Inside the favela- Thoughts of a gringa
Rio de Janeiro's favelas are among the world's most well-known informal settlements and are far more than just symbols of social inequality.
I spent a month travelling through Brazil. Besides experiencing the world-famous Carnival, I got to see so much more of the country. Its people, its way of life, its music, and countless moments that gave me my own perspective on Brazil.
With all the attention Rio's favelas are getting on social media, it somehow felt inevitable that I'd end up there too. This is my personal account of spending a night at a favela party in Rocinha.
One evening at our hostel, we had just gotten back from an exhausting bloco during carnival. The sun had been beating down on us all day, but somehow we still wanted to experience something else before calling it a night.
Three guys from New York that we'd met earlier that day invited us to come along to a favela party.
I had already heard a lot about favela partys while I was in Rio, people saying that guys walked around carrying guns and all that...
”It´s a very interesting experience”, everyone kept saying that went to a party. What do they meant with "interesting" experience?
I wanted to find it out by myelf, but somehow something always held me back from actively looking for a tour. I had a certain respect for going there, and I also hadn’t joined a guided day tour because I felt a little uncomfortable with the idea of following a group of people into a neighborhood where others actually live, just to look around and observe. Still, I was definitely curious and found the experience fascinating.
When I asked which favela it was and they said Rocinha, I hesitated for a second. It´s the biggest favela in rio. But in the end, we decided to go. Within five minutes, we were already in a WhatsApp group called "Favela Party Rocinha," and after paying through a link, everything was sorted. Getting into a favela party is honestly incredibly easy.
I was really curious because I hadn't even done a daytime favela tour yet. So... I guess my first experience with a favela was going to be a favela party. And it turned out to be one of the craziest things I've ever experienced.
Inside Rocinha: How Viral Videos Changed the Way the World Sees Rio’s Favelas
During my time in Rio, I also spent my time on social media, and eventually the algorithm started showing me hundreds of users and tourists sharing their own experiences in the favelas. Most of these videos begin by showing reactions from their families or friends saying things like, "No, don't go into the favelas, it's so dangerous!" .
Then the videos immediately cut to them riding through the favela on the back of a moto taxi, partying wildly, or recreating the famous drone videos that have become a huge trend and gone viral.
In these videos, visitors stand on a rooftop terrace known as the Porta do Céu ("Gate to Heaven"). The shot starts with a close-up of the person before the drone slowly pulls away, revealing the endless sea of houses stretching across the favela, surrounded by Rio's breathtaking landscape.
These spectacular videos spread across platforms like TikTok and Instagram, turning Rocinha into one of the city's newest tourist hotspots. The trend has also sparked a controversial debate. Supporters argue that tourism creates jobs for local residents as tour guides and helps break down stereotypes about the favelas.
Critics, on the other hand, see it as romanticizing poverty, since for many visitors the favela simply becomes a spectacular backdrop for social media content.
Although the media often associates the favelas with poverty, crime, and violence, they are also places of strong communities, close neighborhood ties, and a unique cultural identity.
For many tourists, the favela represents a lifestyle that feels exciting because it's so different from their own. The music, the motorcycles, the narrow alleyways, the street parties, the gang aesthetic popularized by films and social media, and the feeling of a close-knit community create an image that many perceive as "cool." The danger is that this image can romanticize a place that is, for millions of people, simply home, and often a place shaped by poverty and violence.
I'm not a fan of the drone videos myself. I don't think they're particularly authentic anymore, and by now they've become a little repetitive, when I see them on the socials. Even so, I can't deny that there's something about the whole atmosphere that draws me in, despite being fully aware of the other side
The Birth of Baile Funk:
One of the very first things I noticed after arriving in Rio was the music. Music everywhere. On every corner. Most parties took place out on the streets. Funk Carioca, as it's called, is the heartbeat of the city.
The beats and the lyrics... there's really no other way to describe them than dirty, wild, and controversial. But at the same time, they're incredibly expressive, and all they make you want to do is dance.
