Agroforestry Knowledge and Practices: Strategies of Resistance by Peasant and Quilombola Women in Brazil

Abstract

This article addresses agroforestry knowledge and practices of peasant and quilombola women. It draws from research using ethnographic methods, conducted in two different Brazilian communities: with peasant women in the municipality of Pinhão, Paraná, Brazil, and with quilombola women in the Quilombo Ribeirão Grande-Terra Seca in the municipality of Barra do Turvo, in the Ribeira Valley, São Paulo, Brazil. This investigation demonstrates the connection between the exploitation of nature and the oppression of women, and it identifies counter-practices that value cooperation and mutual care. It highlights the importance of recovering ancestral knowledge and resisting the rupture with nature imposed by colonialism. The conclusion indicates that these agroforestry practices play a crucial role in the lives of women and in their resistance to the monocultural model and the market economy in both communities studied. In both communities, women play a central role in sustaining agroforestry practices as forms of resistance, care, and cultural preservation. In Pinhão, peasant women uphold biodiversity and traditional knowledge through everyday practices like seed exchange and in the Quilombo Ribeirão Grande-Terra Seca, quilombola women link agroforestry to identity, territorial defense, and Black resistance.

1. Introduction

This article addresses the agroforestry knowledge and practices of peasant and quilombola women, understood here as processes of resistance against the pressures of the modern/colonial world-system [1,2].

The dynamics between humans and other beings have been shaped and transformed in the context of colonialism. Colonial domination operates through hierarchies of race, gender, and class, as well as through the coloniality of power, knowledge, and being. This includes the classification of rationality as either modern or backward, and the coloniality of nature and life. Lugones [3] (p. 936), for instance, identifies the “[…] dichotomous hierarchy between the human and the non-human as the central dichotomy of colonial modernity”. This perspective was accompanied by other dichotomous hierarchical distinctions, including the one between men and women, with women often relegated to a subordinate position. Nevertheless, as this paper seeks to demonstrate, women continue to create forms of resistance. Their struggle to protect nature and its diversity reflects a shared condition of subjugation, as both women and the environment are targeted by the same system of domination. By reclaiming traditional practices and knowledge, these women challenge the pressures of the hegemonic system, reaffirming their strength and autonomy within a context of exclusion and inequality.

The relationship between women and nature is a central focus for ecofeminist authors [4,5,6], who highlight that the process of nature’s domination remains active today. A significant milestone in this process was the Green Revolution of the 1970s. Built on the justification of increasing agricultural productivity, it actively contributed to the elimination of agricultural diversity by subjecting farmers to centralized control mechanisms rooted in chemical, mechanical, and biological industries. However, many peasant and traditional communities were excluded from this process—whether due to structural barriers, lack of access to resources, or ideological refusal to adopt the technological package promoted at the time. Today, these communities adopt agroecological approaches and maintain sustainable practices grounded in local knowledge and biodiversity, offering alternatives to conventional agricultural systems. In these acts of resistance, women play a leading role [4].

Economic globalization has accelerated the commodification of ways of life, treating beings defined as nature as an unlimited source of resources to be exploited [3]. Amid this scenario, women have stood out as protagonists in the pursuit of sustainable agricultural practices and resistance against exploitation [4]. Whether in the daily collection of seeds, the care of trees, or the practice of agroforestry, women demonstrate a symbiotic relationship with nature, challenging dominant norms and practices, as illustrated by the accounts presented below.

This text is divided into four parts, in addition to this introduction. It begins with findings from research conducted with peasant women from the municipality of Pinhão, PR, Brazil. The term “peasant” is used here as an alternative to “family farmer.” Since the 1950s, it has held politica and social significance in Brazilian social sciences, reflecting the identity of rural workers. In Pinhão, we examined Araucaria Forest, eucalyptus monocultures, and the (re)emergence of erva-mate (Ilex paraguariensis) agroforestry as a form of resistance. Erva-mate, also known as yerba mate, is a native plant of southern Brazil, also found in Argentina, Paraguay, and Uruguay. It is primarily known as the base for the traditional beverage called chimarrão or mate [7]. Agroforestry, in this context, is a cultivation system that integrates trees with crops and, at times, animals, creating a sustainable and productive environment inspired by natural forest dynamics [8]. In the case of Pinhão, we addressed one topic focused on the erva-mate tree and another on the relationships with the araucaria tree, both of which are key components of the same agroforestry systems within the Atlantic Forest biome.

The following section discusses the quilombola agroforestry practices in the Quilombo Ribeirão Grande–Terra Seca, located in Barra do Turvo, SP, Brazil. Quilombo refers to communities originally formed by people who resisted slavery, establishing territories of cultural and political resistance. Today, these communities face major challenges regarding formal land rights, as many still lack legal ownership of the lands they have inhabited for generations. In this community, agroforestry is a central part of local traditional practices. The relationships between humans and the forest are interpreted here through the lenses of decolonial and ecofeminist theories.

We conclude the text with a section that brings together elements from both communities, interpreting the “agroforestry backyard” (a loose translation of quintal agroflorestal) as a form of resistance for the women in these territories. In Portuguese, quintal refers to a backyard or home garden, often used for growing food, medicinal plants, and maintaining biodiversity. In the communities studied, these backyards function as key spaces for agroforestry practices, integrating food production with ecological sustainability.

2. Materials and Methods

This study employs an ecofeminist and decolonial perspective to analyze the agroforestry knowledge and practices of peasant women from Pinhão (Paraná) and quilombola women from the Ribeirão Grande–Terra Seca Quilombo in Barra do Turvo. The fieldwork from the doctoral research on which this study is based was conducted between 2019 and 2022 and involved ethnographic research methods, including participant observation, semi-structured interviews, and life history narratives. The research focused on interactions with the environment, interpreted as acts of resistance to dominant, market-oriented agricultural paradigms. The data analyzed here are complemented by subsequent fieldwork carried out in collaboration with the Centro de Desenvolvimento e Educação dos Sistemas Tradicionais de Erva-Mate (CEDErva), which plays a key role in supporting and sustaining traditional agroforestry practices in the region.

