Luara Brandão founded Inbraza in 2022, a cultural collective and Baile Funk platform, a few years after moving to Australia from Brazil. “I came here eight years ago, and I didn’t feel comfortable truly being myself in any spaces,” she says.
While the desire to create a space that centres cultural and personal expression was motivation enough, Inbraza was born from something even bigger. Luara had grown increasingly unsettled by the way Baile Funk was being celebrated globally and played by DJs worldwide, while its historical and ongoing political context was often sidelined or erased.
Baile Funk emerged from the favelas of Rio de Janeiro in the late 1980s, created by Afro-Brazilian communities, and has been criminalised almost since its inception. The genre has long faced extreme police violence. Bailes—dance parties where Baile Funk is played—are frequently shut down or raided, with attendees subjected to arrests, assaults and, in some cases, killings. Even the term funkeiro ,used to describe someone who enjoys the music, has become loaded with associations of criminality.
Educating audiences about Baile Funk’s history and context is central to Inbraza’s purpose as a collective. Recently, the collective travelled to Brazil to host an event and shoot a campaign for New Balance and JD Sports. “No venue wanted to host us simply because we were a Funk collective,” Luara explains. On the night, the event was ultimately shut down by police.
This was not Luara’s first encounter with police violence. When she was 15, attending a baile that was being shut down, an officer pointed a gun at her face. “After that, I stopped listening to Baile Funk, I was traumatised for a long time.” she recalls. “I wasn’t just scared—I was ashamed. I didn’t want to be associated with Baile Funk for [a few years].”
In part, Inbraza was born from Luara’s desire to rewrite her own history with Baile Funk. “I was trying to somehow apologise to myself for allowing people to take something from me,” she says. She also did not want the genre to become totally commercialised, and thus, stripped of its context: “I did not want to allow someone who is not Brazilian to overtake something that we fight so hard to keep back home.”
Luara was joined in the interview by longtime Inbraza DJ and friend, MAZ, who joined the collective in 2023. Born in Sydney to Brazilian parents, Maz’s relationship to Baile Funk differs from Luara’s, but is no less political.
“My context of Baile Funk isn’t from the favelas like Lua’s—I was born in Australia to Brazilian parents—but I wanted to engage with the genre in the right way, socially and politically,” Maz says. “Baile Funk isn’t just a genre you wave around. I was looking for a place where that awareness mattered.”
Beyond her DJ sets, Maz plays a key role in mentoring and upskilling other DJs within and outside the collective, and hosts a monthly radio show, Mi Gente / My People, on FBi, focused on showcasing and educating audiences about music from Latin America. At the core of her work is the ethic: “Pleasure without awareness is consumption.”
Inbraza has achieved much of what Luara set out to do. The collective now boasts a roster of like-minded designers, videographers, dancers and DJs, extending its reach across Australia and beyond. On February 27, it hosted its first event in New Zealand in collaboration with JD Sports and New Balance, marking a major milestone. In Australia, Inbraza has become a fixture of the nightlife scene, recognised as a leading platform prioritising Baile Funk and other Afro-diasporic sounds.
In conversation with Complex Australia, Luara and MAZ discuss the political roots of Baile Funk, the responsibility that comes with performing it globally, and why centering QTBIPOC artists remains core to Inbraza’s vision.
Tell me about Inbraza. How did it start?
Luara: We started in 2022. It came from a necessity I felt to create a safe space where I was seen and heard. I’m from Brazil, and I came to Australia eight years ago. I didn’t feel comfortable truly being myself in any spaces here.
It was born from that need, but also from the need for representation. I was watching Baile Funk become a global sensation. Every DJ was playing Baile Funk, but I wasn’t seeing representation. It was confronting to see how celebrated it had become globally while remaining criminalised back home. That contradiction is very real.
For example, we recently did an event in Brazil—no venue wanted to host us simply because we were a Funk collective. On the night, we were shut down early by the police. Baile Funk is still a very criminalised genre back home. That’s why, with Inbraza, we speak so much about responsibility—Baile comes from survival and resistance.
