Where Does Indigenous End and Pardo Begin? Understanding Ethno-racial Boundaries in the Amazon

Where Does Indigenous End and Pardo Begin? 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Understanding Ethno-racial Boundaries in the Amazon Leonardo Rafael Leite da Rocha This is a preprint; it has not been peer reviewed by a journal. https://doi.org/ 10.21203/rs.3.rs-8067583/v1 This work is licensed under a CC BY 4.0 License Status: Under Revision Version 1 posted 9 You are reading this latest preprint version Abstract This paper examines the symbolic boundary between Indigenous peoples and pardos of Indigenous descent in Brazil. The latter are defined as individuals who are ethnically non-Indigenous but share Indigenous ancestry and are often racially perceived as Indigenous. Drawing on Cultural Semiotic Psychology, the study applies the notion of bordering processes to analyze the continuum of identities situated between Indigenous and pardo categories. A qualitative multiple-case study was conducted with thirteen participants – seven pardos and six Indigenous – from the Amazon region of Brazil. Data were collected through a racial identification questionnaire supplemented with a semi-structured interview, and analyzed through Thematic Analysis. Results show that Indigenous and pardo of Indigenous descent identities are not discrete, but form an overlapping continuum comprising seven analytical categories: four Indigenous positions (land-born, urban-born, ethnic resurgence, and racial Indigenous) and three pardo –Indigenous ones (known ethnicity, unknown ethnicity, and phenotypical pardo –Indigenous). The boundary between Indigenous and non-Indigenous identities is permeable. Categories such as racial Indigenous, ethnic resurgence, and pardo of known ethnicity are ambiguous and blur the apparently rigid division between Indigenous and non-Indigenous populations, revealing identity as a dynamic process of negotiation rather than a fixed condition. Bordering processes. Race. Ethnicity. Amazon. Indigenous. Mixed-race Figures Figure 1 Introduction Brazilian society has been shaped by the encounters and conflicts among Indigenous peoples, Portuguese colonizers, and enslaved Africans, resulting in deeply intertwined interethnic relations. Today, the Brazilian Census Bureau (IBGE – Instituto Brasileiro de Geografia e Estatística ) classifies the national population into five racial categories: White, Black, “Yellow” (meaning people of Asian descent), Indigenous, and Pardo – the official label for mixed-race people (IBGE, 2022). “Race” is now widely understood as a social construct rather than a biological phenomenon, as it was considered until the first half of the twentieth century (Guimarães, 2003 ). Definitions of race vary across societies. In the United States, racial classification relies primarily on ancestry: individuals are classified as Black as long as they have at least one Afro-American ancestor, regardless of physical appearance. In South Africa, racial classification combines ancestry, phenotype, and cultural indicators such as spoken language (Ribeiro, 1995 ). In Brazil’s case, racial classification depends mainly on phenotype (Nogueira, 2006 ). Within this system, the pardo category is often applied to people whose appearance is considered socially ambiguous – neither clearly Black nor White. It thus encompasses a heterogeneous range of individuals: those perceived as Black, others whose physical features are socially associated with Indigenous ancestry (Wagley, 1952 ; Guimarães, 2024 ), and even some with predominantly European features who are often perceived as White (De Abreu, 2024 ). Indeed, the IBGE explicitly includes Indigenous ancestry in its definition of pardo : “people who self-identify as a mix between two or more options of color or race, including White, Black, Pardo , and Indigenous” (IBGE, 2022, p. 43, free translation). Consequently, many individuals of Indigenous ancestry identify as pardos rather than Indigenous, for a variety of historical, social, and cultural reasons. While race tends to be associated with physical traits, ethnicity refers to collective belonging defined by shared language, history, and cultural traditions. In Brazil, it is not uncommon for people with “Indigenous features” who are not ethnically Indigenous to be referred to as descendentes de indígenas (“people of Indigenous descent”) (Hernández-Díaz, 2013 ), implying only past connections to Indigenous identity (Oliveira, 1997 ). Some authors (e.g., Carvalho, 2007 ; Véran, 2010 ; Longhini, 2021 ; Bastos, 2023 ; Silva, 2024 ) suggest that this group – those of Indigenous descent but not ethnically Indigenous – mostly identify as pardo , largely due to their lack of ongoing Indigenous cultural or community ties. Longhini ( 2021 , p. 71) defines Indigenous people as “those who self-recognize and are also recognized as Indigenous by their people” (free translation), a definition endorsed by Indigenous organizations and by instruments such as the International Labor Organization (ILO) Convention 169. This criterion of mutual recognition highlights that many Brazilians of Indigenous ancestry have lost or weakened their ethnic bonds through centuries of cultural assimilation and de-ethnicization (Wagley, 1952 ; Oliveira, 2016 ). Brazilian everyday language abounds with terms used to describe individuals of Indigenous descent who are not ethnically Indigenous. Descendente (“of Indigenous descent”) is the most common, while indiodescendente (“Indigenous descendant”) appears in works by Indigenous authors such as Eliane Potiguara ( 2018 , p. 133). Officially, most of these individuals self-identify in bureaucratic records as pardo – a term that, however, also encompasses those of Black ancestry. To distinguish between these subgroups, the analytical label pardo descendente de indígenas (“ pardo of Indigenous descent”) can be employed, or alternatively, the shortened version pardo-indígena (“ pardo -Indigenous”), in analogy with other analytical categories such as pardo-negro ( pardo -Black) and pardo-pardo (Silva & Leão, 2012 ). Finally, there is the term caboclo , which historically referred to culturally assimilated Indigenous peoples who became integrated into colonial society (Wagley, 1952 ; Oliveira, 2016 ), and was even used in nineteenth-century censuses. In this paper, the term “Indigenous” follows the ILO Convention 169 definition, while “descendant,” caboclo , and “ pardo of Indigenous descent” (or its short form, “ pardo-indigenous ”) are used interchangeably, reflecting the polysemy inherent in this group. Following Rich’s ( 2013 ) typology of racial identification – documental, private, public, and social – it is possible that the ambiguity surrounding the terminology applied to this group arises from the disjunction between documental and private racial identities. In other words, people who subjectively identify as “Indigenous descendants” (a social identity and private race) may officially declare themselves as pardo in bureaucratic forms (documental race). The complexity of pardos of Indigenous descent also derives from their liminal position – not only between Indigenous and non-Indigenous societies, but also between ethnicity and race. Ethnically, they are considered non-Indigenous; yet racially, they are often perceived by others as Indigenous. For analytical purposes, this paper defines pardos of Indigenous descent as ethnically non-Indigenous people who are racially perceived as Indigenous. This is not a normative definition, but an operational one, aligned with Indigenous scholars’ emphasis on community recognition as the foundation of ethnic belonging (Longhini, 2021 ), while also accounting for the external racialization processes that affect this group. This phenomenon is not exclusive to Brazil. Similar dynamics occur elsewhere when descent does not guarantee ethnic membership – such as among the Parsis of India, whose patrilineal identity excludes children of Parsi mothers and non-Parsi fathers from community life. Likewise, in Latin America, Indigenous descent does not automatically confer Indigenous belonging, reinforcing the conception of the pardo-Indigenous as a non-Indigenous population of Indigenous origin. This paper examines this phenomenon in the Brazilian context, presenting partial results of a larger doctoral research project still in progress, which investigates the symbolic boundaries between Indigenous peoples and pardos in the Amazon. Ethno-Racial Boundaries: A Cultural Psychological View The study of borders is increasingly becoming a topic of interest in the Cultural Psychology of Semiotic Dynamics. This perspective seeks to understand how human beings perceive and construct symbolic borders, both in the external world and within their own minds, and chiefly to analyze the psychological processes that make possible the construction and maintenance of such borders (Dario, Amita, Galluccio & Marsico, 2025 ). In this regard, Marsico ( 2016 , 2024 ) conceives borders not as things but as processes. Hence the author speaks of bordering processes , implying the dynamic character of border construction and breaking with the predominant tendency to think of borders as static. Therefore, borders are defined as “a developmental conceptual place that accounts for processes of continuity and discontinuity, conflict and negotiation, innovation and reproduction in living open systems” (Marsico, 2024 , p. 231). From a cultural semiotic standpoint, borders are neither measurable “things” nor even locatable “places.” Instead, they are gray terrains of negotiation, constituting “tools for finding directions in the infinite space of the world” (Marsico, 2024 , p. 230). This conceptualization calls for analyzing the developmental function of borders. Indeed, Marsico ( 2024 ) epistemologically assumes psychology as a science of human development, shifting the traditional focus from ontology – i.e., describing “what people are” – to ontogenesis, that is, understanding the processes through which people become something. Borders play a core role in the processes of becoming, since developmental phenomena occur on the border between what already exists and what does not yet exist but is on the way to becoming (Marsico, 2024 ; Marsico & Varzi, 2016 ). The very processes of racial self-recognition are an example of developmental processes, since racial identities are always unfinished and subject to change, as demonstrated by Souza’s ( 1983 ) research on the process of “becoming Black.” The same “Black becoming” studied by the author may contain principles that can ultimately be extended to understand any “racial becoming” process. The Developmental Mereotopology proposed by Marsico ( 2024 ) assumes a teleological perspective, according to which human beings constantly rely on semiotic tools to make sense of the world and to move intentionally through the flow of irreversible time (Valsiner, 2007 , 2014 ). Thus, this perspective seeks to understand the role of semiotic borders in these processes of qualitative change. Marsico ( 2016 ) conceives borders not only as points of separation but also as contact zones. From this premise, the author derives three basic axioms for the theory of bordering processes: (1) borders unite and divide at the same time; (2) they belong simultaneously to both sides; and (3) they have a paradoxical character, simultaneously decreasing and increasing the ambiguity of the borderland. Regarding movement through a border, it must be considered that border crossings can only occur under certain circumstances, when borders are permeable (Marsico, 2024 ), and that such crossings necessarily imply identity change (Marsico, 2016 ). “Crossing borders,” in this regard, does not only refer to discrete changes from one identity category to another. Indeed, any new self-perception constitutes a border crossing. Marsico ( 2024 ) conceptualizes borders as “cultural membranes”: they circumscribe limits, but they are also points of access and transit – as in cellular membranes, which delimit cells but also allow the content of the external world to pass into cellular life. Similarly, through permeable cultural membranes, content from other people and groups can penetrate one’s psychological life, becoming signs that can be internalized and integrated into one’s personal culture (Valsiner, 2014 ). Method This is an exploratory qualitative investigation into processes of ethnic and racial bordering among Indigenous peoples and pardos of Indigenous descent. It adopts a constructivist approach to meaning-making (Valsiner, 2014 ), understanding identities as socially produced and negotiated. The research consisted of a multiple-case study (Stake, 2005 ), an approach suitable for exploring complex social phenomena that manifest differently across contexts or among participants. This design allows for a comparative examination of variations within a single phenomenon. Rather than seeking generalization, the multiple-case study aims to capture the diversity of meanings and social positions that emerge across cases, highlighting both convergences and contrasts. The study was conducted partially in the city of Manaus (Brazil) and partially online, between February and August 2025. Participants Participants were selected purposively: initial informants from the researcher’s network in Manaus were asked to recommend potential participants. These first participants, in turn, recommended new ones, creating a snowball selection process. Eligibility criteria included being over 18 years old, being born in any of the Amazonian states, and self-declaring either as Indigenous or as non-Black pardo . The final group comprised thirteen participants: seven pardos and six Indigenous. Among the pardos , six declared themselves “of Indigenous descent,” while one identified just as “ pardo ,” not specifying Black or Indigenous ancestry. The Indigenous participants belonged to four different ethnicities: Munduruku, Marubo, Yanomami, and Baré; one Indigenous woman was unaware of her people of origin. Seven were women (three Indigenous, four pardos ) and six were men (three Indigenous, three pardos ), with ages ranging from 18 to 42 years old. Data collection Two instruments were used for data collection: (1) a sociodemographic questionnaire, employed to describe the general characteristics of the participants and to make known how they self-identify racially; and (2) a semi-structured interview of hermeneutic approach. According to Dinkins ( 2005 ), hermeneutic interviews are dialogical and include interpretations shared with the participant during the process. The flexibility of the semi-structured format thus allowed for the development of ad hoc questions that emerged during the interactions and were reflective in nature, aiming to access the reasoning and justifications underlying participants’ thinking. The interview script included the following six items (#3 and #4 were for pardos only; the remaining items were displayed to both Indigenous and pardo participants): From your point of view, what makes you belong to category X [Indigenous or pardo ]? What do you take into account when considering yourself Indigenous or not? Do you consider yourself to be Black? What was your reasoning to identify or not as Black? How would you identify yourself if the option “ pardo ” didn’t exist? [Options: White, Black, Indigenous, or Indigenous descendant] What was your reasoning to choose this option? To which of the following groups did your ancestors belong: White, Black, Indigenous, caboclo , and/or pardo of Indigenous descent? Please, tell me about your ancestors and your relations with them. Which of the following people do you think is most like you? [Response options: pictures of four anonymous people classified in different categories in a survey (Rocha, Guilherme & Marsico, 2025): White, Indigenous, Black, and pardo of Black ancestry.] What do you and the model in the picture have in common? Six interviews (three pardos , three Indigenous) were conducted online through Google Meet, either at the request of participants or in cases where participants did not reside in the city of Manaus. The other seven interviews were conducted in person (four pardos , three Indigenous), at locations and times suggested by the participants themselves. Online interviews were recorded in video and audio, and in-person interviews in audio only. Data analysis The interviews were recorded and fully transcribed in Portuguese. These data were then subjected to Thematic Analysis, following the procedure of six steps described by Braun and Clarke ( 2006 ): (1) familiarization with the data through reading of the transcripts; (2) initial coding, identifying units of meaning related to identity, ancestry, race, ethnicity, and recognition/denial; (3) grouping the descriptive codes into potential thematic categories, which were then converted into a typology of identity positions between Indigenous and Pardo . The proposed categories were derived from the identified themes; (4) review and refinement of the emerging thematic categories; (5) labeling and descriptive definition of each thematic category; and (6) writing and interpretation of the results, in which the constructed theoretical model was articulated with the theory of the bordering processes (Marsico, 2016 , 2024 ; Marsico & Varzi, 2016 ; Marsico et al., 2013 ; Marsico et al., 2015 ). Ethical standards This study was approved by the Research Ethics Committee of the Institute of Psychology, Federal University of Bahia, Brazil (reference number: 83577524.1.0000.5686). All participants provided informed consent, anonymity was assured, and each participant chose their own pseudonym. Results Through thematic analysis, seven thematic categories were constructed and then converted into identity categories within the Indigenous– Pardo spectrum. The Indigenous side encompasses four of these categories: (1) land-born, (2) urban-born, (3) ethnic resurgence, and (4) racial Indigenous; Pardo includes three categories: (1) the Pardo -Indigenous whose ethnicity is known; (2) those with unknown ethnicity; and (3) the Pardo whose only connection with Indigenous ancestry is phenotypical. Rather than two separate boxes, Indigenous and Pardo identities are better represented as an overlapping continuum, with a grey zone and permeable borders. This theoretical scheme is shown in Figure 1. Figure 1 displays a representation of both Indigenous and non-Indigenous identities, as well as the overlapping zone between them. The Indigenous side includes all participants who identify as Indigenous in an ethnic sense and who have never associated themselves with any other identity, regardless of whether they were urban-born or village-born. The non-Indigenous side comprises White , Black , and Pardo individuals. The latter are depicted as a bipartite group, distinguishing Pardos of Black descent from those of Indigenous descent. The first Pardo subgroup is connected to Black people – represented by the bidirectional arrow linking Black ( pretos ) and Pardos of Black descent – since they share both common ancestry and a similar social position. The Pardos of Indigenous ancestry are located within the intersection between the Indigenous and non-Indigenous domains. This position indicates that these individuals share partial Indigenous ancestry and are often racialized through Indigenous-associated features, yet remain ethnically classified as non-Indigenous. For this reason, their border is represented by a solid line, signaling that, despite their penetration into the intersection, they are still situated on the non-Indigenous side of the broader boundary. Only the subgroup of Pardos with known Indigenous ethnicity is represented by a dotted line, reflecting their more permeable position – given their potential for movement toward Indigenous identification through ethnic resurgence. The others, whose Indigenous ancestry is known but whose specific ethnicity is unknown, “penetrate” the intersectional space without crossing into Indigenous identity. The Indigenous identity based on ethnic resurgence was included in the ambiguous zone, considering that the participant who identifies as such – pseudonym Siwsi – had previously self-identified as a Pardo woman, later reclaiming her Indigenous identity and culture. These categories are further explored in the following sections. Indigenous: ethnic and continuously identified The first