As Published by Bravo! Magazine

Renata Di Carmo speaks with the calm of someone who understands both the weight and the power of inhabiting her own space. A pioneer among Black women in the main writers’ rooms of Brazilian television, she has built a trajectory that defies labels and broadens horizons across theatre, TV, film, and literature. An actress since childhood and a screenwriter since the late 1990s, Renata made history by signing projects that cross genres and formats, always driven by the same motivation: to narrate to exist.

Having worked on productions such as Humor Negro, Cidade de Deus: A Luta Não Para, and Os Quatro da Candelária, and with awards that celebrate her creative contribution, Renata continues to clear paths and question structures. In No Jogo, a reality show created for Universal+, she devised a format that brings together art, purpose, and inclusion, selecting new Black actresses for the series (in)vulneráveis, in which she also acts. “I saw the chance to build a project where what you see on screen is also reflected behind the scenes,” she says.

In this conversation with Bravo!, Renata revisits the beginnings of her career, reflects on theatre as her first mirror of belonging, analyses the challenges and achievements of more than three decades of creation, and proposes something essential: to reimagine Brazil from the perspective of those who tell its stories. “Writing is a way of recognising the country, with its people, its pain, its beauty and its contradictions. It’s about fitting — and making more people fit — inside the stories.”

Bravo! – You started in theatre very young and became a pioneer as a Black woman screenwriter on Brazilian TV. When you look at this trajectory, at what point did you understand that your mission was to tell stories — and not just to be part of them?

Renata: In a way, those threads were always aligned in my head. I’ve always had this ability to produce imaginaries, and I told them in many different ways. Before discovering theatre, I used to write a lot, draw, and paint. That was how I managed to express myself. When I discovered theatre, I recognised myself in that place, in that space, in the possibility of being and remaining sensitive to what crossed me — it was a way of dealing with my own issues. The first play I ever saw in my life was Pluft, o Fantasminha, by Maria Clara Machado, and I was enchanted by that magical world unfolding in front of me, by that possibility of connection, of complete involvement. I was still a child, but I remember a feeling that was a mix of abstraction and reflection at the same time.

Bravo! – When you revisit that memory of Pluft now, do you feel there was already, even if intuitively, a reading about belonging and about who gets to be at the centre of the story?

Renata: There’s a line that is very emblematic for me, which connected me to that universe forever. Pluft says, “Mamãe, eu tenho medo de gente” [“Mom, I’m afraid of people”], and I identified so deeply with that. I understood that space, the theatre, was what I wanted. At the same time, beyond the line that may sound innocent — but wasn’t for me — I identified with Pluft, not with Maribel, the girl in the story. And that said, and still says a lot about the crossings that mark the Black experience in the world. It was frightening, and still is, to be afraid of people, in the same way that it is to mirror your life in non-existence. If we look closely, I was identifying with a ghost. But then again, he was also the protagonist of the story. A double reading.

Bravo! – And at what moment does this girl who recognises herself in the ghost begin to understand that acting is also a way of writing the world with her own body?

Renata: I believe that, for me, it has always been about telling stories, about inscribing myself in the world, even though, at first, that started to appear more professionally through acting in ensembles. And being an actress is an important way of telling them — in the end, you choose the “how”. It’s your body, your expressions, your intonations, your strength. When I started writing professionally, I had a few needs: to generate income so I could continue being an actress, so I could remain in my artistic practice; to create while being exactly who I was; to recognise myself in the narratives, because what I heard most often was that I was excellent, but there were no roles for me. So writing became a way of recognising Brazil, with its people, its complexities and diversity, its beauty and subtleties, its pain, affections and contradictions. I don’t think there was an exact moment when I “became” an author — I existed. By existing, I needed to be who I am, and I made my way from there.

Bravo! – Your phrase “who tells the stories changes the ending” captures your work very well. What endings do you feel you’ve already managed to change — and which ones do you still want to transform?

Renata: A series of actions and existences across generations, movements, people — that’s what changes things. Our history is made by many hands; many generations of us have passed the baton, have fought, have been crushed by the system, have been made invisible, silenced, have nurtured and paved a path. That’s why it’s also essential that we narrate, so there is a record of this journey.

Bravo! – When you decide to write, how much does that awareness of ancestry and of this baton being passed weigh on the choices you make on the page?

Renata: Along my path, I felt the need to invest in creating narratives where the world would also be a possible place for me. There was an insistence, a provocation in me that said: yes, we fit into any narrative, since there are countless experiences and ways of living inhabiting the Earth. It’s exhausting to have to keep explaining the basics. As an actress, I felt limited when they said certain characters weren’t for me, even though I felt they were. The thing is that our bodies carry a history — they tell a story on their own — and yet this Black female body was not born from the Atlantic experience, you know? I tried to broaden perspectives with the projects I worked on, as best I could, because when we write, we’re not just registering a time or recalling a past; we’re also expanding how that past is seen.

