You’ve followed an academic and scientific path deeply committed to studying gender issues and themes that orbit around it (e.g. its influence on social movements, gender-based violence, or feminism). Which personal, academic or scientific experiences were decisive in shaping this trajectory?
We're all influenced by many different things, and sometimes, when we mention a few, we end up forgetting others — but the definition of my life’s interests came about through some very crucial influences. School, particularly my time at secondary school in Castelo Branco, my father, and also some of the youth groups I was part of — especially several lay movements linked to the Catholic Church that had an anti-fascist outlook, focused on intervention, social change and the fight for human rights. At school I had a geography teacher, Adelaide Salvado, whom I greatly admire. One day, she walked into class and told us to cross out a section of the textbook. This was before the 25th of April — textbooks were almost sacred, you couldn’t mark them, let alone damage them. The section she had us cross out was about Latin America. According to the fascist textbook, Latin America was underdeveloped due to poor infrastructure and lack of communication, but my teacher told us the real reason she though Latin America was underdeveloped: the United States didn’t allow these countries to develop economically and socially. Besides her, there were other teachers who influenced me, especially in philosophy and history. And then my father — also anti-fascist in his own way and someone who, to some extent, was involved in the opposition. So, I had the misfortune, but also the luck, of having lived through my childhood and early teens under fascism. It allowed me to witness a highly unequal society — authoritarian, repressive — particularly towards women, LGBTQIA+ people, the poor, and people from African countries that were, at the time, under Portuguese colonial rule. There was real repression, news censorship, and we had to pass news along in secret. I say “we” but I mean a passive collective — people didn’t really do anything collectively, but even so, we managed to access information through those who were fighting for a fairer, more democratic and equal society. I began to take part as a teenager, in youth groups, including those that defended the role of women in society. Women's rights didn’t come automatically with the revolution of 25th April — it took further struggle. Initially, I didn’t even agree with having women-only groups, but over time I realised that we had to come together and firmly stand our ground for our rights. All this shaped my decisions, my values, and my way of being in the world. I went to university, started teaching in the field and began doing research, following the work of older scholars. In Minho, for example, I took part in a school project aimed at reducing school failure and preventing early school leaving. These are social concerns, but I never did any of this alone. I often say I’m like the hummingbird — I make my small contribution, and I’ve learned from others who’ve given much more than I have and continue to give more than I do. Still, I’ve become part of this river, this group of people who think, write, and act to create a more balanced society. It breaks my heart to know that in the third decade of the 21st century, there are still social housing estates in Porto without electricity or water — it’s unacceptable. A minimum standard of social conditions should be accessible to everyone. Fifty years after the 25th of April, and this is still happening in a city like Porto. It’s inhumane that a family can go without water, electricity or gas. People donate food, but they forget that the most important thing is ensuring basic living conditions — food alone doesn’t fix everything. I remember seeing barefoot children going to school in winter, their feet frozen, no shoes, no clogs. All of these experiences — the influences and the lived reality — have shaped me. I feel very grateful and happy to have reached this point and to see that I’ve contributed, and still do, towards changing things. But at the same time, I don’t feel indispensable or irreplaceable. I’m just thankful to have had these influences and to have done something with them.

You were recently honoured by the FCT for your work "Porque a tua lição é esta: fazer frente": Mulheres Invisíveis no 25 de Abril e Além – A Study on the Participation and Contribution of Working-Class and Marginalised Women in Portuguese Social Movements (1972–1979). What would you highlight about the influence of these women – particularly those whose voices have been less heard – in the social movements and transformations we witnessed during and after the 25th of April?
I also have great respect for other women – from more privileged or middle-class backgrounds – who took part in the fight for the 25th of April and, later on, for the democratisation of the country. Their role cannot be overlooked. But those women are named in history books, in theses, in academic publications. Working-class women and those from marginalised groups are rarely mentioned. I was at the Torre do Tombo recently and saw some photographs from that period – I was there, and I remember them. I took part in several demonstrations, protests and marches, and these women were there too. They were on the frontlines, fighting for housing, for women’s rights, for maternity rights, and for workers' rights across various sectors. If we look today at the compendiums about the history of neighbourhood committees in Portugal, for instance, you might find one or two women mentioned – not even enough to count on two hands. These women are simply not remembered. I recall the domestic workers' union, the cooperatives that set up canteens in Porto – they were there. They worked, they took to the streets. But when workers' committees and residents’ committees became institutionalised, men took up all the leadership roles and the women were forgotten. A few years ago, I began trying to find the names of women from social housing areas, from these workers' committees and the unions in more feminised sectors. Only one or two names are known – usually because they became well-known for one reason or another – but so many others took part, were there, fought, took risks, lost their jobs, faced the risk of prison, were taken away in PIDE vans, spent a night or two in police stations, and some were even imprisoned. What are their names? What are their stories? Society must recognise that women from all social backgrounds contribute and participate in shaping society. During the 25th of April, some of these women took greater risks than others from more privileged backgrounds. We might remember Maria Teresa Horta, who was beaten in the street when Novas Cartas Portuguesas was published – and many other middle-class, educated women also took risks. But working-class women earned miserable wages and, despite that – or perhaps because of it – they still took action. After the 25th of April, factory owners fled with money, machinery and equipment, and it was women who stood outside the factories day and night to stop anything from being taken out – to protect their jobs, their means of survival. They were there, with no one to look after their children, sometimes going against the will of their husbands – and today, no one remembers them. I recall a protest in Porto for housing – thousands and thousands of women were there. You could hardly see any men. This project was created to honour all of those women, to rescue their stories, their names, their biographies – for instance, peasant women. We all know the name Catarina Eufémia, who was murdered, but many other women also fought for fair working conditions in the fields, for the value of agriculture – and we’ll likely need to fight that battle again. That was the purpose of this project, especially now that we’re commemorating the 50th anniversary of the 25th of April – although this idea has been on my mind for a long time. This is the quest we are pursuing: to rescue their names, their stories, their contributions and the obstacles they faced.