category comprises Indigenous individuals who meet two criteria: they base their identity on ethnic (rather than racialized) foundations, and they have consistently identified as Indigenous throughout their lives, without having adopted other identities at any previous stage. This category encompasses at least two distinct realities. The first is that of the land-born Indigenous – people who know their ethnicity, speak their native language, and/or were born within the territorial borders of their people. Teixeira, Daydo, and Tsainamãpa, three Indigenous men, belong to this group. All of them know their ethnicities (Yanomami, Munduruku, and Marubo, respectively), speak their native languages, and were born and raised in their traditional lands, being socialized according to their peoples’ cultural canons. Aracy, a Munduruku woman, differs from them not by ethnic or linguistic criteria, but by geography. She represents a category increasingly present in public debates on ethnicity and race: the urban-born Indigenous . Aracy was born in Manaus and, according to her account, only realized that she was Indigenous around the age of ten. Her cultural upbringing was largely the same as any other Munduruku person’s. However, in her view, her family’s lifestyle seemed identical to that of everyone around them. When relatives visited from their village, she simply thought they were “coming from the countryside” – and vice versa. Only at age ten did she realize that what she had called the “countryside” was, in fact, an Indigenous village, and that her family’s customs – previously taken as ordinary and universal – were specific cultural practices of the Munduruku people, to whom she belonged. For Aracy, Indigenous identity was not pre-given; rather, it was something she came to discover. Indigenous by ethnic resurgence Unlike Aracy, Daydo, Teixeira, and Tsainamãpa, one Indigenous participant, whose pseudonym is Siwsi, did not always identify as Indigenous throughout her life. She was born from a mixed marriage: her mother is Indigenous, from the Baré people, while her father is a White man. Because of her “mixedness,” and the fact that her mother had hidden her identity and refused to teach Baré culture and traditions, Siwsi identified for most of her life as a pardo woman – although she acknowledged her Indigenous ancestry by describing herself as White–Indigenous mixed. As she explained: Throughout my whole life, I self-identified as pardo . Because racially, for us in the North, pardo does not mean having dark skin. Can that be part of it? For sure! But pardo we use to define those mixed people. [...] For most of my life I was never perceived as White, despite my lighter skin color. I was always perceived as pardo , and for me, it was never a problem. [...] I only realized that people have a different definition of pardo when I entered college. I read some papers and then discovered that people in the Southeast classified as pardo those who were Black. [...] For me that didn’t make sense, because I thought: “Okay, if I’m not pardo , but I also have features that, for most people, don’t make sense for me to be White, then what am I?”[1] According to Siwsi’s account, her grandparents came from the Upper Negro River region, where most people are Indigenous. They moved to the city of Barcelos when her mother was seven years old but intended to return to their village. Because of this plan, Siwsi’s grandparents did not enroll her mother in school, believing that “White knowledge” would not be useful once they went back. However, the planned return never happened, and Siwsi’s mother never studied, being regarded as “semi-illiterate.” This was the main reason she did not pass on their Indigenous heritage to Siwsi: for her, “being Indigenous” meant being deprived of education and stigmatized as “ignorant” – a stereotype often applied to Indigenous peoples in Brazil. Many Indigenous parents hide their identity and culture from their children due to the stigma surrounding Indigenous ancestry, which is considered low status. As Siwsi stated: For instance, in my family, when my mother left the village and went to Barcelos, she was seven years old. She didn’t have a birth certificate. Then, instead of getting an Indigenous birth certificate (the RANI), she got a regular one, and my whole family was registered as pardo . [...] In the second half of the twentieth century, people said the Baré people were extinct. Because those who were born outside the villages – or were born in them but moved to the cities and didn’t have birth certificates – were registered as pardo . Then, with this distancing from the culture, people didn’t pass it on to their children. This continues to this day. Because being Indigenous is seen as something bad, derogatory – sometimes parents prefer not to pass it on to their children, to avoid some kind of suffering.[2] Because she was alienated from her Indigenous identity, Siwsi grew up identifying not as Indigenous, but as a pardo woman. After persistent investigation, she eventually discovered that her grandparents belonged to the Baré people. This awareness allowed her to reclaim her recognition as Baré, recovering the identity that had been hidden from her – and even obtaining official recognition by Baré leadership. Racial Indigenous Unlike the other Indigenous participants, Leila does not base her identity on ethnic criteria. Nor could she, given that she is completely unaware of which Amazonian people her family descends from. All Leila knows is that she has a “generic” Indigenous ancestry. Without this information, she relies on her phenotypical traits to structure her Indigenous identity, which distinguishes her from the other Indigenous participants, whose identities are clearly grounded in an ethnized basis. The Indigenous participants recognized that certain features are socially perceived as derived from Indigenous ancestry. However, they do not use these traits as criteria to define who is or is not Indigenous. For them, Indigenous people are those who belong to an ethnic group. Nonetheless, there are processes of “Indigenous racialization” that affect people who “look Amerindian” and are racially discriminated against because of their appearance. This is Leila’s case: because she is racialized as “Indigenous” and experiences prejudice as a result, she self-identifies as Indigenous. She grounds her identity in alterity toward Whiteness and in her experiences of discrimination – which is not unlike how Black people also structure their racialized identities. This becomes clear in the following dialogue: Table 1 Dialogue between the author and Leila. Original (Portuguese) English (free translation) Leila Em alguns lugares, quando não é obrigatório comprovação, eu sempre coloco que eu sou indígena. Porque é assim que eu me enxergo. Não é nem indígena em si, é como se eu fosse descendente, né. Porque eu sei que o termo indígena ele é bem forte né. [...] eu não tenho como provar [...] É melhor “descendente”, porque é como eu me vejo. Porque eu não me vejo como uma parda. In some places, when confirmation is not mandatory, I always sign that I’m indigenous. Because this is how I see myself. Maybe not properly indigenous, it’s like I’m a descendant. Because I know that the term indigenous is very strong. […] I have no way to prove it […] It’s better “descendant”, because this is how I see myself. After all, I don’t see myself as a pardo woman. Author o que é uma parda pra você? What is a pardo for yourself? Leila [...] o pardo é aquela pessoa que ela não é negra, ela não é branca, ela tá naquele meio termo. Mas eu olho pra mim e me vejo uma descendente de indígena. [...] Já minha filha eu já acho que pela cor, ela é bem mais clara que eu. E tem uma diferença, que é a testa dela [...] a família, e a mistura que nós já temos com o Sul né, eles já têm essa testa avantajada, alta, diferente, ela já pegou essa característica. [...] Então pra mim ela se encaixaria como parda, agora eu não consigo me ver assim. Eu olho pra mim e me vejo muito forte as minhas característica de descendente de indígenas. [...] the pardo is someone who is not black, is not white, it’s in the middle. But I look at me and see an Indigenous-descendant. […] As for my daughter, I think that because of the color, she’s lighter than me. And there is a difference which is her forehead […] the family, the mixing we already have with Southerners, right? They have a large, high forehead, different, she got this characteristic. […] So for me, she would fit in as a pardo woman, but I can’t see myself like that. I look at myself and see very strong my features of Indigenous-descendant. Pardo: known ethnicity A common belief in Brazil is that pardos of Indigenous ancestry are necessarily people who do not know the ethnicities of their ancestors. However, there are pardos who possess this information. This is the case of Tainá, daughter of a German-Brazilian father and an Indigenous woman of Wapishana and Macushi descent. Even knowing her grandparents’ ethnicities, she still identifies as a pardo woman, due to her lack of participation in Wapishana/Macushi communal life: I can’t consider myself Indigenous, because I think it's very much a question of community, you know? [...] and I didn’t have that [...] Nowadays, I say that I am a “ Pardo of Indigenous descent.” Formerly, I said that I was just pardo, right? But now it changed. It is no longer possible to say just this. [...] I think it’s more a question of not being able to fit in any other, so the remaining option, that makes more sense, as far as I know, was pardo. Because if I don’t consider myself white, nor was I considered white by others [...] my mother always told that we were caboclo : “oh, we are caboclo , mix of White and Indigenous.” Then Black, no, it doesn’t make sense. Asian neither. Pardo was the remaining option.[3] A similar case is that of Carlos, who was also born of a mixed marriage between a White father and an Indigenous mother of the Desana people. Despite knowing his mother’s ethnicity, Carlos does not identify as Indigenous due to his lack of socialization in Desana culture, which resulted in a fully Western lifestyle. As he explained: Although I grew up with these influences, I don’t have the life experience of Indigenous people [...] My childhood experiences were largely shaped by formal [Western] values [...] that is: go to school, find a job, anyway… believe in Christ. [...] So I don’t consider myself Indigenous, to summarize it, because I don’t have Indigenous practices or life experience. [...] Because I have no direct practice with Indigenous culture or community.[4] Carlos and Tainá share many aspects with Siwsi’s case. All were born of mixed marriages; their families experienced racial tensions and conflicts; they know their ethnicities but were not early socialized in the communities of their forebears; and they grew up identifying as pardos . Considering these similarities, Carlos and Tainá are theoretically eligible to reclaim Indigenous identity, just as Siwsi did. Still, they do not seek such recognition, maintaining their identities as descendants rather than Indigenous – and, for this reason, they self-identify as pardos , given their lack of Indigenous communal life. Pardo: unknown ethnicity Not all pardos are eligible for ethnic resurgence, since it requires, at the very least, knowing the ethnicity of their forebears – that is, one must at least know where to return, from which people to seek recognition. Four of the pardo participants acknowledge having Indigenous ancestry, but they refer to it in a generic way. They only know they have distant Indigenous relatives (generally grandparents or great-grandparents), yet, like Leila, they have no information about which specific ethnicity those relatives belonged to. Unlike Leila, however, they do not identify as Indigenous – although they recognize that their physical appearance is closer to that of Amazonian natives. Unlike White and Black identities, phenotype is not a decisive criterion for self-identifying as Indigenous, as many people whose features are socially perceived as “Indigenous” do not necessarily identify as such, as shown in the cases of Dionísio, Ayla, Alana, and Sara. This ambiguous position (not Indigenous, though having Indigenous ancestry) becomes clear in the following excerpt from Alana’s interview: Because I don’t know my ethnicity, I can’t self-declare as Indigenous, since I don’t know this connection. Because I believe that, to define myself as Indigenous, I must be recognized by an ethnic group to which I feel I’m not a part of. Not directly, you know? So, because of this, I don’t consider myself Indigenous – but rather a person who has ancestry linked to Indigenous people, without necessarily being one.[5] Dionísio’s case involves grandparents who hid information about their origin and culture, thus failing to transmit it to their descendants, who became unable to preserve and pass on the Indigenous memories of the family, breaking the bonds of cultural belonging. In Alana’s case, the disconnection was not caused by intentional concealment, but by her grandmother’s Alzheimer-related memory loss. According to Alana: “I don’t know if someday I will know [my original ethnicity]. Because my grandma, she has Alzheimer [...] the stories she tells are quite fragmentary.” [6] Ayla’s situation is quite different. Although the pardo category is associated with racial mixing, there is no evidence that Ayla herself is mixed. She was born in São Gabriel da Cachoeira, considered the most Indigenous municipality in Brazil. However, she was adopted by a non-Indigenous couple, and all she knows is that her biological mother was a Colombian Indigenous woman – with no information about her ethnicity. Adoption and socialization within non-Indigenous culture led Ayla to identify more strongly with the non-Indigenous world. These pardos have diverse reasons for their families’ disconnection from Indigenous culture and identity, leaving a generational gap between them and their ancestors’ ethnicity. Despite this diversity, what unites pardos of unknown ethnicity is the loss of knowledge about their specific ethnic origins, regardless of the cause – whether due to identity concealment to avoid prejudice, adoption by non-Indigenous parents, or Alzheimer’s disease. What differentiates them, however, are the elements upon which they anchor their identities: Dionísio, Alana, and Ayla understand pardo primarily as a skin color intermediate between Black and White, which they believe they possess. In addition to color, Alana also self-identifies through ancestry, thus employing a dual criterion (color + ancestry) for self-declaration: “I saw [in IBGE documents] that pardos were from these origins, that they had this relationship with this ancestry, this descent – that is, Indigenous. Which I know exists in my family.” [7] Sara’s case, however, presents a peculiarity. For her, color is not the primary identifying factor: “I have white skin, but I don’t perceive my features as those of a Caucasian person, a white person. And at the same time, I don’t have... recent experience or news, like, of... of contact with Indigenous ancestors.” [8] If skin color were the primary identity factor for Sara, as it is for the other pardos , she would identify as White – which she does not. In Sara’s narrative, an element that appeared peripheral in other cases becomes central: facial features, which she regards as “non-Caucasian,” derived from distant Indigenous ancestors. Because of these features, Sara rejects White identity. Yet her distance from Indigenous cultures also prevents her from identifying as Indigenous – thus, her pardo identity emerges from a double negation: non-White due to non-Caucasian features, and non-Indigenous due to Westernized culture. Phenotypical pardo -indigenous Finally, there is the case of Rafael. When asked if he considered himself Indigenous, he denied it. In his words: “I have Indigenous traits, but I don't know if I descend from this Indigenous lineage.” [9] He also denied being Black: “I think that [I am] not too dark to be deemed as Black, you know? [...] Black, for me, are those darker people.” [10] Although he denied being Black, when asked to reclassify himself without pardo as an option, he said he would identify as Black in such a scenario: “As I am not sure of my Indigenous ancestry, I would declare myself Black.” [11] In his case, “Black” functions much more as a residual “identity” – defined by the exclusion of other options – than as a genuine sociopolitical identification with Blackness. This becomes clear in the following excerpt: Let's suppose: I say I'm Indigenous [...] and then someone says something like, ‘Oh, but what ethnicity are you?’ So, what am I going to say? I have no way of saying it. [...] I have no way of proving that I'm Indigenous, you know? So, I think that by saying I'm Black, the person won't be able to deny that I'm not Black. Even if I'm not Black, as I'm a little lighter, still I’m in that color palette that people think is Black, you know?[12] Rafael’s inclination to reclassify as Black is mediated by the contestability of his identity: to self-declare as Indigenous without ethnicity is highly contestable; to claim Whiteness would also raise contestation due to his darker skin color; “Black” would also face contestation, but to a lesser degree than the other possibilities. The outcome is his reclassification as Black. When asked about his ancestry, he mentioned White, Black, and pardo ancestors, but not Indigenous ones. This does not mean that Rafael denies Indigenous ancestry altogether, but rather that he does not consider his relatives Indigenous, as they do not meet his own criteria for defining who is Indigenous: People who are born in an Indigenous community. [...] There are people who are born there and leave, go to another place. They continue being Indigenous! They will carry that with them. And it would be one thing if I discovered, researching my family tree, that I were Indigenous – man, I would totally carry that with me too. I wouldn't be ashamed.[13] Because his relatives never lived in Indigenous communities, Rafael does not see them as Indigenous – which is why he refuses to classify himself even as “Indigenous-descendant.” The only connection he establishes with Indigenous ancestry is through his phenotype: “Indigenous people don’t have much body hair – I kind of go with that, with that basis, let's say. Like: ‘Oh, there’s not much hair,’ you know? [...] those are kind of Indigenous features, you know? [...] the straight black hair, you know?” [14] He assumes there may be some Indigenous ancestry based on these traits, but this is not enough for him as “proof of ancestry”: It's very easy to look at me and say, “Oh, you're Indigenous.” But then, how am I supposed to know, how am I supposed to confirm that I am? Because I'm from the North? I can't tell you, you know? [...] I have these characteristics, but I have no proof.[15] Even having Indigenous features is not enough for Rafael to claim Indigenous identity. In his view, being Indigenous presupposes a relationship with traditional land as well as socialization within Indigenous cultural practices – criteria that neither he nor his relatives meet. He even acknowledges that Indigenous people and pardos are physically similar, yet culturally distinct: For me, pardo and Indigenous are basically the same color – maybe with slight differences [...] but the Indigenous person is born Indigenous, right? They know they're Indigenous. And pardos, they can have the descent, or they can have the mixture I’m talking about, of White and Indigenous, or of White and pardo. For me, that’s it.