[Big read] Heaven and hell: Chinese migrants seek their fortune in Brazil

In the heart of downtown São Paulo, Brazil’s biggest city, 25th Street is a place for sensory overload — run-down, graffiti-covered buildings oozing arty decadence; rubbish-filled streets giving off all sorts of smells; street vendors and vagrants sitting on the ground amid their continuous cries; police presence everywhere. The atmosphere is lively, yet dangerous.

Stepping from the chaotic streets into the shops lining the area, familiar Chinese faces gradually come into view. They speak fluent Portuguese, eagerly promoting inexpensive Chinese-imported goods like clothing, bags and phone accessories to Brazilian customers.

There are about 300,000 Chinese immigrants and overseas Chinese in Brazil, and 25th Street is one of the places where they are most concentrated, as thousands of them run small shops here. For many Chinese immigrants with ordinary backgrounds and limited resources, this noisy and messy commercial district is where their hard work in Brazil begins.

“This is heaven for immigrants… and also hell.” This is how Wang Yang (pseudonym), who started as an illegal immigrant in Brazil more than 20 years ago and now works as an assistant in a store, described his experiences on 25th Street.  

25th Street is “heaven” because it offers resource-strapped immigrants a chance to turn their lives around, even allowing them to earn their first significant sum of money — including people like Wang Yang, who arrived as an undocumented migrant.  

Back then, Wang Yang had heard that a few relatives who had ventured to Brazil were “doing well”. Motivated by their stories, he paid US$10,000 to a snakehead (human smuggler), bribed airport staff in France, and travelled illegally from China to Brazil, via France. In Brazil, he began working on 25th Street as an itinerant “bag vendor”.  

He recalled, “We obtained goods from wholesalers and sold them on the streets. The merchandise was all counterfeit. During that time, I got very tanned, and I was sometimes in debt. I had no choice but to work slowly, step by step, accumulating bit by bit.” 

The Brazilian authorities did not crack down on Wang Yang; after his child was born in Brazil, the government even issued him a permanent residence permit. With the rapid growth of Brazil’s foreign trade market, Wang Yang eventually opened a small shop, transitioning to a more stable business, and his life gradually got back on track.

In the late 1970s, following China’s reform and opening-up, outbound travel policies were gradually loosened, leading to a wave of undocumented migrants like Wang Yang heading to Brazil. In 2009, Brazil’s government, adopting an open policy toward immigrants, granted amnesty to many undocumented migrants, allowing them to obtain legal residency. Others gained permanent residency through family connections, putting down roots in Brazil.

Even though China has undergone tremendous changes, 25th Street is still seen by some immigrants as a “land of opportunity”.

Lu Huan (pseudonym), an eyewear shop owner, shared: “At the start of their entrepreneurial journey, many Chinese sell counterfeit goods or smuggled items to avoid taxes. If you can offer good prices and quality, your business can take off quickly.”

However, 25th Street is also seen as “hell”, where high profits come with high risks. Lu Huan remarked, “You can indeed make money here, but it might only be your first pot of gold. As your business grows, you’ll inevitably draw the attention of Brazilian authorities, especially since many operate in counterfeit or smuggled goods, which are illegal businesses.”

Instances of Brazilian police or tax officers raiding Chinese-owned shops are not uncommon. An eyewear shop owner surnamed Pan said: “It happens every few years. When they come, they confiscate all the counterfeit goods. Each raid results in losses of at least tens of thousands of reais.”

Clothing store assistant Zou Wangjun pointed out the issue of corruption among Brazilian officials, leaving business owners helpless. “Even customs is corrupt and demands bribes. Sometimes customs seizes your goods, and you lose several shipping containers at once. It’s devastating — you might make some money for a while, but then suddenly go bankrupt.”

Beyond financial losses, personal safety is a major concern for the Chinese community in São Paulo. Almost everyone has a story about being robbed.

Those who are “lucky” might only lose their phones. In more serious cases, even the clothes on their back might be stolen. One shop owner recounted a friend’s experience: “He went fishing once, wearing branded clothes. He ended up being robbed, stripped of everything except his underwear. Brazilians just love robbing Chinese people.”

Chinese people living on 25th Street never let their guard down. Some interviewees tie their phones to their waist with string, others remove their watches in crowded places, and countless individuals advised the reporter not to display their phone on the street, and to step indoors to use it.  

