18 LATIN AMERICA AND THE CARIBBEAN Katherine M. Marino In 1926, at the Congreso Inter-Americano de Mujeres in Panama City, Clara González urged feminists to unite in a “Latin American” movement. González, at 27 years old, was Panama’s first female lawyer and the co-founder of the Partido Nacional Feminista. Her group pushed for women’s suffrage and for their “social, economic, and political liberation” and against US empire.1 Such goals, González believed, could unite feminists throughout the Americas. She found inspiration for this solidarity in a long history of activism. She shared with her audience a history of feminism that did not uphold US or Western European role models but that emphasized innovative thought and activism in Latin America and the Caribbean, dating back to pre-Colombian Indigenous societies. Taking González’s speech as a point of departure, this essay explores Latin American feminist regional organizing from the late eighteenth century to today. Real and imagined links of solidarity have long powered feminisms in Latin America and the Caribbean, providing some of their most dynamic instantiations and innovative theories. In the decades after González’s speech, feminist groups throughout Mexico, Central America, the Caribbean, and South America multiplied and, as they did, cohered around expansive agendas. Many of them demanded not only political and civil equality, but also recognition of women’s productive and reproductive labor, as well as anti-imperialism, anti-fascism, and anti-racism. Today, Latin American and Caribbean movements provide critical examples of intersectional and decolonial feminist activism that have transformed women’s rights, as well as local, national, and global politics. Precursoras European Enlightenment ideals deeply shaped feminist discourse and organizing in the Americas, but anti-colonial revolutions, in which women played key roles, were just as influential. Between the late fifteenth and mid nineteenth centuries, Spanish, Portuguese, British, and Dutch colonialism resulted in the mass plundering of natural resources and the genocide of 70 million Indigenous people, as well as the kidnapping and importation of 11.2 million enslaved Africans to the New World. The significant participation of Indigenous women from the Americas and Africa in the anti-colonial and anti-slavery mobilizations that erupted in the region was in no small part due to the political, social, and spiritual power that many held in their societies. Women in DOI: 10.4324/9781003050049-22 271 Katherine M. Marino pre-Colombian Aztec, Mayan, and Inca civilizations often had complementary rather than subordinate roles with men. Many West African Indigenous women held positions of power and higher status than their counterparts in European society. Fighting for the freedom of Indigenous people in present-day Bolivia, Peru, Chile, and Argentina, Aymaran woman Bartolina Sisa Vargas helped lead the rebellion against Spanish forces in the Alto. She was killed on September 5, 1782, a date remembered throughout Latin America as the International Day of Indigenous Women. The bravery of Baraúnda, wife of Garifuna leader Satuyé, who fought British colonists in the Caribbean island of St. Vincent, is remembered today in Garifuna songs that keep her memory alive in Honduras, Belize, Guatemala, and Nicaragua.2 These rebellions led to the Haitian Revolution (1791–1804), the first of the “Atlantic revolutions,” that was also the largest slave rebellion in history. Here women like Cécile Fatiman played key roles as mambos (priestesses) in the Vodou societies and maroonage groups that had fled enslavers and were critical to the resistance leading to revolution.3 In nineteenth-century revolutions that followed in the Americas, women served as fighters and military leaders. In Cuba, mambisas supported the cause as nurses, arms smugglers, and journalists. These revolutions that dismantled colonialism and established the “new nations” of the Americas generated questions about women’s citizenship. Although some nations abolished slavery in the mid nineteenth century, slavery persisted in Cuba until 1886 and in Brazil until 1888. The republican civil codes Latin American countries adopted between the early to late nineteenth century subsumed married woman’s legal status into that of her husband. Some of the first writers to assert women’s rights sought women’s education, property, and guardianship of their children, often alongside calls for the abolition of slavery and rights of Indigenous people. Inspired by Mary Wollstonecraft’s 1792 A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, Nísia Floresta Brasileira Augusta in Brazil published Direitos das mulheres e injustiça dos homens (Rights of Women and Injustices of Men, 1832), arguing for women’s rights and education. After 1850, she wrote a book defending the rights of women and Indigenous and enslaved people.4 In Argentina, the novelist, poet, schoolteacher, and midwife Juana Manso founded the first periodical dedicated to women in Latin America, O Jornal das Senhoras (1852) in Brazil, and after moving to Argentina founded Álbum de Señoritas in 1854, in which she promoted women’s rights and education, civil equality in marriage, divorce, and the abolition of slavery.5 Similar publications followed in other parts of the Americas. In 1869, Ana Betancourt, addressing the First Constitutional Assembly of Cuban patriots at Guáimaro, connected anti-colonial, anti-slavery, and women’s emancipation struggles: “Everything was enslaved in Cuba: cradle, color, and sex.” She hoped the revolution would “destroy the enslavement of the cradle . . . [and] the slavery of color” and “free . . . women” as well.6 Connections between patriarchy, class, and race were also central to the thought of Frenchborn Flora Tristán. After the death of her Peruvian father and escape from an abusive marriage, she traveled to Peru to claim her father’s inheritance. Exposure to the socially and racially stratified Peruvian society – its extreme gaps between wealthy criollo Spanish-descended Peruvians and Indigenous and Afro-Peruvians – as well as the difficulty she had claiming her father’s inheritance because of her “illegitimate” status heightened her understanding of the interconnectedness of social oppressions. These insights, combined with her engagement with British Chartists and French utopian socialism, led to her book The Workers’ Union in 1843. Before Marx and Engels, she called for the creation of a global working class and compared the status of women to that of the proletariat. Tristán argued that male domination in the family was the linchpin of the capitalist system.7 Those who made the most powerful links between class, patriarchy, and race were the thousands of enslaved women who fought for their and their children’s freedom. After the passage of 272 Latin America and the Caribbean “free womb” laws in Spain (1870) and Brazil (1871) that granted freedom to all children born to slaves, enslaved and freed women in Havana and Rio de Janeiro engaged in sophisticated and protracted negotiations with legal authorities and slave owners, as well as in collective actions to demand their rights as Black women and mothers, and their children’s and community’s rights. They drew on a longer genealogy of Black women in the Americas transforming and expanding the meanings of women’s rights, freedom, and