Although numerous individuals were involved during participant observation—including family members present in households and communities—30 key interlocutors were identified at the research sites. To favor a more focused narrative in this article, we concentrate on the stories of three women and their families, whose narratives were selected to illustrate the core themes of the study: the transmission of agroforestry knowledge, political resistance, and socio-environmental care. The choice of the three women highlighted in this article was based on the alignment of their life stories and practices with the core themes explored in the text. These narratives exemplify broader patterns observed throughout the research.

This study complies with all relevant Brazilian legislation concerning research with traditional communities and the use of traditional knowledge, including the ethical guidelines outlined in Resolution No. 466/2012 of the Brazilian National Health Council. All participants signed a Free and Informed Consent Form (Termo de Consentimento Livre e Esclarecido—TCLE), ensuring their voluntary participation and recognition of their intellectual contributions. This research was approved by the Ethics Committee of the Health Sciences Sector of the Federal University of Paraná (SCS/UFPR), under the protocol CAAE: 39513720.8.0000.0102, with approval number 4.522.894, granted on 18 December 2020. All procedures were conducted in accordance with ethical standards and ensured participant anonymity when appropriate. However, as a political and methodological choice, the names of the women who appear in this article are used with their consent, as they are local leaders and public figures in their communities. The decision to use their actual names was made in agreement with them and aims to recognize their political engagement and the significance of their contributions.

Data were analyzed through thematic content analysis [9], identifying patterns related to agroforestry knowledge, ecofeminist practices, and strategies of resistance. The decolonial feminist framework was not only a theoretical orientation, but a methodological lens that shaped all phases of interpretation. It informed a critical reading of how gender, race, and class intersect in the women’s experiences, particularly in their historical and territorial contexts. By centering subaltern voices and knowledge, the analysis resisted universalist or extractivist readings, instead highlighting the epistemic autonomy and political agency of these women. This approach contributed to a deeper understanding of agroforestry not merely as a technical or ecological practice, but as a site of resistance, memory, and care.

3. Results and Discussions

The Results and Discussion Section brings together life histories of women from different regions, addressing their relationships with the forest and society. It first presents findings from Pinhão, focusing on Araucaria Forest, eucalyptus monocultures, and the (re)emergence of erva-mate (Ilex paraguariensis) agroforestry as a form of resistance. Then, it explores the quilombola agroforestry of the Quilombo Ribeirão Grande-Terra Seca highlighting the agroforestry backyard as a strategy of resistance and autonomy.

This is not a comparative text, particularly due to the significant difference in the amount of time spent in each field site and the distinct ways in which each context was examined. What we propose here is to look at these women’s experiences in a complementary manner. We seek to identify recurring elements within their different trajectories, while paying close attention to differences in gender, race, class, and other social markers. We aim to highlight the heterogeneity in these rural spaces, which are diverse not only in terms of agriculture but also in the peoples who inhabit them.

3.1. Environmental Degradation and Monocultures

The Atlantic Forest is one of Brazil’s richest biomes in terms of biodiversity, covering vast areas of the national territory, including the Mixed Ombrophilous Forest (FOM) in the southern region. This forest, also known as Araucaria Forest, “mata-de-araucária”, or “pinheiral,” once occupied extensive regions of the Southern Plateau and has a complex evolutionary history, with conifer fossils found in Jurassic–Cretaceous sediments [10]. Today, land rehabilitation with exotic species such as pine (Pinus elliottii) and eucalyptus (Eucalyptus globulus) is promoted as a solution for degraded areas. This introduction of pine and eucalyptus species constitutes land rehabilitation aimed at productive use, which differs from ecological restoration with native species, as seen in erva-mate cultivation and agroforestry systems. It is a practice that intensifies environmental degradation. These monocultures not only replace native biodiversity but also drastically alter local ecosystems, impeding natural forest regeneration and adversely impacting native fauna and flora.

Land rehabilitation with pine and eucalyptus became extremely popular in the region of Pinhão (one of the sites of this research), making it a common part of the regional landscape. However, the foreign nature of these plants is not overlooked locally. This sentiment was evident during a conversation with the young son of farmers in the region. “How horrible this chainsaw noise is. It makes us sad,” I said upon hearing the felling of trees in the neighboring property. To which he replied, “They’re not really cutting down trees—it’s just eucalyptus”. His statement pointed to the fact, already recognized among the residents of the region, as Shiva [4] points out, that pine and eucalyptus monocultures are not forests.

Moreover, eucalyptus silviculture, driven by promises of development, causes serious social and ecological impacts, such as water scarcity, biodiversity loss, and land concentration. These impacts deepen inequalities and make sustainable agricultural practices unfeasible [10]. Although this expansion boosts the national economy, it also leads to environmental degradation, biodiversity impoverishment, and conflicts in both rural and urban areas [11].

The “scientific silviculture” of pine and eucalyptus plantations is characterized by a false universalization of a local way of exploiting forest resources. Arising from commercial interests that saw the forest solely in terms of wood of commercial value. This system reduces the “[…] value of the diversity of forest life to the value of a few species that have commercial value, and then reduces the value of these species to the value of their dead product–wood” [4] (p. 32).

In Brazil, during the military regime (from 1964 to 1985), the public sector promoted the monoculture production of eucalyptus, particularly through the provisions of the Forest Code of 1965 (Law No. 4.771 of 15 July 1965), as discussed by several authors [11,12]. This was aligned with the developmentalist ideology of the time, which solely pursued economic growth through large-scale infrastructure projects and the expansion of extractive frontiers, as exemplified by policies. Examples of this include policies such as the Transamazonian Highway and incentives to industrial forestry [13,14]. The text of the law determined the following:

Art. 38. Planted or natural forests are declared immune from any taxation and cannot determine, for tax purposes, an increase in the value of the land on which they are located. § 1 The value of forest products obtained in planted forests by those who have formed them will not be considered taxable income. § 2 The amounts used in afforestation and reforestation will be fully deducted from income tax and specific fees related to reforestation [15].