The music emerged in Rio's favelas during the 1980s, influenced by American Miami Bass, hip-hop, and Brazilian rhythms, eventually becoming the voice of a whole generation. The lyrics often deal with everyday life in the favelas, social inequality, violence, sexuality, and life on the streets. Huge street parties with DJs and powerful sound systems are still important gathering places and cultural centers for many communities today.
And hell yeah... Brazilians know how to party.
The Real Party Happens Outside
If you want, you can literally go out partying every single day, whether in downtown Rio or in the favelas. There are countless collectives and organizations hosting free parties where Baile Funk is the soundtrack of the night.
These parties are real. They're uncensored. There are no VIP tables where people spend the whole night showing off while drinking expensive bottles or where you have to pay an entry to attend or get past a bouncer. Everyone, no matter the look or origin can be part of the party.
For many residents, Bailes are much more than just parties. They're an expression of local identity and a place where culture comes alive.
While clubs are mostly commercial entertainment venues, Baile Funk parties and events like those at Pedra do Sal are deeply connected to the everyday life and history of their neighborhoods.
For many residents, Bailes are much more than just parties.
They're an expression of local identity and a place where culture comes alive.
While clubs are mostly commercial entertainment venues, Baile Funk parties and events like those at Pedra do Sal are deeply connected to the everyday life and history of their neighborhoods.
They transform public spaces into places where music, dancing, and communities come together.
That's exactly what makes them so different from traditional clubs and such an important part of Rio's urban culture.
Pedra do Sal was one of the first street parties that gave me something close to that "local experience." And pedra do sal is called “a tourist attracation”. It did´t felt like that at all. After that, I dove even deeper into Rio's party scene. I went to more street parties and, of course, joined plenty of blocos during Carnival.
Everyone wants to go to the famous favela partys
When
It all happened so spontaneously, and somehow the spontaneous stories always end up being the best ones. At some point, I found myself sitting in a van with my group and many other strangers, driving towards Rocinha, one of the largest favelas in Brazil.
It's surprisingly easy to get into one of these parties. There are plenty of people on social media promoting this kind of tourism on Instagram. At some point they realized how easy it is to make money by taking tourists into their neighborhood and bringing them along to these parties.
As a Brazilian, you basically don't need anything more than a WhatsApp group called "Favela Party Rocinha."
When we arrived, the very first thing they told us was that taking photos wasn't allowed and that we had to stay together as a group at all times. About ten minutes later, the first disaster happened.
We were walking through the narrow streets when one of the guys on our tour, who apparently understood literally nothing except Spanish, pulled out his phone and started filming. A local who happened to be riding past on a motorcycle, carrying a massive rifle, immediately stopped.
It didn't take long for him to make it very clear that he wasn't happy about the filming. And suddenly everything turned into chaos. The tourist didn't understand what the problem was, our guide was panicking, desperately telling him to delete the videos, and then there was the guy with the rifle.
Behind them stood the rest of us, all thinking,
"This is it. Someone's about to get shot."
After about two minutes, the situation was over and the guy understood: “NO FILMING”. But think about it...Imagine a normal argument. Fine. Now imagine having that same argument with someone who's holding a huge rifle in his hands. Looking back, I don't want to give the impression that people there simply start shooting whenever an argument breaks out. I honestly have no idea how often these weapons are actually used or how these situations usually end. The rifles were simply so present that even an ordinary fight felt much more intimidating than anywhere else.
People mostly get around the favela on motorcycles, and we didn't actually enter the party until around two in the morning because before that we stopped at a bar and then at a viewpoint overlooking the entire neighborhood.
We stood there looking down at thousands of lights stretching across an endless sea of houses.
"Have you seen City of God?" one of the Americans asked me.
When I said no, he kept staring down at the landscape.
"It's a really good movie. You should definitely watch it.