citizenship.8 Early inter-American feminisms From the late nineteenth to early twentieth centuries, industrialization, urbanization, and immigration altered political institutions and conditions of everyday life in the Americas, fostering new hemispheric conversations about, and some of the first organizations devoted to, feminismo. Increasing numbers of women engaged in waged and unwaged labor, and women benefitting from expanded educational opportunities – first schoolteachers and then, increasingly, professional doctors, lawyers, and educators – initiated some of the first organizations that generated regional feminist links. Working women mobilized socialist and anarchist feminisms. In the late nineteenth century, domestic workers, dressmakers, seamstresses, cooks, and factory laborers in Buenos Aires, San Juan, Panama City, and other cities, connected with anarchist networks and protested low wages, unsafe working conditions, and sometimes US imperialism. The anarchist-feminist Argentinian newspaper by and for working women, La Voz de la Mujer (1896–1897), called for “No God, No Boss, No Husband” and featured authors from throughout the region, circulating transnationally. Free-love-espousing, Afro-descended, Puerto Rican–born Luisa Capetillo (1879–1922) inspired workers in Puerto Rico, Cuba, and beyond.9 Mexican and early Chicana feminists along the US/Mexico border embraced anarchist feminist goals in the Magonista movement and later the Mexican Revolution.10 Socialist demands unmistakably influenced the liberal feminist goals of the first international feminist congress in the Americas. Populated by middle-class and educated women from South America, the First International Women’s Congress in Buenos Aires in 1910 included resolutions not only for women’s equal access to education and the professions, equal property and custody rights, and equal political rights but also for women’s labor rights, public health, sex education, and childcare.11 This meeting sought state intervention in support of mothers and children to right the wrongs generated by industrial capitalism, such as child labor and exploitation of women in the workplace.12 Its combination of liberal and socialist goals would be a hallmark of Latin American feminisms.13 The congress’s goals to create a “Latin American” feminist movement gained traction in the wake of the Mexican Revolution and growing Pan-Hispanism. Popularized by Latin American modernists, Pan-Hispanism conveyed community based on the Spanish language, a shared history of independence from Spain, and rejection of Anglo-American culture and empire. The Mexican Revolution became a lightning rod for Pan-Hispanism, and it helped inspire anti-imperialist feminism in the region. The 1916 women’s congress in Mérida that debated women’s suffrage, labor, education, abortion, and contraception, and Mexico’s 1917 Revolutionary Constitution that incorporated women’s maternity legislation, invigorated feminist demands and hemispheric organizing.14 Around the same time, World War I and US completion of the Panama Canal fostered a host of new Pan-American institutions that brought together US and Latin American activists. Many Latin American feminists welcomed these Pan-American exchanges, especially when such connections helped legitimize their own demands. Collaborations between Cuban and US feminists 273 Katherine M. Marino at the 1928 Pan-American conference in Havana created the Inter-American Commission of Women, or Comisión Interamericana de Mujeres (CIM), the first intergovernmental organization of women to promote women’s rights in the world, that continues today. However, many Latin American feminists clashed with US leaders who routinely deemed themselves and their brands of feminism as superior. For instance, after hosting a 1922 Pan-American Women’s Congress in Baltimore, dominated in large part by US leaders, and touring Latin America, US feminist Carrie Chapman Catt made public and disparaging comments about the region that generated resentment. She deemed Latin American feminism “40 years behind” that in the US and questioned whether Latin American women were ready for citizenship. US leader Doris Stevens, who chaired CIM for a decade, exerted a different form of imperial feminism. Latin American feminists roundly criticized Stevens for monopolizing the commission’s finances and agenda, which she defined exclusively around women’s political and civil legal equality only, in spite of Latin American insistence to expand the agenda to include social welfare, antiimperialism, and anti-fascism.15 Pan-American debates led Latin American feminists to redouble these broader commitments – for political and civil equality, social and economic justice, and anti-imperialism – and to organize together, as Latin American and Caribbean women. South-south organizing in the region grew urgent in the early twentieth century with rising US military interventions. In Honduras schoolteacher and journalist Visitación Padilla organized the Círculo de Cultura Femenina that fought for women’s political and economic rights, and co-founded in 1924 the Boletín de la Defensa Nacional protesting the US Marine interventions in Honduras and Central America.16 In 1930, Prudencia Ayala, an Indigenous and single working mother in El Salvador, became the first woman to run for president in Latin America. In a journal she founded, Redención femenina, she promoted both women’s rights and the idea of a Central American Union to denounce dictatorships in the region and US military intervention in Nicaragua.17 In 1934, after years of protesting US military occupation and the departure of US troops from their country, Haitian feminists Madeleine Sylvain, Alice Garoute, and Alice Téligny Mathon founded the Ligue Féminine d’Action Sociale, which drew on anti-imperialism, social welfare, and women’s rights goals, as well as connections with African American women’s groups in the US.18 In her journalism, Puerto Rican socialist feminist and New Yorker Clotilde Betances Jaeger explained women’s collective stake in confronting US military, political, and economic imperialism in Mexico, Brazil, Panama, Cuba, Peru, Chile, and elsewhere because of how it disrupted local economies and hurt working women and families, a recognition that Cuban feminist Mariblanca Sabas Alomá identified as feminismo.19 New regional feminist groups explicitly distanced themselves from US-led Pan-American efforts. In 1923, Mexican feminist Elena Arizmendi and Uruguayan Paulina Luisi galvanized feminists in the region around an anti-imperialist, Pan-Hispanic feminism in the Liga Internacional de Mujeres Ibéricas e Hispanoamericanas. This organization attracted groups in Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, and elsewhere.20 In 1934, Mexican feminist Margarita Robles de Mendoza formed the Unión de Mujeres Americanas (UMA), which embraced Spanish as its official language and had 39 affiliated groups from throughout the Americas by the following year.21 In the 1930s and 1940s, the conjuncture of the Great Depression and rise of right-wing authoritarianism in Europe and Latin America also led to robust communist and socialist organizing in popular front groups. These frentes populares generated new transnational activism in the Americas that recognizing that global threats to the left, Jews, and people of color were connected to threats to women’s