These anxieties are well-founded. According to data from the Brazilian Forum on Public Safety (Fórum Brasileiro de Segurança Pública, FBSP), São Paulo state recorded 158,150 robbery cases and 137,891 phone thefts in 2023. This means that, on average, a phone is stolen or someone is robbed every 1 minute and 46 seconds.

As the number of Chinese merchants on 25th Street has grown over the years, Chinese immigrants have gradually begun gathering in another area of São Paulo — Brás. This area is also focused on small goods trading, but the proportion of shops selling counterfeit goods is lower, and it is generally considered to be safer than 25th Street.

Brás is known for its early markets, but life there is not easy for merchants. Cai, a clothing store owner who has been in Brazil for six years, shared that he and his wife wake up at 2:30 am every day. An hour later, they open their store in the dark to start the wholesale morning market. They close in the afternoon and go to bed by 7 or 8 pm. “Even now, we’re still not used to it,” Cai admitted.

While the gruelling routine is manageable, unexpected events can catch people off guard. In late October last year, a severe fire broke out in a shopping center in Brás, where many Chinese merchants are concentrated. The fire was reportedly caused by a shop owner forgetting to turn off an electrical appliance. The blaze left the mall in ruins, affecting over 400 stores. Tens of millions of reais worth of goods were estimated to be lost, but fortunately, no lives were lost.

After the incident, major Chinese associations across Brazil extended their support, including financial aid. However, for the Chinese businesspeople whose hard-earned businesses were ruined, the devastation left them filled with grief and anger.

For some immigrants operating in the grey zone, their situation is even more precarious. A store owner surnamed Gao, who runs a grocery shop in another mall in the Brás district, said bluntly: “They might not even pay taxes or have legal status. The goods they lost are likely uninsured, and they certainly can’t seek help with confidence or justification.”

Life in São Paulo is fraught with risks and challenges, but this crime-laden city has continued to attract countless Chinese immigrants over the years. Why?

A clothing store owner surnamed Rao, who has lived in Brazil for 20 years, shared his perspective: “As long as you’re hardworking, you won’t starve. The difference is just between earning a little and earning a lot. While the risks are high, some people are equally ambitious. Those who dream of getting rich overnight will take the gamble.”

Faced with various business and safety risks, Chinese people in Brazil cannot change the complex realities of their environment. They can only rely on their own wits and courage to find ways to survive.

First, maintaining a low profile regarding wealth and staying constantly vigilant are essential. Many have little trust in Brazil’s law enforcement system and must find ways to protect themselves.

Lu Huan, the eyewear store owner, said he drives an armoured car. While this might sound exaggerated, he explained it was necessary after an incident years ago when armed robbers stopped his car and attempted to steal his belongings.

Second, due to the inherently grey areas in Brazil’s business environment, many Chinese entrepreneurs are forced to walk the line, sometimes even engaging in unlawful activities in a bid to break through their circumstances. 

Lu Huan disclosed that some Chinese merchants seek higher profits by smuggling goods through neighbouring countries of Brazil, avoiding formal customs declarations and taxes. “Only this way can the goods be sold at low prices; otherwise, they simply wouldn’t sell,” he explained.

He admitted that the supply of glasses in his store comes through this method of tariff evasion: goods are shipped from China to Paraguay first and then smuggled into Brazil by hired individuals, with each smuggling trip costing US$300.

However, Lu is fully aware that relying on such practices is not sustainable, especially since the larger the business grows, the higher the risk of being caught. He has set a goal for himself: to establish his own factory in São Paulo, gradually moving away from a business model dependent on smuggling.

Another key mindset is staying grounded: hard work and effort are essential, but composure in the face of setbacks is equally important. Pan, a female optical store owner, recounted how her goods were recently confiscated by Brazilian police. After complaining a little, she calmly told me, “It’s okay; they take it away, and I’ll just put new stock up.”

In the early days, Chinese immigrants used to say that making money in Brazil is easy. But now, they generally recognise that achieving wealth and success here is far from simple.

Lu Huan lamented: “It’s much harder now. Entrepreneurial opportunities in Brazil are different than before. It’s much more involuted, because there are so many Chinese people now.”

A leader of a Chinese community organisation in Brazil, who declined to be named, outlined three major challenges currently faced by Chinese retailers and wholesalers in the country.

First, the growth of online shopping has disrupted traditional business models. Importers can now sell products directly to consumers, putting intermediaries like distributors and retailers at risk of losing their livelihood. 