It's about a boy growing up in a favela in Rio. While one of them tries to escape that life, the others get pulled deeper and deeper into drug trafficking and gang violence."
Drugs.
That plays a huge role in Rio's favelas.
Without that white powder, cocaine, there probably wouldn't be nearly as many drug gangs or young men walking through the streets carrying rifles. The trade in cocaine and other drugs has led to the rise of powerful criminal organizations in some neighborhoods, groups that have, in some cases, taken control over entire areas. As a result, armed men, conflicts between rival factions, and the constant fear of violence have become part of everyday life for some residents.
But the story of the favelas can't simply be reduced to drugs and crime. Behind the images of guns and violence are millions of people who live there, work there, raise families, and build communities.
For many, getting involved in the drug trade isn't just a criminal choice, it's also the result of growing up in a system where some people simply don't see any other opportunities.
Standing there, looking out over all those lights, I realized that behind every single one of them was someone's story.
Not just stories of violence.
But stories of family. And of people trying to build a life for themselves in an incredibly complicated environment.
Eventually, it was time to head to the party. The party was a sea of people, spilling through the favela’s streets beneath a huge violet-and-yellow canopy stretched across the entire road. We made our way down from the very top, weaving and pushing through the endless crowd toward the dance floor. As we moved through the chaos, my bag caught on the barrel of a pistol from a guy. Without saying a word, I calmly pulled it free and kept walking. To disappear into the crowd and slowly make our way toward the stage, where the DJ was playing and we also watched a live act by an artist who calls herself “gringa baby”.
I was dancing in the middle of a favela, surrounded by hundreds of people.
For some reason, I had always imagined that if there were armed people in the favela, they'd look like some kind of military force, wearing uniforms or tactical gear.
I wasn't expecting gangs.
Guys in shorts and flip-flops, some of them barely twenty years old, casually walking through the crowd with enormous rifles slung over their shoulders.
Sometimes their fingers were resting right on the trigger.
They all looked completely relaxed, almost as if they were permanently ready for... I don't even know what.
Ready for what exactly?
Where was the danger supposed to come from?
I had literally trusted my life to complete strangers- from the guy driving the van that brought us there to the people organizing this party, where, in theory, a single shot could end your life.
Of course, nobody wants that to happen...But the thought was still there. At the same time, I have to admit that I actually felt surprisingly safe. I'd heard that everyone follows their own set of rules there, that stealing is punished, and that there are certain boundaries no one crosses.
Still, it was hard to really get into the mood at first. I spent most of the time just thinking. There's a real sense of community there, and I genuinely believe the people who live in the favela are proud of it.
It's their home.
Their neighborhood.
Their culture.
It's where they grew up.
And then there are us.
Tourists.
We'd had a few drinks at the bar nearby, walked in for one night, and suddenly found ourselves standing in the middle of other people's everyday lives. There was something about that that felt... heavy.
On the dance floor, the girls were dancing like nothing I'd ever seen before. Meanwhile a few cariocas just stood on the side, there for hours without smiling, barely moving.
And the ones carrying rifles walked around as if the whole place belonged to them.
I still had fun. The music was incredible. But everything about that place felt so different from the rest of Rio.I still don't know whether I actually felt welcome or not. To be honest, nobody really seemed to care that we were there. I got this glimpse into another culture, and I tried to be as respectful as I could. But is it actually a good thing for them that tourists come? Or isn't it? On one side, people say: "Go to the favelas. Get to know our culture." On the other, you'll hear: "Tourists don't belong in the favelas." What you have to understand is that this isn't an attraction.
I actually felt uncomfortable walking through a place where people simply live their everyday lives in such a big group of tourists. As a privileged tourist, it's just one evening. One experience. A story you'll tell once you get home. For the people who live there, it's their reality.
What makes us different?
At times, I felt like I'd stepped into some kind of dystopian world. There I was, wearing my black satin skirt, standing on muddy ground in the middle of all these people.
