By Bryan Martinez

Member of the Youth Advisory Group
GOYN Barranquilla

February is a month when two cities become even closer and share something in common, beyond what the title suggests: it's an event that marks a turning point for both cities. This is Carnival. Rio de Janeiro and Barranquilla are two cities separated by thousands of kilometers, a language, the entire Andes mountain range, and a vast Amazon rainforest. However, the same sea, the same flavor, and the same rhythm reach our shores, a result of the African and Indigenous cultures that settled in our cities, as well as our joy and our way of fighting against inequalities and the daily challenges faced by us young people.

In this article, I'm going to tell you what would happen if a community of young people from Barranquilla (GOYN Barranquilla), looking to connect with opportunities, met and joined forces with another community of young people from Rio de Janeiro (Decola Cria). And as we Latinos from the Caribbean say: “Let's do it!”

This whole story begins with a global call to action from the young people who are part of the GOYN global network. This small, annual youth carnival is called the Global Convening, where joyful, energetic, diverse young people come together with ideas to build the opportunities every young person needs to live a dignified life. These are young people who are part of the Global Opportunity Youth Network. This time, the convening was in São Paulo, Brazil. As a young man from Barranquilla, chosen along with my colleague Gleynis Berdugo, it was exciting to visit that country famous for its joy, folklore, and culture. And also, as a big soccer fan from my region, to experience the passion and magic of its people on the beaches, kicking a ball around. But that's not the point of this article.

Stepping onto the São Paulo airport runway after hours of travel was exhilarating for a Barranquilla native eager to see the world and make a difference. The sheer size of this metropolis, visible from the airplane window at night, resembled an endless sea of lights, like a starry night. It is here, as young people, that we understand the importance of leaving our neighborhoods, our communities, and even our countries, to realize that we are not alone in this world. And secondly, that the problem is so structural and global that we must grasp its complexity to find the key to a future where young people can live with dignity.

Arriving at a hotel at night, brimming with curiosity, must be one of life's greatest experiences. It was three days of wonderful encounters with brothers and sisters from Tanzania, Kenya, and South Africa, sharing a language that isn't native to a Colombian, a Kenyan, or a friend from Tanzania. However, despite the language barrier, I've always believed that being young allows us to connect and understand each other more than we realize. Seeing the similarities in the way we eat, express ourselves, and complement each other is spectacular. It was the same with friends from India.

However, there is a call greater than that of being a global youth, a call that unites us: the call of being Latino. “Latinos, Latinos!” was a cry that echoed through the hallways and halls of this small carnival. I think at least one in ten São Paulo residents who were at the center must have heard it, because that's what being Latino and Caribbean is all about: boisterous, exuberant, and expressive; yet always with the goal of changing things for young people while enjoying the process. Lively conversations took place about mental health, the sustainability of initiatives, and the call to strengthen local leadership as the first and most important link in the chain to truly change things for young people.

After three great days, it was time for our second stop: the grand and famous Rio de Janeiro. Having forged strong friendships with our fellow Cariocas and leaving behind dear friends from São Paulo, we arrived eager to explore the famous city of Christ the Redeemer, but also curious and open to discovering the real Rio. Young people, despite being born and raised in the city, often don't know the tourist areas frequented by locals, which are more often geared towards tourists eager to experience a taste of Brazilian culture.

This is where we understand that progress shouldn't be measured solely by creating tourist destinations for foreigners. Progress also lies in ensuring that young people, the children of this city, can enjoy it thanks to opportunities for education, employment, and entrepreneurship. Because cities weren't born from tourist attractions; they were born from their people, who created dynamics, routines, and knowledge within their streets. Because not everyone knows what it's like to eat a carimañola or, in Rio, a coxinha; or what it's like to eat salchipapas in a working-class neighborhood of Barranquilla or a good picanha in Rio. It is from this that the value of a city and its people arises, and this value begins with its youth.

Data shows that Brazil had over 12 million young people neither in education nor employment, according to the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics. This situation is exacerbated if you are, first, Black and, second, a woman: the unemployment rate is higher for women than for men. This is reflected in cities like São Paulo, in its outskirts, or in Rio de Janeiro, with its favelas, or in the north of the country, where young people face inequality of opportunity and the criminal and state violence that marks the lives of many.

It's from here that we learn and connect how, in such a diverse city, culture and the building of a network of actors and collectives like Decola Cria are disruptive in lifting young people out of their contexts. And in this, I learned, along with my friends from Rio, a sense of resistance through culture.

The celebration of Decola Cria's first anniversary was the reason that brought us to Rio; however, the real reason was to learn about the work being done by each community. Programs like Madres Chingonas in Mexico City, or how the Rio de Janeiro Youth Office supported and connected these groups, are examples that demonstrate the importance of recognizing our peers and acting on what we've learned. Because, as the saying goes, "two heads are better than one." And it was here that our friends learned about our "Connections" program in Barranquilla, and we discovered how we all see the importance of local communities and leadership in bringing opportunities to those in need.

With this cultural and territorial motto, these two communities sat down and, today, left behind the barriers of language and distance to envision a common project as brothers.

This was the most important part of my experience in Brazil. It wasn't seeing its beaches, Maracanã Stadium, or Christ the Redeemer, but the friendships I made along the way and the motivation to build a better tomorrow. In February, these two communities, thanks to the virtual world, were able to meet and get to know each other, and with Latin pride and resilience, build a way to break down structural barriers and come face to face to create together a great carnival of cultures. Because today I'm from Barranquilla, but in Rio I discovered another part of myself that made me think that, in another life, I was a Carioca, like my brothers and sisters from Decola Cria.