The monetary and public incentives, including public funding, not only encouraged the adoption of pine and eucalyptus plantations but also contributed to shaping public opinion. As result, many farmers decided to plant it because these practices were becoming widespread and were publicly promoted as a promising alternative. These incentives were key reasons why farming families, like the ones in Pinhão and elsewhere, adopted such plantations. The prioritization of economic gain is related to what Shiva [4] (p. 43) observed in India, whereby “[…] trees are transformed into green gold–every planting is motivated by the slogan ‘money grows on trees.’” This appeal made silviculture a common form of investment for small-scale Brazilian farmers. However, the plantation did not yield the expected results for some peasants in Pinhão, as in the case of Almerina de Oliveira’s grown children. Almerina is a retired farmer from Pinhão, and at the end of the 1990s, her sons followed the trend of other farmers in the region and invested in eucalyptus plantations.

Due to the abundant supply, prices were low during the sales stage. While waiting for a better price, the farmers delayed cutting the trees, which eventually passed their optimal cutting point, making it impossible to sell. While recounting the failure of the investment, the family ironically referred to a song that became popular in the region, linking eucalyptus plantations to wealth. The song went: “I’m going to plant some eucalyptus/hoping to get rich, and you’ll fall in love with me/I’m going to make a plan/thinking of the investment so we can get married later.” The farmers asked ironically: “Did the guy in the song get rich?” laughing in mockery of their own failure, while reflecting on their regret over the choice of eucalyptus and on their future plans for land recovery—planting erva-mate.

This critical reflection of the farmers highlights the discrepancy between the idealized image promoted by the sertanejo [a Brazilian variation of country music] music industry and the reality faced in peasant agriculture. Recent studies have shown the strategy of large agribusiness companies to inject money into cultural production, aiming to promote their interests. According to Carvalho [16], pesticide companies have invested significantly in the Brazilian music industry, sponsoring several musical projects through the Rouanet Law (Federal Law of Cultural Incentive that works as a tax waiver for companies that allocate part of their taxes to the promotion of culture) and direct partnerships. These investments aim to promote a positive image of agribusiness, contributing to the construction of a hegemonic narrative that favors agribusiness and ignores its socio-environmental impacts. Martins and Teixeira [17] also note that song lyrics of the subgenre they refer to as agronejo are used as symbolic tools to legitimize specific agricultural practices and influence public opinion. These lyrics simultaneously hide contradictions and promote an idealized vision that does not correspond to reality. Therefore, the irony expressed by the peasant farmers regarding the popular song reflects a critical awareness of the propaganda strategies used by agribusiness in the mainstream media to shape perceptions and sustain ideologies that defend this destructive mode of production; this critical view, however, does not represent the perspective of the population as a whole.

The native forest of the region is still found in the properties of the women interviewed for this research, as well as in other peasant and traditional communities in the region. This forest is characterized by the presence of Araucaria angustifolia, popularly known as Pinheiro do Paraná. This large perennial tree reaches 10 to 35 m in height and 50 to 120 cm in diameter [18]. Widely distributed in southern Brazil, its trunk is straight and cylindrical, with thick bark and a high crown. It is an ecologically important species and a pioneer plant in secondary succession [18]. The presence of this species is so important locally that the araucaria seed, the pinhão, gives its name to the town where this research takes place.

The araucaria seed harvest occurs in two different ways, and there are divisions by gender and age in organizing the activities. The first involves the removal of the “pinecone” (The Araucaria pinecone is a large, spherical structure formed by the seeds of the Araucaria angustifolia. It has a rounded shape, with rigid scales and compact wood that protect the seeds, known as pinhões.) or, as it is known locally, pinha. Usually, an adult man climbs the tree and, with the help of a bamboo stalk (Bambusoideae), hits the pinhas until they fall to the ground. A second person on the ground counts the number of pinhas that have fallen to collect them later, as gathering them while they are falling would be dangerous. The activity is high-risk, and those who help on the ground risk being hit by one of the pinhas, which can weigh up to 5 kg [18]. This activity is regulated by law. Ordinance No. 46 of 03/26/2015, of the IAP–Environmental Institute of Paraná (Law No. 20.070/19 was sanctioned on 18 December 2019, which authorized the incorporation of the Institute of Lands, Cartography, and Geology (iTCG) and the Institute of Waters of Paraná (Águas Paraná) by the Environmental Institute of Paraná (IAP)—now called the Water and Land Institute (IAT)) prohibits the harvest of the pinhas before the season begins—the date of which is defined annually—to prevent green pinhas from being harvested. This gives animals the chance to feed on the seeds and disseminate them before humans begin the harvest.

The second way to harvest the pinhão is by “picking” it from the ground. This gathering and foraging activity has no defined gender division of labor but is more commonly carried out by women and children. The activity requires skills different from those required in the above-mentioned form, and its objectives and results can also be different. It is a daily activity that takes place throughout the season, and it can be performed either for consumption or for sale.

In the collection of pinhões, birds can be seen as competitors and as allies. When birds notice a mature pinha, it is their attempt to access the food (seeds) that usually starts the process known as “desfalhamento” [akin to dismantling]. The “falhas” [faults] are the ungerminated pinhões, and when the seeds begin to fall, their characteristic sound attracts the attention of the humans, symbolizing the time to begin collecting. During this period of the year in the region, pinhões are cooked on the wood stove for almost every meal. Almerina, for instance, collects pinhões every morning and late afternoon. The timing of the collection of pinhões is usually synchronized with the time the cows are let out into the pasture. Although local popular culture highlights the birds’ predilection for araucaria seeds, Almerina’s experience shows that the pinhões are also sought after by the cows.

Gathering pinhão is an activity that may seem simple, but it carries with it a depth of knowledge. Anna Tsing [19] references matsutake mushroom foraging as an art, a dance. The art of gathering pinhão is similar. To begin with, one must be mindful of the thorns; grimpa or sapé are terms popularly used to refer to the association between leaves and the branches of the araucaria tree. These, like the pinhões themselves, have sharp tips that can hurt, puncturing the skin of those who collect them. Grimpas are also highly combustible, widely used to start a fire in the wood stove. Avoiding the grimpas, the collector searches for large reddish-brown pinhas. When one is found, it is worth looking for more in the same spot, as the dispersal radius of the cone is wide due to the height of the tree. Once the first pinhão is located, the others will likely be relatively close by. Now and then, an entire cone is discovered, like a hidden treasure in the forest. This knowledge, built on daily practice and passed down through generations, facilitates the work of pinhão collectors.

