Silence is not just omission; it is complicity. And what happened to Milton Nascimento, our Bituca, at the Grammy Awards ceremony is one of those moments that demand more from us than just a sigh of indignation. Because what was done was not just an unspeakable disrespect to him—it was an attack on culture, history, and the dignity of a people who regard him as one of their greatest treasures.

Milton Nascimento, a man who traveled across hemispheres to attend the ceremony, was treated as a stranger in a place that should have been his by right. At 82 years old, legendary, with a career spanning decades, Bituca was not even given a seat in the artists’ and guests’ section.

And the detail is that he has already received this award in the past and was one of the nominees for Best Jazz Vocal Album. Meanwhile, his album partner, Esperanza Spalding, a talented 40-year-old singer, was there, comfortably seated. This is not about diminishing Esperanza’s brilliance but questioning how an icon like Milton was reduced to invisibility at an event meant to honor his contribution to world music.

Esperanza held up a sign with Bituca’s face and made a social media post lamenting his absence. For an American, this was a unique act of solidarity, given that the country’s Black community remained silent—once again exposing the complete lack of solidarity with us, Black people from the Global South.

However, if Esperanza had been raised within the traditions of terreiro communities, she would naturally know that if there is no chair for the elder, then there is no chair for anyone. But that’s how it is—I am from South America, I know, and you won’t understand.

This grotesque disrespect from the event organizers robbed Milton of the chance to witness the tribute to his dear friend Quincy Jones, with whom he had worked for decades and who recently passed away. Jones is even featured in the documentary about Milton’s life. More than collaborators, they were intimate artistic companions, friends. To Quincy Jones, Milton was one of the brightest stars in the world, and it’s not hard to imagine that wherever he is, he would not have been pleased with how his dear brother was treated.

Bituca is the man who composed anthems of resistance during Brazil’s military dictatorship, who sang hope into the hearts of students, and who wrote Maria, Maria, an anthem for Black Brazilian women. At the final concert of his farewell tour, Nascimento drew more than 60,000 people to Mineirão Stadium.

It was a gathering of multiple generations to celebrate the magnitude of one of history’s greatest artists. He dedicated his performance to his friend Gal Costa, who had passed away just days earlier. That is Bituca—a man who, even at the peak of his glory, remains generous and shares his moments with those he loves.

It was he who, when the dictatorship cracked down and murdered young Edson Luís, composed a song that moved thousands of people in one of the most impactful funeral marches in the country. When Brazil clamored for direct elections, Bituca’s was the voice of hope. He sang about friendship, love, and rebellion. He put smiles on the faces of artists from Elis Regina to Clementina de Jesus, from Mercedes Sosa to Sarah Vaughan. He made Clube da Esquina one of the most famous musical crossroads in the world.

Milton Nascimento shed tears for South African apartheid, walked alongside Indigenous peoples, and set Drummond’s poetry to music so that “mothers could recognize themselves and awaken men.” It is time for us to awaken from this colonial need to treat American artists as gods and instead recognize our true giants.

That said, while the American artistic community ignores this disrespect, I hold out hope for my fellow journalist Fernanda Torres. May she win the Oscar and, in her speech, avenge the Brazilian people by exalting and honoring Bituca before an audience that pretends not to understand.

Beyond that, the documentary about his life premieres on March 20 in theaters across Brazil, and he will be the great honoree of Portela this Carnival. The Grammy tainted its own history, and if we Brazilians had more self-esteem, we would stop legitimizing this award.

Milton Nascimento is eternal and will always be recognized as he deserves. Viva Bituca!

Originally published in the Folha de S. Paulo column