Insta-savvy churches are propelling Brazil’s Gen Z to the right

One of the hottest spots in Brazil’s country music capital of Goiânia looks like your typical nightclub. Black walls blanketed in graffiti, neon signs flickering, Gen Z-ers in crop tops, leather skirts and chunky gold chains dancing to DJ sets.

But the trendy venue isn’t a nightclub. It’s a church.

At Casa Church, nearly 1,300 people come together a few times a week for hours-long performances by pop-rock gospel bands. Such hip houses of worship, blending youth culture with religious devotion, are popping up all over the country.

From Instagram to TikTok, young Brazilians are posting Bible verses, attending religious services and proudly identifying as evangelical or Catholic. And with that is emerging a growing alignment with right-wing politics, imbuing a cohort that represents a third of the electorate. In Latin America’s most populous country, the growing influence of this cultural phenomenon will be tested in the 2026 presidential election.

“I think politics needs to stay closer to our Bible. Once politics start interfering with faith, I can’t support it,” said Athila Moura, the 29-year-old evangelical pastor at Casa Church in Goiânia.

As of 2022, more than three out of four evangelical voters under 30 described themselves as conservative, as did over half of young Catholics, according to government data. It’s evangelism in particular that’s catching on. Census data going back to 2000 shows that evangelical affiliation in Brazilians aged 15 to 29 has grown at the expense of Catholicism, still the most common religious affiliation in the country.

In a world where younger generations once reliably leaned more progressive and less religious than their elders, Brazil joins the ranks of countries like the US, where “trad wife” lifestyle trends on social media and conservative movements like Turning Point USA are resonating among US youth.

In Latin America’s 18-34 age group, Brazil also stands out. Among the region’s six most populous countries, it had the highest share of Protestants, including Pentecostals, at 30 percent of this cohort, according to Pew Research Center data. Argentina and Peru registered a distant 19 percent each.

Religiosity and right-wing politics don’t always correlate, especially in a region that gave birth to Marxist-inspired liberation theology in the 1960s. Yet decades later, the overlap among Brazilian youth is unmistakable in tumultuous times.

“Mounting economic, social and existential insecurities have driven many young people toward right-wing ideas that emphasise a return to order,” said Flavia Biroli, a political scientist at Universidade de Brasília. “Religion amplifies this appeal by offering a coherent narrative of moral stability that seems to address these concerns.”

Evangelical politicians in Brazil already control a huge chunk of Congress – frequently setting agendas for sensitive issues, such as abortion, which the country only allows in limited circumstances. Their influence helped Jair Bolsonaro, US President Donald Trump’s ally who is currently imprisoned for plotting a coup, to clinch the presidency in 2018, and are a crucial voting bloc for his son who is now seeking Brazil’s top job. Wearing his faith on his sleeve, Flavio Bolsonaro is currently polling neck-and-neck with left-wing incumbent Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva.

With roots in Brazil’s socialist labor movement, Lula has struggled to make inroads among evangelical voters, despite vocally praising God in his speeches and recently nominating an evangelical to the Supreme Court.

Digital pew

What once felt like a quiet, almost secret choice among young Brazilians is now playing out openly on social media. This new visibility reflects more than just ideology and religion. It’s about belonging and performance in the digital age.

In Gen Z’s online milieu, opinions are content, and taking a stand – even a controversial one – can build an audience. Many no longer fear the social cost of wearing the conservative label. Instead, they see political alignment as part of their personal brand.

On platforms like TikTok, right-wing influencers and political figures such as lawmaker Nikolas Ferreira, 29, embody the new archetype – religious, confident and unapologetic.

“What we have today is more young people identifying as right-wing, far-right, than you had in the previous generation,” said Guilherme Boulos, general secretariat minister, who acts as a bridge between the president and civil society. “It has a lot to do with the impact of social media, with the ability the far-right has had to quickly understand and play with the logic of social media algorithms and capture a segment of young people with that.”

Almost 40 percent of young Brazilians lean right, including 17 percent who identify as far-right, according to a recent report by the left-leaning Friedrich Ebert Foundation. That’s more than twice the share that identifies as left-wing and the most of any Latin American country surveyed.

Research by the Universidade Federal do Piauí has shown that among voters under 30, lower-income and non-White Brazilians are more likely to describe themselves as conservative, illustrating the inroads religion is making into more vulnerable communities.

Brazilian religious organisations are successfully connecting with the youngest generations by offering them something to believe in, a group to belong to and appealing hangouts.

It’s not only evangelical churches like Casa that have done that. Kenzo Pessoa, a 23-year-old Catholic youth group coordinator in Brazil’s capital, Brasilia, says his first approach when it comes to prospective members isn’t to invite them to Mass.

“My thought is to take them to an attractive activity, like trails leading to nearby waterfalls where the priest celebrates Mass,” said Pessoa, who voted for Bolsonaro in 2022. “That’s what attracts young people.”

Looking ahead to 2030, the ability of the right and the left to attract young voters – eligible to cast a ballot at 16 and obligated to do so at 18 – will be critical. Early exposure to political ideas, through religion, social media and everyday social interactions could forge lasting political loyalties.

With Lula and Bolsonaro in their political twilight, the vacuum they leave behind will intensify competition for younger voters, making the battle to define political identities early on central to the next electoral cycle.

Conservative women

Religion’s appeal among Gen Z Brazilians is also giving rise to another dynamic that’s setting Brazil apart from its Latin American peers: The Friedrich Ebert poll found that 38 percent of young women identify as right-wing – the highest share in Latin America – while another 43 percent describe themselves as centrist.

That trend is especially striking given the record of misogynist remarks by former President Bolsonaro.

That contrasts with the trend in many other countries worldwide, where young men are growing more conservative while women are sticking to more moderate or progressive views. That includes neighboring Argentina, where an even higher share of the young male population skews conservative compared to Brazil, helping elect libertarian Javier Milei in 2023.

Because of Brazil's colonial past, discussions around race, gender and other basic rights didn't become part of the policy conversation until relatively recently, colouring the way people see those issues, said Olivia Cristina Pérez, a political scientist at UFPI. “In a society founded on such inequality, it’s always a very significant obstacle for women to recognise themselves as feminists,” she added. “This helps explain the conservative stance of young people, since there’s no discussion about inequalities.”

Some Gen Z believers push back against the overlap between their faith and conservative views. International affairs analyst Twaier Guimarães, 28, grew up Baptist and her father is a pastor. She recalls being taught from a young age to fear gay people and see other faiths as heresy.

Then in high school she made friends outside of her church for the first time, which helped change some of her views. After struggling at first to reconcile her faith with her newfound politics, Guimarães now considers herself a left-wing feminist and still attends church every week.

“I started to feel inadequate, because I was too religious to be left-wing and too left-wing to be religious,” said Guimarães, who lives in Caxias do Sul, in the southernmost state of Río Grande do Sul. “But I no longer feel alone, because I found people who are like me.” In the October election, she plans to vote for a left-wing candidate, even if she's not set on Lula yet.

Guimarães is an evident outlier.

“If the election were today, I’d probably vote for Flavio Bolsonaro. What I know for certain is that I won’t be voting for Lula,” said Matheus Moreira, a 19-year-old Catholic in Brasília.

As the lights dim and the pop-rock gospel band wraps up its hour-long set, the crowd grows quiet. With tattoos and pierced ears, the young pastor Athila Moura delivers his sermon with one aim: make young people feel safe to connect with God by preaching the truth according to Jesus.

“We have the freedom to worship God, but we are also very aware of not confusing freedom with debauchery.”