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Friday, May 5: The Scene
Walking around the city, I see at once why so many people had warned me Rio would be a hard place to leave. I don’t think they were referring to the scenery, though. At least not the geographical kind.
I’m here to get the real deal on another scene entirely—brothers who travel to Rio for a sex hookup. My first night, my editor asks if I’m finding it “fairly easy” to get an angle on the story. Um…I guess you could say that—if you count being told what a big, strong, handsome man you are by random beautiful women in restaurants, running into a former neighbor from Brooklyn at a club where the ratio is always about five women to one man, meeting Chris*, a bartender who offers to be my unofficial translator, and being introduced to Nick, a 300-pound brother from Chicago who moved here, bought real estate, and seems to know almost every woman in the bar. If that qualifies as fairly easy, then yes, the story is already in plain view.
In the clubs where brothers gather, the women make a point of saying how much they like Black men. When I ask one why, she laughs and says, “Black men make strong love.” It’s clear the women know just how to approach their consumer base.
Saturday, May 6: Opening Statements
The next woman to run the big-strong-handsome line on me is 5 feet10 inches tall with flawless skin and so fine I can’t stop staring. I’m in a club that works like a supermarket. A series of women dance onstage and you essentially pick the one you like. One minute I’m drinking with Chris, the bartender, and watching her, the next she’s off the stage, walking over and introducing herself. She says she saw me from onstage. The thing is, she doesn’t speak much English, so her introduction involves kissing me on each cheek and grabbing my hand.
Intoxicating? Absolutely.
I’m starting to think it’s not just sex that lures brothers here. It’s not just about how many women they sleep with or how responsive or skilled the women are. It’s also about being in a place where they’re surrounded by limitless sexual options. I’m told that men routinely pick up two or three women a night, which the rate of exchange makes affordable. Ain’t no brother in the States rolling to his crib with three women unless Pharrell produced the first single on his album or he just scored 41 points against the Lakers. Which is to say, this is not about my being big or strong, but about the dollar being big and strong. Now whether the brothers want to admit that is another thing entirely.
Sunday, May 7: Lessons in Etiquette
A brother in a wheelchair asks a woman at my table if she’ll take a picture with him. Karla is reluctant at first and looks at me and Nick (also at my table), as if she wants permission. Finally Nick, the brother who moved here from Chicago, rolls his eyes, sighs and pulls out two $50 notes and lays them on the table. Karla smiles, bounces up, goes over and poses next to the brother in the wheelchair.
Nick explains there is a well-defined protocol here. When you walk into a place, dozens of women stare at you. After you invite one to your table, the others go back to pretending they never knew you existed. If a woman accepts an invitation to your table, she isn’t supposed to respond to any other man’s advances. Men fighting over a woman is bad for business. And it’s all about business here.
Karla eventually makes her way back to my table, a little disconcerted that I hadn’t made an issue of her leaving to take the photo. She sits down, sips her beer, and asks me with genuine concern, “Don’t you understand how this works?”
Monday, May 8: No Refunds
Met three brothers in their 20s from Atlanta who told me about the best full-service bathhouses. The sex trade here works like a cell-phone company. They have a plan for every income level. There are low-end dives where women have hard living written in their eyes, and middle-tier establishments where pretty women congregate in bars and discos in pursuit of dollars and the men attached to them. The bathhouse salons are the premium. The one the Atlantans recommend charges a $150 U.S. door fee.
The place features about a hundred very beautiful, nearly naked women. The client is supposed to choose a “guide” who escorts him to the dance floor, the swimming pool, the massage room or the private “relaxation rooms.” While one such guide comes with the price of admission, other guides try to talk you into hiring an additional woman.
One guy I talked to admitted to hiring a guide, getting too drunk to perform, then trying to talk her into giving him a rebate. He might have guessed they don’t have money-back guarantees.
Tuesday, May 9: Buying the Fantasy
At the start of the week, a friend asked me what the women here offer that sisters back home don’t. I thought it was more about scale and ease of access to sex than anything else. Well, I figured out something else that’s part of the equation: It’s scale, ease and deference.
I’ve heard the term GFE tossed around since I’ve been here. Today I learned it stands for “girlfriend experience,” meaning you can hire absolutely stunning women who will cater to you, pamper you, act as a guide, serve as a dinner companion, cook and clean for you (if you’ve rented an apartment) and, unlike most prostitutes, kiss on the mouth and spend the night.
Wednesday, May 10: Dreaming of Georgia
I should have factored mental fatigue into this assignment. I was being cautious, giving myself a week just in case it took me a few days to figure out how the scene works. But now I’m tired. Having to consistently suspend your moral sense so that you can keep people talking to you is draining. Besides, I just saw a group of 10-to-12-year-old girls on the strip. They’re glue addicts. They have sex with tourists. They don’t require condoms. There’s real poverty here, and shit ain’t always pretty.
The lounge pianist was playing “Georgia on My Mind” when I walked into my hotel. I thought, Brother, you have no idea.
Thursday, May 10: Game Is Sold, Not Told
“Better you should live it than listen to it.”
—Adriana, 25, on why I would learn more about Rio’s appeal by sleeping with her than by interviewing her
Friday, May 11: Thoughts From the Plane
Spoke to a cat last night who raved so much about his adventures in Rio that he reminded me of those guys who watch too many movies and start thinking the characters are real. It helps explain why the women weren’t so difficult for me to resist (a question that’s come at me from all sides). Attractive as they are, the women role-play in a genre that I don’t particularly care for. Still, watching the movie being made was fascinating.
It’s worth noting that every brother I met talked about Rio as a chance to live out the fantasy of having at your beck and call a beautiful woman who never questions your judgment or threatens your authority. Unfortunately, ideas like these aren’t isolated to Brazil. That’s why I’m thrilled that as I leave here I’m heading straight to Washington, D.C., to be a groomsman in my friend’s wedding. He absolutely adores the sister he’s marrying, and I’m honored to stand up for him.
I’ll consider it therapy.
William Jelani Cobb is an assistant professor of history at Spelman College in Atlanta and a contributing writer to ESSENCE.
*All subjects names and identifying details have been changed.
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