Moreover, the araucaria tree has both male and female specimens, meaning that not all araucaria trees produce pinhões. Those who live in the region can always tell the trees apart without even having to look for the elongated strobili of the males or the rounded pinhas of the females. The paths taken in the search for pinhões have remained the same for many years, since childhood. Residents always know which trees produce the largest seeds, which ones yield the most and are the best for sale, and which trees tend to drop their pinhões early, providing food for both peasants and animals before the season officially begins.

Each araucaria tree can live for hundreds of years [18]; many of them were present in the region long before human residents. Once again, in parallel with the mushrooms described by Tsing [19] that are not plantable, araucaria trees are not communally planted with prospects of harvesting. The reason has to do with the tree’s cycle. Given that an araucaria tree (A. angustifolia) takes an average of 12 to 15 years to start producing pinhões, while significant production occurs after 20 to 25 years, those who do plant them are thinking about future generations. Local residents note that women are more inclined to plant araucarias than men. On the other hand, men tended to be more involved in planting when logging was legal, as shown in the report by Woortmann [20] (p. 24) in the context of the Rio dos Sinos Valley in Rio Grande do Sul. She describes the planting of araucarias when a child is baptized: “[…] reforesting araucaria trees was a way to create a savings for the children, [which] intended to contribute to the purchase of land in a new colony, the construction of a house at the time of marriage, or even to provide ‘help’ for a new beginning in the city”. Today, little is heard about men planting araucarias; sometimes, they even uproot small trees because, once fully grown, felling is prohibited by law.

Historically, the wood from araucaria trees was one of the main materials used to build houses in the region. However, logging of the tree is now prohibited by law. As scholars of the region have pointed out, the mass destruction caused by logging companies, especially the company Zattar, located in Pinhão, (Timber company owned by João José Zattar, arriving in Pinhão in the 1940s, establishing the logging operation responsible for the local environmental destruction and turning the municipality into a site of land conflict that persists to this day. His influence in the region extended far beyond labor and environmental issues, as there was a close political relationship between the logging company and regional deputies [21]. João José Zattar’s intervention in Pinhão’s territory was extensive, to the point of owning—through both legal and illegal means—a third of the municipality’s total area. Throughout the 1950s, he continued acquiring land, and by the time of his death in 1957, he had accumulated 16,000 hectares [22]. The company’s dominance in the municipality was reinforced through a combination of welfare-based ties with workers and intimidation tactics to secure land [23]. The 1970s saw an escalation of conflicts, particularly due to the increased use of the logging company’s jagunços (armed guards) to control the territory through intimidation [24].) [21,23,25,26], led to a situation in which the tree is now at risk of extinction and is legally protected. The actions of the company in Pinhão highlight the structural violence against traditional communities and the socio-environmental impacts of capital expansion.

The timber company João José Zattar S.A. is accused by residents of practices such as the confiscation of goods, destruction of homes and livestock, arson, and even murder—accusations that have been documented by researchers on the subject [21,23,25,26]. Researchers [25] even report recent actions that revive the historical fear of expulsion, undermining peasant ways of life. The 2017 case involving the Alecrim community in Pinhão exemplifies the severe consequences of such conflicts: houses, a church, and a community health center were demolished in the presence of 14 families, resulting in the destruction of both material infrastructure and symbolic spaces maintained across generations [25]. Dias [26] analyzes this process as part of a colonial developmentalist discourse that naturalizes the exclusion of peasant traditional communities, like the faxinalenses (members of traditional rural communities in southern Brazil, especially in Paraná, who practice small-scale farming and collective land use through a system known as faxinal, which combines communal forests and shared grazing areas), traditional peasant communities of the region. Nevertheless, these communities continue to resist in various ways, defending their territories, knowledge, and ways of life. Our focus is particularly on the role of women, who turn the home into a space of political agency and care, challenging the violence of agribusiness and asserting their presence in both domestic and collective spheres [21,23].

This resistance is not limited to social and political dimensions—it also includes active engagement with the environment and traditional ecological knowledge. In their daily practices, women play a key role in sustaining biodiversity and preserving native species, revealing a deep connection between cultural survival and ecological care. One example of this is their relationship with the araucaria tree. Araucaria is a tree that needs a “dispersing agent” to reproduce. The importance of the blue jackdaw (Cyanocorax caeruleus) in the dissemination of its seeds is commonly discussed in the literature [27,28]. However, little is said about the human role in this process. Ana Luisa Bitencourt and Patrícia Krauspenhar [29] analyzed the contribution of Taquara/Itararé indigenous peoples in planting the species, discovering the importance of human contribution to its distribution.

Similarly, today, women play a relevant role in the planting of araucaria. When interacting with the interlocutors of this research, it was noticeable that, given the tree’s slow growth in reaching adulthood and producing seeds for consumption, as well as the legislation that prohibits the use of its wood, the sole objective of those who plant araucaria is to care for the environment and/or future generations, and this is mostly carried out by women.

Women build their relationships with the araucarias and the forest itself, developing skills for the collection of the pinhões and knowledge of each plant’s specific characteristics. In the daily collection of seeds, during a specific period, we can observe how the cycles of humans and the forest come into the synchronicity of cohabitation. Through caring for the trees that generate food and income, expressions of affect and gratitude also emerge. Planting the seed is the basis of multispecies relationships, offering insight into the connection between feminism and ecology.

The presence of araucarias in traditional agroforestry practices reflects a continuous and symbiotic link between nature and human communities, where the tradition of growing erva-mate in the shade of these trees stands out. This agroforestry system, as opposed to eucalyptus monocultures, incorporates the cultural practices of the Guarani indigenous peoples [7] that were later appropriated by the settlers in a complex and violent process of colonial domination. Nowadays, it has economic and cultural relevance for the different ethnic groups in the town of Pinhão and the surrounding regions, highlighting the relevance of sustainable practices integrated into the local ecosystem.