[16] In short, Rafael self-identifies simply as pardo . He does not identify as a “Black pardo ,” since he does not see himself as part of the Black community; and despite his physical features, he also refuses to identify as a “ Pardo of Indigenous descent,” because his Indigenous origins are too remote and cannot be traced to any recent ancestor. He establishes only a minimal connection with indigeneity through his phenotype. [1] Original (Portuguese): “Durante toda a minha vida, eu me declarei como parda. Porque racialmente pra a gente no Norte, ‘pardo’ não é ter uma cor mais escura. Pode fazer parte? Pode fazer parte! Mas o pardo a gente usa pra definir aquelas pessoas que são miscigenadas. [...] Então assim, na maior parte da minha vida eu nunca fui lida como branca, apesar de ter uma cor mais clara. Eu sempre fui lida como parda, e pra mim isso nunca foi um problema [...] eu fui ver que as pessoas tinham uma definição diferente de pardo quando eu entrei na faculdade. Porque eu fui ler alguns textos, e aí eu comecei a ver que as pessoas do Sudeste classificavam como pardo quem era preto. [...] Então pra mim era uma coisa que não fazia sentido, porque eu fiquei: ‘ok, se eu não sou parda, mas eu também tenho traços assim que, pra as pessoas, não faz sentido ser branca, o que é que eu sou, então?’” [2] “Na minha família, por exemplo, quando a minha mãe saiu da aldeia, ela foi pra Barcelos, ela tinha sete anos de idade. E aí minha mãe não tinha registro de nascimento. E aí ao invés dela ganhar o RANI, ela ganhou a certidão de nascimento normal, e toda minha família foi registrada como parda. [...] Ali na metade do século 20, [diziam] que os barés tinham sido extintos. Porque aqueles que nasciam fora das aldeias, ou nasciam nas aldeias, iam pra a cidade e não tinham registro, eram registrados como pardos. E aí acabava que, com esse afastamento da cultura, as pessoas não passavam pra os filhos. É uma coisa que acontece até hoje. Porque como ser indígena é uma coisa vista como algo ruim, algo pejorativo, às vezes os pais preferem não passar pros filhos, também. Pra evitar algum tipo de sofrimento.” [3] “Eu não consigo me considerar indígena, porque eu acho que é muito a questão de comunidade, sabe? [...] E eu não tive isso. [...] Hoje em dia eu falo ‘sou parda descendente de indígena’, antes eu falava só que era parda né? Mas agora mudou. Não dá pra falar que é só isso. [...] acho que é mais a questão de não conseguir me encaixar em nenhuma outra, então a opção que sobrava, que fazia mais sentido, até onde eu sabia, era o pardo. Porque se eu não me considero branca, eu nunca fui considerada branca por outras pessoas [...] Minha mãe sempre falou que a gente era caboco, ‘ah, a gente é caboco, mistura de branco com índio’. Aí negro não, não faz sentido. Amarelo também não. Era a opção que sobrava, pardo.” [4] “Apesar de ter crescido com essas influências, eu não tenho a vivência do povo indígena. [...] A minha convivência desde a infância foi muito pautada ainda pelos valores formais [...] que é ir pra escola, arranjar um trabalho, enfim... acreditar em Jesus Cristo. [...] Então eu não me considero indígena, resumindo tudo isso, porque eu não tenho uma prática e uma vivência indígena. [...] Por não ter uma prática direta com a cultura indígena, com a comunidade indígena.” [5] “Por eu não saber de etnia e não poder me declarar como uma pessoa indígena, por não saber dessa conexão. Porque eu acredito que pra me definir como uma pessoa indígena, eu teria que ser reconhecida por uma etnia, por um grupo que eu sinto que eu não faço parte. Não diretamente, sabe? Então por esse motivo eu não me considero uma pessoa indígena. E sim uma pessoa que tem uma descendência ligada a pessoas indígenas, mas não necessariamente sendo uma.” [6] “Não sei né, se algum dia eu vou saber. Porque a minha avó ela tem Alzheimer [...] as histórias que ela conta é um pouco desconexas.” [7] “eu vi que pardo era dessas origens, no caso, que tinha essa relação com essa ascendência, essa descendência, é, indígena. Que eu sei que tem na minha família.” [8] “eu tenho a pele branca, mas eu não percebo meus traços como os de uma pessoa caucasiana, uma pessoa branca. E ao mesmo tempo eu não tenho... vivência ou notícia recente, assim, de... de contato com ancestrais indígenas”. [9] “Eu tenho traços indígenas, mas eu não sei se eu descendo dessa linhagem de indígenas.” [10] “Acho que não ser tão retinto pra ser caracterizado negro assim, sabe? [...] negro pra mim, ao meu ver, é essas pessoas mais retintas.” [11] “Como eu não tenho certeza da minha descendência indígena, eu me declararia negro.” [12] “Vamos supor: eu falo que eu sou indígena [...] aí a pessoa fala bem assim: ‘ah, mas de que etnia você é?’. Aí eu vou dizer o quê? Eu não tenho como dizer. [...] Eu não tenho como comprovar que eu sou indígena, entendeu? Aí eu acho que eu dizendo que eu sou negro, a pessoa não vai ter como contestar que eu não seja negro. Mesmo que não retintamente, eu seja um pouco mais claro, eu continuo naquela paleta de cores que eles acham que seja negro, entendeu?” [13] “Gente que nasce em comunidade indígena. [...] Tem gente que nasce e sai dali, vai pra outro local. Continua sendo indígena! Ela vai levar isso com ela. E uma coisa seria se eu descobrisse, pesquisando pela minha árvore genealógica, se eu fosse indígena, pô, eu ia super carregar isso comigo também. Eu não ia ter vergonha.” [14] “Características do tipo assim: indígena não tem muito pelo, eu meio que vou por essa, por essa base, digamos assim. Tipo: ‘ah não tem muito pelo’, entendeu? [...] isso é meio que traços indígenas, entendeu? [...] o cabelo preto meio liso, entendeu?” [15] “É muito fácil olhar pra mim e dizer: ‘ah, tu é índio’. Mas e aí, como é que eu vou saber, como é que eu vou confirmar que eu sou? Porque eu sou do Norte? Eu não sei te dizer, sabe? [...] Eu tenho essas características, mas eu não tenho como provar.” [16] “Pra mim pardo e indígena têm basicamente a mesma cor. Talvez em pequenos tons diferente [...] só que o indígena ele nasce indígena, né? Ele sabe que é indígena. E o pardo, ele pode ter a descendência, ou pode ter a mistura que eu tô falando, do branco com o indígena, ou do branco com o pardo. Pra mim é isso.” Discussion According to Marsico (2016), crossing borders always implies identity change. Perhaps the cases that best illustrate this principle are those of Siwsi, Sara, and Alana. Siwsi moved from a pardo identity to an Indigenous–Baré one, changing her category of self-identification. A similar process occurred with Alana, although in the opposite direction: she thought she was White until she was deemed non-White by a White girl whose skin tone, according to Alana’s account, was lighter than her own. In Sara’s case, the same identity shift (from White to pardo ) took place later, in adulthood, when she was questioned about her “Indigenous features.” Even the cases that did not result in categorical changes also illustrate this principle of identity transformation. Tainá did not change her self-declared category, consistently identifying as pardo throughout her life. However, when she attempted to enter university through the racial quota system as a pardo candidate, she was rejected for “not presenting Black features” – since the policy benefits only pardos of Black phenotype. This rejection acted as a semiotic blocker – or Gegenstand (Valsiner, 2014) – that prevented her from identifying generically as pardo . It catalyzed the emergence of a new identity: pardo of Indigenous descent , constructed by Tainá to differentiate herself from pardos of Black descent and to make sense of the rejection, both to herself and to others. This process exemplifies Marsico’s (2016, 2024) argument that borders function as semiotic tools regulating and giving meaning to the I–Other–World relationship. As in Tainá’s case, Aracy did not move from one category to another. Instead, her “identity change” took the form of a new self-perception as Indigenous. When, at age ten, she realized that her family’s way of life was not shared “by everyone,” but rather specific to the Munduruku people, Aracy crossed the border from ethnic unawareness to awareness, which transformed her entire way of relating to others and to the world. All these cases illustrate that crossing borders implies identity change (Marsico, 2016). Marsico (2024) conceives the border as a contact zone that simultaneously connects and separates. This is most evident in the borderline cases of Leila, Siwsi, Tainá, and Carlos, but it also applies to all pardos in this study (including Rafael). From a rigid perspective on Indigenous identity, they might be classified as “clearly non-Indigenous.” However, they effectively inhabit an ambiguous zone – sometimes perceived by others as Indigenous, when racial criteria prevail, and at other times as non-Indigenous, when ethnic definitions or stereotypical ideas of the “real Indian” come into play. The stereotype of the “real Indian” lies at the core of ethnocidal thinking. Longhini (2021) identifies three main axes of ethnocide in Brazil: Indigenous peoples are expected to (1) live within Indigenous territories, (2) speak an Indigenous language, and (3) embody the phenotype socially regarded as “the Indian face.” Through these axes, the State produces – and society reproduces – Indigenous invisibility. The paradox, as Dorrico (2025) notes, is that the same society that marks people as “Indian” when insulting them is the one that questions or denies this identity when those individuals seriously attempt to self-affirm as Indigenous or express pride in that ancestry. It is within this ambiguous border between being and not being Indigenous that various identity phenomena occur. At least three distinct outcomes can be identified: (1) the emergence of a caboclo self-identification, mentioned by Tainá, Rafael, Sara, and Alana; (2) the development of a pardo identity that is not generic but racialized, explicitly linked to Indigenous ancestry, as illustrated by Tainá’s “ pardo of Indigenous ancestry ” identity; and (3) Siwsi’s process of ethnic resurgence. The conclusion that can be drawn is that the Indigenous/Descendant border, contrary to common assumptions, is a permeable one. Such permeability is precisely what allows both Siwsi to move from pardo to Indigenous, and Leila to construct a racialized Indigenous identity. The permeability of this border can be explained by two factors. The first is the shared ancestry between both groups. Some pardos with Indigenous descent can “become Indigenous,” as evidenced by processes of ethnic resurgence in Brazil. Individuals engaged in such processes can reclaim Indigenous identity precisely because of this ancestry. Some pardos can trace their forebears’ peoples and, if they obtain such information, seek recognition by their communities – as Siwsi did. The second factor that makes the Indigenous/Descendant border permeable is the double meaning of “Indigenous” in the Brazilian context: it can carry either ethnic or racial connotations, depending on the situation. Generally, “Indigenous” has an ethnic sense, applied to those who belong to any of the 391 recognized Indigenous groups in Brazil, regardless of physical appearance (Hernández-Díaz, 2013). However, this ethnic meaning coexists with a racial one: certain physical traits are socially associated with Indigenous ancestry. People displaying these features, even if they do not self-identify as Indigenous in ethnic or cultural terms (as with the pardos in this study), are often identified as such by others in a purely racial sense. As demonstrated by Rocha, Guilherme and Marsico (2025) in quantitative research on racial classification, some anonymous individuals were categorized as “Indigenous” even when their photographs contained no cultural cues (such as motifs, accessories, or feather headdresses) that might bias perception. The authors interpret this as evidence of a racialized meaning of the term “Indigenous” that coexists with its ethnized meaning. This coexistence is what allows Leila to construct her racialized Indigenous identity. Even without knowing her ancestors’ ethnicity – and despite social pressure to avoid identifying as Indigenous due to “lack of documentation” – Leila defies the apparent rigidity of the Indigenous/Non-Indigenous border, moving from her socially attributed “non-Indigenous” status to an Indigenous identity. To do so, she suppresses the ethnic meaning of Indigeneity and grounds her identification in physical appearance. A similar process occurs among pardos , even those who do not identify as “racial Indigenous” (as Leila does). Alana, for example, previously self-identified as White, but after being categorized as “non-White” by a White peer, crossed the White/Non-White border to assume not a racialized Indigenous identity, but a pardo identity linked to Indigenous ancestry – distinguishing herself, like the other pardos in this study, from the pardos whose identities are linked to Blackness (Carneiro, 2011; Silva & Leão, 2012; Rodrigues, 2022). Similarly, Sara, despite her light skin tone, made a crossing similar to Alana’s, adopting an identity grounded in the perception of her facial features as “non-Caucasian,” yet Indigenous. These “White-to-Non-White” crossings were possible precisely because of the racialized meaning of “Indigenous.” Nonetheless, Ayla’s case is noteworthy: she identified as Indigenous for a brief period during adolescence. If, for Leila, the racialized sense of “Indigenous” catalyzed her racial Indigenous identity, and for Sara and Alana it mediated their crossing from White to pardo identities linked to Indigenous ancestry, in Ayla’s case the ethnic meaning mediated a reverse process – she ceased identifying as Indigenous after learning the ethnic definition of Indigeneity. Thus, the dual meaning of “Indigenous” (sometimes ethnic, sometimes racial) can mediate border crossings in different directions, producing unpredictable outcomes that depend on subjective trajectories and individual internalization–externalization processes (Valsiner, 2007). These developmental transformations, according to Marsico (2024, p. 235), “take place thanks to the dialectic tension of the parts and their borders within the whole.” All the emerging identities came into being through such tensions: Sara and Alana recognized themselves as pardo women after being challenged in their assumed position as Whites; Tainá, when denied by a hetero-identification board, was challenged in her “generic pardo ” identity and resolved the dilemma by “crossing” the membrane toward Indigenous identity – though not entirely, remaining in-between pardo and Indigenous semiotic fields. Through this in-betweenness, her pardo of Indigenous ancestry identity emerged. Aracy, upon discovering that not everyone shared her way of life, also underwent tension in her identity, “becoming” Munduruku and reaching ethnic awareness. Finally, Siwsi was led to reclaim her Indigenous identity partly after being challenged by the discourse that “ pardos are Black,” which “shook” her pardo identification and catalyzed her crossing into Indigenous identity. These cases exemplify the dialectical relation between tension and integrity – what Marsico and Tateo (2017) call tensegrity . The integrity of the self depends precisely on this dynamic interplay between opposing yet mutually constitutive forces. It is worth noting that the same social impediment that limited pardo self-identification also catalyzed Tainá’s recognition as “ pardo of Indigenous ancestry”. The same process that led Siwsi to fully cross the membrane from pardo toward Indigenous identity kept Tainá between the two. As Marsico (2024, p. 232) states, “Humans, while making borders, are able to overcome them or live in between them.” Siwsi exemplifies the first case – overcoming the border – while Tainá illustrates how people can dwell in-between. The levels of permeability also differ: Tainá and Carlos (and even Alana or Ayla) occupy a more permeable zone toward the Indigenous side than Dionísio, Sara, or Rafael, for whom obtaining information about their ethnicities is impractical; likewise, Leila and Siwsi exhibit greater permeability in the opposite direction (toward pardo ). They also have social legitimacy to self-declare as pardo , as many in their same situation do. These cases constitute “border points” in the Indigenous– pardo continuum. As a semiotic tool, the Indigenous/Descendant border is mobilized according to psychosocial factors at play. When the issue concerns land demarcation, this border becomes particularly salient – Indigenous status is often denied to descendants lacking official documentation of ethnic belonging, a condition frequently resulting from centuries of assimilation and disaggregation of Indigenous collectivities. Consequently, they are also denied land rights (Oliveira, 1972). Paradoxically, the same denial can occur through racialized criteria, stripping Indigenous status from entire peoples who, due to successive miscegenation, no longer fit the phenotype socially imagined as “the Indian face.” After all, individuals of “Black” or “White” phenotype may self-identify as Indigenous and be recognized by their communities, participating fully in Indigenous social and cultural life (Hernández-Díaz, 2013). Yet, because they do not conform to the idealized image of the “Indian,” political authorities often deny them Indigenous status (Longhini, 2021). When, on the other hand, it is argued that Indigenous people constitute more than the official 0.83% of the population – including descendants, as Longhini (2021, p. 69) does when asserting that pardos are either Black or Indigenous – the boundary is shifted outward, now encompassing descendants within the Indigenous category. The cost of this shift is the concealment of deep social differences between “Indigenous” and “descendants.” Thus, the position of the boundary depends on context and on the interests at stake. An example from the data comes from Teixeira, who mobilized the border to classify a famous Brazilian artist who self-identify as Indigenous. Teixeira asserted that she is not Indigenous, although she “resembles” one, and that at most “her parents or grandparents are Indigenous, but not herself,” since she doesn’t speak any Indigenous language – a core criterion for Teixeira’s people (Yanomami) to recognize one as Indigenous. Aracy also employed this logic when inquired about what she thinks about the pardos . She expressed understanding of the historical losses of them, but she also criticizes de-ethnized Indigenous identification. In other words, both Teixeira and Aracy recognize that people with “Indigenous features” are somehow related to their peoples, yet do not hesitate to erect boundaries to defend ethnically grounded Indigenous identity – since acknowledging racialized Indigenous identities would imply the extension of recognition to individuals who have never contributed to Indigenous struggles, solely based on appearance. Descendants themselves, when reproducing prejudice against Indigenous people or seeking to distance themselves from them, also construct boundaries to detach from a stigmatized social origin – as seen in Siwsi’s mother, or even in Dionísio, who, when younger, used to wear his hair tied back because, in his words, “anyone who wears bangs is an Indian.” [17] Concluding Remarks At first glance, one might assume that the border between Indigenous and descendants is a rigid one, since Indigenous belong to specific ethnic groups, whereas descendants often no longer maintain such belonging. However, the data reveal that Indigenous and pardo are better described not as two discrete boxes but as positions along a continuum comprising a typology of seven analytical categories. On the Indigenous side, there are both urban-born and land-born Indigenous people; on the pardo side, there are those who know that their forebears were Indigenous but cannot identify their ethnicities, and those for whom Indigenous ancestry has been erased, leaving only phenotypical features devoid of any ethnic complexity. Between these poles lies a grey zone that includes people who have crossed from pardo to Indigenous identity through ethnic resurgence; those who express a racialized rather than ethnically grounded Indigenous identity; and pardos who, contrary to common assumptions, know their grandparents’ Indigenous ethnicities. Pardos of Indigenous descent are a highly diverse group. Some are so close to Indigenous peoples – and so embedded between “two worlds” – that they act as symbolic and social bridges between Indigenous and non-Indigenous groups, even while experiencing the tension of this in-between space. Others are so integrated into non-Indigenous society that it might not be appropriate to describe them as being “on the Indigenous/Non-Indigenous border” at all. Instead, they occupy another boundary: between race and ethnicity. They lack the collective belonging required to be Indigenous, yet they’re racially perceived by others as such. The pardo category has often been portrayed as ambiguous. Much has been said about pardos being “between Black and White,” encapsulated in the cliché “too light to be Black and too dark to be White.” The case of pardos of Indigenous descent, however, is distinct. Their ambiguity is not phenotypical but cultural. It is not about being “too light to be Indigenous and too dark to be White,” nor about displaying an intermediate phenotype. It is about lacking the ethnic ties to be Indigenous while not being racially White (nor Black) either. These are people who are ethnically non-Indigenous but racially perceived as if they were. Finally, looking at this paper’s title, one might expect that the article would offer a direct answer to the question posed there. However, the partial conclusion reached thus far is that, given the permeability of the Indigenous/descendant border, such a “where” is not even situatable. The distinction between Indigenous and pardos of Indigenous descent ultimately depends on self-identification rather than on supposedly objective criteria. Both groups, to some extent and with due proportions, share a similar social position in Brazil’s “racial chessboard” – the intergroup cleavage arising more from ethnic and cultural differences than from physical ones. 