While Brazil contends with the trial of a former president over an attempted coup and the current leader’s worst popularity ratings in years, another, seemingly unrelated subject has gripped public attention: reborn dolls.
These hyper-realistic baby dolls, often handmade and costing up to £2,500, have dominated headlines, social media, soap operas, and even legislative agendas in recent weeks. Around 30 bills concerning reborn dolls have been introduced across various levels of government. Some proposals seek to ban the dolls from receiving public healthcare services or prevent collectors from claiming priority in public queues.
The phenomenon has provoked widespread mockery online. Videos of collectors bathing the dolls, pushing them in prams, or tucking them into bed have gone viral, often accompanied by ridicule. A satirical rap song even encouraged people to “kick the dolls in the street.”
The backlash reached a disturbing climax on 6 June, when a man struck a four-month-old infant on the head, claiming he thought the child was a doll. He is currently out on bail. The baby is reportedly in good condition.
“This is unprecedented,” said Isabela Kalil, a political scientist and anthropologist at FESPSP University. “I can’t recall any other issue that, in such a short period, managed to spark so many bills across different levels of government.”
Yet many of the proposed laws seem to address imaginary problems. Only one confirmed case exists of a collector attempting to bring a doll to a public hospital, reportedly involving a woman with a psychiatric illness.
According to a report by UOL, all May proposals concerning reborn dolls were tabled by right-wing or far-right politicians. Kalil suggests this reflects a strategic political move, particularly as the country’s far-right bloc faces instability. Former president Jair Bolsonaro, now on trial for an attempted coup, has already been barred from the 2026 election by Brazil’s electoral court.
“There is a clear attempt to grab attention and push an agenda at a time when the right is scrambling for a new figurehead,” said Kalil, who leads a research group studying the Brazilian far right.
However, the backlash isn’t strictly political. Critics from across the political spectrum have piled on. Social media users, influencers, and even comedians have found in the dolls a new target for online scorn. But it’s the women at the heart of this niche hobby, artists, collectors, and content creators, who have borne the brunt of the storm.
“I receive daily threats through social media,” said 25-year-old artist and collector Larissa Vedolin, known online as Emily Reborn. “I get messages from anonymous accounts saying things like, ‘I can’t wait to get a gun and find you on the street.’”
Reborn community exists in Brazil since early 2000s
The reborn community, which has existed in Brazil since at least the early 2000s, has been left baffled by the sudden wave of hostility. Some trace the backlash to a TikTok video in which a collector was criticised for taking her doll to a shopping centre. Another video showing a doll being “treated” in a hospital, later revealed to be role-play, only fuelled the fire.
Bianca Miranda, a 27-year-old artist and collector, said that in her 14 years in the reborn world, she’s never known anyone who treated the dolls as actual children. “They’re art. That’s what people don’t understand,” she said.
Creating a reborn doll can take weeks. Techniques vary depending on whether the hair is painted or delicately implanted strand by strand. Prices reflect the craftsmanship, ranging from £200 to £2,500.
YouTuber Chico Barney, who filmed a reborn collectors’ event in São Paulo for his documentary Reborn Babies Don’t Cry, said he was surprised by how “un-eccentric” the community is. “It was just a bunch of people exchanging ideas about something they enjoy,” he said.
Kalil argues that the controversy also exposes a deeper societal bias: “Adult men can collect action figures or play video games without raising eyebrows. But adult women are not allowed the same luxury of entertainment. It’s a pathologisation of women’s hobbies.”
Vedolin echoed this sentiment. “These aren’t toys; they’re works of art,” she said. Yet even art, she notes, has become a bitter battlefield. “I know artists who’ve cried all day because they can’t bear to open social media and see the insults. And to me, this reaction boils down to hate; people just want something to hate.”
