Exclusive: Sara Huff Was A Feminist Icon In Brazil—Now She’s Warning Women To Stay Away From The Movement

Sara Huff’s story is one of incredible transformation. Known to millions as Sara Winter, she was once the fiery face of Brazil’s feminist movement. But behind the headlines and rallies, Sara’s experience within the movement tells a different story, one of brutal indoctrination, loss, and disillusionment.

In this exclusive interview, Sara speaks at length about the moments that changed everything for her. From enduring the trauma of a botched abortion to questioning the ideology she once fought for, Sara recounts her journey of disentanglement from a movement that promised liberation but left her searching for hope.

Now, speaking from her home in Texas, Sara reflects on her past with a mix of regret and clarity. Though her activism looks different today, her fire remains. She is determined to warn women of the dangers she uncovered and inspire them to seek real empowerment that doesn’t come at the cost of their well-being.

Carmen Schober: Sara, you were deeply involved in Brazil’s feminist movement. For those of us who have no clue what that's like, can you give us a sense of what drew you in?

Sara Huff: Well, first of all, thank you for having me. I'm actually a huge fan of Evie. The feminist movement in Brazil, to be honest, isn't that different from what you'd see in other parts of the Western world. But for me, how I got there… that’s a whole story. Unfortunately, my journey into feminism was born out of pain. I grew up in a really difficult environment. My older brother got caught up in drugs early on — first marijuana, then quickly escalated to cocaine and eventually crack. He became violent, really violent, and he would take that out on us, on my parents, on me.

CS: That’s incredibly intense. And you were just a teenager during all of this?

SH: Yes, I was about 16 when my brother’s violence reached its peak. I remember one particularly horrific night…he kicked me out of our house. He was out of his mind, high on something, and he actually put a gun in my mouth. I left with nothing and found myself living on the streets. That's where things took an even darker turn. I had to survive somehow. I ended up turning to prostitution. I didn’t have a choice. There were nights when I would exchange my body just to get a meal or a place to sleep. I was completely alone. My parents weren’t there to help, and I had to become my own protector, my own provider. It was a nightmare, but at the time, all I wanted was to finish high school. No one in my family had ever done that, so I became obsessed with this dream of graduating, even if it meant using the money I earned on the streets to pay for books.

By the time I turned 18, I was so broken. I was angry—at God, at men, at the idea of family. Everywhere I looked, I saw betrayal. And then one day, I came across this article online about these feminist protests happening in Ukraine. I had no idea where Ukraine even was on a map! But the idea of women fighting for equality, against rape culture, against violence, it spoke to me. It felt like a way out of the pain I was living in.

CS: So that's when you jumped in?

SH: Oh, I was all in. I reached out to these women who were organizing the protests and told them I wanted to bring their fight to Brazil. They responded almost immediately. Before I knew it, they had arranged everything for me — they even paid for my passport and flights. I had nothing, but they made it happen.

It was shocking, actually. I expected a grassroots vibe, you know? Like women coming together with handmade signs, chanting in the streets. But what I found in Ukraine was something else entirely. When I arrived, the feminist movement’s headquarters were unbelievably fancy. I’m talking downtown Kyiv, tech equipment everywhere, MacBooks, you name it. Meanwhile, the rest of Ukraine was so poor. The disparity was mind-blowing.

CS: You went there expecting to join a sisterhood and instead found a well-oiled machine?

SH: Yes. It was very orchestrated, much more than I expected. They had money, resources, and behind all of that? Men. Men were running the show. It blew my mind. Here I was, thinking I was fighting for women's empowerment, and it turned out the whole operation was controlled by men. These weren’t just any men — they were powerful, well-connected, and they were the ones really pulling the strings.

It was like being slapped in the face with reality. The first thing they did was strip us of anything feminine. They made us burn our clothes, makeup, anything that represented "girly" stereotypes. It was supposed to be symbolic, I guess — a rejection of the beauty standards we were supposedly fighting against. But really, it felt more like brainwashing than empowerment. But I was so desperate for a purpose, something to belong to. That’s why I bought into it so quickly. They convinced me that if I followed their agenda, I could somehow save women back home in Brazil from the same suffering I’d been through.