3.2. Erva-Mate Agroforestry as Resistance

Erva-mate, belonging to the Aquifoliaceae family, appears in varied biological forms, ranging from a small shrub to a perennial tree. When under cultivation, its height usually ranges between three and five meters; however, in its natural habitat, it can reach up to 30 m when fully grown. Its trunk is cylindrical and can be straight or slightly tortuous [18].

In 2022, the municipality of Pinhão produced a significant amount of erva-mate, with a harvested area of 1180 hectares and a total production of 23,600 tons. The average crop yield was 20,000 kg per hectare. Family farming plays a significant role in the agricultural production of the municipality [30]. The strong relationship of erva-mate with aspects related to tradition directly influences its cultivation and production.

Both native and cultivated erva-mate are found in the vast majority of local backyards in Pinhão. The relationships built with this tree and the local production system, which prioritizes shaded cultivation, end up encouraging the presence of partner species. The multispecies relationships [19] around erva-mate involve some partner trees, such as the majestic imbuia (Ocotea porosa), a member of the Lauraceae family and “possibly the longest-lived tree species in Araucaria Forest, potentially exceeding 500 years of age” [18]. Another partner tree is the Bracatinga (Mimosa scabrella), also part of this arboreal community. It grows faster than erva-mate seedlings and can reach up to 29 m in height [18], providing shade and protection to the young erva-mate plants. Along with those, the araucaria can be considered the primary partner of erva-mate in the local landscape. The partnership between the trees mentioned is not limited to the plant kingdom. Indeed, Tsing [19] discusses the coexistence of partnerships between different species and human communities. It is through these entangled and cooperative relationships that local agroforestry backyards and agroforests are formed.

The erva-mate tree has many partners in the forest, but it is the human involvement in constructing and maintaining this forest that draws attention, demonstrating how communities establish connections with the trees and plants that give rise to agroforestry systems. This form of erva-mate management reflects the traditional ecological knowledge accumulated over generations, adapting to the variations of the forest environment. Practices such as these demonstrate how local communities maintain a more balanced relationship with the environment, an important counterpoint to monoculture practices [19]. Erva-mate production is not only limited to species-focused silvicultural practices but encompasses a body of knowledge about individual species and their relationships in forest communities. Forests under this traditional management have high diversity, conserving the expressive variety of tree species found in Araucaria Forest. The choice of integrated production systems, such as agroforestry, results in the maintenance of forest cover in regions where ancestral systems of erva-mate production survive, allowing for cultivation under forest shade, which favors better-tasting leaves and demands less management, following the original forest format [31]. The forest landscape of this region is then directly related to the management and living practices of local populations, contrary to the logic of monoculture, which tends to fragment the landscape [19].

Traditional erva-mate systems emerge as a key pillar for sustainability and environmental conservation. Nimmo et al. [32] highlight that, in addition to their economic value, these systems carry with them rich productive traditions and cultural activities that have often been undervalued. It is important to notice the centrality of family farmers and agroecological systems, not only from a productive point of view but also as guardians of practices that benefit the environment, culture, and society. In this same sense, Tsing [19] points out that traditional practices are not only economically viable but also promote environmental and cultural conservation.

Erva-mate is polysemic, with the same word being used to refer to the tree and the final consumed product, which is often also called mate. Likewise, the meanings of this word occupy different places in the memory of our interlocutors. For many of them, mate carries the cultural aspect of the region where they live. For others, however, erva-mate is important for livelihoods, often seen as a financial reserve with plans made for how erva-mate income will be spent in the future. Investment in erva-mate offers some security, except for possible pest attacks, such as Hedypathes betulinus and Gyropsylla spegazziniana, and even that will rarely result in a total loss of the crop due to forest diversification. The income obtained with erva-mate can be seen as a safe investment, bringing a level of financial stability to moments of crisis faced by the producing families.

It is worth noting that this way of viewing erva-mate as a store of value is used in diversified production units in which erva-mate is produced, but it is not the main source of income for these units. Pinhão is a municipality that even today has a relevant amount of native erva-mate, which contributes to the relationship established between farming families and this type of production. Here, “native” refers to erva-mate that has naturally grown in the forest without human intervention. This variety is often preferred by erva-mate processing companies, although these firms—which hold an oligopoly on purchasing—do not offer different prices for shaded or native erva-mate, despite its superior flavor. Settlers or colonos (The occupation of lands in the Center-South of Paraná follows a classification similar to that used by Jaci Poli [33] in the West of Santa Catarina state: Indigenous occupation phase: territory traditionally occupied by the Kaingang Indigenous Groups; caboclo phase: the population that succeeded the Indigenous and included those mixed of Indigenous and Luso-Brazilian descent; colonization phase: in migration of German and Italian descendent settlers, coming mainly from Rio Grande do Sul because of colonization projects and logging. “Colonos” is how the arrivals in this last stage of colonization are recognized.) who came from regions where erva-mate was not traditionally cultivated recognized the advantage of keeping native or planted trees in the old ervais, ensuring a reliable source of income for a low-maintenance activity.

Most family production units in the municipality have some relationship with erva-mate; this relationship has deep historical significance in the life stories of some of the research interlocutors. For Almerina, erva-mate was essential for her to raise her daughters. It was by working as a tarefeira—one of the names used to refer to the professionals responsible for harvesting erva-mate—that she generated income to maintain the family. This work was also present in the most significant moments of her life history. When her first child had health problems, the money for the treatment came from the erva-mate harvest. When her second daughter was born, she was in the middle of erva-mate production. Taking—as in cutting the branches from the tree—breaking—as in breaking the branches into smaller pieces—and making—as in producing the final product, which differs from simply breaking the branches and selling them to the industry—were how she supported her family. Today, living on her own property and no longer working for third parties, she grows erva-mate, and once a year, her sons and daughters gather to help with the breaking activity during harvest.

The deep relationship of Almerina and her family with erva-mate, from its use as a means of securing a livelihood to raise her children, to the daily habit of consuming the beverage, as well as the prominent presence of the tree in their backyard, reflects the interconnections described by Tsing [19] when exploring the resilience and adaptability of human practices in challenging environments. It demonstrates the interconnection between humans and nature. In Almerina’s case, the relationship with erva-mate transcends the economic aspect, becoming an intrinsic part of her family and personal narrative.