Women burned their bras, became suffragettes, and challenged the conventions that stereotyped them – battles have been won, yet the war continues. What can we learn from the legacy of these fights for women’s rights? And in your view, what are the major struggles of contemporary women?
What we learn from these women is that staying in our corner won’t get us anywhere – things don’t just happen on their own: action is essential. We need to come together with others. Battles are won through mutual support and solidarity – not just among women, but among all those who can be allies in building a fairer society. The 25th of April happened, the Armed Forces Movement freed us from fascism, but nothing was built without people taking to the streets and mobilising. That’s the core lesson we learn from the revolution: we need to act, to do, to think, to organise, and to reflect on what we’re doing or have done. On top of that, we also learn that nothing is guaranteed forever. We need joy, music, dancing too. Peace is only built through joy! That’s something we came to understand.
In recent years, we’ve seen a rollback in social rights – poverty is on the rise, for example. Right now, over two million people in Portugal are living in poverty, and hidden poverty is a real issue. There are people with jobs and wages who still need to turn to charities for food and can't meet the basic costs of living. How can this country have the audacity to pay such low wages while demanding extortionate prices for water, electricity and housing? We need to keep fighting and to stand together. The biggest challenge right now is to keep resisting and stay alert to these “voices from Restelo” – the ones who long for the “good old days” and want to see people suffer. Take those who oppose the gender identity law, for instance – they want people who don’t identify as men or women to suffer, to be forced into binary boxes. They are cruel, indifferent to the pain of others. We also need to defend workers’ rights – it’s unacceptable for people not to have the bare minimum to live. If people are working, if they are producing for others, then they must be compensated with decent wages. We need to demand better social conditions: proper regulation around housing so that everyone can live with dignity. Another vital fight – one where we’re losing ground – is over the National Health Service. The country is completely out of balance, with deserted inland areas and an overpopulated coast. This has to change – not just with political speeches, but with real action. That means ensuring the interior has the right conditions for people to live well, including access to healthcare, education, and essential services. There are many struggles, yes – but they can be tackled step by step. Social, health-related, cultural and mindset issues, artistic spaces – all of them are shaped by these experiences of suffering, unease and poor quality of life. And this doesn't just affect the direct victims – it affects everyone. Violence is like water or wind: it spreads. Its effects, its consequences, don't stay only with the person who suffers. They ripple outward, like waves in a pond, reaching the whole of society.

Citizenship and human rights education is a cornerstone in the construction of more equal and inclusive societies, and younger generations are increasingly becoming ambassadors for tolerance and equity. In your opinion, is education (both at home and in schools) fulfilling its role? Do you see hope in these new generations?
HThere is a great deal of hope. I work with young people, and I am very hopeful. First of all, I’d like to emphasise that progress hasn’t been limited to issues around gender identity – we’ve also made strides in combating gender-based violence: victims are more protected, there are more shelters and more support centres. There have been significant advances in Portugal, and it’s important to acknowledge them. When it comes to gender identity, however, it feels like we’ve regressed into a society where people are no longer free to be happy… we’re not doing all the work that needs to be done. We should be doing more, because those who are against this progress are few, but very loud – rude, aggressive, offensive – and they use language that assaults the moral, emotional, and psychological integrity of others. It is crucial that the state intervenes and does not allow this kind of violence. In a democratic state, there must be regulation – it cannot be acceptable, for instance, for violent, racist, misogynistic or sexist language to be used in Parliament with the aim of humiliating or harming others. There is still much to be done, but I do have hope in this younger generation. I also feel, though, that some young people are being taken in by manipulative narratives. These manipulative messages on social media follow a playbook – there are manuals and professionals behind them, sometimes even creating fake news. There’s this narrative doing the rounds that “being transgender is trendy”; it’s an exaggerated, false, hateful discourse. What they truly oppose is allowing someone who genuinely feels the need to transition to be able to do so. That’s what far-right hate speech does – it takes 0.5% or 0.2% of a situation, blows it out of proportion, and uses it to preach and impose ideology. In the past, we didn’t have social media – there was radio and television – but nowadays, the potential to multiply these false narratives is immense. What we need to work on is digital literacy – helping people to question what they see, read and hear. That has to become a practice. When I first became a feminist, a number of accusations were levelled against us to stop other women from identifying with the movement. Many would say, “I believe in equal rights, but I’m not a feminist!” – because of the image that had been constructed around feminists. Feminists were called devils. So were communists, so were socialists. Now the terminology may have changed, but the strategy is the same: dehumanise, demonise those who seek social change. I believe this demonisation of others stems from the unhappiness of those who engage in it – but they do it strategically, and at times they drag along some unsuspecting young people who end up spreading and amplifying it. We have to start by asking: “Is this true?” Citizenship education in schools is a curricular space where this kind of work can be carried out calmly, joyfully, with young people taking the lead – and, in my view, should be guided by professionals specialising in gender equality, discrimination, and violence. It shouldn’t be a graded subject – it must be a space for dialogue, where everyone feels confident to speak up. There’s also a lot of work to be done on digital literacy, and it can be integrated into Portuguese lessons, visual education, even maths. We need online resources that explain how to use digital literacy, how to question information. We should invest in funded projects to support parents – even those who aren’t internet-savvy – in helping their children. Or provide guides on internet usage to help them support and accompany their children effectively.