rights, especially when right-wing regimes upheld the patriarchal family as the basis for public order. Many feminists throughout the Americas championed 274 Latin America and the Caribbean what they saw as interconnected causes: an inter-American workers’ movement, the republican cause in the Spanish Civil War, Puerto Rican independence, the nationalization of Mexican oil, freedom of political prisoners, the rights of African-descended and Indigenous people, and the rights of women. Working women were central to this popular front Pan-American feminism, as was international activism. This movement used CIM’s international women’s rights treaties to pressure national governments to stop legislation they deemed “fascist” and to advance women’s right to work, equal pay, and state-sponsored maternity insurance and daycare centers for working women, including domestic and rural workers.22 Many groups also demanded access to birth control and legal abortion and promoted laws that eliminated the lower citizenship status of children born out of wedlock. These years saw an exponential growth of women’s groups that were explicitly “anti-fascist” in Paraguay, Peru, Ecuador, Bolivia, Venezuela, and elsewhere in the Americas. In Mexico, the Frente Único Pro Derechos de la Mujer and in Chile, the Movimiento pro Emancipación de la Mujer Chilena, both founded 1935, were mass organizations not confined to their capital cities, and they included several hundred thousand women.23 Popular front Pan-American feminism helped make inter-American feminism more relevant to wide swaths of people, including Indigenous and African-descended women who had long organized in their own communities and transnationally as well. In the 1920s, Garveyism and Pan-Africanism knit together Black women activists from the United States, Costa Rica, Panama, and elsewhere in the Americas who recognized the global nature of white supremacy and called for women’s leadership in their communities.24 In the 1930s, this organizing provided a seedbed for and dovetailed with Black left feminists in Brazil, Cuba, Panama, the Caribbean, and the United States who spearheaded the first domestic workers unions and articulated the concept of “triple oppression” that Black women faced on the basis of race, class, and sex. In 1936, the same year that she joined the Communist Party, Laudelina de Campos Melo founded the first domestic workers union in Brazil – the Associação de Trabalhadores Domésticos do Brasil. Born in Minas Gerais in 1901, Campos lost her father in a work-related accident at the age of 12 and left primary school to care for her five younger siblings and help her mother, a domestic worker. At age 20, she moved to São Paulo to work as a domestic worker. There, she joined the Grupo da Frente Negra Brasileira (the Black Brazilian Front), which flourished from 1931 to 1937 and was considered the largest anti-racist organization in the country after abolition. Her union inspired other domestic workers’ unions in Brazil and elsewhere in the Americas, primarily composed of women of color.25 Anti-fascist African-descended women pushed white and mestiza counterparts to address anti-racism in their feminist politics. In 1936 at the Uruguayan women’s national congress, Afro-Uruguayan journalist and domestic worker Iris Cabral spoke out against anti-Black racism and demanded labor rights, including a union, for domestic workers.26 Due to the efforts of Afro-Cuban communist feminists, the 1939 National Feminist Congress in Cuba upheld anti-racism as a central feminist goal, including detailed resolutions on racism and on legal and social forms of oppression against Black women. Mestiza feminists joined Afro-Cuban women in objecting to the “triple oppression” Black women faced.27 In Cuba, this work resulted in “a cross-racial political alliance that would demand institutional reform during the 1940 Constitutional Assembly” to ban racism and sexual discrimination in the new Constitution.28 The popular front’s synergy between anti-racism, anti-fascism, and feminism meaningfully shaped the formation of international human rights, articulated as “rights for all regardless of sex, race, class, or religion.” In 1945 at the San Francisco conference that created the United Nations, Latin American feminists pushed “women’s rights” into the founding UN Charter and definition of international human rights. They also proposed what became the UN’s Commission 275 Katherine M. Marino on the Status of Women. They accomplished these goals over the objections of their US and British counterparts at that conference, who believed that women’s rights were too divisive or insignificant to include in the charter.29 The feminists who accomplished this work – Brazilian Bertha Lutz, Dominican Minerva Bernardino, and Mexican Amalia Castillo de Ledón – were not popular front feminists, but their work was only possible because of the profound influence of popular front feminism. In 1948, Castillo de Ledón shaped the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights by insisting that its definition of “family” should not be limited to marriage, asserting rights of “illegitimate” children and their often single mothers.30 In the wake of these and other international conventions, countries throughout the Americas passed women’s suffrage legislation in the 1940s during a broader period of democratization. Hemispheric feminisms in the Cold War The Cold War that emerged soon after the UN enshrined women’s and human rights squelched the expansive hemispheric feminism that flourished during the popular front years. Over the next decades, the U.S.-supported militarization of the hemisphere, and the global schism between an individual-rights and capitalist-based “democracy” versus a social-rights-promoting communism, reshaped inter-American feminisms. In 1948, CIM became part of the Organization of American States (OAS), which replaced the Pan American Union as a tool to fight perceived communist threats in the hemisphere and justify intervention against left-wing movements or governments that challenged US capitalism’s hegemony. Many CIM delegates allied closely with dictatorships that burnished “democratic” credentials by promoting a limited notion of women’s rights, defined by women’s suffrage and, to some degree, civil equality. The CIM delegate from Nicaragua, Olga Núñez de Saballos, represented the Somoza regime, CIM’s Paraguayan delegate Isabel Arrúa Vallejos received support from the Stroessner dictatorship that granted women’s suffrage in 1961.31 After 1961, CIM focused energies on supporting John F. Kennedy’s Alliance for Progress. In this context, “feminism,” associated with narrow reforms and US-supported anti-communism, became a suspicious term for many on the left. Yet leftist women’s groups continued to organize transnationally for women’s rights and social justice. The Women’s International Democratic Federation, or Federación International Democrática de Mujeres (FIDM), became a fount of activism in the region. Founded in 1945 by anti-fascist European feminists and affiliated with the Comintern, FIDM promoted anti-colonialism, anti-racism, and anti-imperialism and grew to become the largest global feminist group in the world. From the 1940s through the 1960s, FIDM chapters emerged in Latin America – in Chile, Brazil, Guatemala, and elsewhere.32 These groups demonstrated on International