The Mixed Ombrophilous Forest, where the stories of Almerina and erva-mate take place, is part of the Atlantic Forest biome. However, it is often not recognized as such due to its distinct forest formation, which differs from the Dense Ombrophilous Forest, the type most people associate with the biome [10]. It is within this forest that the Quilombo Ribeirão Grande-Terra Seca and its stories are found, as discussed next.

3.3. Quilombola Agroforestry Practices

The region where the Quilombo is located is the Vale do Ribeira in São Paulo, which was recognized in the late 20th century by the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) as a natural, socio-environmental, and cultural heritage of humanity. Part of this recognition is related to its rich biodiversity, as it contains the largest continuous area of Atlantic Forest in the world. The Atlantic Forest is one of the most biodiverse biomes and also one of the most threatened with extinction. About 7% of its original area remains; of this total, 23% is located in the Ribeira Valley [34]. In addition, more than 50% of its total area is under environmental protection, consisting of Conservation Areas with both direct and indirect use that were established throughout the 20th century [35].

The diversity of people, practices, and knowledge mirrors the region’s environmental diversity. It is this diversity that characterizes the agroforestry systems of Quilombo Ribeirão Grande–Terra Seca. Here, nature is not perceived as something separate or distant: animals move freely through the houses, not as intruders but as part of a shared environment; the ground of the backyard is the same as that of the pau a pique kitchen, which stands just outside the main house; fruits can be picked from the windowsills; and the chayote vine climbs the wall and stretches toward the power lines, intertwining tradition and modernity—a reflection of the caring and reciprocal relationships cultivated between people, plants, and animals. Nature is inside the house; it is in people; this is what one of Dona Maria’s statements indicates when explaining that her agroforestry is not very well managed at the moment. She says, “But in here [pointing to the heart], she’s (In Portuguese, floresta (forest) is a feminine noun. I chose to use she instead of it to reflect the personification given to the forest in the speaker’s discourse.) always beautiful”.

Despite this close relationship with nature, when the environmental parks were established in the region, they followed a logic of nature without people [36]. Traditional communities like the Quilombo were treated as outsiders and threats, rather than part of the territory. It took years of struggle and resistance to achieve the current mosaic of protected areas that recognizes people living and working on the land. This fight continues today, as the community faces ongoing challenges against neighboring landowners attempting to illegally seize their territory, public authorities who ignore their demands, and mining companies advancing in the region.

In the context of quilombola agroforestry, it is essential to note how the interactions between humans and nature are established. Tsing [19] emphasizes the importance of examining these interactions, highlighting that they do not resemble the logic of domination, typical of colonial and Western notions of human–environment interaction. In the quilombola agroforestry, nature is not seen as something to be exploited but rather as an intrinsic part of their lives.

An interview by Volochko [37] with Dona Izaira, from the Quilombo, brings an emotional account of the meaning of some trees planted in the territory. She explains that each cedar (Cedrela fissilis) represents a child who died in the mother’s womb or during childbirth. Referring to a relationship of death and life, a child born without life returns to the earth; from this return, a new life arises, and the frail child without life is now a strong and leafy tree.

Traditional practices remain strong in this type of agriculture, with native seeds and trees “that the mother liked” being planted in agroforestry systems, guided primarily by affection and memory. These practices not only preserve the biodiversity of the region but also maintain the cultural ties and ancestral knowledge that have been passed down through generations. The act of planting becomes a way of honoring family history and connecting with the land in a deeply personal and meaningful way.

A central agricultural practice among the quilombola women interviewed is the coivara system (cutting and burning), a traditional method that uses fire to clear areas for cultivation. Passed down through generations, this ancestral knowledge is deeply rooted in the community’s relationship with the land, representing not only a productive technique but also a meaningful connection to their ancestors. The coivara involves clearing a delimited area, burning the vegetation, cultivating it for a limited period, and then allowing the land to rest for many years, so the ecosystem can naturally regenerate. However, this practice has become increasingly difficult to maintain due to the reduction in available land, which compromises the necessary fallow period for ecological recovery. Moreover, the use of fire has been the subject of criticism, often perceived by outsiders as a non-agroecological or hazardous practice.

For quilombola women, however, coivara remains a legitimate and effective technique—imbued with cultural and symbolic significance—essential for maintaining ways of life that resist colonial logics of land use and control. This deep-rooted cultural practice stands in tension with certain regional agroecological norms, particularly due to rules established by a local cooperative that prohibit the use of fire in agroecological production. Because coivara is a traditional quilombola planting method, it embodies a connection to ancestors and a practice bordering on religious reverence—one that many community members are reluctant to abandon.

This conflict, however, seemed less strong as our incursions into the field became more frequent. For example, a couple of former cooperative’s associates maintain the logic of agroforestry around the house but use coivara in the “sertão”, as they refer to the production space furthest from the house. The cultivation of agroforestry seems to be less related to the cooperative’s rules and more connected to the local way of life, as explained by Nilce, a prominent local leader.

Among the families participating in the research, the agroforestry system seems to be primarily practiced by women, while the coivara swidden is, in general, primarily practiced by men. This can be explained by the sexual division of labor in rural communities, where men are usually responsible for the “large fields” and women for the backyard. However, in the Quilombo where this research took place, these relationships occur in a very different way, and the division of roles by gender is much more tenuous compared to other forms of agriculture in the country. It is common for all activities to be carried out together, and the gender divisions that are typical of the white peasantry are not as pronounced here.

Both in the Quilombo and in Pinhão, cases can still be found where women own separate swiddens, distinct from those of their husbands. These separate swiddens are an expression of women’s autonomy, as they have complete freedom in decision-making regarding their own plots. These forms of land management can signal another relationship with nature. The set of practices tends to promote food generated by forest succession, which also involves nutrient cycling, flora and fauna interaction, soil cover, and carbon sequestration. The environmental characteristics of the place (relief, climate, biome, and the like) lead to this type of management since other forms of agriculture, such as commodities produced under the banner of the Green Revolution, would have been difficult to maintain in the territory. Therefore, there is a tendency toward sustainable coevolution between human and nonhuman beings in Quilombo Ribeirão Grande–Terra Seca, driven both by personal ideologies and by the inherent demands of the environment.