Bravo! – You often mention the production of imaginary worlds. In practice, what does it mean for you to “change the ending” from this symbolic place?

Renata: Changing the ending has to do with this: a symbolic production capable of freeing bodies and minds from the bonds created in the realm of imagination. The production of imaginaries is very real; it becomes tangible when it turns into action in the physical world. It has to do with the possibility of imagining yourself as the protagonist of your own existence by interfering in the realm of desire. In the social sphere, fostering things beyond the screen has been an important path. And to answer what I still want to change: a lot. For myself, too. Within myself, too. It would be good to truly fit into this existence. And I still want to see works produced by non-privileged groups being seen simply as art, and not as some kind of “social experiment” or strategic political manoeuvre.

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Bravo! – In productions such as Cidade de Deus: A Luta Não Para and Os Quatro da Candelária, you brought new perspectives to very strong stories. How do you balance social responsibility with artistic instinct?

Renata: Some stories demand a huge sense of responsibility regarding the narrative choices we make. It’s about the approaches, the angles, the battles you choose, the negotiations you make with life. Our gaze and our practice are tied to the time we live in. When you’re dealing with certain characters and contexts, you have to stay attentive, willing to listen, and to spend time reflecting and studying the ways you’re going to approach things. And even so, you can still get it wrong; you may not be interpreted the way you initially imagined, and something might slip through. It’s always a risk.

Bravo! – Have you ever felt, in a specific project, that very concrete risk of the work being read in a way that worried you? How does that affect the conversations you have with the team and the network?

Renata: When we’re talking about certain representations, there needs to be a very strong alignment of ideas, because what you’re proposing goes beyond the writing itself. It’s born there, with one person’s idea, then with the actual writing and development, but thousands of other layers get added to that creative impulse. So if the people involved in that work aren’t aligned — the team, all the professionals, and also the decision-makers above them — the idea gets lost. Dialogue is always necessary, because this balance you mention, between artistic impulse and the responsibility with which you communicate an idea, has to be a guiding scale. That’s not simple at all, because you need to weigh things up, to be empathetic even when you want to provoke, to be open to learning, to be genuinely interested in people, in the world, in what’s around you. There’s this humanitarian conscience alarm in your head going off all the time, making you constantly question whether something is a disservice. What we communicate has an impact. That’s serious.

Bravo! – The reality show No Jogo and the series (in)vulneráveis bring together purpose, inclusion, and entertainment. What inspired you to create such an unprecedented format, and what moved you the most in the process?

Renata: I think I saw a chance to propose something that would join art and purpose in a very concrete way, aligning content and aesthetics in this delivery. Once you get to know more about the history of the channels, you understand that the “DNA” of the two is quite distinct, and the challenge of imagining something that could connect them in some way sounded interesting. A challenge, yes — but an interesting one.

Bravo! – When you started designing this universe, what was the one non-negotiable condition you put on the table?

Renata: My intention was to propose a project that would open doors for other people and ensure that everything related to diversity on screen would also be happening behind the scenes. That made a lot of sense to the production company as well, so we were very much aligned in that intention. No Jogo is a reality show that is both a casting process and an artistic residency for actresses. The idea was to look for these actresses in theatre plays, universities, independent cinema, theatre companies, and artistic collectives. The group starts larger and gradually shrinks until we arrive at the smaller group that goes into the reality show on Canal E!. Over seven episodes, three actresses emerge with the leading roles in the series (in)vulneráveis, which will air on Universal+. I am an actress myself, so proposing a show within the universe of the performing arts felt more natural and truthful to me. And, of course, this proposal, in this format, responds not only to what the channel wanted — something new — but also to a personal restlessness of mine.

Bravo! – And when that reality show becomes a series, you twist the format again: a medical series in which doctors are not at the centre. Where does this choice for nursing and for Rio’s West Zone come from?

Renata: As for the series, I proposed a twist by creating a medical drama that doesn’t focus on doctors, but on nurses. That’s why so many of the dynamics people saw throughout the episodes of the reality show touched on that universe. The series is set in a health clinic in the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro, in the city’s West Zone. And in the last episode, we were finally able to reveal Zezé Motta as the head nurse of that clinic. Zezé is a huge star on the channel, and the intention of giving her a prominent role was there from the first contact. I’m grateful for the honour of having Zezé in this narrative. The girls went wild, acting alongside her. It was thrilling. So, in this project, the protagonism belongs to nursing, to these Black nurses working in this health unit, who historically represent an entire body of professionals caring for the health of this country. The story also aims to encourage reflection on how these professionals are cared for — they are often there to serve, to care, but in their own subjectivities and particularities, as they are under pressure, they are suffering, they are dealing with their own ghosts.