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Incorporando a mestiçagem: a fraude branca nas comissões de heteroidentificação racial. Horizontes Antropológicos , 28 , 307–331. Silva, G. M., & Leão, L. T. (2012). O paradoxo da mistura: identidades, desigualdades e percepção de discriminação entre brasileiros pardos. Revista Brasileira de Ciências Sociais , 27 , 117–133. Silva, P. (2024). O mínimo sobre racismo no Brasil . O Mínimo. Souza, N. S. (1983). Tornar-se negro: as vicissitudes da identidade do negro brasileiro em ascensão social . Edições Graal. Stake, R. E. (2005). Qualitative case studies. Em N. K. Denzin. In Y. S. Lincoln (Ed.), The Sage handbook of qualitative research (3. ed., pp. 443–466). Sage. Valsiner, J. (2014). An invitation to cultural psychology . Sage. Valsiner, J. (2007). Culture in minds and societies: foundations of cultural psychology . Sage. Véran, J. F. (2010). Nação mestiça’: as políticas étnico-raciais vistas da periferia de Manaus. Dilemas-Revista de Estudos de Conflito e Controle Social , 3 (9), 21–60. Wagley, C. (1952). Race and class in rural Brazil . UNESCO. Additional Declarations No competing interests reported. Cite Share Download PDF Status: Under Revision Version 1 posted Editorial decision: Revision requested 20 May, 2026 Reviews received at journal 19 May, 2026 Reviewers agreed at journal 20 Apr, 2026 Reviews received at journal 07 Jan, 2026 Reviewers agreed at journal 14 Nov, 2025 Reviewers invited by journal 14 Nov, 2025 Editor assigned by journal 14 Nov, 2025 Submission checks completed at journal 12 Nov, 2025 First submitted to journal 09 Nov, 2025 You are reading this latest preprint version Research Square lets you share your work early, gain feedback from the community, and start making changes to your manuscript prior to peer review in a journal. As a division of Research Square Company, we’re committed to making research communication faster, fairer, and more useful. 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Also discoverable on Platform About Our Team In Review Editorial Policies Advisory Board Help Center Resources Author Services Accessibility API Access RSS feed Manage Cookie Preferences © Research Square 2026 | ISSN 2693-5015 (online) Privacy Policy Terms of Service Do Not Sell My Personal Information {"props":{"pageProps":{"initialData":{"identity":"rs-8067583","acceptedTermsAndConditions":true,"allowDirectSubmit":false,"archivedVersions":[],"articleType":"Research Article","associatedPublications":[],"authors":[{"id":549825509,"identity":"fa1f2118-12bb-437b-8afc-faf3a5fb3b66","order_by":0,"name":"Leonardo Rafael Leite da 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14:06:57","extension":"xml","order_by":6,"title":"","display":"","copyAsset":false,"role":"acdc-reference","size":121671,"visible":true,"origin":"","legend":"","description":"","filename":"735178f180ef4049bfc862a844fbc5ab1structuring.xml","url":"https://assets-eu.researchsquare.com/files/rs-8067583/v1/e10d8e59da6a1a3999520286.xml"},{"id":96794259,"identity":"cb3656a1-0a10-461b-9bbb-2b45833eb4de","added_by":"auto","created_at":"2025-11-26 07:09:56","extension":"html","order_by":7,"title":"","display":"","copyAsset":false,"role":"acdc-reference","size":136001,"visible":true,"origin":"","legend":"","description":"","filename":"earlyproof.html","url":"https://assets-eu.researchsquare.com/files/rs-8067583/v1/0a4ae8c57ffb9e9d8993b439.html"},{"id":96916982,"identity":"1f8531e9-67a6-42fc-8fd0-fe2b1590d315","added_by":"auto","created_at":"2025-11-27 14:09:06","extension":"png","order_by":1,"title":"Figure 1","display":"","copyAsset":false,"role":"figure","size":54580,"visible":true,"origin":"","legend":"\u003cp\u003eSchematic representation of the continuum indigenous–\u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e","description":"","filename":"floatimage1.png","url":"https://assets-eu.researchsquare.com/files/rs-8067583/v1/5e03724c41ff44fd7a400cd6.png"},{"id":96922650,"identity":"e085cf08-f316-4e17-834e-8bc414be7a24","added_by":"auto","created_at":"2025-11-27 14:19:40","extension":"pdf","order_by":0,"title":"","display":"","copyAsset":false,"role":"manuscript-pdf","size":745452,"visible":true,"origin":"","legend":"","description":"","filename":"manuscript.pdf","url":"https://assets-eu.researchsquare.com/files/rs-8067583/v1/472692f6-2eba-44fd-8d94-5f2156b3a957.pdf"}],"financialInterests":"No competing interests reported.","formattedTitle":"\u003cp\u003eWhere Does Indigenous End and Pardo Begin? Understanding Ethno-racial Boundaries in the Amazon\u003c/p\u003e","fulltext":[{"header":"Introduction","content":"\u003cp\u003eBrazilian society has been shaped by the encounters and conflicts among Indigenous peoples, Portuguese colonizers, and enslaved Africans, resulting in deeply intertwined interethnic relations. Today, the Brazilian Census Bureau (IBGE – \u003cem\u003eInstituto Brasileiro de Geografia e Estatística\u003c/em\u003e) classifies the national population into five racial categories: White, Black, “Yellow” (meaning people of Asian descent), Indigenous, and \u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e – the official label for mixed-race people (IBGE, 2022).\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Race” is now widely understood as a social construct rather than a biological phenomenon, as it was considered until the first half of the twentieth century (Guimarães, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR9\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2003\u003c/span\u003e). Definitions of race vary across societies. In the United States, racial classification relies primarily on ancestry: individuals are classified as Black as long as they have at least one Afro-American ancestor, regardless of physical appearance. In South Africa, racial classification combines ancestry, phenotype, and cultural indicators such as spoken language (Ribeiro, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR26\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e1995\u003c/span\u003e). In Brazil’s case, racial classification depends mainly on phenotype (Nogueira, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR20\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2006\u003c/span\u003e).\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWithin this system, the \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e category is often applied to people whose appearance is considered socially ambiguous – neither clearly Black nor White. It thus encompasses a heterogeneous range of individuals: those perceived as Black, others whose physical features are socially associated with Indigenous ancestry (Wagley, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR36\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e1952\u003c/span\u003e; Guimarães, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR10\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e), and even some with predominantly European features who are often perceived as White (De Abreu, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR6\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e). Indeed, the IBGE explicitly includes Indigenous ancestry in its definition of \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e: “people who self-identify as a mix between two or more options of color or race, including White, Black, \u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e, and Indigenous” (IBGE, 2022, p. 43, free translation).\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eConsequently, many individuals of Indigenous ancestry identify as \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e rather than Indigenous, for a variety of historical, social, and cultural reasons. While race tends to be associated with physical traits, ethnicity refers to collective belonging defined by shared language, history, and cultural traditions. In Brazil, it is not uncommon for people with “Indigenous features” who are not ethnically Indigenous to be referred to as \u003cem\u003edescendentes de indígenas\u003c/em\u003e (“people of Indigenous descent”) (Hernández-Díaz, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR11\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2013\u003c/span\u003e), implying only past connections to Indigenous identity (Oliveira, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR21\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e1997\u003c/span\u003e). Some authors (e.g., Carvalho, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR4\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2007\u003c/span\u003e; Véran, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR35\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2010\u003c/span\u003e; Longhini, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR13\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2021\u003c/span\u003e; Bastos, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR1\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2023\u003c/span\u003e; Silva, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR30\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e) suggest that this group – those of Indigenous descent but not ethnically Indigenous – mostly identify as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e, largely due to their lack of ongoing Indigenous cultural or community ties.\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLonghini (\u003cspan citationid=\"CR13\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2021\u003c/span\u003e, p. 71) defines Indigenous people as “those who self-recognize and are also recognized as Indigenous by their people” (free translation), a definition endorsed by Indigenous organizations and by instruments such as the International Labor Organization (ILO) Convention 169. This criterion of mutual recognition highlights that many Brazilians of Indigenous ancestry have lost or weakened their ethnic bonds through centuries of cultural assimilation and de-ethnicization (Wagley, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR36\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e1952\u003c/span\u003e; Oliveira, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR22\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2016\u003c/span\u003e).\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBrazilian everyday language abounds with terms used to describe individuals of Indigenous descent who are not ethnically Indigenous. \u003cem\u003eDescendente\u003c/em\u003e (“of Indigenous descent”) is the most common, while \u003cem\u003eindiodescendente\u003c/em\u003e (“Indigenous descendant”) appears in works by Indigenous authors such as Eliane Potiguara (\u003cspan citationid=\"CR24\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2018\u003c/span\u003e, p. 133). Officially, most of these individuals self-identify in bureaucratic records as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e – a term that, however, also encompasses those of Black ancestry. To distinguish between these subgroups, the analytical label \u003cem\u003epardo descendente de indígenas\u003c/em\u003e (“\u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous descent”) can be employed, or alternatively, the shortened version \u003cem\u003epardo-indígena\u003c/em\u003e (“\u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e-Indigenous”), in analogy with other analytical categories such as \u003cem\u003epardo-negro\u003c/em\u003e (\u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e-Black) and \u003cem\u003epardo-pardo\u003c/em\u003e (Silva \u0026amp; Leão, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR29\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2012\u003c/span\u003e). Finally, there is the term \u003cem\u003ecaboclo\u003c/em\u003e, which historically referred to culturally assimilated Indigenous peoples who became integrated into colonial society (Wagley, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR36\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e1952\u003c/span\u003e; Oliveira, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR22\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2016\u003c/span\u003e), and was even used in nineteenth-century censuses.\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn this paper, the term “Indigenous” follows the ILO Convention 169 definition, while “descendant,” \u003cem\u003ecaboclo\u003c/em\u003e, and “\u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous descent” (or its short form, “\u003cem\u003epardo-indigenous\u003c/em\u003e”) are used interchangeably, reflecting the polysemy inherent in this group. Following Rich’s (\u003cspan citationid=\"CR27\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2013\u003c/span\u003e) typology of racial identification – documental, private, public, and social – it is possible that the ambiguity surrounding the terminology applied to this group arises from the disjunction between documental and private racial identities. In other words, people who subjectively identify as “Indigenous descendants” (a social identity and private race) may officially declare themselves as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e in bureaucratic forms (documental race).\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe complexity of \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous descent also derives from their liminal position – not only between Indigenous and non-Indigenous societies, but also between ethnicity and race. Ethnically, they are considered non-Indigenous; yet racially, they are often perceived by others as Indigenous. For analytical purposes, this paper defines \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous descent as ethnically non-Indigenous people who are racially perceived as Indigenous. This is not a normative definition, but an operational one, aligned with Indigenous scholars’ emphasis on community recognition as the foundation of ethnic belonging (Longhini, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR13\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2021\u003c/span\u003e), while also accounting for the external racialization processes that affect this group.\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThis phenomenon is not exclusive to Brazil. Similar dynamics occur elsewhere when descent does not guarantee ethnic membership – such as among the Parsis of India, whose patrilineal identity excludes children of Parsi mothers and non-Parsi fathers from community life. Likewise, in Latin America, Indigenous descent does not automatically confer Indigenous belonging, reinforcing the conception of the \u003cem\u003epardo-Indigenous\u003c/em\u003e as a non-Indigenous population of Indigenous origin. This paper examines this phenomenon in the Brazilian context, presenting partial results of a larger doctoral research project still in progress, which investigates the symbolic boundaries between Indigenous peoples and \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e in the Amazon.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003ch3\u003eEthno-Racial Boundaries: A Cultural Psychological View\u003c/h3\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe study of borders is increasingly becoming a topic of interest in the Cultural Psychology of Semiotic Dynamics. This perspective seeks to understand how human beings perceive and construct symbolic borders, both in the external world and within their own minds, and chiefly to analyze the psychological processes that make possible the construction and maintenance of such borders (Dario, Amita, Galluccio \u0026amp; Marsico, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR5\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2025\u003c/span\u003e).\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn this regard, Marsico (\u003cspan citationid=\"CR19\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2016\u003c/span\u003e, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR15\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e) conceives borders not as things but as processes. Hence the author speaks of \u003cem\u003ebordering processes\u003c/em\u003e, implying the dynamic character of border construction and breaking with the predominant tendency to think of borders as static. Therefore, borders are defined as “a developmental conceptual place that accounts for processes of continuity and discontinuity, conflict and negotiation, innovation and reproduction in living open systems” (Marsico, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR15\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e, p. 231).\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFrom a cultural semiotic standpoint, borders are neither measurable “things” nor even locatable “places.” Instead, they are gray terrains of negotiation, constituting “tools for finding directions in the infinite space of the world” (Marsico, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR15\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e, p. 230). This conceptualization calls for analyzing the developmental function of borders. Indeed, Marsico (\u003cspan citationid=\"CR15\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e) epistemologically assumes psychology as a science of human development, shifting the traditional focus from ontology – i.e., describing “what people are” – to ontogenesis, that is, understanding the processes through which people become something.\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBorders play a core role in the processes of becoming, since developmental phenomena occur on the border between what already exists and what does not yet exist but is on the way to becoming (Marsico, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR15\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e; Marsico \u0026amp; Varzi, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR19\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2016\u003c/span\u003e). The very processes of racial self-recognition are an example of developmental processes, since racial identities are always unfinished and subject to change, as demonstrated by Souza’s (\u003cspan citationid=\"CR31\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e1983\u003c/span\u003e) research on the process of “becoming Black.” The same “Black becoming” studied by the author may contain principles that can ultimately be extended to understand any “racial becoming” process.\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe Developmental Mereotopology proposed by Marsico (\u003cspan citationid=\"CR15\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e) assumes a teleological perspective, according to which human beings constantly rely on semiotic tools to make sense of the world and to move intentionally through the flow of irreversible time (Valsiner, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR34\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2007\u003c/span\u003e, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR33\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2014\u003c/span\u003e). Thus, this perspective seeks to understand the role of semiotic borders in these processes of qualitative change.