Women’s Day to signal global solidarity with local working women’s struggles. In Brazil, the FIDM-linked Federação de Mulheres do Brasil (FMB) founded in 1949, established organizations in all major states and among the popular sectors.33 They demanded rights for rural and domestic workers and detained women; for state recognition of maternity and childcare; and for women’s representation in positions of political power. They led effective protests against rising food prices and food shortages and helped organize textile workers in the successful strike of 300,000 in 1953. In 1956, president Juscelino Kubitschek extinguished this organization. Elsewhere in the Americas where communist parties were outlawed, other FIDM-connected groups faced repression.34 In 1959, Cuba’s revolution stoked new hopes for a leftist hemispheric feminism, and FIDM played a key role here. The November 1959 FIDM-sponsored Primer Congreso Latinoamericano de Mujeres in Santiago, Chile, was critical to Vilma Espín and other revolutionary Cuban women creating the Congreso de Mujeres Cubanas por la Liberación de Latinoamérica, which 276 Latin America and the Caribbean became the Federación de Mujeres Cubanas (FMC). FMC influenced the initiatives that Fidel Castro called “a revolution within a revolution” – state-run childcare, communal eating, and laundry facilities that enabled more women to enter the workforce and aided those who already worked outside of their home.35 Such initiatives built on long-standing feminist demands in Cuba and on women’s mobilization in the revolution.36 At the same time, “feminism” was deemed a bourgeois import, and though Castro’s regime promoted some women’s rights, it also stifled discussion of gender-based harms. The “New Lefts” of the 1960s and 1970s that the Cuban revolution so inspired set the stage for new iterations of hemispheric feminisms. Toward revolutionary hemispheric feminisms: Democracy in the home and in the streets! The “New Lefts” that grew throughout the Americas in opposition to US empire and military dictatorships, and global feminist links generated by the 1975 International Women’s Year (IWY) Conference, incubated a new generation of hemispheric feminist thinkers and groups in the 1970s and 1980s. After a series of military juntas, including in Brazil from 1964, in Bolivia from 1971, in Uruguay and Chile from 1973, and in Argentina from 1976, leftist social movements mobilized, powered by a new generation of students inspired by the Cuban revolution and outraged by the 1968 Tlatelolco Massacre. After the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965), these activists were also deeply influenced by liberation theology, which operated through base communities with the poorest sectors and emphasized class-based structures of domination, exploitation, and political control over the poor. Increasingly, women in these comunidades eclesiales de base, or Christian base communities, and in leftist movements, theorized the deeply embedded systems of patriarchal power as akin to class and political oppression. These connections became clearer when leftist male counterparts refused to address sex-based injustices. Such feminist insights often emerged from local and national struggles. In Chile, a September 11, 1973, military coup led by General Augusto Pinochet, with US support, resulted in the detention, torture, and “disappearance,” of around 28,000 people. Grassroots movements of women in shantytowns and of domestic workers made illustrated quilts, or arpilleras, to speak out about the disappearances of their loved ones (akin to the mobilizations of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo in Argentina), in collaboration with Christian base communities. These efforts ultimately merged with a new movement of women who called themselves “feministas.” The sexual violence perpetrated on female political prisoners made plain the interconnected nature of sexual violence and state violence. Facing tear gas and rubber bullets, Chilean women began to take to the streets, demanding “democracy in the home and in the streets.”37 Chilean feminists gained support from thousands of activists who descended upon Mexico City in 1975 for the UN IWY Conference. In the formal intergovernmental forum, but even more so in the large, unplanned non-governmental organization (NGO) tribune that attracted 4,000 women from around the world, feminists formed alliances to shape the official conference’s resolutions. Because of its Mexico City location, Latin American women were well represented and influenced events. The “Coalition of Latin American Women,” for instance, stood up to a group of feminists led by US leader Betty Friedan who sought to speak for the entire tribune. The Latin American coalition espoused a broad agenda. In addition to women’s political rights, rights to control their own fertility, and “an end to the commercial and sexual exploitation of women’s bodies,” they sought “socialization of domestic tasks through construction of infrastructure for child care, community kitchens, and production and consumption cooperatives.”38 They also insisted upon immigrants’ rights, freedom for political prisoners, unionization for rural workers, and “sovereign control over national wealth.” This coalition’s members overlapped with 277 Katherine M. Marino those in another group, “Women against Imperialism,” which included Bolivian tin miner’s wife and housewife organizer Domitilia Chungara de Barrios, and that opposed US imperialism and exposed atrocities under the Bolivian and Chilean dictatorships.39 The broad goals the “Coalition of Latin American Feminists” embraced – and their prioritization of women’s political equality, socialization of domestic tasks and reproductive labor, sexual and reproductive freedom, and the global political economy – gained hemispheric resonance over the next decade. Most notably, these goals were baked into the revolutions that broke out between 1978 and 1979 in Nicaragua and El Salvador. Women formed a third of both the Sandinista rebels in Nicaragua who overthrew the US-supported government of Anastasio Somoza Debayle and the military-civilian junta that overthrew the government of Carlos Humberto Romero in El Salvador.40 In Nicaragua, the Luisa Amanda Espinoza Association of Nicaraguan Women (AMNLAE) pressured the new revolutionary government to replace the sole legal authority men had over families with equal rights for mothers and fathers, recognize common-law marriage and end discrimination against “illegitimate” children, guarantee women’s rights to equal wages and paid maternity leave, ban sexually exploitive advertising, and “fund . . . literacy, legal advice, and health programs directed toward women.”41 These gains, however, would be short-lived after the US-backed Contra War in the region. The “Coalition of Latin American Women” also influenced what became the Encuentros Feministas Latinoamericanos y del Caribe, regional feminist gatherings to define a hemispheric agenda. The first occurred in Bogotá, Colombia, in 1981, and others followed in Lima (1983), Brazil (1985), Mexico (1987), Argentina (1990), El Salvador (1993), Chile (1996), the Dominican Republic (1999), Costa Rica (2002), Brazil (2005), continuing today. The first encuentro generated intense debate over the compatibility of leftist and feminist politics.42 But, as historian and activist Maryssa Navarro