They Used to Call Us Witches is an informative, highly readable account of the role played by Chilean women exiles during the dictatorship of General Augusto Pinochet from 1973-1990. Sociologist Julie Shayne looks at the movement organized by exiled Chileans in Vancouver, British Columbia, to denounce Pinochet's dictatorship and support those who remained in Chile. Through the use of extensive interviews, the history is told from the perspective of Chilean women in the exile community established in Vancouver.
Taking Risks offers a creative, interdisciplinary approach to narrating the stories of activist scholarship by women. The essays are based on the textual analysis of interviews, oral histories, ethnography, video storytelling, and theater. The contributors come from many disciplinary backgrounds, including theater, history, literature, sociology, feminist studies, and cultural studies. The topics range from the underground library movement in Cuba, femicide in Juárez, community radio in Venezuela, video archives in Colombia, exiled feminists in Canada, memory activism in Argentina, sex worker activists in Brazil, rural feminists in Nicaragua, to domestic violence organizations for Latina immigrants in Texas. Each essay addresses two themes: telling stories and taking risks. The authors understand women activists across the Americas as storytellers who, along with the authors themselves, work to fill the Latin American and Caribbean studies archives with histories of resistance. In addition to sharing the activists' stories, the contributors weave in discussions of scholarly risk taking to speak to the challenges and importance of elevating the storytellers and their histories.
Harmonizing Latina Visions and Voices: Cultural Explorations ofEntornos discursively challenges the erasures, stigma, and silences imposed on women by functioning as a harmonizing choir, a collection of voices to testify on mujerismo, its vision, and its promise for (our) future. This collection puts “on the record” a pathway toward liberation that pushes back against white supremacist projects unleashed by academia, our families, official narratives of the State, and immigration. This book does not seek to equate the experiences of all Latinas or envision a one-size-fits-all response. We harmonize these diverse voices, understanding that these stories, poems, and essays are invoking different spaces, times, and experiences. We offer them as an intergenerational, intellectual, and spiritual dialogue. As a practice, this work centers and contextualizes how women’s resistance is articulated and expressed. The stories reflected in the chapters that follow are often matricentric, transnational, and queer. Some recurring themes center on the policing, policies, and legislations that govern Latina’s bodies and the entornos (social/environmental worlds) in which they move, are detained, or embodied.
On 25 November 1975, representatives of five South American intelligence services held a secret meeting in the city of Santiago, Chile. At the end of the gathering, the participating delegations agreed to launch Operation Condor under the pretext of coordinating counterinsurgency activities, sharing information to combat leftist guerrillas and stopping an alleged advance of Marxism in the region. Condor, however, went much further than mere exchanges of information between neighbours. It was a plan to transnationalize state terrorism beyond South America. This book identifies the reasons why the South American military regimes chose this strategic path at a time when most revolutionary movements in the region were defeated, in the process of leaving behind armed struggle and resuming the political path. One of Condor’s most intriguing features was the level of cooperation achieved by these governments considering the distrust, animosity and historical rivalries between these countries’ armed forces. This book explores these differences and goes further than previous lines of inquiry, which have focused predominantly on the conflict between Latin American leftist guerrillas and the armed forces, to study the contribution made by other actors such as civilian anticommunist figures and organizations, and the activities conducted by politically active exiles and their supporters in numerous countries. This broader approach confirms that the South American dictatorships launched the Condor Plan to systematically eliminate any kind of opposition, especially key figures and groups involved in the denunciation of the regimes’ human rights violations.
Ary Long is a conspiracy theorist, Jordan Burke is a science guy - and never the twain shall meet . . . until, through chance encounter and a bizarre symbol, their lives take an extraordinary turn. Thrown together by a mysterious group and hunted by their bitter enemies, the unlikely pair scour the globe searching for the roots of the ancient symbol, uncovering the reality behind the existing world order and the arcane, metaphysical wisdom known as Logos. 13,000 years of exploitation 3 months to put it right HISTORY IS NOT WHAT YOU BELIEVE
The 1973 coups d’état in Uruguay and Chile were significantly different from other military coups in Latin America. These two dictatorial regimes began a new era in the subcontinent. They became staunch bearers of a National Security State doctrine and introduced radical new economic policies. More tellingly, they gave birth to extreme models of society built on the foundations of what can arguably be considered ideological genocides, relying on both rudimentary and sophisticated methods of repression and authoritarianism to establish neoliberal systems that have lasted until today. 2013 marked the 40th anniversary of the fall of democratic rule in those countries. After four decades, the governments of Uruguay and Chile continue to show deficiencies in bringing the perpetrators of severe human rights violations to face justice. 40 Years are Nothing: History and Memory of the 1973 coups d’état in Uruguay and Chile is inspired by the strong memories that these coups still create. The range of topics addressed in the contributions gathered here demonstrate that the 1973 coups continue to be key points of interest for researchers across the globe and that the study of these topics is far from exhausted.
With the end of the global Cold War, the struggle for human rights has emerged as one of the most controversial forces of change in Latin America. Many observers seek the foundations of that movement in notions of rights and models of democratic institutions that originated in the global North. Challenging that view, this volume argues that Latin American community organizers, intellectuals, novelists, priests, students, artists, urban pobladores, refugees, migrants, and common people have contributed significantly to new visions of political community and participatory democracy. These local actors built an alternative transnational solidarity from below with significant participation of the socially excluded and activists in the global South. Edited by Jessica Stites Mor, this book offers fine-grained case studies that show how Latin America’s re-emerging Left transformed the struggles against dictatorship and repression of the Cold War into the language of anti-colonialism, socioeconomic rights, and identity.
This volume investigates the cultural sites where the global Cold War played out. It brings to view unpredictable encounters that arose as writers, artists, filmmakers, and intellectuals from or aligned with the Third World navigated the ideological and material constraints set by superpowers and emerging regional powers. Often these encounters generated communitas and solidarity, while at times they fed old and new conflicts. Pushing forward recent scholarship that tracks the Cold War in the Global South and draws on postcolonial approaches, our contributors use archival, secondary, and ethnographic sources to trace the afterlives and memories of key figures and to explore meetings that performed cultural diplomacy. Our focus on sites of encounter or exchange underscores the situated, interpersonal, and embodied dimensions through which much of the cultural Cold War was experienced. While the global conflict divided citizens along ideological fault lines, it also linked people through circulating media—novels, film, posters, journals, and theatre—and multinational conferences that brought artists, intellectuals, and political activists together. Such contacts introduced new axes of solidarity and hierarchies of exclusion. Examining these connections and disjunctures, this new and necessary mapping of the cultural Cold War highlights under-addressed locations in Asia, Africa, and Latin America.
This book makes a timely contribution to debates surrounding transnational political participation, the relationship between diasporas and conflict, and the gendered experiences of migrants. It fills a significant lacuna in research by analysing how migrants relate to and become involved in the politics of their home and host countries, and how transnational political fields emerge and function. The author achieves this by focusing on the little known but instructive case of Colombian migration to Europe, and the connections between these flows and the armed conflict and efforts for peace in Colombia. Shedding light on different types of migration and the rising complexity of international population movements, this innovative work will appeal to students and scholars of migration and diaspora studies, gender, political participation, conflict and peace studies and Latin American studies. It will also interest policy makers and community development workers engaged in these areas.
