This week, Brazil came to a pause to follow the rescue of Juliana Marins on Mount Rinjani, in Indonesia.

A 26-year-old Brazilian woman, solo traveler, who didn’t return home to share the rich experiences she lived during her journey.

But we are many Julianas.

We are women who choose less traveled, less conventional paths — and who need strength and courage to believe in something that society keeps saying is not viable, nor safe, nor recommended.

We are flooded with fear:
Fear of being seen as rebellious.
Fear of not being desired by a man.
Fear of not having a “serious career” because we chose to travel.

I didn’t climb Mount Rinjani when I was in Indonesia, but I did climb Mount Batur — which has half the altitude, but also demands effort, dedication, and surrender.

I went alone, accompanied only by a local guide and four other tourists I met just before the climb.

The sky was covered in mist, and unlike expected, I didn’t see the sunrise. I ended up just climbing (Mount Batur is 1,717 meters high) — and still, I experienced something unique.

Since the heartbreaking outcome of Juliana’s story, one question hasn’t left my mind: if she had come back alive, what would people be saying?
She would probably have become an influencer, a reference for solo travel in Southeast Asia.

Her videos might have gone viral, with titles like “What it’s like to travel solo in Indonesia” or “Women’s hikes that will transform you.”

But since her story didn’t end the way we hoped, what we see now are headlines about negligence, danger, and judgment.

Suddenly, what was once courage is now called recklessness.

What was freedom becomes a warning.

What was a woman living intensely becomes a symbol of risk and caution.

And this makes me realize just how fragile our right to be free still is in the eyes of the world.

Yes, traveling solo is risky.

But living trapped in patterns, fears, and expectations is risky too.

The difference is: when we allow ourselves to be free, we discover a kind of beauty that no amount of safety can offer — the beauty of living truthfully.

Guará was born from that place within me — the same place that makes me buy a one-way ticket to an unknown destination, choose a beach over a fancy restaurant, wear a bikini that lights me up and feel, from the inside out, that I am exactly where I’m meant to be.

My e-commerce exists because I chose to do things differently from what they told me was the “safe path.”

Guará is for women who want to wear what makes them feel good when their bodies are exposed — with confidence and without judgment.

It’s about living in a way that feels right to you, without the fear of being “wrong” just because someone else said so.

I feel deeply sorry for Juliana’s loss.

This tragedy has nothing to do with her choices — but everything to do with broader issues: organization, responsibility from local tourism, and real care for the services offered to travelers.

May we honor her for her freedom, courage, planning, and commitment.

And may her story remind us that free women should be admired — not questioned.