Confidence usually struts into the room wearing shiny shoes, puffed chest, and a look that says, “I know everything.” But in Brida, we like to tug at the shoelaces.
Frank and Ismar sat down (virtually—Campo Grande to Cleebourg, one coffee apart) and unpacked the awkward, beautiful truth: sometimes the most confident words you can say are “I don’t know.”
Ismar, who once ran for city council in Brazil, shared how politics can chew you up if you don’t shout the loudest or pretend to be flawless. Yet he found strength in humility, in admitting he didn’t have all the answers. That vulnerability made him more human, more relatable—though it didn’t always win votes in a world that worships certainty.
Together, they wrestled with the contradiction: society demands leaders who never falter, but real people trust those who do. They spoke of Lula and Bolsonaro, of egos and extremes, and of how ideology can build walls instead of bridges. What if leadership was less about being the untouchable hero and more about being a learner among equals?
Frank nudged: could collaboration and curiosity replace ego and rigid “rightness”? Ismar countered with a thought experiment—what if AI ran governments, cool and rational, free of pride? But then… where’s the messy humanity that makes us care?
It wasn’t just a conversation about politics. It was about us. About the quiet courage it takes to say, “teach me,” when the room expects you to preach. About the leaders we follow, and the leaders we might become.
So, dear Pineapples—when was the last time you admitted “I don’t know,” and discovered it opened more doors than it closed?