

My mom went across the whole town,

in the toy stores,

but the best she found
was a doll with brown hair.

And it spoke. It costed the earth.

I still have it, and it talks.

I got my doll.

So, when I was ten,

I was looking for something
that also has a name nowadays:

representation.

As a teenager,

I used to think I was
the ugliest girl in the world.

People used to joke about my appearance
when I walked in the streets.

I remember praying to God

asking why hadn't He made me pretty
instead of intelligent.

I started to study in a private school

and, to annoy one another,

the boys in my class used to write each
other's name along with mine on the board,

inside a heart.

After a while, I learned
to get up, erase it

and sit back down quietly.

That annoyed me a lot.

It was just a joke for them.

Yet, I was the only one in the class

that talked to everyone.

I could choose a group
to have lunch with during recess.

Because not having a sense
of belonging is an advantage.

You can be in several groups

trying to figure out who you are.

I'm lost again.

(Laughter)

I've learned to be in places

and be among people

who were sometimes unfriendly.

Later, I did a university entrance exam.

I was determined to enroll
in the Federal University of Minas Gerais

to study Architecture and Urban Design.

I've always known I wanted to study that.

My dad would get the newspaper

and I would grab the classifieds

and spend hours on end
analyzing building floor plans.

I took the exam and I failed.

It was all up to me, and I failed.

I was devastated by this
because I had plans.

I didn't grow up in the city,
so my plan was

to move to the capital, study,

go back to my mom's on the weekends

and socialize as little as possible.

It failed.

The next year,

I decided to try the exam
for two universities.

I will never forget this.

I was four points short. I failed again.

Those four points meant the University
of Minas Gerais was out of reach again.

But I was first on the waiting list
for the Federal University of Viçosa.

To me, this was the same as failing.

There was no glory
in being on a waiting list.

I didn't want to get a call from them

because it was six hours
away from my mom's,

which meant my plan would be impossible.

But they called me up.

And this was when my life began to change.

I enrolled and,
during the first three months,

all I could think about was
when I'd be able to request a transfer.

After three months, I realized
that it wasn't so bad after all.

After a while, I realized no one cared

about people's height,
weight or intelligence.

Everyone was different

and everyone talked to everyone else

about all sorts of things

because there was no other choice.

Ninety percent of the students
were from out of town,

they were miles away from home.

After a while, I realized

that I would meet my best friends there

and that, after five years,
I wouldn't be the same.

They really are my best friends.

We graduated ten years ago

and, when we get together,

no one believes we are college friends,

because we are so different.

People don't expect us to be friends
outside of college.

In fact, I've never been the same since.

I learned to live with people's flaws

and, if I could do that,

why couldn't I live with my own flaws?

Those I considered flaws

as well as those society considered flaws.

I came to the conclusion
that I didn't have to be perfect.

I didn't have to be complete.

I didn't have to smile
if I didn't want to,

just because people
thought I was too serious.

I didn't have to fix my hair a certain way
to fit other people's expectations.

I graduated

and went back to my mom's home town,

to work on architecture projects.

I did project work for six years.

I am still passionate about architecture,

but, after a while, it no longer
made sense to me.

My job didn't have the power
to change lives,

not in the way I wanted it to.

I mostly worked on high-end properties.

There's a phrase that is often
on the tip of my tongue,

something my uncle told me.

It was just after I graduated

and I told him that my job
was very highly regarded.

He said, "'Good' is not enough for you."

He didn't mean that I deserved better.

He meant I would always have to do better

if I wanted to get out of there.

I decided to do a civil service
entrance exam.

I passed.

This was the second big
turning point in my life.

I went to live in Belo Horizonte

on my own.

I started working for a company

where I really believed I could make
a difference in the lives of others.

After a year, I realized this
wasn't going to happen.

But I used my free time
to make changes outside work.

So, I started looking for things
that did make sense to me.

I now know that we aren't the ones
who find things that make sense to us.

Things that make sense find us.

Not long afterwards,

I got the chance to meet a young woman

who had invested all her grad money

in a free virtual platform

that allowed people
to get to know each other

and share their skills
and knowledge with one another.

Early one morning,
I heard a woman running,

shouting and sobbing

because she was being chased by a man.

A bakery opened its doors and let her in.

I read a report on the internet
about sexual violence

that caused me many sleepless nights

and I knew that something had to be done.

Someone should have been there for her,

and for other women so they can be free

to make a difference in the life
of someone else.

Just like that young women I met.

At the time, I didn't think anything
was stopping me from acting.

I called my sister, it was still early,

and said, "I know what I want to do now.

I want to build something
greater than me."

I signed up to an event.

I thought of an app.

I thought of a story.

And I went to the event, knowing no one.

Everyone came from a technology,
business or design background.

I hesitated right up to the last second

about getting up on stage
to convince people

that I had a good idea.

I convinced myself with these words,

"You spent six years
making people pay for your ideas.

So get up there!"

I got up and told a story

and I ended by saying

"You know how we say, 'Let me
know when you get home'?

Well, who lets us know
if they don't make it home?"

And that was the third
big turning point in my life,

Malalai.

We started out as an app.

A startup, really.

Now, above all, I hope it's a movement.

I'm a woman. I'm black.
I'm an architect and an urban planner.

And I'm involved in the technology sector,

fighting against the deafening silence
that surrounds sexual violence.

So I've been beating the odds
in five different ways.

We don't even need to talk
about gender and color

to understand what is behind
these stories I've told you.

People are often surprised when they see
how we came up with this solution.

I don't have a technological background.

Henrique, my business partner,
had never designed an app.

It was just the two of us,
without any investment either.

It wasn't much money really.

Most of it came out of my own pocket,

but I had an advantage.

I knew people.

Since this all started,

I have heard five reports,
in person, five reports

of attacks,

attempted rape

and rape.

Many women I have never even seen
before have hugged me.

Me, the girl with the solemn face
who rarely laughs.

One of the things I tell myself
is if things don't go to plan -

because I have high expectations
for what we are trying to build -

but if it doesn't go to plan,

we need to make sure
we are doing something positive.

Nobody wants to hear that, in Brazil,
a woman is raped every 11 minutes.

It's disconcerting. Uncomfortable.

What I'm doing today is
uncomfortable for me too,

but that's okay

because I'm in a
permanent state of discomfort.

A woman who was different, like me,

once told me something that made me think

that even if nothing goes
as planned, it was still worth it.

She told me,

"Thank you.

I realized that I cannot be less
than the very best I can be."

This showed me that being exactly who I am

and speaking the truth
that people don't want to hear

is revolutionary.

Since all this started,

if I said I knew 100 people,

nearly 80 of them would be
working to change processes.

About 20 would be trying
to see things in a different way.

But just looking differently isn't enough.

You need to do things differently.

There were maybe five doing that.

These are the people I like to be around,

these five.

Maybe they don't make money quite so fast,

maybe they don't know what they
are doing could make money,

but they know that their aim
is to change people.

My personal battle is to ensure girls know

that women have incredible,
transformative powers.

And when they decide to act,

they make a huge impact
on everyone around them.

My aim is safety,

but my means is freedom.

This isn't just about safety.

It's about the freedom to go beyond,

to do what needs to be done
to change the world

and bounce back, alone, if necessary.

I really hope that the future is female

because this will give rise
to a more humane future.

Thank you!

(Applause) (Cheers)