I mean, they had us standing naked in a freezing cold room for hours, repeating these mantras in our own languages. It was like a military exercise, except it wasn’t training — it was more like breaking you down, stripping you of your individuality. They wanted us to believe that we were fighting for freedom, but really, we were just following their orders like puppets. And the irony? Most of the women there thought they were being liberated.

CS: It sounds almost cult-like, honestly.

SH: That’s exactly what it was. But when you’re in it, you can’t see it. You’re so desperate to belong to something, to feel like you're part of a bigger mission, that you ignore all the red flags. They operated in places where human rights weren’t exactly a priority. At the time, Ukraine had very loose regulations, so they could get away with things that would have been impossible in the U.S. or Western Europe. They kept drilling into us that we weren’t individuals anymore. We were soldiers in a revolution, and if suffering was necessary to build this "better world" for minorities, then so be it.

CS: It’s almost like they were grooming you for a culture war.

SH: Exactly. They made it clear that we were not going to fight with guns. Our weapons were going to be culture, education, the arts, politics, entertainment. They trained us to infiltrate every sphere of influence. And what they knew, which we didn’t understand at the time, was that whoever controls the culture controls the future.

CS: And when you returned to Brazil, you suddenly found yourself thrust into the spotlight.

SH: Yes, it was surreal. One day, I was a nobody with no family, no future. The next day, I was a political celebrity. They had contacts with major press agencies like Reuters, and suddenly, everyone wanted my opinion. I thought I had finally found my purpose—that this was my chance to change the world for women.

It was constant, too. They were still controlling my every move. They’d send me money, give me directives on what to protest about, what causes to champion. And it wasn’t just random activism; it was strategically planned to align with their agenda. At that time, it was all about pushing for abortion rights in Brazil.

it was 2013. I got pregnant, and for them, it was like hitting the jackpot. They saw me as the perfect poster child for their pro-abortion campaign. They wanted me to use my story to push for legalization in Brazil. I didn’t want to be a mother, and they were in my ear telling me, “It’s not a baby; it’s just a clump of cells.” They convinced me that having an abortion would be an act of empowerment, a statement of my freedom. So, I went through with it. But they never prepared me for what it would actually be like.

CS: What was the reality versus what they had told you?

SH: They made it sound so simple. They said it would just be a few cramps and some bleeding, and that would be it. But no one told me that I would go through hours of labor, that my body would still go through the motions of delivering — only to birth a dead baby. I was alone, in agony, and it hit me like a ton of bricks: this wasn’t just a "clump of cells." It was my baby.

In that moment, I felt like the biggest fool on earth. They had lied to me, just like they’re lying to millions of women today. They paint abortion as this magical solution, like waving a wand and making the problem disappear. But no one tells you about the trauma, the pain, the blood, or the fact that the baby still has to come out.

They told me it was just a "clump of cells," that it was nothing to worry about. But when I looked into the toilet, I didn't see a clump of cells — I saw my daughter. They never told me what it would actually be like. They sent me home with some pills, and I was alone. No assistance, no support. That wasn’t empowerment; it was torture. 

Ten days later, I was bleeding profusely. I woke up in the middle of the night covered in sweat, shaking, with this horrid smell emanating from my body. I was freezing, my fingertips turning blue. I knew something was terribly wrong. But I was terrified to go to the hospital because abortion is illegal in Brazil. They had instilled this fear in me — that if I went for help, I’d end up in jail. 

I called the abortionist who had performed the procedure, and she assured me it was all "normal." But I was bleeding so much, I thought I was going to die. I was desperate. I begged for help, but they left me there. They literally left me to die. And here's the irony — he was a white, Catholic man. 

The kind of man I had been taught to hate. I used to look at him and his wife, this modest, religious family with five kids, and I thought he was some patriarchal oppressor forcing her to be a "reproductive slave." But that night, when I screamed for help, it was this same man who kicked down my door and drove me to the hospital with his wife. 