remembers, it also highlighted shared goals, including “the conviction that Latin American feminism should be committed to profound social change and . . . direct its activities to women of the most oppressed sectors.”43 As scholar Verónica Schild has explained, feminism in the 1970s and 1980s grew out of awareness of the “failure of developmentalism” in Latin America – “not least in the absence of redistributive land reform – to mitigate poverty and inequality in the region” and how that hurt women and families. This emphasis was central to what this generation called “popular feminism,” an approach that engaged grassroots activism of popular and rural sectors.44 The first 1981 encuentro also helped solidify the theoretical insight that feminists living under dictatorships understood – the connections between personal or private forms of violence and state violence. Drawing on Chilean theorist Julieta Kirkwood, who had promoted the slogan “Democracy in the country, in the house and in the bed,” conversations at the 1981 encuentro explored how military authoritarianism represented “the ‘highest expression’ of patriarchal oppression.”45 They declared November 25 the International Day against Violence against Women, a date now recognized by the UN, in honor of the Mirabal sisters killed by the Trujillo dictatorship in the Dominican Republic.46 These consciousness-raising encuentros helped legitimize and advance feminist theory and activism. Over 150 new feminist magazines and periodicals emerged in Latin America between 1980 and 1988.47 In Chile, women’s long-standing resistance culminated in a mass demonstration of 10,000 women in December 1983 at the Caupolicán theater in Santiago.48 These women played a central role in bringing down the Pinochet regime and paving the way toward re-democratization. Although the new Christian Democrat government sidelined feminists’ efforts to place women’s rights at the center of political power in the new constitution, Chilean and other feminist groups throughout the region continued to mobilize autonomously. 278 Latin America and the Caribbean The encuentros also generated new, public debate about reproductive rights, abortion, and sexuality.49 Although the first meeting did not include a workshop on lesbianism, the 1983 gathering’s workshop on patriarchy and lesbianism was one of its most well-attended events.50 These meetings helped lesbian feminists build regional connections that in turn spurred organizing in Peru, Brazil, Mexico, Chile, Argentina, the Dominican Republic, and elsewhere. In 1987, the Primer Encuentro de Lesbianas Feministas Latinoamericanas y Caribeñas in Mexico featured “workshops on self-defense, lesbian mothers, healing and spirituality, [and] sexuality,” among other topics. As Norma Mogrevejo explains, hemispheric lesbian feminism understands compulsory heterosexuality as akin to other forms of political oppression, including capitalism, patriarchy, colonialism, and racism.51 The encuentros, however, were often dominated by middle-class and mestiza women and did not critique racism centrally.52 In the 1970s and 1980s, emerging from Black consciousness movements throughout the Americas and longer lineages of African-descended feminisms, Afro–Latin American feminists condemned patriarchy and racism within Latin American feminisms. On International Women’s Day in 1987, the Linea de Acción Femenina del Instituto de Investigaciones Afroperuano and Grupo de Mujeres del Movimiento Negro “Francisco Congo” signed a “Manifesto of Black Peruvian Women” that objected to racism against Black women, including their portrayals as domestic, servile, or sexual.53 Afro-Brazilian feminist Lélia Gonzalez’s 1988 essay, “For a Latin American Afro-Feminism,” shattered the myth of Latin American “racial democracy,” articulating the unique and concrete violence perpetrated against Black and Indigenous women. She called for an Afrodescendant Latin American feminism.54 Over the next decade, Afro–Latin American feminist groups grew, addressing domestic violence, domestic work, reproductive healthcare, education, the environment, and urban housing. In 1992 a Network of Afro-Latin American and Caribbean Women gathered for the first time in the Dominican Republic.55 This network utilized the 1995 UN Beijing World Conference on Women to insist that racism and racial violence were central to transnational feminism and to the slogan that conference popularized – “women’s rights are human rights.”56 They built on their network in 2000 by founding the Strategic Alliance of Afrodescendents in Santiago, Chile. This Alliance pushed through intersectional human rights resolutions that were both anti-racist and feminist at the UN Conference against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia, and Related Intolerances, in Durban, South Africa, in September 2001.57 These and other human rights resolutions have been critical levers in local and national mobilizations throughout the Americas. But Afro–Latin American and Caribbean feminisms encompass more radical goals as well. In the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, Afrodescendant and Indigenous feminists have been at the forefront of transformative visions of decolonial feminism – one that fights patriarchy, racism, classism, neocolonialism, compulsory heterosexuality, and neoliberalism as interconnected systems.58 Feministas against neoliberalism from the Zapatista uprising to today Decolonial feminism has been at the heart of the Zapatista struggle against the Mexican government and against global capitalism. On January 1, 1994, the day the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) came into force, the Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional took over civil centers in the southern Mexican state of Chiapas and demanded Indigenous rights and autonomy. One-third of the armed insurgents were Indigenous women. The Zapatista Women’s Revolutionary Law promoted women’s rights as well as rights to land and protection of territory, to cultural traditions and forms of political representation and jurisprudence, and 279 Katherine M. Marino to natural resources of the land. It also opened new spaces for feminist conversation in Chiapas, where women began to question lack of access to control over reproduction and reproductive healthcare.59 Even before this uprising, Latin American feminists had organized across borders to critique the growth of neoliberal regimes that hurt poor women and children the most. In the 1980s, the US-backed Contra War and death squads throughout Central America arose alongside shifts from state-sponsored economies to neoliberal market economies emphasizing free trade, privatization, and reduction of the public sector. Women’s labor burdens increased as they struggled to meet the needs of their families. Feminists (many of whom had been connected to FIDM and the Cuban, Nicaraguan, and Salvadorean revolutions) came together in the Frente Continental de Mujeres contra la Intervención (Continental Front of Women against Intervention), challenging US militarism and International Monetary Fund (IMF) and World Bank economic policies.60 Over the past decades, feminists have foregrounded an anti-neoliberal critique in some of their most transformative regional movements for justice. The 1994 Chiapas uprising opened new spaces for Indigenous Latin American feminist organizing. Indigenous