And yet...It was incredible.
I'd say I deal pretty well with situations like that. Some people probably would've run out screaming. Because I'm generally quite open-minded and can adapt to a lot of situations, we stayed for quite a while. And of course I had fun. I liked the music, the people coming together and dancing until the sun rises.
The first light of day began to spill over the city, turning the sky from darkness into a soft blue. As the sun rose higher, its warmth touched the favela, bringing out the colors of the buildings.
The second we started walking toward the exit, a fight broke out between two guys. Then a woman suddenly came running over to get involved, and one of them grabbed her by the hair and violently pulled her to the ground. Within seconds, people started fighting or running to the guys and women.
I stayed calm and kept walking behind the others toward the exit. But all of us were expecting to hear gunshots at any moment. I don't know what happened after we left.
Maybe nothing.
People can tell me all they want that the favela is safe.
Every day tourists come here and post funny TikToks saying,
"My mum praying at home for my safety while I walk into the biggest favela in Brazil."
But for me, it's still a place deeply shaped by drug trafficking and poverty.
A place that can feel incredibly heavy.
And yet, at the same time, it is a place filled with community, culture, and people who genuinely look out for one another. Our tour guide, who lives there and understands the reality of the streets, remained remarkably calm when the fight broke out.
As we crossed the bridge leading back to the main road, where we could call an Uber, nothing escalated, no shots were fired, no chaos followed. It felt less like a dangerous incident and more like something that, in this environment, simply happens from time to time.
“Is it everyday like this”, asked one of the new Yorkers. I forget the answer, but it must be something like “yes” or “a few times a week”. When we got in the uber and drove back to the hostel, we shared the same feeling: it had been an unforgettable experience, something completely surreal and incredibly special. Nights like this are hard to put into words, the kind of moments that feel almost unreal.
I looked out of the window as we drove through the waking city, and there it was: Christ the Redeemer, glowing in the first light of the rising sun, looking almost magical against the morning sky. After everything that had happened that night, I couldn’t help but wonder: Is life even real right now?
.
Today, I'd say I definitely would visitit a favela again.
But I also think it's important to understand that it isn't a tourist attraction.
It's a place where people live.
I think it's a good thing that the favelas are receiving more attention, but on the same time, some people use it way to much for clicks and don´t understand the real story behind everything.
I've also noticed that many residents genuinely enjoy seeing tourists appreciate where they come from. They're proud to say they live in a favela, and some even embrace the growing interest and aesthetic surrounding it.
But I still see the whole thing critically.
I also wouldn't simply call it "dangerous."
You quickly realize that most people living there are just ordinary people trying to live their lives, raising families and taking pride in their culture.
The armed men you see in some favelas are there because certain areas are controlled by criminal organizations or militias. For most residents, that's not a choice but a difficult reality they have to live with.
I don’t think I can even come to a proper conclusion about this experience. It is difficult for me, because I see both sides and somehow, they blur into one another.
The truth is what feels normal to some people is completely unfamiliar to me. And maybe that is exactly what traveling does: it shows you that there are countless ways of living a life.
You step into realities that are completely different from your own, and suddenly you realize that on the other side of the world, someone is living a life you could never have imagined, just as they might struggle to imagine yours.
I feel incredibly privileged to have the opportunity to immerse myself in different places, cultures, and ways of life. To experience these moments firsthand is something I am deeply grateful for.
Returning home is easy in some ways, but in other ways, it is not. Something about that night stayed with me. It awakened a curiosity inside me, a desire to see more, to understand more, and to keep looking beyond my own perspective.
The Journey Doesn't End Here
I brought a piece of that culture back with me to Germany. The music, especially, left a lasting impression on me. After I returned, I found myself listening to a lot of Funk Carioca, carrying a small part of that energy, that rhythm, and that feeling with me.
Maybe that is the most valuable thing about traveling: you never truly leave a place behind. A part of it becomes a part of you.