Second, merchants who choose to utilise e-commerce platforms must pay hefty commission fees, yet they still bear all the business risks associated with operating in Brazil.

Additionally, some companies operate out of China while only maintaining overseas warehouses in Brazil. This model allows them to navigate the grey zone, avoiding taxes and after-sales warranty responsibilities. This creates unfair competition for locally operated businesses that comply with regulations.

For eyewear shop owner Pan, becoming wealthy through business was never her goal. What she sought was a relatively free lifestyle. “Our income is about the same as the average Chinese person’s salary, around 8,000 to 9,000 RMB (US$1,093 to US$1,230) per month. The only difference is that running a store here gives us more freedom — we don’t have to bow to anyone else.”

After years of hard work, the Chinese community in Brazil has accumulated wealth and influence, establishing a tight-knit trade network. With China’s growing global prominence, younger immigrants face fewer hardships compared to their predecessors and aspire to break out of small-scale businesses, seeking greater opportunities for growth.

Anna, a 24-year-old second-generation Chinese Brazilian, is an example of this new wave. Born in Brazil, she attended university in China four years ago and graduated in July 2024, after which she returned to Brazil and opened a cosmetics store in São Paulo with her brother and sister-in-law.

Currently, with the employment situation in China being difficult, Anna didn’t even bother sending out resumes. After graduation, she decided to return to Brazil and start a business with her like-minded sister-in-law. “China is too competitive; there are so many talented people. Compared to them, my Chinese skills are not that great. Why would an employer choose me?”

With the financial support of her parents, Anna and her partners invested 300,000 reais to rent a store in a relatively safe mall, selling cosmetics and daily necessities. While the physical retail business is doing well, she is not satisfied with just selling small products. Her goal is to surpass her parents, who sell toys in the same shopping district.

The three of them have brainstormed several business ideas, including using China’s live-streaming sales model, establishing their own brand, and even setting up an influencer agency.

However, she is also keenly aware of the limitations of reality: “Logistics and e-commerce — trying to make it work like in China is very difficult. Look at the security here; even postal trucks are robbed, and packages can be stolen.”

Twenty-five-year-old Lu Huan aims to break out of the Chinese community and carve out his own path in an increasingly saturated market.

His strategy for gaining an edge is to avoid doing business or socialising within the Chinese community. Instead, he focuses on integrating into Brazilian society, including learning Portuguese, attending Brazilian social gatherings and delving deeper into the local market than typical foreign merchants.

In Lu Huan’s view, if he does not do this, he will not be able to escape the Chinese community in Brazil. “Information is so advanced now. Through social media platforms like Douyin (TikTok), you can learn so much. It’s not like the early immigrants who didn’t have smartphones and had to fully integrate with Brazilians.”

In addition to retail and wholesale, Chinese people in Brazil are increasingly involved in other industries, especially in recent years as China and Brazil have deepened cooperation in sectors like new energy and agriculture. This has led more large Chinese enterprises to seek business opportunities in Brazil.

The current Brazilian president, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, maintains friendly relations with China. During my interviews in São Paulo, Chinese leaders had just concluded a state visit to Brazil.

The merchants in the 25th Street and Brás districts have also heard of the high-level exchanges between China and Brazil. While they may not be able to pinpoint the specific impacts of the Belt and Road Initiative or the 50th anniversary of China-Brazil diplomatic relations, they can feel the growing influence of China in Brazil. Many believe their lives will improve as a result.

Zou Wangjun said: “As China grows stronger, Brazilians look at you differently. Our social status is slowly rising. Now, when Brazilians see you are Chinese, they think you are wealthy.”

Perhaps because of this, even though they cannot avoid having their phones stolen, waking up at 2 am to head to the market, or having their goods confiscated from time to time, countless Chinese immigrants still choose to remain in Brazil and continue working. Despite the dangers, they continue to see hope for upward mobility in their circumstances.

As the leader of the Brazilian Chinese community organisation said: “We talk about the many problems in Brazil, but compared to the opportunities it offers, those issues are nothing. In business, there are gains and losses. As long as you adjust promptly, you can always find a position that suits you. For Chinese people in Brazil, as long as you work hard, you can still live a moderately affluent life.”

This article was first published in Lianhe Zaobao as “淘金天堂也是生活地狱 中国移民闯巴西求翻身”.

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