\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMarsico (\u003cspan citationid=\"CR19\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2016\u003c/span\u003e) conceives borders not only as points of separation but also as contact zones. From this premise, the author derives three basic axioms for the theory of bordering processes: (1) borders unite and divide at the same time; (2) they belong simultaneously to both sides; and (3) they have a paradoxical character, simultaneously decreasing and increasing the ambiguity of the borderland.\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRegarding movement through a border, it must be considered that border crossings can only occur under certain circumstances, when borders are permeable (Marsico, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR15\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e), and that such crossings necessarily imply identity change (Marsico, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR19\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2016\u003c/span\u003e). “Crossing borders,” in this regard, does not only refer to discrete changes from one identity category to another. Indeed, any new self-perception constitutes a border crossing.\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMarsico (\u003cspan citationid=\"CR15\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e) conceptualizes borders as “cultural membranes”: they circumscribe limits, but they are also points of access and transit – as in cellular membranes, which delimit cells but also allow the content of the external world to pass into cellular life. Similarly, through permeable cultural membranes, content from other people and groups can penetrate one’s psychological life, becoming signs that can be internalized and integrated into one’s personal culture (Valsiner, \u003cspan citationid=\"CR33\" class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2014\u003c/span\u003e).\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\n\n"},{"header":"Method","content":"\u003cp\u003eThis is an exploratory qualitative investigation into processes of ethnic and racial bordering among Indigenous peoples and pardos of Indigenous descent. It adopts a constructivist approach to meaning-making (Valsiner, \u003cspan class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2014\u003c/span\u003e), understanding identities as socially produced and negotiated. The research consisted of a multiple-case study (Stake, \u003cspan class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2005\u003c/span\u003e), an approach suitable for exploring complex social phenomena that manifest differently across contexts or among participants. This design allows for a comparative examination of variations within a single phenomenon. Rather than seeking generalization, the multiple-case study aims to capture the diversity of meanings and social positions that emerge across cases, highlighting both convergences and contrasts. The study was conducted partially in the city of Manaus (Brazil) and partially online, between February and August 2025.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003ch3\u003eParticipants\u003c/h3\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eParticipants were selected purposively: initial informants from the researcher\u0026rsquo;s network in Manaus were asked to recommend potential participants. These first participants, in turn, recommended new ones, creating a snowball selection process. Eligibility criteria included being over 18 years old, being born in any of the Amazonian states, and self-declaring either as Indigenous or as non-Black \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe final group comprised thirteen participants: seven \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e and six Indigenous. Among the \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e, six declared themselves \u0026ldquo;of Indigenous descent,\u0026rdquo; while one identified just as \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e,\u0026rdquo; not specifying Black or Indigenous ancestry. The Indigenous participants belonged to four different ethnicities: Munduruku, Marubo, Yanomami, and Bar\u0026eacute;; one Indigenous woman was unaware of her people of origin. Seven were women (three Indigenous, four \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e) and six were men (three Indigenous, three \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e), with ages ranging from 18 to 42 years old.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003ch3\u003eData collection\u003c/h3\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTwo instruments were used for data collection: (1) a sociodemographic questionnaire, employed to describe the general characteristics of the participants and to make known how they self-identify racially; and (2) a semi-structured interview of hermeneutic approach. According to Dinkins (\u003cspan class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2005\u003c/span\u003e), hermeneutic interviews are dialogical and include interpretations shared with the participant during the process. The flexibility of the semi-structured format thus allowed for the development of \u003cem\u003ead hoc\u003c/em\u003e questions that emerged during the interactions and were reflective in nature, aiming to access the reasoning and justifications underlying participants\u0026rsquo; thinking. The interview script included the following six items (#3 and #4 were for \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e only; the remaining items were displayed to both Indigenous and \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e participants):\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003col start=\"1\" type=\"1\"\u003e\n \u003cli\u003eFrom your point of view, what makes you belong to category X [Indigenous or \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e]?\u003c/li\u003e\n \u003cli\u003eWhat do you take into account when considering yourself Indigenous or not?\u003c/li\u003e\n \u003cli\u003eDo you consider yourself to be Black?\u003col start=\"1\" type=\"a\"\u003e\n \u003cli\u003eWhat was your reasoning to identify or not as Black?\u003c/li\u003e\n \u003c/ol\u003e\n \u003c/li\u003e\n \u003cli\u003eHow would you identify yourself if the option \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo; didn\u0026rsquo;t exist? [Options: White, Black, Indigenous, or Indigenous descendant]\u003col start=\"2\" type=\"a\"\u003e\n \u003cli\u003eWhat was your reasoning to choose this option?\u003c/li\u003e\n \u003c/ol\u003e\n \u003c/li\u003e\n \u003cli\u003eTo which of the following groups did your ancestors belong: White, Black, Indigenous, \u003cem\u003ecaboclo\u003c/em\u003e, and/or \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003eof Indigenous descent?\u003col start=\"3\" type=\"a\"\u003e\n \u003cli\u003ePlease, tell me about your ancestors and your relations with them.\u003c/li\u003e\n \u003c/ol\u003e\n \u003c/li\u003e\n \u003cli\u003eWhich of the following people do you think is most like you? [Response options: pictures of four anonymous people classified in different categories in a survey (Rocha, Guilherme \u0026amp; Marsico, 2025): White, Indigenous, Black, and \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003eof Black ancestry.]\u003col start=\"4\" type=\"a\"\u003e\n \u003cli\u003eWhat do you and the model in the picture have in common?\u003c/li\u003e\n \u003c/ol\u003e\n \u003c/li\u003e\n\u003c/ol\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSix interviews (three \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e, three Indigenous) were conducted online through Google Meet, either at the request of participants or in cases where participants did not reside in the city of Manaus. The other seven interviews were conducted in person (four \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e, three Indigenous), at locations and times suggested by the participants themselves. Online interviews were recorded in video and audio, and in-person interviews in audio only.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003ch2\u003eData analysis\u003c/h2\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe interviews were recorded and fully transcribed in Portuguese. These data were then subjected to Thematic Analysis, following the procedure of six steps described by Braun and Clarke (\u003cspan class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2006\u003c/span\u003e): (1) familiarization with the data through reading of the transcripts; (2) initial coding, identifying units of meaning related to identity, ancestry, race, ethnicity, and recognition/denial; (3) grouping the descriptive codes into potential thematic categories, which were then converted into a typology of identity positions between \u003cem\u003eIndigenous\u003c/em\u003e and \u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e. The proposed categories were derived from the identified themes; (4) review and refinement of the emerging thematic categories; (5) labeling and descriptive definition of each thematic category; and (6) writing and interpretation of the results, in which the constructed theoretical model was articulated with the theory of the bordering processes (Marsico, \u003cspan class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2016\u003c/span\u003e, \u003cspan class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2024\u003c/span\u003e; Marsico \u0026amp; Varzi, \u003cspan class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2016\u003c/span\u003e; Marsico et al., \u003cspan class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2013\u003c/span\u003e; Marsico et al., \u003cspan class=\"CitationRef\"\u003e2015\u003c/span\u003e).\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eEthical standards\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis study was approved by the Research Ethics Committee of the Institute of Psychology, Federal University of Bahia, Brazil (reference number: 83577524.1.0000.5686). All participants provided informed consent, anonymity was assured, and each participant chose their own pseudonym.\u003c/p\u003e"},{"header":"Results","content":"\u003cp\u003eThrough thematic analysis, seven thematic categories were constructed and then converted into identity categories within the Indigenous\u0026ndash;\u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e spectrum. The Indigenous side encompasses four of these categories: (1) land-born, (2) urban-born, (3) ethnic resurgence, and (4) racial Indigenous; \u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e includes three categories: (1) the \u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e-Indigenous whose ethnicity is known; (2) those with unknown ethnicity; and (3) the \u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e whose only connection with Indigenous ancestry is phenotypical. Rather than two separate boxes, \u003cem\u003eIndigenous\u003c/em\u003e and \u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e identities are better represented as an overlapping continuum, with a grey zone and permeable borders. This theoretical scheme is shown in Figure 1.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFigure 1 displays a representation of both \u003cem\u003eIndigenous\u003c/em\u003e and \u003cem\u003enon-Indigenous\u003c/em\u003e identities, as well as the overlapping zone between them. The \u003cem\u003eIndigenous\u003c/em\u003e side includes all participants who identify as Indigenous in an ethnic sense and who have never associated themselves with any other identity, regardless of whether they were urban-born or village-born. The \u003cem\u003enon-Indigenous\u003c/em\u003e side comprises \u003cem\u003eWhite\u003c/em\u003e, \u003cem\u003eBlack\u003c/em\u003e, and \u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e individuals. The latter are depicted as a bipartite group, distinguishing \u003cem\u003ePardos\u003c/em\u003e of Black descent from those of Indigenous descent. The first \u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e subgroup is connected to \u003cem\u003eBlack\u003c/em\u003e people \u0026ndash; represented by the bidirectional arrow linking \u003cem\u003eBlack\u003c/em\u003e (\u003cem\u003epretos\u003c/em\u003e) and \u003cem\u003ePardos\u003c/em\u003e of Black descent \u0026ndash; since they share both common ancestry and a similar social position.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe \u003cem\u003ePardos\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous ancestry are located within the intersection between the \u003cem\u003eIndigenous\u003c/em\u003e and \u003cem\u003enon-Indigenous\u003c/em\u003e domains. This position indicates that these individuals share partial Indigenous ancestry and are often racialized through Indigenous-associated features, yet remain ethnically classified as non-Indigenous. For this reason, their border is represented by a solid line, signaling that, despite their penetration into the intersection, they are still situated on the \u003cem\u003enon-Indigenous\u003c/em\u003e side of the broader boundary.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOnly the subgroup of \u003cem\u003ePardos\u003c/em\u003e with known Indigenous ethnicity is represented by a dotted line, reflecting their more permeable position \u0026ndash; given their potential for movement toward Indigenous identification through ethnic resurgence. The others, whose Indigenous ancestry is known but whose specific ethnicity is unknown, \u0026ldquo;penetrate\u0026rdquo; the intersectional space without crossing into Indigenous identity. The Indigenous identity based on ethnic resurgence was included in the ambiguous zone, considering that the participant who identifies as such \u0026ndash; pseudonym Siwsi \u0026ndash; had previously self-identified as a \u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e woman, later reclaiming her Indigenous identity and culture. These categories are further explored in the following sections.\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eIndigenous: ethnic and continuously identified\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe first category comprises Indigenous individuals who meet two criteria: they base their identity on ethnic (rather than racialized) foundations, and they have consistently identified as Indigenous throughout their lives, without having adopted other identities at any previous stage. This category encompasses at least two distinct realities.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe first is that of the \u003cem\u003eland-born Indigenous\u003c/em\u003e \u0026ndash; people who know their ethnicity, speak their native language, and/or were born within the territorial borders of their people. Teixeira, Daydo, and Tsainam\u0026atilde;pa, three Indigenous men, belong to this group. All of them know their ethnicities (Yanomami, Munduruku, and Marubo, respectively), speak their native languages, and were born and raised in their traditional lands, being socialized according to their peoples\u0026rsquo; cultural canons.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAracy, a Munduruku woman, differs from them not by ethnic or linguistic criteria, but by geography. She represents a category increasingly present in public debates on ethnicity and race: the \u003cem\u003eurban-born Indigenous\u003c/em\u003e. Aracy was born in Manaus and, according to her account, only realized that she was Indigenous around the age of ten. Her cultural upbringing was largely the same as any other Munduruku person\u0026rsquo;s. However, in her view, her family\u0026rsquo;s lifestyle seemed identical to that of everyone around them. When relatives visited from their village, she simply thought they were \u0026ldquo;coming from the countryside\u0026rdquo; \u0026ndash; and vice versa. Only at age ten did she realize that what she had called the \u0026ldquo;countryside\u0026rdquo; was, in fact, an Indigenous village, and that her family\u0026rsquo;s customs \u0026ndash; previously taken as ordinary and universal \u0026ndash; were specific cultural practices of the Munduruku people, to whom she belonged. For Aracy, Indigenous identity was not pre-given; rather, it was something she came to discover.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eIndigenous by ethnic resurgence\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eUnlike Aracy, Daydo, Teixeira, and Tsainam\u0026atilde;pa, one Indigenous participant, whose pseudonym is Siwsi, did not always identify as Indigenous throughout her life. She was born from a mixed marriage: her mother is Indigenous, from the Bar\u0026eacute; people, while her father is a White man. Because of her \u0026ldquo;mixedness,\u0026rdquo; and the fact that her mother had hidden her identity and refused to teach Bar\u0026eacute; culture and traditions, Siwsi identified for most of her life as a \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e woman \u0026ndash; although she acknowledged her Indigenous ancestry by describing herself as White\u0026ndash;Indigenous mixed. As she explained:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThroughout my whole life, I self-identified as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e. Because racially, for us in the North, \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e does not mean having dark skin. Can that be part of it? For sure! But \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e we use to define those mixed people. [...] For most of my life I was never perceived as White, despite my lighter skin color. I was always perceived as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e, and for me, it was never a problem. [...] I only realized that people have a different definition of \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e when I entered college. I read some papers and then discovered that people in the Southeast classified as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e those who were Black. [...] For me that didn\u0026rsquo;t make sense, because I thought: \u0026ldquo;Okay, if I\u0026rsquo;m not \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e, but I also have features that, for most people, don\u0026rsquo;t make sense for me to be White, then what am I?\u0026rdquo;[1]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAccording to Siwsi\u0026rsquo;s account, her grandparents came from the Upper Negro River region, where most people are Indigenous. They moved to the city of Barcelos when her mother was seven years old but intended to return to their village. Because of this plan, Siwsi\u0026rsquo;s grandparents did not enroll her mother in school, believing that \u0026ldquo;White knowledge\u0026rdquo; would not be useful once they went back. However, the planned return never happened, and Siwsi\u0026rsquo;s mother never studied, being regarded as \u0026ldquo;semi-illiterate.\u0026rdquo; This was the main reason she did not pass on their Indigenous heritage to Siwsi: for her, \u0026ldquo;being Indigenous\u0026rdquo; meant being deprived of education and stigmatized as \u0026ldquo;ignorant\u0026rdquo; \u0026ndash; a stereotype often applied to Indigenous peoples in Brazil. Many Indigenous parents hide their identity and culture from their children due to the stigma surrounding Indigenous ancestry, which is considered low status. As Siwsi stated:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFor instance, in my family, when my mother left the village and went to Barcelos, she was seven years old. She didn\u0026rsquo;t have a birth certificate. Then, instead of getting an Indigenous birth certificate (the RANI), she got a regular one, and my whole family was registered as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e. [...] In the second half of the twentieth century, people said the Bar\u0026eacute; people were extinct. Because those who were born outside the villages \u0026ndash; or were born in them but moved to the cities and didn\u0026rsquo;t have birth certificates \u0026ndash; were registered as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e. Then, with this distancing from the culture, people didn\u0026rsquo;t pass it on to their children. This continues to this day. Because being Indigenous is seen as something bad, derogatory \u0026ndash; sometimes parents prefer not to pass it on to their children, to avoid some kind of suffering.