 It was like a slap in the face. Here I was, the most famous feminist in Brazil, and the people I had spent years protesting against were the ones who showed me real compassion. Meanwhile, the feminist movement—the people who claimed to care about me—left me to die. 

CS: And you discovered later that there might have been an even more sinister layer to your experience?

SH: Yes, it took me years to piece it together. One of my old friends, who also left the movement, confirmed my suspicions. The abortionists and the leaders knew exactly what they were doing. They wanted me to die from the abortion. I was the most prominent feminist in Brazil at that time, and if I had died, it would have been the perfect catalyst to legalize abortion in the country. 

CS: They were willing to sacrifice you for their cause?

SH: Yes, absolutely. They wanted a martyr for their movement, and I was the perfect candidate. But God had other plans. That Catholic neighbor saved me, and I survived. But it was a long recovery—physically, mentally, emotionally. 

CS: It must have been terrifying to walk away from the movement, given how deep you were in.

SH: Oh, absolutely. I was trapped. They had made me famous, given me a platform, friends, a sense of belonging. Walking away from that felt like losing everything all over again. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t keep promoting something that had caused me so much pain.

CS: You mentioned that during this time, you were also told you might never have children again.

SH: Yes, that was one of the hardest blows. I had developed sepsis from the abortion, which severely damaged my uterus. They told me I would never be able to conceive again. I was devastated. But God, in His mercy, gave me a miracle. Just six months later, I became pregnant again, and that baby boy is my son Hector. He just turned nine. 

Those nine months of pregnancy were like a rebirth for me as well. I disappeared from social media and focused on becoming a mother. I needed to heal, not just from the physical trauma but from the years of emotional and psychological abuse I endured within the feminist movement. 

When Hector was just 29 days old, I recorded a video asking for forgiveness from Christians, evangelicals, and Catholics, especially those I had protested against. I was so ashamed of what I had done. I didn’t know how to return to the Church, but I felt this deep need to seek forgiveness. It was a genuine cry for help.

CS: And how did people respond?

 SH: The response was overwhelming. People were so kind, so forgiving. They welcomed me back with open arms. And ironically, it was the pro-life community that helped me the most. They provided formula, diapers, even covered a year of rent for Hector and me. The very people I had spent years attacking showed me the love and support that the feminist movement never did.

It completely changed me. I realized that we don’t need ideological labels to help each other. We just need to be good people. The feminist movement had convinced me that I was fighting for women, but in reality, it was just using women as pawns in a much larger game. 

CS: Looking back, what do you think the biggest lie of the feminist movement is?

SH: That it’s about freedom. They sell it as this path to empowerment, but it’s just another form of enslavement. They strip women of their femininity, make them hate their own biology, and turn them into soldiers for their agenda. But at the end of the day, it’s all about control — and they’re using women to achieve it.

CS: What's your message to women today, especially young women who are just starting to explore feminism?

SH: I would say, "Stop and ask yourself: is this movement actually helping women? Or is it just giving you slogans and symbols while taking something away from you — your happiness, your peace, your sense of identity?" We don’t need to be feminists to help women. We just need to be good people who care about one another.

CS: You’ve since dedicated your life to helping other women, especially those caught up in the same traps you were.

 SH: Yes, now I focus on helping young women who are drawn into feminism without understanding its true nature. Parents sometimes hire me to work with their daughters to “defeminize” them, to help them see that real empowerment isn’t about rejecting femininity but embracing it. 

Feminism teaches women to become soldiers, but for what? To destroy the very essence of what it means to be a woman. Real empowerment is about charity, love, and living out your values, not turning yourself into a weapon for someone else's agenda. 

But something that really struck me was the way feminists are turned into soldiers—not unlike how men are used in war, as collateral damage for a cause. They take young, vulnerable women—women like I was—and they turn us into soldiers, but not in the way most people would think. It’s not about physical combat; it’s a war of culture, ideologies, and influence. Feminism, for all its cries of "equality," is really about making women abandon their virtues to take on male vices. 

