em cada esquina um amigo

em cada rosto igualdade

Em cada esquina um amigo, em cada rosto igualdade (On every corner a friend, in every face equality)¹

A song that welcomes everyone with a hug and its lyrics are written in everyone's tongue, just as it brings tears to our eyes and makes us shout “fascism never again”. If there's anything that makes me feel Portuguese, it's April 25 and all the political, social and cultural anti-fascist legacy that it left us and that is part of our lives. My grandparents shouted “fascism never again” and my children and grandchildren will too. For us and for all those who are here, those who have gone and those who will come.

Jean-Claude Francolon, 1974

Although when I was little I was too trapped in my bubble of privilege, as a teenager I realized why this holiday is so important, and why I shouldn't just stay at home and watch the news on TV during this day. Freedom is not a guarantee. It's time to head down the street, carnation in hand, and take some friends for the ride as well. Don't forget to bring two or three carnations to give to anyone who needs them. Keep all the protest songs on the tip of your tongue. Hold signs. We are here to preserve our freedom, to guarantee rights for all, against misogyny and growing gender violence and domestic violence, racism, homophobia, transphobia, and any other kind of discrimination. We are also here for Palestine to have not only a definitive ceasefire but also its own red carnations, and against any kind of colonial and imperialist expression anywhere in the world. It's not forgetting our own colonial past, the colonial war between Portugal and nationalist liberation movements in the colonies in Africa, who were seeking their independence, causing suffering and grief to everyone involved.

The Portuguese dictatorship was characterized by censorship and a lack of access to many aspects that we take for granted in our daily lives. Among many other prohibitions, divorce was forbidden, as were reading certain books, watching certain movies and listening to certain records. There were no guaranteed rights such as education, health, work, housing, unemployment benefits or social pensions. The formation of unions and strikes were forbidden, as were free association and public demonstrations. There was no freedom press. Kissing in public was also forbidden, and fines were decided by details such as where the hands were positioned, or if it was a tongue kiss. My grandparents tell stories of undercover members of the political police trying to collect their opinions on the current situation in order to catch opponents of the regime. My grandfather remained silent, as if he didn't understand what they were trying to do to him. My grandmother, even though she never had the opportunity to have a quality education, still shivers when she hears about the dictatorship, and she never needed that “education” that many have to understand the fallacies of the far-right party that has as many deputies in the Parliamentary Assembly as we have years of freedom in Portugal.

Education, in particular, was one of the most heavily controlled things under the dictatorship, designed in detail so that no one had a shred of critical thinking and devotion to the leader was inevitable. Mandatory schooling ended in the fourth grade and most children started working straight away. The school environment was permeated by rigid discipline, where physical punishments, such as the use of spanking and public humiliation, were part of the students' daily lives. Singing the national anthem and praying were common practices. University was only reserved for the elites.

With the Revolution, the democratization of education became a motto, but the Revolution itself is getting further and further away from us, its memories are slowly fading. The protagonists of April 25 are disappearing one by one. We are increasingly dependent on historical records to know what things were like, and not everyone can ask their grandparents about it anymore. And, unfortunately, the current situation in Portugal is one of regression, of not keeping promises made and throwing away the lyrics of these songs we all know. Every moment I feel parts of our freedom slipping away. And freedom is a path, but it's not the destination. April 25, 1974 was only the first day of the rest of our lives², but in the next 51 years we also have a job to do. In a world where rights and opportunities are still not guaranteed, even fewer mentalities are changing and moderating their rigidity. We need to make more noise, deafening noise, we can't afford to lose anything. We have a duty to honor what others have achieved for us, what some have died to achieve.

In the same week that we celebrated our 51 years of freedom, Pope Francis passed away. He was known for his more progressive ideas amidst the overwhelming conservatism of the Catholic Church, and his humanity and tolerance of others. A Pope who would applaud the celebration of our liberation from a dictatorial regime. In light of his death, the Portuguese government took the controversial decision to decree three days of mourning and cancel the activities planned for the anniversary. Nevertheless, the usual marches continued, as they were not organized by the government. Members of the government did not take part in any events held during the period of national mourning, such as inaugurations, celebrations or festivities organized by national or local entities. This devaluation of the most important date in our country's history brought criticism, but it also brought momentum on the streets.

I divided my April 25 between my hometown and the march in the city. Unfortunately, in my hometown, instead of seeing speeches about the achievements of our freedom and the road still to be traveled, I only saw empty words and election campaign speeches. April 25 was also about cooperation and accepting the differences that can occur in the midst of democracy, while what I heard was just party propaganda in search of votes for the next local elections. What's the point of restoring a road if people's living conditions aren't being met? The revolution is mainly about that, but the lack of importance they attach to it is obvious.

I can't turn on the television any day of the year without seeing politicians belittling the problems of the people and creating anti-migration narratives, when it is a part of Portuguese history and reality, not just of those who come here, but of the Portuguese who leave the country. I see racism and xenophobia growing in every corner of my beautiful homeland, which is progressively being consumed by hatred and violent practices towards those who are different. We must, once again, put an end to the "state we have reached"³.

We weren't there on April 25, 1974, but we're here now. Our Revolution is made every day. Vote in the next elections with April in mind.

1. Lyrics to the song “Grândola, Vila Morena” by Zeca Afonso. On the night of April 25, the radio broadcast two songs: the first was “E depois do adeus”, by Paulo de Carvalho, transmitted by Emissores Associados de Lisboa. The second was Zeca Afonso's song, played by Rádio Renascença. The first signal was to prepare the troops for departure, and the second to start the operations. The song quickly became synonymous with the event.

2. Reference to the song “O Primeiro Dia” by Sérgio Godinho.

3. Reference to the iconic speech of one of the Revolution's protagonists, Salgueiro Maia: “Gentlemen, as you all know, there are different types of state. Socialist States, capitalist States and the state we've come to. Now, on this solemn evening, we're going to put an end to the state we've come to.”

Original version: “Meus senhores, como todos sabem, há diversas modalidades de Estado. Os Estados socialistas, os Estados capitalistas e o estado a que chegámos. Ora, nesta noite solene, vamos acabar com o estado a que chegámos.”