[2]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBecause she was alienated from her Indigenous identity, Siwsi grew up identifying not as Indigenous, but as a \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e woman. After persistent investigation, she eventually discovered that her grandparents belonged to the Bar\u0026eacute; people. This awareness allowed her to reclaim her recognition as Bar\u0026eacute;, recovering the identity that had been hidden from her \u0026ndash; and even obtaining official recognition by Bar\u0026eacute; leadership.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eRacial Indigenous\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eUnlike the other Indigenous participants, Leila does not base her identity on ethnic criteria. Nor could she, given that she is completely unaware of which Amazonian people her family descends from. All Leila knows is that she has a \u0026ldquo;generic\u0026rdquo; Indigenous ancestry. Without this information, she relies on her phenotypical traits to structure her Indigenous identity, which distinguishes her from the other Indigenous participants, whose identities are clearly grounded in an ethnized basis.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Indigenous participants recognized that certain features are socially perceived as derived from Indigenous ancestry. However, they do not use these traits as criteria to define who is or is not Indigenous. For them, Indigenous people are those who belong to an ethnic group. Nonetheless, there are processes of \u0026ldquo;Indigenous racialization\u0026rdquo; that affect people who \u0026ldquo;look Amerindian\u0026rdquo; and are racially discriminated against because of their appearance.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis is Leila\u0026rsquo;s case: because she is racialized as \u0026ldquo;Indigenous\u0026rdquo; and experiences prejudice as a result, she self-identifies as Indigenous. She grounds her identity in alterity toward Whiteness and in her experiences of discrimination \u0026ndash; which is not unlike how Black people also structure their racialized identities. This becomes clear in the following dialogue:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eTable 1\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDialogue between the author and Leila.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003ctable width=\"671\"\u003e\n\u003ctbody\u003e\n\u003ctr\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"66\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"302\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eOriginal (Portuguese)\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"302\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eEnglish (free translation)\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003c/tr\u003e\n\u003ctr\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"66\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eLeila\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"302\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEm alguns lugares, quando n\u0026atilde;o \u0026eacute; obrigat\u0026oacute;rio comprova\u0026ccedil;\u0026atilde;o, eu sempre coloco que eu sou ind\u0026iacute;gena. Porque \u0026eacute; assim que eu me enxergo. N\u0026atilde;o \u0026eacute; nem ind\u0026iacute;gena em si, \u0026eacute; como se eu fosse descendente, n\u0026eacute;. Porque eu sei que o termo ind\u0026iacute;gena ele \u0026eacute; bem forte n\u0026eacute;. [...] eu n\u0026atilde;o tenho como provar [...] \u0026Eacute; melhor \u0026ldquo;descendente\u0026rdquo;, porque \u0026eacute; como eu me vejo. Porque eu n\u0026atilde;o me vejo como uma parda.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"302\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn some places, when confirmation is not mandatory, I always sign that I\u0026rsquo;m indigenous. Because this is how I see myself. Maybe not properly indigenous, it\u0026rsquo;s like I\u0026rsquo;m a descendant. Because I know that the term indigenous is very strong. [\u0026hellip;] I have no way to prove it [\u0026hellip;] It\u0026rsquo;s better \u0026ldquo;descendant\u0026rdquo;, because this is how I see myself. After all, I don\u0026rsquo;t see myself as a \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e woman.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003c/tr\u003e\n\u003ctr\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"66\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eAuthor\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"302\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eo que \u0026eacute; uma parda pra voc\u0026ecirc;?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"302\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhat is a \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e for yourself?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003c/tr\u003e\n\u003ctr\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"66\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eLeila\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"302\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[...] o pardo \u0026eacute; aquela pessoa que ela n\u0026atilde;o \u0026eacute; negra, ela n\u0026atilde;o \u0026eacute; branca, ela t\u0026aacute; naquele meio termo. Mas eu olho pra mim e me vejo uma descendente de ind\u0026iacute;gena. [...] J\u0026aacute; minha filha eu j\u0026aacute; acho que pela cor, ela \u0026eacute; bem mais clara que eu. E tem uma diferen\u0026ccedil;a, que \u0026eacute; a testa dela [...] a fam\u0026iacute;lia, e a mistura que n\u0026oacute;s j\u0026aacute; temos com o Sul n\u0026eacute;, eles j\u0026aacute; t\u0026ecirc;m essa testa avantajada, alta, diferente, ela j\u0026aacute; pegou essa caracter\u0026iacute;stica. [...] Ent\u0026atilde;o pra mim ela se encaixaria como parda, agora eu n\u0026atilde;o consigo me ver assim. Eu olho pra mim e me vejo muito forte as minhas caracter\u0026iacute;stica de descendente de ind\u0026iacute;genas.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003ctd width=\"302\"\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[...] the \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e is someone who is not black, is not white, it\u0026rsquo;s in the middle. But I look at me and see an Indigenous-descendant. [\u0026hellip;] As for my daughter, I think that because of the color, she\u0026rsquo;s lighter than me. And there is a difference which is her forehead [\u0026hellip;] the family, the mixing we already have with Southerners, right? They have a large, high forehead, different, she got this characteristic. [\u0026hellip;] So for me, she would fit in as a \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e woman, but I can\u0026rsquo;t see myself like that. I look at myself and see very strong my features of Indigenous-descendant.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003c/td\u003e\n\u003c/tr\u003e\n\u003c/tbody\u003e\n\u003c/table\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003ePardo: known ethnicity\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; A common belief in Brazil is that \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous ancestry are necessarily people who do not know the ethnicities of their ancestors. However, there are \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e who possess this information. This is the case of Tain\u0026aacute;, daughter of a German-Brazilian father and an Indigenous woman of Wapishana and Macushi descent. Even knowing her grandparents\u0026rsquo; ethnicities, she still identifies as a \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e woman, due to her lack of participation in Wapishana/Macushi communal life:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eI can\u0026rsquo;t consider myself Indigenous, because I think it's very much a question of community, you know? [...] and I didn\u0026rsquo;t have that [...] Nowadays, I say that I am a \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous descent.\u0026rdquo; Formerly, I said that I was just pardo, right? But now it changed. It is no longer possible to say just this. [...] I think it\u0026rsquo;s more a question of not being able to fit in any other, so the remaining option, that makes more sense, as far as I know, was pardo. Because if I don\u0026rsquo;t consider myself white, nor was I considered white by others [...] my mother always told that we were \u003cem\u003ecaboclo\u003c/em\u003e: \u0026ldquo;oh, we are \u003cem\u003ecaboclo\u003c/em\u003e, mix of White and Indigenous.\u0026rdquo; Then Black, no, it doesn\u0026rsquo;t make sense. Asian neither. \u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e was the remaining option.[3]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA similar case is that of Carlos, who was also born of a mixed marriage between a White father and an Indigenous mother of the Desana people. Despite knowing his mother\u0026rsquo;s ethnicity, Carlos does not identify as Indigenous due to his lack of socialization in Desana culture, which resulted in a fully Western lifestyle. As he explained:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAlthough I grew up with these influences, I don\u0026rsquo;t have the life experience of Indigenous people [...] My childhood experiences were largely shaped by formal [Western] values [...] that is: go to school, find a job, anyway\u0026hellip; believe in Christ. [...] So I don\u0026rsquo;t consider myself Indigenous, to summarize it, because I don\u0026rsquo;t have Indigenous practices or life experience. [...] Because I have no direct practice with Indigenous culture or community.[4]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCarlos and Tain\u0026aacute; share many aspects with Siwsi\u0026rsquo;s case. All were born of mixed marriages; their families experienced racial tensions and conflicts; they know their ethnicities but were not early socialized in the communities of their forebears; and they grew up identifying as \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e. Considering these similarities, Carlos and Tain\u0026aacute; are theoretically eligible to reclaim Indigenous identity, just as Siwsi did. Still, they do not seek such recognition, maintaining their identities as descendants rather than Indigenous \u0026ndash; and, for this reason, they self-identify as \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e, given their lack of Indigenous communal life.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003ePardo: unknown ethnicity\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNot all \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e are eligible for ethnic resurgence, since it requires, at the very least, knowing the ethnicity of their forebears \u0026ndash; that is, one must at least know \u003cem\u003ewhere\u003c/em\u003e to return, from which people to seek recognition. Four of the \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e participants acknowledge having Indigenous ancestry, but they refer to it in a generic way. They only know they have distant Indigenous relatives (generally grandparents or great-grandparents), yet, like Leila, they have no information about which specific ethnicity those relatives belonged to.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eUnlike Leila, however, they do not identify as Indigenous \u0026ndash; although they recognize that their physical appearance is closer to that of Amazonian natives. Unlike White and Black identities, phenotype is not a decisive criterion for self-identifying as Indigenous, as many people whose features are socially perceived as \u0026ldquo;Indigenous\u0026rdquo; do not necessarily identify as such, as shown in the cases of Dion\u0026iacute;sio, Ayla, Alana, and Sara. This ambiguous position (not Indigenous, though having Indigenous ancestry) becomes clear in the following excerpt from Alana\u0026rsquo;s interview:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBecause I don\u0026rsquo;t know my ethnicity, I can\u0026rsquo;t self-declare as Indigenous, since I don\u0026rsquo;t know this connection. Because I believe that, to define myself as Indigenous, I must be recognized by an ethnic group to which I feel I\u0026rsquo;m not a part of. Not directly, you know? So, because of this, I don\u0026rsquo;t consider myself Indigenous \u0026ndash; but rather a person who has ancestry linked to Indigenous people, without necessarily being one.[5]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDion\u0026iacute;sio\u0026rsquo;s case involves grandparents who hid information about their origin and culture, thus failing to transmit it to their descendants, who became unable to preserve and pass on the Indigenous memories of the family, breaking the bonds of cultural belonging. In Alana\u0026rsquo;s case, the disconnection was not caused by intentional concealment, but by her grandmother\u0026rsquo;s Alzheimer-related memory loss. According to Alana: \u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know if someday I will know [my original ethnicity]. Because my grandma, she has Alzheimer [...] the stories she tells are quite fragmentary.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e[6]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAyla\u0026rsquo;s situation is quite different. Although the \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e category is associated with racial mixing, there is no evidence that Ayla herself is mixed. She was born in S\u0026atilde;o Gabriel da Cachoeira, considered the most Indigenous municipality in Brazil. However, she was adopted by a non-Indigenous couple, and all she knows is that her biological mother was a Colombian Indigenous woman \u0026ndash; with no information about her ethnicity. Adoption and socialization within non-Indigenous culture led Ayla to identify more strongly with the non-Indigenous world.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026emsp;These \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e have diverse reasons for their families\u0026rsquo; disconnection from Indigenous culture and identity, leaving a generational gap between them and their ancestors\u0026rsquo; ethnicity. Despite this diversity, what unites \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e of unknown ethnicity is the loss of knowledge about their specific ethnic origins, regardless of the cause \u0026ndash; whether due to identity concealment to avoid prejudice, adoption by non-Indigenous parents, or Alzheimer\u0026rsquo;s disease. What differentiates them, however, are the elements upon which they anchor their identities: Dion\u0026iacute;sio, Alana, and Ayla understand \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e primarily as a skin color intermediate between Black and White, which they believe they possess. In addition to color, Alana also self-identifies through ancestry, thus employing a dual criterion (color + ancestry) for self-declaration: \u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;I saw [in IBGE documents] that pardos were from these origins, that they had this relationship with this ancestry, this descent \u0026ndash; that is, Indigenous. Which I know exists in my family.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e[7]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSara\u0026rsquo;s case, however, presents a peculiarity. For her, color is not the primary identifying factor: \u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;I have white skin, but I don\u0026rsquo;t perceive my features as those of a Caucasian person, a white person. And at the same time, I don\u0026rsquo;t have... recent experience or news, like, of... of contact with Indigenous ancestors.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e[8] If skin color were the primary identity factor for Sara, as it is for the other \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e, she would identify as White \u0026ndash; which she does not. In Sara\u0026rsquo;s narrative, an element that appeared peripheral in other cases becomes central: facial features, which she regards as \u0026ldquo;non-Caucasian,\u0026rdquo; derived from distant Indigenous ancestors. Because of these features, Sara rejects White identity. Yet her distance from Indigenous cultures also prevents her from identifying as Indigenous \u0026ndash; thus, her \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e identity emerges from a double negation: non-White due to non-Caucasian features, and non-Indigenous due to Westernized culture.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003ePhenotypical \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e-indigenous\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFinally, there is the case of Rafael. When asked if he considered himself Indigenous, he denied it. In his words: \u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;I have Indigenous traits, but I don't know if I descend from this Indigenous lineage.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e[9] He also denied being Black: \u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;I think that [I am] not too dark to be deemed as Black, you know? [...] Black, for me, are those darker people.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e[10] Although he denied being Black, when asked to reclassify himself without \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e as an option, he said he would identify as Black in such a scenario: \u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;As I am not sure of my Indigenous ancestry, I would declare myself Black.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e[11] In his case, \u0026ldquo;Black\u0026rdquo; functions much more as a residual \u0026ldquo;identity\u0026rdquo; \u0026ndash; defined by the exclusion of other options \u0026ndash; than as a genuine sociopolitical identification with Blackness. This becomes clear in the following excerpt:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLet's suppose: I say I'm Indigenous [...] and then someone says something like, \u0026lsquo;Oh, but what ethnicity are you?\u0026rsquo; So, what am I going to say? I have no way of saying it. [...] I have no way of proving that I'm Indigenous, you know? So, I think that by saying I'm Black, the person won't be able to deny that I'm not Black. Even if I'm not Black, as I'm a little lighter, still I\u0026rsquo;m in that color palette that people think is Black, you know?[12]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafael\u0026rsquo;s inclination to reclassify as Black is mediated by the contestability of his identity: to self-declare as Indigenous without ethnicity is highly contestable; to claim Whiteness would also raise contestation due to his darker skin color; \u0026ldquo;Black\u0026rdquo; would also face contestation, but to a lesser degree than the other possibilities. The outcome is his reclassification as Black.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen asked about his ancestry, he mentioned White, Black, and \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e ancestors, but not Indigenous ones. This does not mean that Rafael denies Indigenous ancestry altogether, but rather that he does not consider his relatives Indigenous, as they do not meet his own criteria for defining who is Indigenous:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003ePeople who are born in an Indigenous community. [...] There are people who are born there and leave, go to another place. They continue being Indigenous! They will carry that with them. And it would be one thing if I discovered, researching my family tree, that I were Indigenous \u0026ndash; man, I would totally carry that with me too. I wouldn't be ashamed.[13]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBecause his relatives never lived in Indigenous communities, Rafael does not see them as Indigenous \u0026ndash; which is why he refuses to classify himself even as \u0026ldquo;Indigenous-descendant.\u0026rdquo; The only connection he establishes with Indigenous ancestry is through his phenotype: \u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;Indigenous people don\u0026rsquo;t have much body hair \u0026ndash; I kind of go with that, with that basis, let's say. Like: \u0026lsquo;Oh, there\u0026rsquo;s not much hair,\u0026rsquo; you know? [...] those are kind of Indigenous features, you know? [...] the straight black hair, you know?