women’s groups grew alongside community mobilizations in Mexico, Panama, Ecuador, Colombia, and Guatemala, whose Rigoberta Menchú, a K’iche’ Guatemalan feminist, won the 1992 Nobel Prize for Peace for her testimony about the violence against Indigenous people during the Guatemalan Civil War.61 In 1995, in preparation for the Beijing Conference, Indigenous groups in Mexico and Ecuador organized the Continental Encuentro of Indigenous Women of the First Nations of Abya Yala (continent of life) in Quito. This meeting brought together over 170 Indigenous women from 20 countries and created the Enlace Continental de Mujeres Indígenas de las Américas (ECMIA).62 ECMIA advocates for the rights of Indigenous women of all ethnicities and languages in the Americas and utilizes international bodies like the UN to promote and leverage their demands.63 Their reports have raised continental attention to human rights abuses, such as the mass sterilization of Indigenous women in Peru under President Alberto Fujimori, and have demanded redress for violence against Indigenous women and youth. ECMIA acknowledges that violence has multiple dimensions: interpersonal and structural, public and private, or government-related and non-government related. It fights against “political, social, economic, spiritual, physical, sexual, psychological” violence as well as that “related to the natural environment.64 In the 1990s, indigenous women in the Americas also started promoting “feminismo comunitario” or “community feminism” an approach that draws on indigenous people’s ancestral connections to the land and understanding of links across the Americas. Julieta Paredes Carvajal, of the Aymara in Bolivia and Lorena Cabnal, from the Maya Xinka in Guatemala, emphasize that, in Cabnal’s words, “patriarchy, colonialism, racism, capitalism (which is now neoliberalism) create a situation in which we indigenous women are the most impoverished on this continent,” and that recognizing these interrelated forms of oppression is central to organizing against that injustice and violence. This approach has also been popularized as “feminismos de Abya Yala.”65 Connections between gender-based violence and neoliberalism also emerged around trade union and labor justice organizing. Maquiladoras – assembly plants in state-owned free trade zones that target and exploit typically young female workers – dramatically grew along the US/ Mexico border after NAFTA (and later throughout Central American after CAFTA in 2005). In 1990s the unsolved murders of women, including maquiladora workers, in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, catalyzed a focus on femicide, what Latin American feminist theorists have called “feminicide,” drawing on the legacy of Chilean feminists from the 1970s, to signal both state and individual violence.66 Mexican poet and activist Susana Chávez Castillo, who herself was killed 280 Latin America and the Caribbean for her activism in Ciudad Juárez, coined the slogan “Ni una mujer menos, ni una muerte más” (“not one woman less, not one more death”).67 In October 2016, hundreds of thousands of women in Argentina launched a new #NiUnaMenos movement against feminicide when they held a national strike and took to the streets to protest the rape and murder of a 16-year-old girl. Their demonstration set off protests throughout Chile, Bolivia, Mexico, Uruguay, Honduras, Paraguay, Ecuador, Costa Rica, El Salvador, and elsewhere. This slogan and now hashtag #NiUnaMenos has exploded in the Latin American public sphere, confronting also the “blue tide” of right-wing governments that emerged in the region since the mid-2010s alongside a growth in socially conservative evangelical communities. #NiUnaMenos focuses on violence against cisgender and trans women, reproductive justice, and LGBTQ rights.68 #NiUnaMenos has coincided with and been reinforced by a transnational movement for legal and safe abortions, also with roots in Argentina. In most Latin American countries, abortion is illegal, except for some exceptions such as saving the life of the woman. Activists throughout the Americas have worn the pañuelo verde, or green headscarves, in explicit reference to the white scarves worn by Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo during the Argentine dictatorship to demand safe, legal, and free abortions. On November 25, 2019, this ferment came together on the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women, when the feminist collective Las Tesis performed the song and dance “Un violador en tu camino” (“A Rapist in Your Path”) in Valparaíso, Chile. In the midst of protests over pervasive inequality and rising cost of living, the anthem highlighted how patriarchal violence and lack of access to legal and safe abortions were linked to these social and economic inequalities. Inspired by Argentine-Brazilian theorist Rita Laura Segato and her argument that rape is a political act, their lyrics emphasized the interconnections of patriarchal power and state violence: “We know the rapist is you. It’s the cops. The judges. It’s the state. The President. It’s the state that’s our oppressor.”69 The performance went viral. Days later, women performed it in the streets throughout the Americas and in Spain, the United Kingdom, France, Turkey, and elsewhere. Las Tesis and other feminist groups that challenge right-wing powers face violent repression. Berta Cáceres, a Lenca Indigenous and environmental activist in Honduras, helped lead a grassroots movement to pressure the world’s largest dam builder to pull out of the Agua Zarca Dam. Cáceres explicitly connected patriarchy to US imperialism, Honduran militarism, racism, and environmental destruction. She was assassinated in 2016. Her friend and Garifuna activist Miriam Miranda called her murder “machista,” explaining that “they killed a woman who dared speak out against a patriarchal system.”70 Marielle Franco, an Afro-Brazilian council member and human rights defender, spoke out for Afro-Brazilian, LGBTQ, and women’s rights. She mounted a grassroots movement against police violence in Afro-Brazilian communities and against extrajudicial violence that she connected to a long history of Latin American militarism facilitated by US financial support and training. She was assassinated in 2018, and her killer has not been identified.71 In the face of enormous obstacles, feminists in the Americas continue to organize in creative and hemispheric ways, keeping alive the memories of Cáceres, Franco, and many before them. Their grassroots and transnational movements have borne fruit. In the wake of Las Tesis’s and other feminists’ activism, Chile’s 2020 national plebiscite approved writing a new constitution addressing entrenched social inequalities. Chile is the first country in the world to have gender parity in its Constitutional Convention, and its convention, which also reserves a proportion of seats for Indigenous representatives, elected a Mapuche woman, Elisa Loncón, to preside over it.72 At the end of 2020, after decades of tireless feminist organizing, 281 Katherine M. Marino Argentina’s Senate passed a law legalizing abortion up to the 14th week of pregnancy and in cases of rape or danger to the mother’s life. These events have already had ripple effects. In September, 2021, Mexico’s Supreme Court voted to legalize abortion, and more advances in women’s rights are expected in Latin America and the Caribbean.73 The activists responsible for them share the insights that Clara González articulated in 1926 – that regional solidarity is transformative. Powered by a long history of catalytic Latin American and Caribbean feminisms, they continue to fight. Notes 1 Clara González, “La muer latin-americana ante la conquista de sus derechos políticos,” La Ley 2, nos. 16–18 (1926): 865–93; Yolanda Marco Serra, Clara González de Behringer: Biografía (Panama: Edición Hans Roeder, 2007); Katherine M. Marino, Feminism for the Americas: The Making of an International Human Rights Movement (Chapel Hill, NC: UNC Press, 2019), 40–53. 