At the same time – and worryingly so – there are alarming setbacks in women’s and LGBTQIA+ rights, both in more conservative and supposedly liberal societies. What would you say are the main challenges facing gender movements in such polarised and adverse contexts today?
One of the biggest challenges is the search for truthful knowledge. We need to know – not let ourselves be swayed by the spreading of false data and misinformation. That requires us to stay aware not only of what we and our teams are doing, but also what others are doing around us. For me, and for the feminist movement, knowledge is essential – knowing the reality. We may not always have the opportunity to travel to certain places, but we can listen to those who are there or who’ve done research there, and hear about what’s happening. It’s possible to understand reality through reliable, valid information, and this knowledge gives us broader awareness. If we know what’s happening, we can reflect on how to act. Right now, when we’re seeing so much backsliding, it’s essential to pause. When there’s a wildfire followed by heavy rain, mudslides come – full of dirt, debris, waste. That’s how I feel: these torrents are coming from all directions. We need to figure out where to take shelter, and how to channel those torrents back to the ocean so we can start clearing paths again. That takes time and organisation. We need to come together, reflect, and spread the message. It’s all very well that young people learn maths, geography, Portuguese, literature – but if we don’t sit down with them and reflect on what they’ve learnt and how they’ve learnt it, those lessons will soon be forgotten and won’t mean much. What matters is reflecting on what we learn and the world around us. We must try to understand the strategies used by those who spread hate speech – identify them, expose them. One important thing: we can’t react wildly in all directions, or we just create noise.

Topics like feminism, gender equality and human rights are not always fully understood or valued, especially in contexts where prejudice, resistance or traditionalism persist. What strategies do you believe are most effective in promoting an open and constructive dialogue – one that fosters empathy and social awareness?
We need to collectively think about and remember human rights – which belong to everyone. I also think it’s important we make time for ourselves – to rest, to go on holiday, to be happy. That message of wellbeing and joy must be shared too. There’s a feminist who once said that if there’s no music and dancing, it won’t be her revolution – and I agree. Without music, dance, visual arts, literature, culture – we can’t make a revolution, nor can we stop the flood of hate and bitterness. We need more calm, more depth in what we do – more awareness of the results of our research, and its impact on the general public, on our communities, on our country. We need more calm, and more unity, too.

Scientific research, like education, plays a crucial role in social intervention and transformation. How do you believe we can – or rather, should – engage and work in ways that generate direct, positive impact in society?
We now have open science, and public universities – which are funded by taxpayers – are obliged to ensure that the results of their research benefit the people who paid for it. There is some transfer of knowledge to the wider public… but is it enough? Do people from different social classes, from working-class backgrounds, have access – can they attend, can they even understand what is being shared? Fields like medicine, dentistry, nutrition, or engineering should also make a democratic effort to ensure their findings are communicated to communities that aren’t fluent in scientific jargon. We must ensure the Portuguese population as a whole benefits from research – not just those who already know us, those who can read a journal article and grasp the results. That effort should be encouraged and valued. We need to leave our ivory towers. There are many outreach events, but it’s vital to ensure that those events are actually relevant to the audiences they’re intended for. Events for the general public are great, but what’s even more important is to ensure that those who truly need the knowledge – in agriculture, energy, resource management, and so on – are the ones accessing and benefitting from it.

Your career reflects a strong voice in the fight for gender equality – clearly more than just an academic or professional commitment. What personal hobbies do you have that, in some way, extend your passion for these causes?
Music, dance, singing. I also keep a diary – it was my father who encouraged me to write one. It’s a helpful tool, because it feels like, when I write, the weight of a worry becomes lighter. I play an instrument – the transverse flute. I’m dependent on reading – I need to read something that’s not academic. I need poetry. I always have a book or two on my bedside table. And I really enjoy reading good women and men writers.

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