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e[14] He assumes there may be some Indigenous ancestry based on these traits, but this is not enough for him as \u0026ldquo;proof of ancestry\u0026rdquo;:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt's very easy to look at me and say, \u0026ldquo;Oh, you're Indigenous.\u0026rdquo; But then, how am I supposed to know, how am I supposed to confirm that I am? Because I'm from the North? I can't tell you, you know? [...] I have these characteristics, but I have no proof.[15]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEven having Indigenous features is not enough for Rafael to claim Indigenous identity. In his view, being Indigenous presupposes a relationship with traditional land as well as socialization within Indigenous cultural practices \u0026ndash; criteria that neither he nor his relatives meet. He even acknowledges that Indigenous people and \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e are physically similar, yet culturally distinct:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFor me, pardo and Indigenous are basically the same color \u0026ndash; maybe with slight differences [...] but the Indigenous person is born Indigenous, right? They know they're Indigenous. And pardos, they can have the descent, or they can have the mixture I\u0026rsquo;m talking about, of White and Indigenous, or of White and pardo. For me, that\u0026rsquo;s it.[16]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn short, Rafael self-identifies simply as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e. He does not identify as a \u0026ldquo;Black \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e,\u0026rdquo; since he does not see himself as part of the Black community; and despite his physical features, he also refuses to identify as a \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003ePardo\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous descent,\u0026rdquo; because his Indigenous origins are too remote and cannot be traced to any recent ancestor. He establishes only a minimal connection with indigeneity through his phenotype.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[1] Original (Portuguese): \u0026ldquo;Durante toda a minha vida, eu me declarei como parda. Porque racialmente pra a gente no Norte, \u0026lsquo;pardo\u0026rsquo; n\u0026atilde;o \u0026eacute; ter uma cor mais escura. Pode fazer parte? Pode fazer parte! Mas o pardo a gente usa pra definir aquelas pessoas que s\u0026atilde;o miscigenadas. [...] Ent\u0026atilde;o assim, na maior parte da minha vida eu nunca fui lida como branca, apesar de ter uma cor mais clara. Eu sempre fui lida como parda, e pra mim isso nunca foi um problema [...] eu fui ver que as pessoas tinham uma defini\u0026ccedil;\u0026atilde;o diferente de pardo quando eu entrei na faculdade. Porque eu fui ler alguns textos, e a\u0026iacute; eu comecei a ver que as pessoas do Sudeste classificavam como pardo quem era preto. [...] Ent\u0026atilde;o pra mim era uma coisa que n\u0026atilde;o fazia sentido, porque eu fiquei: \u0026lsquo;ok, se eu n\u0026atilde;o sou parda, mas eu tamb\u0026eacute;m tenho tra\u0026ccedil;os assim que, pra as pessoas, n\u0026atilde;o faz sentido ser branca, o que \u0026eacute; que eu sou, ent\u0026atilde;o?\u0026rsquo;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[2] \u0026ldquo;Na minha fam\u0026iacute;lia, por exemplo, quando a minha m\u0026atilde;e saiu da aldeia, ela foi pra Barcelos, ela tinha sete anos de idade. E a\u0026iacute; minha m\u0026atilde;e n\u0026atilde;o tinha registro de nascimento. E a\u0026iacute; ao inv\u0026eacute;s dela ganhar o RANI, ela ganhou a certid\u0026atilde;o de nascimento normal, e toda minha fam\u0026iacute;lia foi registrada como parda. [...] Ali na metade do s\u0026eacute;culo 20, [diziam] que os bar\u0026eacute;s tinham sido extintos. Porque aqueles que nasciam fora das aldeias, ou nasciam nas aldeias, iam pra a cidade e n\u0026atilde;o tinham registro, eram registrados como pardos. E a\u0026iacute; acabava que, com esse afastamento da cultura, as pessoas n\u0026atilde;o passavam pra os filhos. \u0026Eacute; uma coisa que acontece at\u0026eacute; hoje. Porque como ser ind\u0026iacute;gena \u0026eacute; uma coisa vista como algo ruim, algo pejorativo, \u0026agrave;s vezes os pais preferem n\u0026atilde;o passar pros filhos, tamb\u0026eacute;m. Pra evitar algum tipo de sofrimento.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[3] \u0026ldquo;Eu n\u0026atilde;o consigo me considerar ind\u0026iacute;gena, porque eu acho que \u0026eacute; muito a quest\u0026atilde;o de comunidade, sabe? [...] E eu n\u0026atilde;o tive isso. [...] Hoje em dia eu falo \u0026lsquo;sou parda descendente de ind\u0026iacute;gena\u0026rsquo;, antes eu falava s\u0026oacute; que era parda n\u0026eacute;? Mas agora mudou. N\u0026atilde;o d\u0026aacute; pra falar que \u0026eacute; s\u0026oacute; isso. [...] acho que \u0026eacute; mais a quest\u0026atilde;o de n\u0026atilde;o conseguir me encaixar em nenhuma outra, ent\u0026atilde;o a op\u0026ccedil;\u0026atilde;o que sobrava, que fazia mais sentido, at\u0026eacute; onde eu sabia, era o pardo. Porque se eu n\u0026atilde;o me considero branca, eu nunca fui considerada branca por outras pessoas [...] Minha m\u0026atilde;e sempre falou que a gente era caboco, \u0026lsquo;ah, a gente \u0026eacute; caboco, mistura de branco com \u0026iacute;ndio\u0026rsquo;. A\u0026iacute; negro n\u0026atilde;o, n\u0026atilde;o faz sentido. Amarelo tamb\u0026eacute;m n\u0026atilde;o. Era a op\u0026ccedil;\u0026atilde;o que sobrava, pardo.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[4] \u0026ldquo;Apesar de ter crescido com essas influ\u0026ecirc;ncias, eu n\u0026atilde;o tenho a viv\u0026ecirc;ncia do povo ind\u0026iacute;gena. [...] A minha conviv\u0026ecirc;ncia desde a inf\u0026acirc;ncia foi muito pautada ainda pelos valores formais [...] que \u0026eacute; ir pra escola, arranjar um trabalho, enfim... acreditar em Jesus Cristo. [...] Ent\u0026atilde;o eu n\u0026atilde;o me considero ind\u0026iacute;gena, resumindo tudo isso, porque eu n\u0026atilde;o tenho uma pr\u0026aacute;tica e uma viv\u0026ecirc;ncia ind\u0026iacute;gena. [...] Por n\u0026atilde;o ter uma pr\u0026aacute;tica direta com a cultura ind\u0026iacute;gena, com a comunidade ind\u0026iacute;gena.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[5] \u0026ldquo;Por eu n\u0026atilde;o saber de etnia e n\u0026atilde;o poder me declarar como uma pessoa ind\u0026iacute;gena, por n\u0026atilde;o saber dessa conex\u0026atilde;o. Porque eu acredito que pra me definir como uma pessoa ind\u0026iacute;gena, eu teria que ser reconhecida por uma etnia, por um grupo que eu sinto que eu n\u0026atilde;o fa\u0026ccedil;o parte. N\u0026atilde;o diretamente, sabe? Ent\u0026atilde;o por esse motivo eu n\u0026atilde;o me considero uma pessoa ind\u0026iacute;gena. E sim uma pessoa que tem uma descend\u0026ecirc;ncia ligada a pessoas ind\u0026iacute;genas, mas n\u0026atilde;o necessariamente sendo uma.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[6] \u0026ldquo;N\u0026atilde;o sei n\u0026eacute;, se algum dia eu vou saber. Porque a minha av\u0026oacute; ela tem Alzheimer [...] as hist\u0026oacute;rias que ela conta \u0026eacute; um pouco desconexas.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[7] \u0026ldquo;eu vi que pardo era dessas origens, no caso, que tinha essa rela\u0026ccedil;\u0026atilde;o com essa ascend\u0026ecirc;ncia, essa descend\u0026ecirc;ncia, \u0026eacute;, ind\u0026iacute;gena. Que eu sei que tem na minha fam\u0026iacute;lia.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[8] \u0026ldquo;eu tenho a pele branca, mas eu n\u0026atilde;o percebo meus tra\u0026ccedil;os como os de uma pessoa caucasiana, uma pessoa branca. E ao mesmo tempo eu n\u0026atilde;o tenho... viv\u0026ecirc;ncia ou not\u0026iacute;cia recente, assim, de... de contato com ancestrais ind\u0026iacute;genas\u0026rdquo;.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[9] \u0026ldquo;Eu tenho tra\u0026ccedil;os ind\u0026iacute;genas, mas eu n\u0026atilde;o sei se eu descendo dessa linhagem de ind\u0026iacute;genas.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[10] \u0026ldquo;Acho que n\u0026atilde;o ser t\u0026atilde;o retinto pra ser caracterizado negro assim, sabe? [...] negro pra mim, ao meu ver, \u0026eacute; essas pessoas mais retintas.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[11] \u0026ldquo;Como eu n\u0026atilde;o tenho certeza da minha descend\u0026ecirc;ncia ind\u0026iacute;gena, eu me declararia negro.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[12] \u0026ldquo;Vamos supor: eu falo que eu sou ind\u0026iacute;gena [...] a\u0026iacute; a pessoa fala bem assim: \u0026lsquo;ah, mas de que etnia voc\u0026ecirc; \u0026eacute;?\u0026rsquo;. A\u0026iacute; eu vou dizer o qu\u0026ecirc;? Eu n\u0026atilde;o tenho como dizer. [...] Eu n\u0026atilde;o tenho como comprovar que eu sou ind\u0026iacute;gena, entendeu? A\u0026iacute; eu acho que eu dizendo que eu sou negro, a pessoa n\u0026atilde;o vai ter como contestar que eu n\u0026atilde;o seja negro. Mesmo que n\u0026atilde;o retintamente, eu seja um pouco mais claro, eu continuo naquela paleta de cores que eles acham que seja negro, entendeu?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[13] \u0026ldquo;Gente que nasce em comunidade ind\u0026iacute;gena. [...] Tem gente que nasce e sai dali, vai pra outro local. Continua sendo ind\u0026iacute;gena! Ela vai levar isso com ela. E uma coisa seria se eu descobrisse, pesquisando pela minha \u0026aacute;rvore geneal\u0026oacute;gica, se eu fosse ind\u0026iacute;gena, p\u0026ocirc;, eu ia super carregar isso comigo tamb\u0026eacute;m. Eu n\u0026atilde;o ia ter vergonha.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[14] \u0026ldquo;Caracter\u0026iacute;sticas do tipo assim: ind\u0026iacute;gena n\u0026atilde;o tem muito pelo, eu meio que vou por essa, por essa base, digamos assim. Tipo: \u0026lsquo;ah n\u0026atilde;o tem muito pelo\u0026rsquo;, entendeu? [...] isso \u0026eacute; meio que tra\u0026ccedil;os ind\u0026iacute;genas, entendeu? [...] o cabelo preto meio liso, entendeu?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[15] \u0026ldquo;\u0026Eacute; muito f\u0026aacute;cil olhar pra mim e dizer: \u0026lsquo;ah, tu \u0026eacute; \u0026iacute;ndio\u0026rsquo;. Mas e a\u0026iacute;, como \u0026eacute; que eu vou saber, como \u0026eacute; que eu vou confirmar que eu sou? Porque eu sou do Norte? Eu n\u0026atilde;o sei te dizer, sabe? [...] Eu tenho essas caracter\u0026iacute;sticas, mas eu n\u0026atilde;o tenho como provar.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[16] \u0026ldquo;Pra mim pardo e ind\u0026iacute;gena t\u0026ecirc;m basicamente a mesma cor. Talvez em pequenos tons diferente [...] s\u0026oacute; que o ind\u0026iacute;gena ele nasce ind\u0026iacute;gena, n\u0026eacute;? Ele sabe que \u0026eacute; ind\u0026iacute;gena. E o pardo, ele pode ter a descend\u0026ecirc;ncia, ou pode ter a mistura que eu t\u0026ocirc; falando, do branco com o ind\u0026iacute;gena, ou do branco com o pardo. Pra mim \u0026eacute; isso.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e"},{"header":"Discussion","content":"\u003cp\u003eAccording to Marsico (2016), crossing borders always implies identity change. Perhaps the cases that best illustrate this principle are those of Siwsi, Sara, and Alana. Siwsi moved from a \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e identity to an Indigenous\u0026ndash;Bar\u0026eacute; one, changing her category of self-identification. A similar process occurred with Alana, although in the opposite direction: she thought she was White until she was deemed non-White by a White girl whose skin tone, according to Alana\u0026rsquo;s account, was lighter than her own. In Sara\u0026rsquo;s case, the same identity shift (from White to \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e) took place later, in adulthood, when she was questioned about her \u0026ldquo;Indigenous features.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEven the cases that did not result in categorical changes also illustrate this principle of identity transformation. Tain\u0026aacute; did not change her self-declared category, consistently identifying as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e throughout her life. However, when she attempted to enter university through the racial quota system as a \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e candidate, she was rejected for \u0026ldquo;not presenting Black features\u0026rdquo; \u0026ndash; since the policy benefits only \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e of Black phenotype. This rejection acted as a semiotic blocker \u0026ndash; or \u003cem\u003eGegenstand\u003c/em\u003e (Valsiner, 2014) \u0026ndash; that prevented her from identifying generically as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e. It catalyzed the emergence of a new identity: \u003cem\u003epardo of Indigenous descent\u003c/em\u003e, constructed by Tain\u0026aacute; to differentiate herself from \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e of Black descent and to make sense of the rejection, both to herself and to others. This process exemplifies Marsico\u0026rsquo;s (2016, 2024) argument that borders function as semiotic tools regulating and giving meaning to the I\u0026ndash;Other\u0026ndash;World relationship.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs in Tain\u0026aacute;\u0026rsquo;s case, Aracy did not move from one category to another. Instead, her \u0026ldquo;identity change\u0026rdquo; took the form of a new self-perception as Indigenous. When, at age ten, she realized that her family\u0026rsquo;s way of life was not shared \u0026ldquo;by everyone,\u0026rdquo; but rather specific to the Munduruku people, Aracy crossed the border from ethnic unawareness to awareness, which transformed her entire way of relating to others and to the world. All these cases illustrate that crossing borders implies identity change (Marsico, 2016).\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMarsico (2024) conceives the border as a contact zone that simultaneously connects and separates. This is most evident in the borderline cases of Leila, Siwsi, Tain\u0026aacute;, and Carlos, but it also applies to all \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e in this study (including Rafael). From a rigid perspective on Indigenous identity, they might be classified as \u0026ldquo;clearly non-Indigenous.\u0026rdquo; However, they effectively inhabit an ambiguous zone \u0026ndash; sometimes perceived by others as Indigenous, when racial criteria prevail, and at other times as non-Indigenous, when ethnic definitions or stereotypical ideas of the \u0026ldquo;real Indian\u0026rdquo; come into play.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe stereotype of the \u0026ldquo;real Indian\u0026rdquo; lies at the core of ethnocidal thinking. Longhini (2021) identifies three main axes of ethnocide in Brazil: Indigenous peoples are expected to (1) live within Indigenous territories, (2) speak an Indigenous language, and (3) embody the phenotype socially regarded as \u0026ldquo;the Indian face.\u0026rdquo; Through these axes, the State produces \u0026ndash; and society reproduces \u0026ndash; Indigenous invisibility. The paradox, as Dorrico (2025) notes, is that the same society that marks people as \u0026ldquo;Indian\u0026rdquo; when insulting them is the one that questions or denies this identity when those individuals seriously attempt to self-affirm as Indigenous or express pride in that ancestry.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt is within this ambiguous border between being and not being Indigenous that various identity phenomena occur. At least three distinct outcomes can be identified: (1) the emergence of a \u003cem\u003ecaboclo\u003c/em\u003e self-identification, mentioned by Tain\u0026aacute;, Rafael, Sara, and Alana; (2) the development of a \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e identity that is not generic but racialized, explicitly linked to Indigenous ancestry, as illustrated by Tain\u0026aacute;\u0026rsquo;s \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003epardo of Indigenous ancestry\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo; identity; and (3) Siwsi\u0026rsquo;s process of ethnic resurgence. The conclusion that can be drawn is that the Indigenous/Descendant border, contrary to common assumptions, is a permeable one.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSuch permeability is precisely what allows both Siwsi to move from \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e to Indigenous, and Leila to construct a racialized Indigenous identity. The permeability of this border can be explained by two factors. The first is the shared ancestry between both groups. Some \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e with Indigenous descent can \u0026ldquo;become Indigenous,\u0026rdquo; as evidenced by processes of ethnic resurgence in Brazil. Individuals engaged in such processes can reclaim Indigenous identity precisely because of this ancestry. Some \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e can trace their forebears\u0026rsquo; peoples and, if they obtain such information, seek recognition by their communities \u0026ndash; as Siwsi did.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe second factor that makes the Indigenous/Descendant border permeable is the double meaning of \u0026ldquo;Indigenous\u0026rdquo; in the Brazilian context: it can carry either ethnic or racial connotations, depending on the situation. Generally, \u0026ldquo;Indigenous\u0026rdquo; has an ethnic sense, applied to those who belong to any of the 391 recognized Indigenous groups in Brazil, regardless of physical appearance (Hern\u0026aacute;ndez-D\u0026iacute;az, 2013). However, this ethnic meaning coexists with a racial one: certain physical traits are socially associated with Indigenous ancestry. People displaying these features, even if they do not self-identify as Indigenous in ethnic or cultural terms (as with the \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e in this study), are often identified as such by others in a purely racial sense.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs demonstrated by Rocha, Guilherme and Marsico (2025) in quantitative research on racial classification, some anonymous individuals were categorized as \u0026ldquo;Indigenous\u0026rdquo; even when their photographs contained no cultural cues (such as motifs, accessories, or feather headdresses) that might bias perception. The authors interpret this as evidence of a racialized meaning of the term \u0026ldquo;Indigenous\u0026rdquo; that coexists with its ethnized meaning. This coexistence is what allows Leila to construct her racialized Indigenous identity. Even without knowing her ancestors\u0026rsquo; ethnicity \u0026ndash; and despite social pressure to avoid identifying as Indigenous due to \u0026ldquo;lack of documentation\u0026rdquo; \u0026ndash; Leila defies the apparent rigidity of the Indigenous/Non-Indigenous border, moving from her socially attributed \u0026ldquo;non-Indigenous\u0026rdquo; status to an Indigenous identity. To do so, she suppresses the ethnic meaning of Indigeneity and grounds her identification in physical appearance.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA similar process occurs among \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e, even those who do not identify as \u0026ldquo;racial Indigenous\u0026rdquo; (as Leila does). Alana, for example, previously self-identified as White, but after being categorized as \u0026ldquo;non-White\u0026rdquo; by a White peer, crossed the White/Non-White border to assume not a racialized Indigenous identity, but a \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e identity linked to Indigenous ancestry \u0026ndash; distinguishing herself, like the other \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e in this study, from the \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e whose identities are linked to Blackness (Carneiro, 2011; Silva \u0026amp; Le\u0026atilde;o, 2012; Rodrigues, 2022). Similarly, Sara, despite her light skin tone, made a crossing similar to Alana\u0026rsquo;s, adopting an identity grounded in the perception of her facial features as \u0026ldquo;non-Caucasian,\u0026rdquo; yet Indigenous.