In Abolitionist Intimacies, Eithne Luibhéid examines writings by and about queer- and trans-identified migrants and allies who contest pervasive US immigration practices and work toward a future without detention, deportation, and border controls. Luibhéid shows how these migrants and activists confront such controls by mobilizing intimacies—forging close connections in order to survive in the present. From forms of kinship beyond the heterosexual nuclear family to networks of solidarity, intimacies allow queer and trans migrants and allies to challenge the infrastructures that support the deportation state: proposed pathways to citizenship for undocumented migrants; marriage as a means for legalization; traffic interactions as a pipeline to deportation; and queer and trans migrant detention. In the process, activists and theorists have advanced new visions and configurations of possible intimacies that not only challenge deportation but also rework what immigration control and citizenship could mean. By focusing on these abolitionist efforts as well as the publicly available records on queer and trans deportees, Luibhéid highlights the new understandings that emerge when the experiences of queer and trans people are centered.

Where and to whom do ancient things belong? What happens when they are stolen—not by a colonial power, but by a national museum claiming them as state patrimony? What kinds of healing and restitution can follow? In The Absent Stone, Sandra Rozental tells the story of the Piedra de los Tecomates, the largest stone monument in the Americas, popularly identified as the pre-Hispanic rain deity Tlaloc. In 1964, the Mexican state called in the military to forcefully relocate this 167-ton carving from the town of Coatlinchan to Mexico City’s National Anthropology Museum. Using in-depth historical and ethnographic research, Rozental traces how the stone’s absence continues to affect and unsettle Coatlinchan and its residents decades later, revealing the tensions between patrimony, nationalism, territory, memory, and materiality in Mexico. Questioning the premise that historical artifacts belong in museums under state-sanctioned care, The Absent Stone pushes contemporary critical scholarship on monuments and museum collections beyond the language of law, heritage, and cultural property, demonstrating how ancient things remain bound to the people and places they come from even after they are removed and displayed elsewhere.

In Acoustic Colonialism, Luis E. Cárcamo-Huechante examines the role of sound in Chilean and Mapuche cultural production over the last two centuries. Cárcamo-Huechante theorizes sound as a territory of racial, patriarchal, and colonial hegemony as well as of Mapuche struggle, agency, and response to what he calls "acoustic colonialism." From the mid-nineteenth century to the present, Chilean literature, radio, and other media have exerted a historic role in disseminating distorted visual and sonic representations of the Mapuche. The enduring effects of what Cárcamo-Huechante defines as the colonial ear—the entry point for these misrepresentations—reflect the logic of the Chilean settler nation-state. In response to these aural and sonorous figurations, contemporary Mapuche writers, artists, and activists have produced their own literary, radiophonic, vocal, and musical expressions. The voices, sounds, and discourses of these Mapuche productions contest and disrupt the acoustic colonialism that has dominated the soundscape of the territory designated in present-day cartography as central and southern Chile. 

Acts of Repair explores how ordinary people grapple with decades of political violence and genocide in Argentina—a history that includes the Holocaust, the political repression of the 1976–1983 dictatorship, and the 1994 AMIA bombing. Although the struggle against impunity seems inevitably incomplete, Argentines have created possibilities for repair through cultural memory, yielding spaces for transformation and agency critical to personal and political recovery.
 

In After Caliban, Erica Moiah James examines the rise of global Caribbean artists in the 1990s and their production of a decolonized art history for the Caribbean. She draws on Aimé Césaire’s rewriting of Shakespeare’s The Tempest, in which Caliban becomes the sole author of his own story, dissolving his fixed position as colonized in relation to Prospero as colonizer. James shows how visual artists such as Marc Latamie, Janine Antoni, Belkis Ayón, Edouard Duval-Carrié, and Christopher Cozier followed Césaire’s model by employing a range of practices and methodologies that refused marginalization. Just as Césaire decolonized The Tempest, so too did these artists, who crafted a decolonial aesthetic that redefined their own cultural and historical narratives and positioned art as a key pathway toward a postcolonial future. By providing the foundation for a postcolonial, post-Caliban art world, these artists redefined the critical and popular notion of contemporary Caribbean art. At the same time, James argues, they fulfilled Césaire’s dream for a postcolonial Caribbean while creating a nonhegemonic art historical practice that exists beyond modern binaries and borders.

In Afterlives of Discovery, heidi andrea restrepo rhodes traces global and national histories as they entangle through the concept and material life of Discovery across Colombia’s evolution into a liberal settler colonial state. Rather than seeing Discovery as a singular event or bygone era, rhodes theorizes Discovery as a globally encompassing, racialized formation of domination and geographic speculation that continues to structure settler colonialism. Discovery’s logics, they argue, are rooted in colonial and capitalist fantasies projected onto the racialized space and place of the colonized other. rhodes draws on critical theory, human rights research, and Colombian archives to challenge dominant narratives that maintain the Colombian armed conflict began as a Marxist insurgency in 1964. Instead, rhodes shows that the conflict is an extension of Discovery’s ongoingness via projects of dispossession, extraction, whitening, and epistemic and political hegemony. Given that Colombia’s national past, present, and future are grounded in Discovery, rhodes asks: How is it possible to build futures that escape Discovery’s grasp?