The diversity of foods grown in the fields directly influences the forms of nourishment. In a tour through the fields of one of the families visited, it was possible to identify a wide variety of crops such as banana (Musa spp.), cassava (Manihot esculenta), orange (Citrus sinensis), pumpkin (Cucurbita pepo), abil (Pouteria caimito), araçá boi (Eugenia stipitata), pupunha (Bactris gasipaes), and cajá-manga (Spondias dulcis). By combining native and exotic crops, foods from different origins come together to shape the culinary practices of the local population.

Food is linked to values and aesthetic senses and involves classification, choices, beliefs, childhood memories, and cultural forms. It represents the relationship that human beings establish between themselves and other beings [38,39]. Fonini [38] also points out that in agroforestry, there is a greater degree of autonomy for peasants, especially for women, and a deeper development of the human–nature relationship.

This relationship with nature stands out among the various aspects that constitute the community’s practices. The relationships established with the forest, animals, land, water, and fire are not shaped by the logic of domination. Their way of producing food is inseparable from their life and deeply connected to the environment in which they live. Agroecology, as practiced by them long before the term was adopted in academic circles, is much more than a method of food production; it is a traditional mode of life, deeply intertwined with their culture and connection to the land.

All the women interlocutors of this research have relationships (direct or indirect) with agroecology. The phrase “Agroecology is a political project, it is practical, it is a movement, it is popular science and education” is often attributed to the discourses and principles defended by social movements and organizations that promote agroecology, especially in Latin America. It reflects the holistic and integrated vision of agroecology that goes beyond simple agricultural practices, encompassing political, social, cultural, and educational dimensions. Thus, even among those who do not officially participate in agroecology groups (frequently because they reject the need for formal certification to validate their practices), agroecological practices and principles of life are noted.

The complexity of adopting a simple definition of such a broad concept is evidenced by Nilce’s speech. She is a member of the Rural Black Communities Articulation and Advisory Team (EAACONE), coordinator of the National Coordination of Quilombos Articulation (CONAQ) of São Paulo, and leader in Quilombo Ribeirão Grande-Terra Seca. For her, “[…] there are several ways to do agroecology.” Among the various forms of agroecology practiced in the Quilombo, agroforestry stands out as a quilombola agroecology built by the community itself.

This understanding is not isolated, but part of a larger tapestry of agricultural practices rooted in the ancestral traditions of diverse cultures worldwide. Nilce’s words resonate with agricultural systems composed of ecological and community principles. These practices persist and thrive in the face of ongoing challenges. Altieri [8] (p. 24) points to the current need for such systems:

The permanence of millions of agricultural hectares under the old traditional management in the form of raised fields, terraces, polycultures (with several crops in the same field), agroforestry systems, etc., documents a successful indigenous agricultural strategy and includes a tribute to the “creativity” of traditional farmers […] Such systems have fed most of the world for centuries and continue to feed millions of people in many parts of the planet.

This agroecological manner of living is reflected in the richness of the forest of Ribeira Valley. The environmental preservation of the site is such a prominent characteristic that it generated the transformation of these areas into Conservation Areas (Unidade de Conservação–UC). Ribeira Valley is composed of 200 UCs, and until the 2000s, the presence of residents was not allowed. However, according to Stucchi [40], anthropological studies state that for more than three centuries, there had already been the presence of quilombola communities with a tradition of occupation in this region. Considering these data, a dispute arose between Environmental Conservation Agencies and Quilombola Traditional Communities for the right to occupy the land.

After the 2000s, evidence showed that the Traditional Communities had been settled for a long time in the places where the UCs were established. Even with cultural changes, they maintained the sustainability of the place, preserving the environment through direct contact with nature, for reasons of food and housing [40]. Based on this knowledge, the Federal Law of the National System of Conservation Units (SNUC) was created to address the overlap of UCs in areas traditionally occupied by ribeirinhos (riverside dwellers), indigenous people, caiçaras, quilombolas and other groups. This law created new categories of protected areas, as defined in the SNUC, where traditional populations could inhabit and make sustainable use of natural resources, which were called Sustainable Development Reserves (RDS). Thus, the Quilombo Ribeirão Grande-Terra Seca is largely based on this type of reserve [41].

Locally, being part of the RDS is seen as both beneficial and restrictive. Sometimes, it is viewed as an advantage compared to other quilombos, as it provides some protection from land grabbers, for example. On the other hand, RDS implies limitations in terms of management, imposing conditions that sometimes conflict with traditional forms of quilombola farming, as in the case of the technique commonly used in their areas of cultivation, the coivara. According to Rotondaro and Bonilha [42], traditional productive activities such as coivara require prior authorization, which is granted through deliberative councils responsible for territorial decision-making. However, these activities must comply with the limits and rules established by conservationist policy, which is grounded in modern scientific knowledge—particularly from the biological sciences. This approach disregards local, traditional, and empirical knowledge that has sustained the forest until now. These rules impose several restrictions on traditional practices, including the maximum size permitted for swidden plots. This leads to a reduction in local autonomy, even if it minimally guarantees the right to use ancestral techniques.

The coexistence between the community and the RDS indicates the environmental sustainability of this daily life, and this is one of its traditional characteristics, which reaffirms Nilce’s position that places agroecology as a local way of life. Altieri [40] points to the traditional knowledge on which these forms of “alternative agriculture” are based. They oppose the mode of production currently seen as “conventional”, based on monocultures and agrochemicals. There are, thus, similarities between the ways of doing agriculture amongst quilombolas who practice traditional agriculture and those who use contemporary forms of agriculture under different titles (agroecology, organic agriculture, biodynamic agriculture, natural agriculture, regenerative agriculture, etc.).

