(MENAFN- The Rio Times) São Paulo's Governor Tarcísio de Freitas is a man with big ambitions. A former infrastructure minister and close ally of Brazil's fallen ex-president, he now leads the country's wealthiest and most populous state-and many see him as a future presidential contender.

But there's a catch: women aren't buying what he's selling. Polls show a striking gap: while more than half of São Paulo's men support Tarcísio, fewer than 45% of women do.

This isn't just a minor hiccup-it's a red flag for a politician who needs broad appeal to win nationally. The pattern echoes his mentor's struggles: in 2022, female voters helped sink the ex-president's re-election bid, favoring his left-wing rival by a decisive margin.

So why the cold shoulder from women? The answers lie in daily life. Women in São Paulo, like elsewhere, care deeply about education, public safety, and reliable transportation-areas where Tarcísio's government has faced criticism.

Overcrowded trains, underfunded schools, and a troubling rise in violence against women have left many unimpressed. Feminicides in the state jumped by 10% this year, with record numbers in the capital.



Meanwhile, the agency tasked with protecting women saw its budget slashed, raising questions about priorities. Tarcísio's team has rolled out high-profile initiatives, from a women's safety app to shelters for abuse victims.

But critics say these efforts are more about optics than real change. His administration argues it's working hard, pointing to programs like electronic monitoring for domestic abusers. Yet for many women, the progress feels too slow-or worse, performative.

The governor's challenge runs deeper than policy. His brash, no-nonsense style, reminiscent of his mentor's, plays well with male voters but alienates women, who tend to favor leaders seen as more inclusive and less confrontational.

In a state where women make up over half the electorate, this isn't just a political problem-it's a mathematical one. The stakes are high. São Paulo isn't just any state; it's Brazil's economic powerhouse, home to one in five voters.

If Tarcísio can't win over women here, his national ambitions could stall before they start. His team is betting on social programs and economic growth to shift the tide, but time is running out.

With elections looming, the question isn't just whether he can close the gender gap-it's whether he even understands why it exists. For outsiders, this story reveals a broader truth about Brazil today: a country divided not just by politics, but by gender.

Women, once a reliable base for centrist and center-right leaders, are now a swing vote-one that could make or break the next generation of leaders.

Tarcísio's struggle is a test case for a new era, where old-school machismo clashes with the demands of a changing electorate.

What happens next could reshape Brazil's political landscape. And if Tarcísio fails, it won't just be his loss-it'll be a signal that the playbook of the past no longer works.

In a country where women are increasingly flexing their political muscle, ignoring them isn't just bad politics. It's a losing strategy.

MENAFN03112025007421016031ID1110285353