In Alfredo Jaar, the first critical academic survey devoted to the prominent Chilean-born artist, Florencia San Martín shows how his work takes up mourning, accountability, and failure, offering a new model for how to think about global contemporary art today.

In Alfredo Jaar, Florencia San Martín analyzes the work of the prominent Chilean-born artist Alfredo Jaar, whose work challenges the linear and triumphalist temporality of Western modernity that obscures the violence of colonization and globalization. San Martín argues that Jaar’s work represents decolonial time, exposing the limits of the violent systems we inhabit. His art, she maintains, is informed by and responds to two interconnected historical events relevant to his own life: the US-backed military coup that established Pinochet’s dictatorship in Chile and the implementation around the world of the corollary neoliberal economic system. San Martín explores the key themes in Jaar’s artistic practice—mourning, accountability, and failure—which situate the victims of the Chilean regime in a global context, directly confront the architects of atrocity, and question how ideas of diversity and inclusion have been co-opted by modern neoliberal discourses. Alfredo Jaar enables us to reimagine art history, offering a fresh paradigm with which to think about global contemporary art.

What does it mean to belong in a nation? All Work Is Cultural Work examines how Haitian women living in diaspora find and create status through their work outside the home. Nikita Carney draws on ethnographic data gathered over several years in Boston, Montreal, and Paris with women who left Haiti in search of other things: safety, financial security, and opportunity. Ranging from administrative assistants to dancers to preschool teachers, the women in this study share their rich experiences, teaching us how they found a place in their new host nations through paid labor. Focusing on small, daily interactions in the workplace, these women’s narratives highlight the ways in which often invisible daily cultural practices build and re-build both the nation and the home. Taking into account the overlapping and interlocking systems of oppression her participants face both nationally and globally, Carney uses an intersectional analysis to illuminate how the workplace serves as a central site in which Haitian women become raced, gendered, and classed within the nation. Ultimately, the lives and experiences of these women point to one conclusion: culture is indivisible from labor and labor from culture, with paid labor providing a vital method for national culture to be created and recreated each and every day.
 

On the conservation frontier of southern Chile, the lives of smallholding settlers, Indigenous Mapuche farmers, environmental activists, entrepreneurs, and conservation scientists all grapple with the enduring impacts of settler-caused environmental depletion, aspirations for a new ethics of care, and the promises of an ecotourism boom. Here, the question of what it means to be human is not simply an existential concern but the reflexive result of experiences of becoming human through and with nonhuman others in an increasingly uncertain world.

Available to readers for the first time, Aimé Césaire’s three-act drama . . . . . . And the Dogs Were Silent—written during the Vichy regime in Martinique in 1943 and lost until 2008—dramatizes the Haitian Revolution and the rise and fall of Toussaint Louverture as its heroic leader. This bilingual English and French edition stands apart from Césaire’s more widely known 1946 closet drama. Following the slave revolts that sparked the revolution, Louverture arrives as both prophet and poet, general and visionary. With striking dramatic technique, Césaire retells the revolution in poignant encounters between rebels and colonial forces, guided by a prophetic chorus and Louverture’s steady ethical and political vision. In the last act, we reach the hero’s betrayal, his imprisonment, and his last stand against the lures of compromise. Césaire’s masterwork is a strikingly beautiful and brutal indictment of colonial cruelty and an unabashed celebration of Black rebellion and victory.

A new collection of essays reflecting on the centrality of writing anthropological practice from one of the discipline’s most influential thinkers.
 
Michael Taussig’s work is known for its critical insights and bold, experimental style. In the eleven essays in this new collection, Taussig reflects on the act of writing itself, demonstrating its importance for anthropological practice and calling for the discipline to keep experiential knowledge from being extinguished as fieldnotes become scholarship.
 
Setting out to show how this can be done, And the Garden Is You exemplifies a form of exploratory writing that preserves the spontaneity of notes scribbled down in haste. In these essays, the author’s reflections take us from his childhood in Sydney to trips to Afghanistan, Colombia, Finland, Italy, Turkey, and Syria. Along the way, Taussig explores themes of fabulation and provocation that are central to his life’s work, in addition to the thinkers dearest to him—Bataille, Benjamin, Burroughs, and Nietzsche, among others. This collection is vintage Taussig, bound to interest longtime readers and newcomers alike.
 

Native to a high valley in the Andes of Ecuador, the Otavalos are an indigenous people whose handcrafted textiles and traditional music are now sold in countries around the globe. Known as weavers and merchants since pre-Inca times, Otavalos today live and work in over thirty countries on six continents, while hosting more than 145,000 tourists annually at their Saturday market.

In this ethnography of the globalization process, Lynn A. Meisch looks at how participation in the global economy has affected Otavalo identity and culture since the 1970s. Drawing on nearly thirty years of fieldwork, she covers many areas of Otavalo life, including the development of weaving and music as business enterprises, the increase in tourism to Otavalo, the diaspora of Otavalo merchants and musicians around the world, changing social relations at home, the growth of indigenous political power, and current debates within the Otavalo community over preserving cultural identity in the face of globalization and transnational migration. Refuting the belief that contact with the wider world inevitably destroys indigenous societies, Meisch demonstrates that Otavalos are preserving many features of their culture while adopting and adapting modern technologies and practices they find useful.