These traditional means of production, which are essential for food security and sovereignty, are maintained by several factors. Our interlocutors indicate that a gender perspective is important in that analysis. Women are more often involved in agroecological practices, and the motivations behind how these women shape their relationships with plants, animals, land, and water are diverse. Care is directly related to health and food security, as seen in Pinhão, where women maintain organic and diverse gardens for their families, even on conventional farms. Among farmers’ market vendors, one often hears the same reasoning to justify selling poison-free products: “If I wouldn’t give poisoned food to my children, I won’t give it to my customers either.” This is the commonly shared logic.

In the Quilombo, this relationship goes much further; today, it has become common to relate the name “agroforestry” with the cooperative that operates in the region. However, the women interlocutors in this study, who do not participate in the cooperative, affirm that they have always been agroforesters. The self-identification with the term “agroforesters” serves as an identity marker that challenges the conventional academic definition of agroforestry. It reveals that these women choose to construct their own situated understanding of what it means to practice agroforestry.

There is tension about the terms used by technicians and external agents (agroecological or agroforestry). Through the reappropriation of these words, the women peasants in Quilombo reaffirm their autonomy and knowledge about how to do agriculture next to the forest. It is notable that in the territory, whether they participate in the cooperative or are certified as organic, food and the forest are treated according to what would be defined as agroecological principles. This care is present in their life practices.

The logic of abundance seen between the agroforesters in the Quilombo contradicts everything that dictates traditional economics, in which scarcity demands resource allocation and competition. In the logic of abundance, exchanges, mutual collaboration, and solidarity are common practices. Through this logic, we can also understand the process of impoverishment of traditional communities. The loss of territory, whether by land grabbers or loss of control due to the imposition of RDS regulations, and the insecurity caused by the slow process of land regulations, add to the consequences of environmental racism. These factors mean that these communities have to deal with the environmental damage caused by third parties. In the modern capitalist economy, this is known as negative externalities. These processes have serious consequences for traditional communities.

3.4. Intersecting Perspectives on Women’s Agroforestry Practices, Resistance, and Challenges in Pinhão and Ribeirão Grande-Terra Seca

The analysis of agroforestry practices in Pinhão and Quilombo Ribeirão Grande-Terra Seca communities highlights the complexity of interactions between women, nature, and capitalism. In the context of the hegemony of the monocultural model and the market economy, women emerge as resilient agents, resisting the pressures of the modern colonial world system [2] and maintaining traditional practices and knowledge—particularly evident in their agroforestry backyards. Even on properties that have adopted the commodity-based agricultural paradigm, refuges of diversity and environmental care can still be seen in their backyards, confirming the observations made by ecofeminist theories [4,5,6,43] regarding women’s persistent roles in sustaining life and ecological balance despite dominant extractivist models.

The logic of coloniality [3,44] sheds light on the inequalities experienced by rural women, especially women of color, such as the quilombolas in this research, who play a vital role in preserving cultural traditions and in the struggle for the recognition of their territories. The historical relationship of Black women with the exploitation of their labor and the specific dynamics of quilombola communities are essential for an intersectional analysis of rural experiences, enabling a better understanding of the various ruralities in Brazil. Nevertheless, Brazilian academic production—shaped by predominantly male and white perspectives—has historically centered on men. When women are included in these studies, they are often limited to white women from colono communities, further marginalizing the experiences and knowledge of Black and quilombola women.

In both communities, agroforestry practices go beyond mere technical aspects, constituting ways of life grounded in ancestral knowledge, cultural memory, and a deep emotional connection with the land and nature. This dimension resonates with decolonial analyses [3], for whom the continuity of women’s knowledge despite all marginalization represents an infrapolitical form of resistance to coloniality and to the historical repression of racialized female bodies and knowledge.

These women enact an agroecology that challenges the productivist model imposed by colonial modernity, echoing the ecofeminist critique that the oppression of women and environmental exploitation are two sides of the same patriarchal capitalist logic [4,5,6,43]. In both Pinhão and Quilombo Ribeirão Grande-Terra Seca, the cultivation and care for native species, such as araucaria, erva-mate, juçara palm (Euterpe edulis), and traditional seeds, are expressions of food and cultural sovereignty that reaffirm women’s autonomy in the face of institutional marginalization.

However, the sociopolitical and territorial contexts of each community shape distinct trajectories. In Pinhão, the historical struggle centers on confronting logging companies, monocultural silviculture, and the devaluation of labor—characteristic elements of the struggles faced by peasant women. In the Quilombo, additional layers are present: resistance is not only political and economic but also territorial and epistemological. The struggle is directed not only against the economic logic of agribusiness, but also against the erasure of quilombola knowledge and institutional racism in the fight for territorial rights, in a context of supposed environmental conservation that often overrides traditional practices. This reinforces the arguments made by intersectional feminists [45,46,47] about how the intersection of gender, class, and race results in specific forms of exclusion. These challenges reveal the complexity of the intersection between gender, race, class, and territory.

4. Conclusions

The experiences analyzed here highlight the need to rethink the models of land use and exploitation of natural resources. This article thus demonstrates that the relationship between women, nature, and capitalism is intricate and multifaceted. Agroforestry practices represent not only a form of agriculture but also a way of life rooted in resistance, autonomy, and environmental preservation.

The intersectional view adopted in the text allows for us to capture the heterogeneity of these rural spaces, recognizing gender, race, and class differences in women’s experiences. Both research sites highlight the diversity in agricultural, environmental, and cultural practices, emphasizing the coexistence between communities and nature. These communities indicate the importance of women’s autonomy in their productive roles, as shown by the maintenance of separate fields and active participation in collective efforts, as an expression of cultural resilience.

This study reinforces the importance of agroecology as a broad concept, permeating political, social, cultural, and educational dimensions. The symbolic relationship with trees, mentioned in both contexts, reflects long-standing traditions and underscores the cultural relevance of agroforestry beyond food production. By recognizing the richness of these practices not only as agricultural strategies but as ways of life grounded in tradition and symbiosis with the environment, we aspire to contribute to the strengthening of these and other traditional, peasant, and quilombola communities—as well as to inspire and resonate with women who cultivate relationships with the land in diverse contexts around the world—in the construction of a more sustainable and equitable future.