Bravo! – You often speak of aesthetics as a political stance. What kind of aesthetic care did you want to assert in No Jogo and (in)vulneráveis — from costume to cinematography?

Renata: The aesthetic choices, both in the reality show and in the series, also carry an intention and a goal. There’s a signature of beauty, authenticity, excellence, and ancestry. It moves me to see the work of the professionals who joined this construction. They understood, believed in the language being proposed, and added so much: Flavio Borges (director of photography), Lucas Osório (production designer), Lena Santana (costume designer and stylist), Elaine Black Martins (braider and hair stylist), to name a few. I can’t say much about the series yet, as it hasn’t aired; I can only share a little of what has already appeared in the reality show, which served as a gateway to these four episodes that will make up the series, set to premiere in 2026, bringing the actresses to their characters. No Jogo itself is already fully available on Universal+’s streaming platform.

Bravo! – You are also an award-winning writer and a director. What do literature and audiovisual media allow you to express in different ways?

Renata: That’s a very interesting question. Some stories have a more fluid nature; they can be adapted to different platforms. Others can’t — their strength is tied to the medium in which they exist. When you create for audiovisual, you’re telling stories through images, through the composition of each one of them. The image speaks, not just the word. In literature, it’s different in the sense that there are no limits. You can imagine without restraint, because in imagination, everything is possible. The proposal exists entirely in the word; the reader reads it and imagines from what you’ve put on the page — there’s no mediation, just the word on paper. And that’s a beautiful thing, that intimate moment between you and the reader. I like to imagine someone, somewhere, alone, reading the book. They are the ones who will imagine; the image is born in their mind, the whole story. The screen is there, inside them — in a way, they are both the director and the viewer.

Bravo! – Throughout your career, you’ve opened doors in rooms where there were previously no Black women. What has changed since your debut, and what still needs to change behind the scenes in the audiovisual industry?

Renata: Some generations keep producing politically, thinking collectively, fighting, creating content, producing intellectually… We’re talking — and here I’ll mention only women — about Zezé Motta, Léa Garcia, Lélia Gonzalez, Maria Firmina dos Reis, Leda Maria Martins, Beatriz Nascimento, Adélia Sampaio, Alzira Fidalgo, Ana Maria Gonçalves, Chica Xavier, Esperança Garcia, Aqualtune, Benedita da Silva, Marina Silva, Marina Miranda, Zezeh Barbosa, Carmem Luz, Dona Ivone Lara, Jurema Batista… An endless constellation of women who acted so that, crack by crack, we could be here. And many other women who acted in anonymity and, despite the erasures, made it possible for us to be here. Social change happens because a lot of people apply pressure. After all, people don’t give up. After all, despite every “no” and every imposed impossibility, people keep producing. However, they can, however, they manage.

Bravo! – In practical terms, what was it like to live in that almost impossible situation in the 1990s, when you entered audiovisual with no peers, no support programmes, no network?

Renata: It was improbable; nothing around me was favourable to my existence in certain spaces of society. I had no peers; there was no other Black woman within my reach with whom I could exchange, support myself, or draw strength. There were no support programmes, no mentoring, no institutions. So it’s a challenging construction that happens as you go — and as you move, you move things around you. Because there is no choice, but there is urgency. Today, we can look around and see other women creators. You have people to exchange with, to build with, to learn from. It’s good to look at that landscape and see talented people doing great work. It’s good to see narratives being created from other paradigms.

Bravo! – You draw a strong distinction between representation and representativeness. Where do you feel the industry still confuses the two — and with what consequences?

Renata: We can’t lose sight of the fact that representation and representativeness are different things, and in each case we need to know what we’re dealing with. Representing a group or an idea is different from actually including people and listening to their voices in decision-making processes. Listening, thinking together, having real dialogue, being willing to be unsettled by narratives, proposing changes, equal pay, recognising the effective contribution of professionals with a long track record in the industry, thinking about long-term careers, and helping to build processes that don’t systematically make people ill. How do we do that? How do we do that together? We need to look at this to be in an ongoing conversation. Not building only for the future, because the present matters. What happens to the generations of today? To those who are ageing now? To those who still have so much to contribute today? To those who need to live today? If we don’t distinguish representativeness from representation, we keep producing a narrative in which the country doesn’t recognise itself — and keeps killing its own talent in the process.

Bravo! – For the new generations coming up now: what advice would you give a young Black woman screenwriter who dreams of transforming the world through the stories she writes?

Renata: I will always say: study. Study the field, dramaturgy, the arts, theatre, cinema, literature, and screenwriting. Read everything you consider important. Stay attentive to what’s happening in the world, and be aware of the changes. Look to and revere those who came before. Be present, move towards the future, but don’t lose sight of what came before you. That’s part of a kind of knowledge that seeks wisdom, that wants to learn from the past to understand the present and build the future, to reframe it. The present contains both the past and the future.