Gregorio Condori Mamani and Asunta Quispe Huamán were runakuna, a Quechua word that means "people" and refers to the millions of indigenous inhabitants neglected, reviled, and silenced by the dominant society in Peru and other Andean countries. For Gregorio and Asunta, however, that silence was broken when Peruvian anthropologists Ricardo Valderrama Fernández and Carmen Escalante Gutiérrez recorded their life stories. The resulting Spanish-Quechua narrative, published in the mid-1970s and since translated into many languages, has become a classic introduction to the lives and struggles of the "people" of the Andes.

Andean Lives is the first English translation of this important book. Working directly from the Quechua, Paul H. Gelles and Gabriela Martínez Escobar have produced an English version that will be easily accessible to general readers and students, while retaining the poetic intensity of the original Quechua. It brings to vivid life the words of Gregorio and Asunta, giving readers fascinating and sometimes troubling glimpses of life among Cuzco's urban poor, with reflections on rural village life, factory work, haciendas, indigenous religion, and marriage and family relationships.

The Peruvian sociologist Aníbal Quijano is widely considered to be a foundational figure of the decolonial perspective grounded in three basic concepts: coloniality, coloniality of power, and the colonial matrix of power. His decolonial theorizations of these three concepts have transformed the principles and assumptions of the very idea of knowledge, impacted the social sciences and humanities, and questioned the myth of rationality in natural sciences. The essays in this volume encompass nearly thirty years of Quijano’s work, bringing them to an English-reading audience for the first time. This volume is not simply an introduction to Quijano’s work; it achieves one of his unfulfilled goals: to write a book that contains his main hypotheses, concepts, and arguments. In this regard, the collection encourages a fuller understanding and broader implementation of the analyses and concepts that he developed over the course of his long career. Moreover, it demonstrates that the tools for reading and dismantling coloniality originated outside the academy in Latin America and the former Third World.

A collection of new essays that brings archaeological insights and discoveries at the Tibes Ceremonial Center up to date

The Archaeology of Tibes is a collection of essays offering a fresh analysis of this important ceremonial center. It brings new insights about social structure, illuminating the smaller-scale daily lives of ancient peoples rather than focusing on large-scale chiefdoms.

Tibes is the earliest known (ca. 400 to 1300 CE) ceremonial center in Puerto Rico. It has been the focus of one of the largest and longest-running archaeological programs in the Caribbean. Early researchers interpreted evidence in the area of a shift from dispersed villages to a ceremonial center as suggesting the development of social stratification and accumulation of power. Seen as the seat of an early chiefdom, Tibes served as a model applied broadly across the Greater Antilles.

New discoveries prompted archaeologists to question their original assumptions about ancient Puerto Rico, and later research failed to produce evidence of social stratification at Tibes. The Archaeology of Tibes therefore incorporates updated and wider perspectives on social formation. It considers agency, decisions, and events and the possibility of more than one form of social organization. It also presents a more accurate “humanized” past: the sociological meanings of that space and its significance for the people who created, used, and occupied it and who influenced rituals, social memory, and community.

Summarizing findings from excavations at Tibes after 2010, the collection also reviews the geoarchaeology of the site. Additional essays cover ceramic pastes, lithic production, faunal remains, coral, burials, and rock art. This work will engender discussion and future research by archaeologists across the Caribbean and beyond.
 

In The Archive and the Aural City, Alejandro L. Madrid examines the possibilities for retrieving from the archive sounds that were not meant to be heard. Drawing on Ángel Rama’s notion of the Lettered City, Madrid proposes a notion of the Aural City—a Latin American urban intellectual elite for whom sound and listening are central to the creation, re-creation, and circulation of new types of knowledge. While many of these elites carry forward a nationalistic agenda, Madrid contends that the Aural City’s archives and the ways they are listened to and conceived through sound and music can also help dismantle dominant frameworks of national or colonial culture and build more inclusive spaces for intellectual exchange and political mobilization. From national archives in Latin America and colonial institutions abroad to sound exhibits, instruments, and internet-based archival projects, Madrid demonstrates how the development of urban spaces is understood through sound. In this way, he expands understandings of the archive’s social and sonic power.

The Magdalena River, linking Colombia’s Andean interior and Caribbean coast, has long served as a conduit for the expansion of colonial and racial capitalism in the Americas. Now a state-backed megaproject seeks to transform the waterway into a logistics corridor. In Artery, Austin Zeiderman relates the Magdalena’s fraught past and uncertain future to global entanglements of race, nature, and capital. Refusing disciplinary parochialism, Zeiderman engages with debates across the social sciences and humanities to examine how racial orders shape ecologies and infrastructures, thereby upholding exploitative relations not only among human populations, but also between people and the planet. Alert to ethnographic specificity and broad relevance, Zeiderman positions the Magdalena River within regimes of extractivism and inequality that continue to afflict the modern world.