2 Francesca Gargallo, Las Ideas Feministas Latinoamericanas (Mexico: Universidad Autónoma de la Ciudad de México, 2006), 13. 3 Jayne Boisvert, “Colonial Hell and Female Slave Resistance in Saint-Domingue,” Journal of Haitian Studies 7, no. 1 (Spring 2001): 69–73. 4 Constância Lima Duarte, Nísia Floresta, a primeira feminista do Brasil (Florianópolis: Editora Mulheres, 2005); Isabela Candeloro Campo, “O libro ‘Direitos das mulheres e injustiça dos homens’ de Nísia Floresta: literatura, mulheres e o Brasil do século XIX,” Revista de História (São Paulo) 30, no. 2 (August– December 2011): 196–213. 5 Julyan G. Peard, “Enchanted Edens and Nation-Making: Juana Mansó, Education, Women and Trans-American Encounters in Nineteenth-Century Argentina,” Journal of Latin American Studies 40, no. 3 (August 2008): 453–82. 6 Quoted in Teresa Prados-Torreira, Mambisas: Rebel Women in Nineteenth-Century Cuba (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2005), 84. 7 Kathleen Weaver, “Flora Tristan, Precursor Lecture by Magda Portal,” Journal of International Women’s Studies 20, no. 6 ( June 2019): 4–22. 8 Camillia Cowling, Conceiving Freedom: Women of Color, Gender, and the Abolition of Slavery in Havana and Rio de Janeiro (Chapel Hill, NC: UNC Press, 2013); Jessica Marie Johnson, Wicked Flesh: Black Women, Intimacy, and Freedom in the Atlantic World (Philadelphia: Pennsylvania University Press, 2020). 9 Maxine Molyneux, “No God, No Boss, No Husband: Anarchist Feminism in Nineteenth-Century Argentina,” Latin American Perspectives 13, no. 1 (Winter 1986): 119–45; Vicki Ruiz, “Class Acts: Latina Feminist Tradition, 1900–1930,” American Historical Review 121, no. 1 (February 2016): 1–16. 10 Sonia Hernández, “Chicanas in the Borderlands: Trans-Border Conversations of Feminism and Anarchism, 1905–1938,” in A Promising Problem: The New Chicana/o History of the Twenty-First Century, ed. Carlos K. Blanton (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2016), 135–60. 11 Marino, Feminism for the Americas, 16. 12 Francesca Miller, Latin American Women and the Search for Social Justice (Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 1991), 75. 13 Asunción Lavrin, Women, Feminism, and Social Change in Argentina, Chile, and Uruguay, 1890–1940 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1995), 16. 14 Gargallo, Las ideas feministas, 83–4. Stephanie Rivera Berruz, “Latin American Feminism,” in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philsopsophy, ed. Edward N. Zalta (Spring 2020), accessed September 18, 2020, https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/spr2020/entries/feminism-latin-america/ last. 15 Marino, Feminism for the Americas, chapters 3–6. 16 Berruz, “Latin American Feminism;” 39; Leta McGaffey, Honduras: Cultures of the World (New York: Marshall Cavendish, 2000), 39. 17 Karina E. Oliva Alvarado, Transnational Lives and Texts: Writing and Theorizing U.S./Central American Subjectivities (PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley, 2007), 158–64. 18 Grace Sanders, La Voix des Femmes: Haitian Women’s Rights, National Politics, and Black Activism in Portau-Prince and Montreal, 1934–1936 (PhD diss., University of Michigan, 2013). 19 Quoted in Mariblanca Sabas Alomá, Feminismo (Santiago de Cuba: Editorial Oriente, 2003, original publication 1930), 171. María Teresa Vera-Rojas, “Polémicas, Feministas, Puertorriqueñas y 282 Latin America and the Caribbean 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 Desconocidas: Clotilde Betances Jaeger, María Mas Pozo y sus ‘Charlas Femeninas’ en el Gráfico de Nueva York, 1929–1930,” Centro Journal 22, no. 2 (2010): 5–33. Marino, Feminism for the Americas, 35–6; Gabriela Cano, Se llamaba Elena Arizmendi (Mexico: Tusquets Editores, 2010). Marino, Feminism for the Americas, 117–18. Marino, Feminism for the Americas, Chapters 5 and 6. Susie S. Porter, From Angel to Office Worker: Middle Class Identity and Female Consciousness in Mexico, 1890–1950 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2018), 11–12 and Chapter 6. Jocelyn Olcott, Revolutionary Women in Postrevolutionary Mexico (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2005); Karin Rosemblatt, Gendered Compromises: Political Culture and the State in Chile, 1920–1950 (Chapel Hill, NC: UNC Press, 2000). Keisha N. Blain, Set the World on Fire: Black Nationalist Women and the Global Struggle for Freedom (Philadelphia: U Penn Press, 2018). Elisabeth Pinto, Etnicidade, Gênero e Educação: A Trajetória de Vida de Da Laudelina de Campos Melo (1904–1991 (Vol 1 MA Dissertation, Universidade Estadual de Campinas/Faculdade de Educação, 1993), http://antigo.acordacultura.org.br/herois/heroi/laudelina. Mónica Garía Martínez, “Mujeres afrouruguayas en el contexto del Primer Congreso Nacional de Mujeres del Uruguay (1936),” Corups 8, no. 2 (2018): 1–20; Caroll Mills Young, “From Voicelessness to Voice: Womanist Writers of the Black Uruguayan Press,” Afro-Hispanic Review 23, no. 2 (Fall 2004): 33–8. “Temario del Tercer Congreso Nacional de Mujeres,” 1939, caja 675, no. 17, Archivo de Ofelia Domínguez Navarro, Archivo Nacional de Cuba, Havana, Cuba; Takkara K. Brunson, Black Women, Citizenship, and the Making of Modern Cuba (Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 2021). Takkara Keosha Brunson, “‘In the General Interest of All Conscious Women’: Race, Class, and the Cuban Women’s Movement, 1923–1939,” Cuban Studies 46 (2018): 159–82. Marino, Feminism for the Americas, Chapter 8. Ibid., 224; Rebecca Adami, Women and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (New York: Routledge, 2020), Chapter 7; Gabriela Cano and Patricia Vega, Amalia González Caballero de Castillo Ledón: Entre las letras, el poder y la diplomacia ([Ciudad Victoria, Mexico]: Instituto Tamaulipeco para la Cultura y las Artes, 2106). Lorena Soler, “Mujeres y redes internacionales. La Liga Paraguaya Pro Derechos de la Mujer (1951– 1962) como parte de las disputas de la Guerra Fría,” Descentrada 3, no. 1 (marzo–agosto 2019). Francisca de Haan, “La Federación Democrática Internacional de Mujeres (FDIM) y América Latina, de 1945 a los años setenta,” Queridas camaradas: Historias iberoamericanas de mujeres comunistas, eds. Adriana Valobra y Mercedes Yusta (Buenos Aires: Miño y Dávila, 2017), 17–44. Mariza Campos da Paz, Nieta dos campos da paz (Rio de Janeiro: Mauad Editora Ltda, 2012), 69; de Haan, “La Federación Democrática Internacional de Mujeres,” 31. Miller, Latin American Women, 143; Hildete Pereira de Melo y Cintia Rodrigues, “La trayectoria de las mujeres comunistas brasileñas: una historia sin contar,” Queridas camaradas, 106–7. Michelle Chase, “La Federación Democrática de Mujeres Cubanas: de la República a la Revolución,” in Queridas camaradas, 210–11; Adriana María