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThese \u0026ldquo;White-to-Non-White\u0026rdquo; crossings were possible precisely because of the racialized meaning of \u0026ldquo;Indigenous.\u0026rdquo; Nonetheless, Ayla\u0026rsquo;s case is noteworthy: she identified as Indigenous for a brief period during adolescence. If, for Leila, the racialized sense of \u0026ldquo;Indigenous\u0026rdquo; catalyzed her racial Indigenous identity, and for Sara and Alana it mediated their crossing from White to \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e identities linked to Indigenous ancestry, in Ayla\u0026rsquo;s case the ethnic meaning mediated a reverse process \u0026ndash; she ceased identifying as Indigenous after learning the ethnic definition of Indigeneity. Thus, the dual meaning of \u0026ldquo;Indigenous\u0026rdquo; (sometimes ethnic, sometimes racial) can mediate border crossings in different directions, producing unpredictable outcomes that depend on subjective trajectories and individual internalization\u0026ndash;externalization processes (Valsiner, 2007).\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThese developmental transformations, according to Marsico (2024, p. 235), \u0026ldquo;take place thanks to the dialectic tension of the parts and their borders within the whole.\u0026rdquo; All the emerging identities came into being through such tensions: Sara and Alana recognized themselves as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e women after being challenged in their assumed position as Whites; Tain\u0026aacute;, when denied by a hetero-identification board, was challenged in her \u0026ldquo;generic \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo; identity and resolved the dilemma by \u0026ldquo;crossing\u0026rdquo; the membrane toward Indigenous identity \u0026ndash; though not entirely, remaining in-between \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e and Indigenous semiotic fields. Through this in-betweenness, her \u003cem\u003epardo of Indigenous ancestry\u003c/em\u003e identity emerged. Aracy, upon discovering that not everyone shared her way of life, also underwent tension in her identity, \u0026ldquo;becoming\u0026rdquo; Munduruku and reaching ethnic awareness. Finally, Siwsi was led to reclaim her Indigenous identity partly after being challenged by the discourse that \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e are Black,\u0026rdquo; which \u0026ldquo;shook\u0026rdquo; her \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e identification and catalyzed her crossing into Indigenous identity. These cases exemplify the dialectical relation between tension and integrity \u0026ndash; what Marsico and Tateo (2017) call \u003cem\u003etensegrity\u003c/em\u003e. The integrity of the self depends precisely on this dynamic interplay between opposing yet mutually constitutive forces.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt is worth noting that the same social impediment that limited \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e self-identification also catalyzed Tain\u0026aacute;\u0026rsquo;s recognition as \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous ancestry\u0026rdquo;. The same process that led Siwsi to fully cross the membrane from \u003cem\u003epardo \u003c/em\u003etoward Indigenous identity kept Tain\u0026aacute; between the two. As Marsico (2024, p. 232) states, \u0026ldquo;Humans, while making borders, are able to overcome them or live in between them.\u0026rdquo; Siwsi exemplifies the first case \u0026ndash; overcoming the border \u0026ndash; while Tain\u0026aacute; illustrates how people can dwell in-between.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe levels of permeability also differ: Tain\u0026aacute; and Carlos (and even Alana or Ayla) occupy a more permeable zone toward the Indigenous side than Dion\u0026iacute;sio, Sara, or Rafael, for whom obtaining information about their ethnicities is impractical; likewise, Leila and Siwsi exhibit greater permeability in the opposite direction (toward \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e). They also have social legitimacy to self-declare as \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e, as many in their same situation do. These cases constitute \u0026ldquo;border points\u0026rdquo; in the Indigenous\u0026ndash;\u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e continuum.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs a semiotic tool, the Indigenous/Descendant border is mobilized according to psychosocial factors at play. When the issue concerns land demarcation, this border becomes particularly salient \u0026ndash; Indigenous status is often denied to descendants lacking official documentation of ethnic belonging, a condition frequently resulting from centuries of assimilation and disaggregation of Indigenous collectivities. Consequently, they are also denied land rights (Oliveira, 1972). Paradoxically, the same denial can occur through racialized criteria, stripping Indigenous status from entire peoples who, due to successive miscegenation, no longer fit the phenotype socially imagined as \u0026ldquo;the Indian face.\u0026rdquo; After all, individuals of \u0026ldquo;Black\u0026rdquo; or \u0026ldquo;White\u0026rdquo; phenotype may self-identify as Indigenous and be recognized by their communities, participating fully in Indigenous social and cultural life (Hern\u0026aacute;ndez-D\u0026iacute;az, 2013). Yet, because they do not conform to the idealized image of the \u0026ldquo;Indian,\u0026rdquo; political authorities often deny them Indigenous status (Longhini, 2021).\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen, on the other hand, it is argued that Indigenous people constitute more than the official 0.83% of the population \u0026ndash; including descendants, as Longhini (2021, p. 69) does when asserting that \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e are either Black or Indigenous \u0026ndash; the boundary is shifted outward, now encompassing descendants within the Indigenous category. The cost of this shift is the concealment of deep social differences between \u0026ldquo;Indigenous\u0026rdquo; and \u0026ldquo;descendants.\u0026rdquo; Thus, the position of the boundary depends on context and on the interests at stake.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAn example from the data comes from Teixeira, who mobilized the border to classify a famous Brazilian artist who self-identify as Indigenous. Teixeira asserted that she is not Indigenous, although she \u0026ldquo;resembles\u0026rdquo; one, and that at most \u0026ldquo;her parents or grandparents are Indigenous, but not herself,\u0026rdquo; since she doesn\u0026rsquo;t speak any Indigenous language \u0026ndash; a core criterion for Teixeira\u0026rsquo;s people (Yanomami) to recognize one as Indigenous. Aracy also employed this logic when inquired about what she thinks about the \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e. She expressed understanding of the historical losses of them, but she also criticizes de-ethnized Indigenous identification. In other words, both Teixeira and Aracy recognize that people with \u0026ldquo;Indigenous features\u0026rdquo; are somehow related to their peoples, yet do not hesitate to erect boundaries to defend ethnically grounded Indigenous identity \u0026ndash; since acknowledging racialized Indigenous identities would imply the extension of recognition to individuals who have never contributed to Indigenous struggles, solely based on appearance.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDescendants themselves, when reproducing prejudice against Indigenous people or seeking to distance themselves from them, also construct boundaries to detach from a stigmatized social origin \u0026ndash; as seen in Siwsi\u0026rsquo;s mother, or even in Dion\u0026iacute;sio, who, when younger, used to wear his hair tied back because, in his words, \u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;anyone who wears bangs is an Indian.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e[17]\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eConcluding Remarks\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt first glance, one might assume that the border between Indigenous and descendants is a rigid one, since Indigenous belong to specific ethnic groups, whereas descendants often no longer maintain such belonging. However, the data reveal that \u003cem\u003eIndigenous\u003c/em\u003e and \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e are better described not as two discrete boxes but as positions along a continuum comprising a typology of seven analytical categories. On the Indigenous side, there are both urban-born and land-born Indigenous people; on the \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e side, there are those who know that their forebears were Indigenous but cannot identify their ethnicities, and those for whom Indigenous ancestry has been erased, leaving only phenotypical features devoid of any ethnic complexity. Between these poles lies a grey zone that includes people who have crossed from \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e to Indigenous identity through ethnic resurgence; those who express a racialized rather than ethnically grounded Indigenous identity; and \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e who, contrary to common assumptions, know their grandparents\u0026rsquo; Indigenous ethnicities.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003ePardos\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous descent are a highly diverse group. Some are so close to Indigenous peoples \u0026ndash; and so embedded between \u0026ldquo;two worlds\u0026rdquo; \u0026ndash; that they act as symbolic and social bridges between Indigenous and non-Indigenous groups, even while experiencing the tension of this in-between space. Others are so integrated into non-Indigenous society that it might not be appropriate to describe them as being \u0026ldquo;on the Indigenous/Non-Indigenous border\u0026rdquo; at all. Instead, they occupy another boundary: between race and ethnicity. They lack the collective belonging required to be Indigenous, yet they\u0026rsquo;re racially perceived by others as such.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e category has often been portrayed as ambiguous. Much has been said about \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e being \u0026ldquo;between Black and White,\u0026rdquo; encapsulated in the clich\u0026eacute; \u0026ldquo;too light to be Black and too dark to be White.\u0026rdquo; The case of \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous descent, however, is distinct. Their ambiguity is not phenotypical but cultural. It is not about being \u0026ldquo;too light to be Indigenous and too dark to be White,\u0026rdquo; nor about displaying an intermediate phenotype. It is about lacking the ethnic ties to be Indigenous while not being racially White (nor Black) either. These are people who are ethnically non-Indigenous but racially perceived as if they were.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFinally, looking at this paper\u0026rsquo;s title, one might expect that the article would offer a direct answer to the question posed there. However, the partial conclusion reached thus far is that, given the permeability of the Indigenous/descendant border, such a \u0026ldquo;where\u0026rdquo; is not even situatable. The distinction between Indigenous and \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous descent ultimately depends on self-identification rather than on supposedly objective criteria. Both groups, to some extent and with due proportions, share a similar social position in Brazil\u0026rsquo;s \u0026ldquo;racial chessboard\u0026rdquo; \u0026ndash; the intergroup cleavage arising more from ethnic and cultural differences than from physical ones.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e[17] \u0026ldquo;Eu n\u0026atilde;o gosto de cabelo caindo na testa. [...] Quem usa franjinha \u0026eacute; \u0026iacute;ndio.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e"},{"header":"Declarations","content":"\u003ch2\u003eAuthor Contribution\u003c/h2\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe author collected all the research data and was responsible for writing the entire manuscript.\u003c/p\u003e\u003ch2\u003eAcknowledgement\u003c/h2\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe author acknowledges the Coordena\u0026ccedil;\u0026atilde;o de Aperfei\u0026ccedil;oamento de Pessoal de N\u0026iacute;vel Superior (CAPES) for the financial support for this research.\u003c/p\u003e\u003ch2\u003eData Availability\u003c/h2\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe data that support the findings of this study are available from the author on reasonable request.\u003c/p\u003e"},{"header":"References","content":"\u003col\u003e\u003cli\u003e\u003cspan\u003eBastos, J. (2023). \u003cem\u003eCinquenta tons de racismo: mesti\u0026ccedil;agem e polariza\u0026ccedil;\u0026atilde;o racial no Brasil\u003c/em\u003e. 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Romulus\u0026rsquo; Legacy: A Systematic Review of Borders, Boundaries, and Margins in Psychology and Beyond. \u003cem\u003eTrends in Psychology\u003c/em\u003e, 1\u0026ndash;40.\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/li\u003e\u003cli\u003e\u003cspan\u003eDe Abreu, M. N. (2024). \u003cem\u003ePara al\u0026eacute;m da vis\u0026atilde;o: percep\u0026ccedil;\u0026atilde;o racial e a cr\u0026iacute;tica ao paradigma visuoc\u0026ecirc;ntrico na experi\u0026ecirc;ncia de um cego cong\u0026ecirc;nito\u003c/em\u003e. Tese de Doutorado. Salvador. Programa de P\u0026oacute;s-Gradua\u0026ccedil;\u0026atilde;o em Psicologia. Universidade Federal da Bahia.\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/li\u003e\u003cli\u003e\u003cspan\u003eDinkins, C. S. (2005). Shared inquiry: Socratic-hermeneutic interpre-viewing. In P. M. Ironside (Ed.), \u003cem\u003eBeyond Method: Philosophical Conversations in Healthcare Research and Scholarship\u003c/em\u003e (pp. 111\u0026ndash;147). 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UNESCO.\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/li\u003e\u003c/ol\u003e"}],"fulltextSource":"","fullText":"","funders":[],"hasAdminPriorityOnWorkflow":false,"hasManuscriptDocX":true,"hasOptedInToPreprint":true,"hasPassedJournalQc":"","hasAnyPriority":false,"hideJournal":false,"highlight":"","institution":"","isAcceptedByJournal":false,"isAuthorSuppliedPdf":false,"isDeskRejected":"","isHiddenFromSearch":false,"isInQc":false,"isInWorkflow":false,"isPdf":false,"isPdfUpToDate":true,"isWithdrawnOrRetracted":false,"journal":{"display":true,"email":"[email protected]","identity":"human-arenas","isNatureJournal":false,"hasQc":true,"allowDirectSubmit":false,"externalIdentity":"huar","sideBox":"Learn more about [Human Arenas](http://link.springer.com/journal/42087)","snPcode":"42087","submissionUrl":"https://submission.nature.com/new-submission/42087/3","title":"Human Arenas","twitterHandle":"","acdcEnabled":true,"dfaEnabled":true,"editorialSystem":"em","reportingPortfolio":"Springer Hybrid","inReviewEnabled":true,"inReviewRevisionsEnabled":false},"keywords":"Bordering processes. Race. Ethnicity. Amazon. Indigenous. Mixed-race","lastPublishedDoi":"10.21203/rs.3.rs-8067583/v1","lastPublishedDoiUrl":"https://doi.org/10.21203/rs.3.rs-8067583/v1","license":{"name":"CC BY 4.0","url":"https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/"},"manuscriptAbstract":"\u003cp\u003eThis paper examines the symbolic boundary between Indigenous peoples and \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous descent in Brazil. The latter are defined as individuals who are ethnically non-Indigenous but share Indigenous ancestry and are often racially perceived as Indigenous. Drawing on Cultural Semiotic Psychology, the study applies the notion of \u003cem\u003ebordering processes\u003c/em\u003e to analyze the continuum of identities situated between Indigenous and \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e categories. A qualitative multiple-case study was conducted with thirteen participants \u0026ndash; seven \u003cem\u003epardos\u003c/em\u003e and six Indigenous \u0026ndash; from the Amazon region of Brazil. Data were collected through a racial identification questionnaire supplemented with a semi-structured interview, and analyzed through Thematic Analysis. Results show that Indigenous and \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e of Indigenous descent identities are not discrete, but form an overlapping continuum comprising seven analytical categories: four Indigenous positions (land-born, urban-born, ethnic resurgence, and racial Indigenous) and three \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e\u0026ndash;Indigenous ones (known ethnicity, unknown ethnicity, and phenotypical \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e\u0026ndash;Indigenous). The boundary between Indigenous and non-Indigenous identities is permeable. Categories such as racial Indigenous, ethnic resurgence, and \u003cem\u003epardo\u003c/em\u003e of known ethnicity are ambiguous and blur the apparently rigid division between Indigenous and non-Indigenous populations, revealing identity as a dynamic process of negotiation rather than a fixed condition.\u003c/p\u003e","manuscriptTitle":"Where Does Indigenous End and Pardo Begin? Understanding Ethno-racial Boundaries in the Amazon","msid":"","msnumber":"","nonDraftVersions":[{"code":1,"date":"2025-11-26 07:09:51","doi":"10.21203/rs.3.rs-8067583/v1","editorialEvents":[{"type":"communityComments","content":0},{"type":"decision","content":"Revision requested","date":"2026-05-20T08:50:16+00:00","index":"","fulltext":""},{"type":"editorInvitedReview","content":"","date":"2026-05-19T22:01:38+00:00","index":"hide","fulltext":""},{"type":"reviewerAgreed","content":"329921982139019937127610653260433305803","date":"2026-04-20T23:38:49+00:00","index":"hide","fulltext":""},{"type":"editorInvitedReview","content":"","date":"2026-01-07T05:26:58+00:00","index":"hide","fulltext":""},{"type":"reviewerAgreed","content":"318136808608643697326737406637148956069","date":"2025-11-14T12:45:48+00:00","index":"hide","fulltext":""},{"type":"reviewersInvited","content":"","date":"2025-11-14T10:19:54+00:00","index":"","fulltext":""},{"type":"editorAssigned","content":"","date":"2025-11-14T06:07:38+00:00","index":"","fulltext":""},{"type":"checksComplete","content":"","date":"2025-11-12T13:41:51+00:00","index":"","fulltext":""},{"type":"submitted","content":"Human Arenas","date":"2025-11-09T07:32:53+00:00","index":"","fulltext":""}],"status":"published","journal":{"display":true,"email":"[email protected]","identity":"human-arenas","isNatureJournal":false,"hasQc":true,"allowDirectSubmit":false,"externalIdentity":"huar","sideBox":"Learn more about [Human Arenas](http://link.springer.com/journal/42087)","snPcode":"42087","submissionUrl":"https://submission.nature.com/new-submission/42087/3","title":"Human Arenas","twitterHandle":"","acdcEnabled":true,"dfaEnabled":true,"editorialSystem":"em","reportingPortfolio":"Springer Hybrid","inReviewEnabled":true,"inReviewRevisionsEnabled":false}}],"origin":"","ownerIdentity":"26469fc5-78f8-4c3d-b308-ecee505c9c5e","owner":[],"postedDate":"November 26th, 2025","published":true,"recentEditorialEvents":[{"type":"decision","content":"Revision requested","date":"2026-05-20T08:50:16+00:00","index":"","fulltext":""},{"type":"editorInvitedReview","content":"","date":"2026-05-19T22:01:38+00:00","index":29,"fulltext":""}],"rejectedJournal":[],"revision":"","amendment":"","status":"in-revision","subjectAreas":[],"tags":[],"updatedAt":"2026-05-20T08:56:37+00:00","versionOfRecord":[],"versionCreatedAt":"2025-11-26 07:09:51","video":"","vorDoi":"","vorDoiUrl":"","workflowStages":[]},"version":"v1","identity":"rs-8067583","journalConfig":"researchsquare"},"__N_SSP":true},"page":"/article/[identity]/[[...version]]","query":{"redirect":"/article/rs-8067583","identity":"rs-8067583","version":["v1"]},"buildId":"8U1c8b4HqxoKbykW_rLl7","isFallback":false,"isExperimentalCompile":false,"dynamicIds":[84888],"gssp":true,"scriptLoader":[]}