CS: What do you mean by that?

 SH: Think about it. Feminists are taught to throw away everything that makes them women—their nurturing nature, their desire for family, their femininity. Instead, they’re encouraged to embrace aggression, lust, vanity, and selfishness. It’s like they’re trying to mold women into men, but not just any men—the worst versions of men. And on the flip side, they’re trying to turn men into something they’re not, by labeling their virtues like strength and leadership as “toxic.”  

CS: That’s a really interesting observation. You’re essentially saying that feminism is stripping both men and women of their inherent qualities.

SH: Yes. And it’s all masked with slogans about equality and empowerment. But what they’re really doing is creating chaos, making everyone miserable in the name of some ideological revolution. The saddest part is that most women—especially young women—don’t see it until it’s too late. They buy into the glossy marketing. It’s like a bad friend convincing you to try drugs without telling you it will ruin your life.

CS: In the U.S., we see so many self-proclaimed feminist icons who, on the surface, seem to embody traditional feminine ideals—beauty, family, and success. Yet, they’re pushing a message that tells women to abandon those very things.

SH: That’s because feminism is a brand, and like any brand, it knows its market. If you’re targeting young women who feel lost or unattractive, you have someone like Lizzo to sell the message that being unhealthy is beautiful. For young girls questioning their identity, you have someone like JoJo Siwa embracing radical self-expression. On the other hand, you have figures like Beyoncé — glamorous, powerful, still feminine—but selling this idea that you don’t need a man, don’t need a family. It’s all tailored to different audiences, like a multinational corporation with various product lines. 

CS: What happened when you decided to publicly align yourself with the Church?

 SH: Oh, it was terrible. I was so naive. I thought, at worst, I’d lose some friends or receive hateful comments. But it went way beyond that. My family was threatened. My mom’s little store in our hometown was vandalized. They smashed the windows, threw rocks, even threatened to set it on fire. I had to move to Rio de Janeiro just to keep my family safe. 

Twice I was physically attacked on the street by people who recognized me. I had to have bodyguards for six months, provided by the pro-life community — the same people I used to protest against. 

 It was humbling. When I left the feminist movement, I was completely broke. I had no job, no money, no support system. But the pro-life movement — these people I had spent years demonizing—they took me in. They provided everything I needed: formula for my baby, rent for a year, and even therapy to help me recover. 

CS: You felt a responsibility to speak out, even though it made you a target. Why didn’t you just walk away quietly?

 SH: I couldn’t. I had spent years bringing other young women into the movement, convincing them it was the path to empowerment. I felt responsible. I needed to tell the truth, to expose the lies. And that’s why I’m here, sharing everything — even the secrets that could put me in danger. 

CS: If you could go back to your younger self, that girl who was so lost and searching for something to believe in, what would you tell her?

SH: I would say, “Hold on. Trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, don’t do it.” And most importantly, I would tell her, “You can’t help anyone until you heal yourself. Go find a church, ask for help, get healed before you channel all that pain into trying to save the world.” The feminist movement takes women’s private pain, their traumas, and weaponizes them for its own agenda. But once you’re no longer useful, you’re discarded. 

I have my faith, and I believe this is part of the fight. If I have to suffer for Christ, I’m honored to do it. I’ve already been through the worst; nothing can scare me now.

CS: For our readers who want to follow your journey, where can they find you?

SH: I’m on Instagram as @TheSaraHuff. My book, which dives deeper into everything we’ve discussed, is currently only available in Spanish, but I’m hoping to release it in English once I reach 10,000 followers on Instagram. So please, if you found my story meaningful, give me a follow. It would mean a lot. 

Closing Thoughts

As our interview concludes, it’s clear that Sara is no longer the desperate young woman she once was. Today, she stands as a woman of unshakable convictions, inspired by a mission rooted in faith, family, and the truth. And that, she says, is the most empowering thing of all.

To keep up with Sara’s journey and hear more of her insights, follow her on X, Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube—where her honesty and passion for truth reaches audiences worldwide.