Can you talk a bit more about the criminalisation of the genre in Brazil?
Luara: It’s very criminalised. When I was 15, I was at a Baile Funk event. Those parties are often shut down with extreme police violence, and this was one of those cases. I had a police officer point a gun at my face.
After that, I stopped listening to Baile Funk. I was traumatised for a long time. If you were a funkeiro—someone who listens to Funk—you were often looked down on because it’s such a marginalised genre. That’s why, if you’re engaging with this culture, especially outside Brazil, you have a responsibility to understand Baile Funk’s context.
When did you start listening to the genre again?
Luara: I started listening again around 17 or 18. It was when I was at university that I started developing more political awareness. I was also beginning to understand my Blackness, which is a whole other subject—Brazil is such a racist country. I was becoming more aware of my personhood and my position in society. I realised the problem was not me, and it was not Baile Funk. The problem was racism—it was structural and social.
You’ve said in other interviews that Inbraza is the first platform showcasing Baile Funk not just as a genre, but as a political tool. Can you explain how Inbraza showcases Baile Funk’s power as a political tool? Luara: Inbraza helps shift the narrative around the genre and helps people understand its political context. By bringing people together, we keep conversations going about what’s happening and how we can overcome these issues.
We also like to say the dancefloor is a political place. Marginalised communities need spaces that bring people together and create safety for expression.
MAZ: One of the main things we understand at Inbraza is that pleasure without awareness is just consumption. You can’t consume culture without understanding its political roots—otherwise it stops being appreciation and becomes extraction. That’s something we don’t tolerate.
Luara: Education is front and centre at Inbraza. We take culture very seriously, and culture extends beyond the dancefloor and the music. It’s important that people come to Inbraza understanding the context behind it.
Maz, as one of the earliest Inbraza DJs, how has being in the movement helped you grow?
MAZ: I’m a core example of how much you can grow within a movement and collective. When I started DJing for Inbraza, I was still really new. My technique and confidence were still developing, and I didn’t know how to navigate playing the sounds I loved.
Through Inbraza, I got my first show in Naarm, my first festival gig at Pitch, my first headline show, and now my first international gig. It was a real platform for me, especially as a queer DJ trying to find spaces to play within my community and actually feel seen.
Now I see myself as a core member of the collective who can uplift other DJs and give back.
Inbraza really prioritises creating visibility for Australian QTBIPOC artists. Can you speak about that?
Luara: Australia has incredible QTBIPOC artists, with very few pipelines to take them global. And a big part of our work has been creating visibility for them, through our lineups, tours, events and on our platforms, where they’re not tokenised, but centred.
MAZ: Maz: It’s important to give visibility to QTBIPOC artists because so-called Australia is often portrayed as overwhelmingly white. Inbraza was a platform for me—a queer, POC DJ in the scene—trying to find spaces for my community, to play what I love, and actually feel seen. There weren’t many opportunities like that, but Inbraza gave me that space and visibility.
Your New Balance and JD Sports campaign is out in the world. Part of it was shot in Brazil. What was that experience like?
Luara: It was amazing. They gave us a lot of creative freedom, which is really important to us. That doesn’t happen often. The collaboration felt very authentic—they trusted us.
With big brands, you’re usually boxed in, but JD was the opposite. They allowed us to truly express our authenticity, which made the whole experience really beautiful.
What is the future of Inbraza? What’s the ultimate vision?
Luara: I feel like the dream scenario for me is like what we’ve been able to do with JD. A situation where we’re able to bring our team overseas and bring the Inbraza experience to another country. For me, that’s magical and beautiful. Being able to do this at a bigger level in more countries. And also to become a platform where we can give more opportunities to QTBIPOC artists, and the spotlight they deserve.
MAZ: I really want to see our team flourish into the full extent of what we can be. I think everyone is so talented. I just want to see us all better our skills and be able to connect with people internationally. I want to be able to collab with other collectives who have the same vision all around the world.
Follow Inbraza here for more.