Meet It’sa, non-binary athlete who pushes oppression into breaking

A long way separates the child who grew up in Itaipu —the peripheral neighborhood of Belo Horizonte (MG)— from It’sa Gonçalves, who this Thursday (4) will compete for the second time in his career in the Red Bull breaking world, in Poland .

A path marked by a person’s struggle, which today is considered non-binary, against prejudice. Despite competing in the female category, she uses masculine adjectives to talk about herself and asks that her identification be made with neutral pronouns.

As a child, It’sa liked to play tag, hide and seek, steal the flag and, above all, play ball in the street.

“Child, I had the dream of playing football professionally. I saw Marta, Cristiane, and I had this dream,” he tells sheet, now 23 years old.

At 11, through his cousin William, he discovered breaking. Soon he joined his first crew (team), the Skeleton Breakers, and soon participated in battles.

It’sa training at night, studying in the morning and spending hours on the bus to go to and from the training sessions of Atlético-MG’s women’s youth team in the afternoons — but she supports União Itaipu, a team from her neighborhood.

Choosing dance, now an Olympic sport, and abandoning football are part of a process that is much bigger in his life. One day, at 13, he got a mohawk haircut.

“The Coach [do Atlético] he said ‘here I let the girls apply nail polish and makeup, but I don’t cut their hair like that,'” she remembers. With her mother’s support, she dropped the ball after the episode.

“I loved doing both, but at the same time I was also discovering and developing my personality, my sexuality,” he says.

Afterwards, It’sa was invited by the coordinator of the school at which she studied to withdraw from the institution for being a “bad example”. He did not study and completed high school at 16, through Enem – something that was previously allowed.

Of humble origins –having her own cell phone was something that happened late in her life–, she describes her parents as “traditional”: a girl wears a skirt; tattoos and different haircuts are frowned upon. An impossible pattern for someone who had already caused a shock at home by declaring himself “woman, black and lesbian”.

It’sa was part of Grupo Corpo’s social dance project, was taking a course to study History and was seriously considering enlisting for military service when, in 2017, she learned of a selection process for Cirque du Soleil —and gave dance an ultimatum.

He signed up for the show using amateur videos of his breaking battles. It happened. Afterwards, he traveled to the on-site stage, in São Paulo, with “three raves in his suitcase and R$50”.

At the test, she was assigned the role of Barbie, and It’sa had no doubt: she turned the doll into a hip-hop dancer. It worked out.

It was from 2018, already at Cirque, that It’sa came into contact with the concept of non-binarity.

“I didn’t know what that was until then. I asked myself: am I a trans man? I couldn’t fit in that sense, but I didn’t fit in with ‘lesbian dyke woman’ either. I was in this mess. And when it came to no binary, it was like ‘Wow, finally there’s a space for me too.”

Non-binary people are those whose gender identity — which is how someone presents themselves to the world — does not fit either as a man or a woman.

“I grew up with this question: ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’ My document name is Isabela and everyone already called me Isa. When I went outside [do país], that question continued to haunt me, ‘It’s a boy or it’s a girl?’ That’s why it’s just It’sa”, he says.

It’sa already suffered machismo, lesbophobia, discrimination by those who neglect the non-binary cause, racism “too much”, truculent police approaches, xenophobia —”Brazil has the movie burned [no exterior]” he says — and, “at the top,” he says, class prejudice.

“I channeled all the energy that came from oppression to the break, you know? I somehow managed, consciously and unconsciously, to filter it for the battles”, he says.

Today, one of her achievements is the transformation of a Cirque de Soleil make-up that she considered sexist (before only women and It’sa wore lipstick).

He understands that the debate about non-binarity will still reach breaking, a community that welcomed him, but which is limited to the b-boy and b-girl categories. Evaluates that the scene is sexist and gives little visibility to women.

It’s a visual discourse, from clothes to the last hair, that just being present gives a “blue screen” in many people. It defends the construction of a dialogue on the theme, step by step —or as the Minas saying goes, eating by the edges. And he warns: unlike the rings, in this battle, he doesn’t want to be alone.

Over the years, he developed panic attacks, anxiety and depression. Today, he treats everything with psychological help.

He quotes Simone Biles and asks that the entry of breaking into the Olympics –a modality debuts in Paris-2024– transform the scene, that athletes have professional support in all spheres and be able to make a living from dancing, an impossible scenario today for It’sa, that with two national career breaking titles required telemarketing work in the pandemic.

“I take care of my training, my health, nutrition, social network, my entire career. They want me to be world champion, but nobody sees me training on the court at 23:30 at night, without structure”, he says.

This is the second time that It’sa go to the Red Bull BC One world stage, which will be broadcast by Red Bull TV. When he returns, title or no title, he knows he will need to help pay the house bills. Remember that the first participation was not enough to change your reality. Charge that now be different.

“The worst thing for the Brazilian artist is that one day we’re applauded by millions of people, the other day you’re there in telemarketing. People think you get millions… millions of slaps in the face, because I get home with the trophy and I hear ‘Whoa, where’s the money?'”.