Erika Hilton, lawmaker: ‘There could be a coup in Brazil. This time within the law, not like that horror show’

While the keynote speaker is closing the rally, her own fans are waiting for her at the back exit. Dozens of young people press onto the road, cell phones in hand. As she appears among the crowd, pandemonium breaks out. There are excited screams — everyone wants a selfie. The lawmaker walks confidently on stiletto heels. Escorted by three bodyguards, her straight, caramel-colored hair stands out in the throng. She twists her body to pose with this person and that one. She smiles. She advances slowly, head held high, toward the black car, followed by her own cameraman. “Erika, Erika, Erika…,” they chant. Erika Hilton, 33, steps into the armored vehicle and disappears into this drizzly São Paulo night.

Forty minutes later, the protagonist of that pop-diva scene last Tuesday sits down to talk with EL PAÍS in her first interview with a Spanish-language outlet. Dinner time has already passed; we are in her campaign office, in a pretty villa. Re-elected with 1.5 million votes, making her the most voted woman to Congress in Brazil, this human rights activist who is transgender is devoted to “convincing people they need to talk to the undecided” to make sure that on Sunday October 25, at the runoff vote of the presidential election, the leftist incumbent Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva defeats Senator Flávio Bolsonaro in an election as tight as it is consequential.

It is a race against the clock as she fights from rally to rally and online, at the head of a force of almost nine million followers across Instagram and TikTok. “I became a reference for youth, for women… even though I am not just any woman,” she says. She embodies the endless contradictions that have long defined Brazil. “I am a woman who was expelled from home as a youth, who turned to sex work to survive, who lives in a country that still hates my presence — the last country in the world to abolish slavery. I am a woman, I am Black, I am a transvestite and the daughter of the working class.” Her oratory recalls that of President Lula.

Her biggest victory in the outgoing legislature is the constitutional amendment, approved this Wednesday, that gives tens of millions of workers a second paid day off.

Hilton’s life and political trajectory run through a Brazil that is both hell and paradise for different groups of people. No other country kills as many transgender people (80 murdered in 2025), but then again no other country has two trans women in Congress. The Brazil that embraces fluid sexual identities coexists with an intolerant nation that regards them as diabolical abominations.

And, if we widen the lens, female representation in parliament lags far behind. Brazilian female legislators hover around 21%, light-years from Mexico (over 50%), and at the bottom of Latin America.

Whether Lula wins or loses, the deputy for the Socialism and Liberty Party — a left split from the Workers’ Party (PT) — has a crucial medium-term mission. She is tasked with countering the enormous parliamentary power the ballots have given Bolsonaro, of the far right. “If Flávio wins, we will face scorched earth policies. My role will be to keep the flame of resistance alive in Congress.” Hilton is skilled at confrontation and often goes on the offensive.

If the Bolsonaros return to power, does she fear another coup attempt? “Yes, it could happen. I believe this time it will be a less crude kind of coup — not like that horror show [of 2023] but a coup within the law. They will change the Constitution, as the candidate has announced. He will expand the term, which he says will be five years with no re-election. But we have no doubt he will propose 10 or 15.”

For someone who is white, born with other privileges, or not part of the LGBTQI+ community, it may be hard to understand what Hilton means in terms of representation. A couple of scenes illustrate the endless gratitude of the invisible and discriminated. Manu Rosa, a 17-year-old student, explains, ecstatic after hearing her at a rally: “She champions important issues, like extending maternity leave, defending gay couples, the LGBT cause. She’s revolutionary! And as a bisexual woman, she represents me.” Hilton is flanked by her security and press teams. She greets her fans when an elderly-looking trans woman, wearing shorts and a top that reveals half a breast, crosses the security cordon. Before the deputy she kneels, bows, and kisses her hand. Hilton lifts her up, embraces her tightly and whispers: “Sister, take care of yourself.”

Whether the electorate chooses Bolsonaro — a senator investigated for corruption whose priority is to pardon his father, a convicted coup plotter — or gives Lula — a worn statesman — another chance, the choice will have effects beyond Brazil’s borders. “We are witnessing a very violent rise of fascism in Latin America, supported by the U.S. government under Donald Trump,” she says. That makes Sunday consequential for the region and the world. “The Brazilian election will symbolize Latin America’s democratic resistance.”

Erika Hilton was born in a city in São Paulo’s metropolitan belt and grew up in another one, Francisco Morato. With her mother and grandmother she formed a loving household. Surrounded by cousins, she grew up in a poor, at times troubled, neighborhood. She accompanied her mother to the evangelical church, where she learned to speak in public.

But when she was 15, there was a family rift. Her mother radicalized, embraced religious fundamentalism and expelled her from home. For the next four years she had to fend for herself, until her mother took her back. Together they experienced Hilton’s counting of votes and victory — one of the few joys the left savored on the night of the first round of voting, when Bolsonaro got the upper hand with 47% of the vote over Lula da Silva’s 45%. “My mother is wonderful. I owe everything I have to her,” she emphasizes.

After the reconciliation, Hilton returned home and enrolled in university to study pedagogy. Thanks to her skill on social media, she gathered 100,000 signatures in two days against a company that was preventing her from using her social name — Erika Hilton — on her student transit card. PSOL then invited her to join its ranks.

She exchanged her childhood dream of becoming a TV host or runway model for a political career that recalls Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s. Hilton also flirts with the idea of becoming president. She said so at the age of five, according to her grandmother, and she herself said it to this newspaper in 2020. A black-and-white portrait of her with the word “presidenta” written over it in neon greets visitors at her campaign headquarters.

It is a groundbreaking prospect for Brazil’s political establishment in 2026. To put it in perspective, the six presidential hopefuls with more than 300,000 votes were all men, white and over 40. None of them had a woman as a running mate. “Sometimes I imagine the paranoia the men in the system must be feeling. They must think: ‘They were once sentenced to death and now they are fighting us for space, occupying our seats, they are being heard and their voices are echoing beyond our borders.’”

She receives so many threats, including death threats, that she has permanent security. Do she feel fear? How does it compare to that teenage period living on the street? “Incredibly, I was a young body, vulnerable on the street by night or day, but back then I felt much safer because the threat did not carry my name or my face. It was generic; it could affect any of us.”

The attacks are organized. She endures serious threats, such as one from the deep web that forced her to leave her home immediately. Her address is top secret. She does not open the windows so the neighborhood cannot spot her. And in Congress, there are constant attempts to ridicule her. Nikolas Ferreira, her nemesis in Congress, is a 30-year-old ultraconservative lawmaker allied with the Bolsonaros who doubled her vote total (three million, a male record).

Back in 2020, when she debuted as a city councillor in São Paulo, her oratory was direct and precise, like a machine gun. The style remains, but it now covers more topics. Her appearance has changed. Curls gave way to straight or wavy hair. She sculpted her face until she bore a resemblance to Beyoncé, her favorite artist. The diva of Brazilian politics dressed as a fan to see her in concert in Paris and managed to get tickets for the family-and-friends area. “It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve experienced despite the heat of the European summer, the lack of water and the high heels I wore. Nothing ruined the grandeur of what Beyoncé represents.”

She is racing against the clock to persuade her voter-followers to leave their bubbles in search of those over 16 and grandparents who didn’t vote — the left’s best chance to block bolsonarismo and remain in power. Whatever the verdict at the polls, in the next legislature Hilton will be sitting in her seat, head held high, ready to confront anyone who tries to take away political and social gains.

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