Valobra, “‘Mujeres-sombra’ y ‘Barbudas’: Género y política en el Primer Congreso Latinoamericano de Mujeres, Chile – 1959,” Anuario del Instituto de Historia Argentina 14 (2014): 1–17. Michelle Chase, Revolution within the Revolution: Women and Gender Politics in Cuba, 1952–1962 (Chapel Hill, NC: UNC Press, 2015). Temma Kaplan, Taking Back the Streets: Women, Youth, and Direct Democracy (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2004), Chapter 3. Jocelyn Olcott, International Women’s Year: The Greatest Consciousness-Raising Event in History (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017), 171. Ibid., 171, 193. Karen Kampwirth, Feminism and the Legacy of Revolution: Nicaragua, El Salvador, Chiapas (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2004). Barbara J. Steitz, “From Home to Street: Women and Revolution in Nicaragua,” in Women Transforming Politics, ed. Jill M. Bystdzienski (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1992), 172; Norma Stoltz Chinchilla, “Revolutionary Popular Feminism in Nicaragua: Articulating Class, Gender, and National Sovereignty,” Gender & Society 4, no. 3 (September 1990): 380. Nancy Saporta Sternbach, Marysa Navarro, Patricia Chuchryk, and Sonia E. Alvarez, “Feminisms in Latin America: From Bogotá to San Bernardo,” Signs 17, no. 2 (1922): 393–434. 283 Katherine M. Marino 43 Marysa Navarro, “El primer encuentro feminista de Latinoamérica y el Caribe,” in Sociedad, subordinación y feminismo, ed. Magdalena León (Bogotá: Asociación Comobiana para el Estudio de la Población, 1982), 263. 44 Verónica Schild, “Feminism and Neoliberalism in Latin America,” New Left Review 96 (November– December 2015): 59–74. 45 Julieta Kirkwood, Ser política en Chile: Los Nudos de la sabiduria feminista (Santiago: Editorial Cuatro Propio, 1990); Sonia E. Álvarez, Engendering Democracy in Brazil: Women’s Movements in Transition Politics (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990), 7. 46 Elizabeth S. Manley, “Revitalizing Feminism in the Dominican Republic,” NACLA Report, November 17, 2018. Though the Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) was ratified the same year, it was not utilized in this campaign. On distinctions between the “internationalist identity-solidarity logic [that] prevailed in the ‘encuentro-like’ intra-regional feminist activism of the 1980s and 1990s” versus the “transnational IGO-advocacy logic [that] came to predominate in region-wide feminist organizing [in Latin America] around the Rio, Vienna, Cairo, and Beijing Summits of the 1990s,” see Sonia E. Álvarez, “Translating the Global Effects of Transnational Organizing on Local Feminist Discourses and Practices in Latin America,” Meridians 1, no. 1 (2000): 29–67. 47 Jadwiga E. Pieper Mooney, “Forging Feminisms under Dictatorship: Women’s International Ties and National Feminist Empowerment in Chile, 1973–1990,” Women’s History Review 19, no. 4 (2010): 618. 48 Kaplan, Taking Back the Streets, 81. 49 Pieper Mooney, “Forging Feminisms under Dictatorship,” 619. 50 Norma Mogrovejo, “The Latin American Lesbian Movement,” in Provocations: A Transnational Reader in the History of Feminist Thought, eds. Susan Bordo, M. Cristina Alcalde, and Ellen Rosenman (Oakland: University of California Press, 2015), 315. 51 Yvonne Yarbro-Bejarano, “Primer encuentro de lesbianas feministas latinoamericanas y caribeñas,” in Third Woman: The Sexuality of Latinas, eds. Norma Alarcón, Ana Castillo, and Cherríe Moraga (Berkeley, CA: Third Woman Press, 1989), 143; Mogrovejo, “Latin American Lesbian Movement,” 317. 52 Alejandra Restrepo and Ximena Bustamante, 10 Encuentros Feministas Latinoamericanos y del Caribe: Apuntes para una historia en movimiento (Mexico City: XI Encuentro Feminista Comité Impulsor, 2009), 38–9. 53 Quoted in Lélia Gonzalez, “Por um Feminismo Afro-Latino-Americano, 1988,” www.leliagonzalez. org.br. 54 Ibid.; Keisha-Kahn Y. Perry and Edilza Sotero, “Amerfricanidade: The Black Diaspora Feminism of Lélia Gonzalez,” LASA Forum 50, no. 3 (2019): 60–4. 55 Jessica Franklin, “Race, Gender, and Human Rights: A Glimpse into the Transnational Feminist Organization of Afro-Brazilian Women,” in Transnational Borderlands in Women’s Global Networks: The Making of Cultural Resistance, eds. Clara Román-Odio and Marta Sierra (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 142; Augstín Laó-Montes, “Afro-Latin American Feminisms at the Cutting Edge of Emerging Political-Epistemic Movements,” Meridians 14, no. 2 (2016): 1–24. 56 Augstín Laó-Montes and Mirangela Buggs, “Translocal Space of Afro-Latinidad/Critical Feminist Visions for Diasporic Bridge-Building,” in Translocalities/Translocalidades: Feminist Politics of Translation in the Latin/a Américas, eds., Sonia E. Alvarez, Claudia de Lima Costa, Verónica Feliu, Rebecca Hester, Norma Klahn, and Millie Thayer (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2014), 389. 57 Sylvanna M. Falcón, Power Interrupted: Antiracist and Feminist Activism inside the United Nations (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2015); Laó-Montes, “Afro-Latin American Feminisms,” 3. 58 Ochy Curiel, “Descolonizando el feminismo: Una perspectiva desde America Latina y el Caribe.” 59 Blackwell, “Weaving in the Spaces: Indigenous Women’s Organizing and the Politics of Scale in Mexico,” in Dissident Women: Gender and Cultural Politics in Chiapas, eds. Shannon Speed, R. Aída Hernández Castillo, and Lynn M. Stephen (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2013), 121. 60 Schild, “Feminism and Neoliberalism in Latin America,” Encuentro Continental de Mujeres, III Encuentro Continental de Mujeres: relatoría Comisión 1, relatoría Comisión 2, relatoría Comisión 3, declaración final (La Habana, Cuba, 1988). 61 Blackwell, “Weaving in the Space,” 115. 62 Ibid., 143–4. 63 Ibid., 125, 143–4. 64 Continental Network of Indigenous Women of the Americas, ECMIA, and CHIRAPAQ, Centro de Culturas Indígenas del Perú, Violence and Indigenous Women, Document presented to the CSW57, March 2013. 284 Latin America and the Caribbean 65 Juliana Britto Schwartz, “Latinas Feministas: Lorena Cabnal,” Feministing, October 4, 2021, http:// feministing.com/2013/12/20/latinas-feministas-lorena-cabnal/; Dora Barrancos, Historia minima de los feminismos en América Latina (México: El Colegio de México, 2020), 222–8. 66 Rosa-Linda Fregoso and Cynthia Bejarano, Terrorizing Women: Feminicide in the Américas (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2010), 5. 67 Elisabeth Jay Friedman and Constanza Tabbush, “#NiUnaMenos: Not One Woman Less, Not One More Death!,” NACLA Report, November 1, 2016. 68 Ibid. 69 Mar Pichel, “Rita Segato, la feminista cuyas tesis inspiraron ‘Un violador en tu camino,’” BBC News Mundo, December 11, 2019. 70 Nina Lakhani, Who Killed Berta Cáceres? Dams, Death Squads, and an Indigenous Defender’s Battle for the Planet (New York: Verso Books, 2020), 148. 71 Flávia Santos de Araújo, “Marielle, Presente!” Meridians: Feminism, Race, Transnationalism 17, no. 1 (September 2018): 207–11. 72 Eva Ontiveros, “Elisa Loncón: From Poverty to PhD to Writing Chile’s Constitution,” BBC World Service, July 11, 2021, https://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-america-57733539 (accessed October 4, 2021). 73 Patrick J. McDonnell and Kate Linthicum, “Across Latin America, Abortion Restrictions Are Being Loosened,” Los Angeles Times, September 12, 2021. 285