Each kilogram of food carries an impact that goes far beyond what people eat
In 2025, the Camarote Solidário collected 7 tons of food for organizations serving people with HIV/AIDS and vulnerable populations in São Paulo. Food insecurity directly impacts treatment adherence and children's school performance, forcing families to choose between food and basic utilities.
- 23rd annual Camarote Solidário event held June 7, 2026
- 7 tons of food collected in 2025
- Founded in 2002 by journalist Roseli Tardelli
- Serves people living with HIV/AIDS, LGBTQIA+ communities, and families in extreme poverty across São Paulo
The 23rd Camarote Solidário event collects food donations for vulnerable populations living with HIV/AIDS and LGBTQIA+ communities, with beneficiary institutions highlighting how basic food baskets enable treatment adherence and restore dignity.
On the first Sunday of June, São Paulo's streets fill with color and music as the city's LGBTQIA+ community gathers for Pride. But for more than two decades, one particular gathering within that celebration has carried a different weight. The Camarote Solidário—a viewing platform and fundraising initiative born in 2002—has quietly become one of the city's most consequential acts of mutual aid, collecting food and resources for people living with HIV, transgender and gender-nonconforming individuals, and families pushed to the margins by poverty.
This year marks the 23rd edition of the event, which was conceived by journalist Roseli Tardelli as a way to unite corporations, government agencies, activists, and ordinary citizens around a single purpose: defending life, strengthening the response to HIV and AIDS, and building networks of care for people in extreme vulnerability. The numbers tell part of the story. In 2025 alone, the initiative gathered seven tons of food. But the real measure of its impact lives in the testimonies of the organizations that distribute those donations.
Américo Nunes, who leads Instituto Vida Nova, describes what a basic food basket means to the families his organization serves in the far eastern reaches of São Paulo. Many of them live with HIV. Many are unemployed or working informal jobs that don't stretch across a full month. For these households, a donation of groceries is not simply nutrition—it is the difference between paying for electricity and going hungry, between affording medicine and choosing between that and rent. "Each kilogram of food carries an impact that goes far beyond what people eat," Nunes says. He has watched families maintain their HIV treatment regimens because they no longer need to spend their entire disability benefit at the market. He has seen children's grades improve when the constant anxiety of food insecurity lifts, even temporarily.
Marta McBritton, who directs Instituto Cultural Barong, works with LGBTQIA+ people facing some of the harshest forms of social exclusion. Her organization has no permanent food distribution program, which makes the donations from Camarote Solidário essential. She speaks plainly about what hunger does: it strips dignity. It traps people in a state of dependence and shame. During the COVID-19 pandemic, when Barong was able to distribute food more frequently, she witnessed tangible changes in the people she served—not just in their physical health, but in their mental state and sense of self-worth. Even when help arrives only once a year, during Pride month, the message it carries matters. "It brings a little bit of affection, a little bit of care, in a month when we celebrate diversity," she says.
Adirana Galvão, who leads Projeto Criança A.M.A.R., an organization serving children, adolescents, and families affected by HIV and AIDS, sees the Camarote Solidário as part of a longer chain of solidarity that activists and organizations have built over decades. The work is urgent. As the cost of living rises and inequality persists, the need only grows. Yet the leaders of these organizations also recognize something else: that food insecurity is not separate from the fight against AIDS. It is central to it. When people cannot afford to eat, they cannot afford to stay healthy. When they are consumed by the daily crisis of survival, they cannot access prevention or treatment. When they are hungry, they are invisible.
The 2026 edition of Camarote Solidário will accept donations through QR codes at the event itself and on social media, as well as through online giving platforms. The event has the backing of major corporations, government health agencies, and the city's health department. But its power lies not in the scale of institutional support, though that matters. Its power lies in the fact that it names what is often left unnamed: that the response to HIV and AIDS cannot be only medical. It must also be about food, shelter, dignity, and the refusal to let anyone face their hardest days alone.
Citas Notables
The support from the Aids News Agency means the certainty that, at least this month, there's no need to choose between paying an electricity bill or buying food.— Américo Nunes, Instituto Vida Nova
Food insecurity strips dignity. There is nothing more undignified than going hungry. You become trapped by that situation.— Marta McBritton, Instituto Cultural Barong
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does a food drive matter so much in the context of HIV treatment? Isn't that a medical problem?
Food insecurity and medical treatment are inseparable for people living in poverty. If you're choosing between buying groceries and paying for transportation to a clinic, you're not going to the clinic. If you're hungry, your immune system is weaker, your body can't fight infection as well, and you're less likely to stick with medication.
So the food basket is actually part of the treatment?
Exactly. It's not charity in the sense of pity. It's recognition that health doesn't exist in isolation. You can't take antiretroviral drugs on an empty stomach and expect them to work the same way. You can't maintain your health if you're stressed about feeding your children.
The organizations mention dignity a lot. What do they mean by that?
Hunger is humiliating. It makes you feel powerless and dependent. When someone receives a food basket, they're not just getting calories—they're being told that their survival matters, that someone sees them, that they're not disposable. For LGBTQIA+ people who've already been rejected by families and society, that recognition can be profound.
Why does this event happen during Pride?
It's deliberate. Pride is a moment when the city celebrates diversity and visibility. But for many LGBTQIA+ people, especially those living in poverty, Pride is also a reminder of how far they are from safety and acceptance. The Camarote Solidário says: your dignity matters not just in celebration, but in survival.
What happens after June?
The organizations continue their work, but without the influx of donations. That's why the leaders keep saying we need to build a more permanent culture of solidarity. One food drive a year, even a large one, can't solve structural poverty. But it can sustain people through the hardest months and prove that another way of caring is possible.