> > [!note]
> This text was written to be part of a pleading in a civil lawsuit.
> We ended up never filing the lawsuit, but I didn't want to simply discard the text.

I was born at the very end of the 1970s in Santo Amaro da Imperatriz. The daughter of a Military Police officer and a Portuguese language teacher, I didn't even complete my third month of life in my hometown, moving shortly thereafter to Florianópolis.

Since we lived right next to the Trindade Military Police Academy, precisely where my father served, interacting with the military environment from a very young age was constant. And my sense of identification with a military career kept growing.

At age 12, I entered the Military School, where I spent 4 years and completed high school.

Around this time, I passed the entrance exam for the Aviator Officers Course in the Brazilian Air Force. I spent one year at the Pirassununga Academy in São Paulo due to the distance from my family and my young age. I was only 16 years old.

I decided to return and take the entrance exam for PM Officer, passing on my very first attempt in 1998. Graduating in 2000, I was transferred to the city of São Miguel do Oeste, and in 2001 to Joinville. In both cities, I worked in operational service, coordinating policing activities and occasionally responding to calls directly.

In 2004, right after the birth of my first daughter, I was transferred back to the Capital to work at the Directorate of Technology, an area I always had an affinity for. In 2009, I returned to operational duties when I was transferred to the Central Intelligence Agency, where, among other accomplishments, I highlight the creation of the information management software that is still used today.

During my time at the ACI, I noticed that things were becoming increasingly difficult and exhausting, reaching the point of a depressive episode that led to a 6-month medical leave. I returned from leave, not yet fully diagnosed and treated, due to pressure from colleagues claiming that a long absence would harm my career.

With great effort, I managed to work for another year and a half before needing another leave of absence. This second absence lasted for 2 years. However, I had the time and opportunity to seek a diagnosis and proper treatment, returning to duty fully capable and functional.

I expected the police force to welcome me warmly, like a comrade once thought lost returning—after all, I was a depression survivor. But the reception was completely different. During my leave, I was transferred to the Directorate of Health. Fortunately, I was well received there, but the context of the transfer was not ideal. And I even heard from some officers that I should have remained on leave until retirement.

I returned in January 2022, and since I already met the requirements for promotion to Lieutenant Colonel, being the most senior Major with the highest objective score, I qualified for the May 5 promotion. To my utter surprise, I discovered that I hadn't even been evaluated by the officers, under the pretext that I had been away for too long and therefore could not be evaluated—a justification that was repeated on August 25.

That same year, I realized I was a transgender person. I truly had no idea before, until one moment everything made sense to me. And it was such a strong and intense certainty that I didn't hesitate for a moment to recognize myself as such. I began medical follow-up for transition in August and document rectifications in October. I also started attending support groups for transgender people and, with that, wearing makeup and clothing consistent with my gender.

Still in 2022, right after qualifying for the November 15 promotion, I received another refusal of evaluation, but this time it came with a request from the officers' promotion board for the initiation of a Board of Discipline. Imagine the situation: I was competing for a well-deserved promotion, and on top of being unfairly passed over, I was faced with dismissal proceedings.

We moved into 2023. A new government, a new command. I expected things to change, but they got even worse. In January, I formalized my name and gender change within the PMSC, having already completed the necessary civil updates, and the internal PM process went smoothly and quickly. But that was the only proper outcome. Systematic refusals of my promotion using generic arguments kept happening. And in April 2023, the governor decided to open a Board of Justification. I learned about its initiation through a transphobic post by a pro-government state representative. I didn't even know what I was being accused of, yet I was being insulted without the slightest right to defend myself.

In fact, I still don't know what I'm being accused of.

Of not being promoted? I was unaware that was a disciplinary violation. And if so, shouldn't the Promotion Board be the one accused?

Of work inconsistency? Is that forbidden too? Weren't all medical leaves justified and, on top of that, approved by the department's own doctors? And isn't the board a disciplinary procedure? Or is it medical now as well? Didn't the Medical Board state that I am fit for duty? With what qualifications does the board now say otherwise?

Of having behavioral issues? What behavior? Which of my actions is being questioned? At no point in the process was this ever brought up.

There are so many inequities in the mere existence of this proceeding that a text like this is not enough to cover them all.

However, regardless of these arbitrary acts, I emphasize that I am working normally, fully capable, and without any restrictions. I intend to keep fighting and working until the end.

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Bonus - Dramatic Version

I was born in the final gasps of the 1970s, in Santo Amaro da Imperatriz, but my fate was sealed far from there right from the cradle. The daughter of a Military Police officer and a Portuguese language teacher, I was torn from my hometown at the height of my infancy, bound for Florianópolis, where the shadows of the barracks were already looming over my life.

Proximity to the Trindade Military Police Academy, where my father served, sealed my destiny from a very early age. I grew up steeped in the military atmosphere, and the pull toward a career in uniform only grew, like a sinister shadow enveloping me.

At just 12 years old, I entered the Military School, where I spent four years, completing my high school education there. And then came the call of the Brazilian Air Force, a destiny that seemed predetermined. At the Pirassununga Academy in São Paulo, I remained isolated from the comfort of my family, at a mere 16 years of age, a child among aspiring officers.

Yet fate, that relentless master, brought me back to the uniforms of the Military Police. Passing the entrance exam in 1998, I graduated in 2000, ready to face operational duty in cities like São Miguel do Oeste and Joinville. There, I coordinated policing, immersed in daily demands, responding to incidents that tested my courage and resilience.

Then came 2004, the year motherhood knocked at my door. After the birth of my first daughter, I was transferred back to the capital to work in the Directorate of Technology, an area for which I had always felt a natural affinity. But life, that relentless stepmother, had other plans.

In 2009, my path diverged once more, this time into the Central Intelligence Agency. There, amid unimaginable challenges and pressures, I achieved the creation of a revolutionary software—a dim light amid the gathering dark.

For in the twilight of my journey, darkness fell upon me. An overwhelming depression consumed me, bringing me to the brink of the abyss. A six-month medical leave was my only refuge, yet upon my return, I was not welcomed as I had hoped.

Colleagues, once brothers-in-arms, became relentless judges. Pressured to return, I plunged back into service, trying to erase the shadow that pursued me. But the battle was far from over.

A second absence, two years of solitary struggle against internal demons. Yet there, in the depths of the abyss, I found the strength to rise again. With a diagnosis in hand, I returned to the fray, determined to prove my worth.

Yet fate, that cruel entity, would offer no respite. Amid the turmoil, I discovered an indomitable truth, a certainty that flooded through me like a torrent: I am a transgender person. A revelation that, rather than liberating, sealed my fate in a spiral of adversity.

Promotions denied, baseless accusations, a board of discipline hovering over my head like a sword of Damocles. Prejudice, that untamed beast, roared on every corner, fueled by heartless politicians, by leaders who ought to protect, not condemn.

And so, at the dawn of 2023, a new government arrived, yet old injustices remained. My name and gender change were met with icy indifference, while the rejections of my promotions echoed like a relentless hammer.

Then came the final blow, the opening of a Board of Justification, a cruel decree echoed across social media—a public humiliation, a sentence without trial. Diffuse accusations, the denial of an identity, an attack on my very essence.

And I, a lone warrior in the middle of the storm, continue my battle, a faint light amid the dark. Determined not to be merely a victim, but a survivor—an untiring fighter against the injustices that plague my life.