“When nobody is listening to us and we feel we have something to say, then comes the urge to shout”

“A protest movement needs to be shrill, obstreperous, undignified, and careless of the pattern of existing legitimacy which it is seeking to destroy in the interest of a new pattern which is waiting to emerge”
Kenneth Boulding

The question of overflow (desborde) is one of boundaries, of limits. Boundaries delineate edges and dictate flow, which together establish a field of play, a binary of regulation and spillover. Overflow is hence a deviation from the norm. Boundaries play a crucial role in protest, specifically in urban spaces such as New York City. The First Amendment of the US Constitution guarantees the rights to free speech and to assembly. But what are the limits of protest? And what happens beyond them? It is through the critical lens of desborde that we consider protest at the edge of legality in order to scrutinize how (and when and where) dissenting discourses are allowed to intrude into the public sphere. Protest inherently involves moments of rupture, of explosions, of overflows. Be they moments of anger, indignation, pain, or solidarity, protests represent the textural antithesis to the status quo. However, resistances manifest themselves in many forms other than traditional marches and picket lines. This project examines moments of desborde in art, activism, dance, scholarship, and translation in an attempt to elucidate the thin line of permissibility when political resistances are brought to the public sphere.

We theorize our conception of protest as belonging to a tradition of decolonial thinking in Latin America. By embracing the term desborde, we look towards an accented theory of protest, affected by the current neoliberal paradigm which necessitates a more inclusive vocabulary, especially as protest relates to the Latinx experience in New York City. We find our thinking informed by Rossana Reguillo, who theorizes the concept of the acontecimiento disruptivo which she defines as going beyond the event: it is “un suplemento, un algo mas, un algo no previsto o esperable dentro del mapa de lo posible”. This concept allows us not only to think about the act of protest, but about those objects, events, and people who have been disrupted or will be disruptive, forming a complex network of proceses that anticipate and spring from such a disruptive encounter.

Through an array of complementary analytical approaches, we explore this edge in order to draw broader conclusions on the role of desborde in the performative acts of protest, language, and dance. This collaborative project explores a spectrum of participation ranging from individual actors to collective action.

The words, gestures, messages, and performances of our accomplices overflow the boundaries of traditional text. Therefore, multimedia forms the backbone of this project. These videos, audio clips, photographs, and an interactive map allow for a further desborde as they afford our accomplices and us a global platform from which our message can radiate. Breaking from traditional term papers, blogs, panels, and conferences, our project represents a static starting point that will allow for further considerations of protest and political resistances through the lens of desborde.

The spatial limit of the investigation is New York City, but through our local research, we have collaborated with an international network of actors, forming a dynamic of solidarity that both seeps through and surges over the boundaries of the five boroughs. Our project benefits from the international/global/pluriversal aspect of its members, representing three languages over as many continents, which we include in this process of rupture and overflow.

No hay desborde grande o chiquitito, todos cuentan como pasos hacia la descolonización. En una manifestación, una protesta, hay límites, especialmente en la ciudad de New York; pero, también hay maneras de salirse del cordón policial que delimita las posibilidades de denuncia. Proyectar palabras e imágenes en los edificios que albergan lugares de opresión, como hace el colectivo The Illuminators es pintar las paredes con la luz del desborde. Aunque sea solo por unos segundos, el desborde está ahí, el deseo está activo, plantado como una semilla que germinará produciendo un cambio.

Projection on Varick Street “Service Processing Center” during a demonstration against deportation and incarceration on Día de Muertos, by The Illuminators. Video by Ángeles Donoso.

Mapping Desborde

What does it say about of project of desborde to situate it within geographic boundaries? By doing so, are we artificially limiting the scope and reach of our investigation? As a group, our resounding answer is no. Instead, we take the adage ‘Think globally, act locally’ to heart, using New York as a central point from which acts of resistance overflow outwards, connecting the city to international activism, art, and scholarship. In doing so, with our accomplices, we have subverted the notion of New York’s centrality, turning those same networks of financial privilege, cultural monopoly, and American exceptionalism against themselves.

A major component of this investigative collaboration is the use of traditional academic spaces but in such a way that amplifies the voices of oppressed and marginalized people. Radiating outwards from these spaces, our project overflows the boundaries of academia, unleashing a torrent of conocimientos, activisms, and performances with an international reach. Our collaborative digital platform allows for a digital desborde, opening further pathways for re-thinking the politics of resistance through the metaphor of overflow.

Considering the long history of social activism and political organization of New York our research will be situated in the current political dynamic which takes place in the city through social organization and individuals working towards a politics of resistance and social change. New York is a place where diverse cultures and identities converge, but the practices and strategies of several social movements representing this diversity are defined by legal rules governing the use of public spaces. The question of the political effectiveness of these expressions encourages us to think of how the politics of resistance function in this city to defy the status quo. Using the concept of overflow, present in several social movements around the world, as a moment when the collective body surges into public spaces, we invite our accomplices to share their strategies and tactics of resistance that originate in the center of the economic, financial, and cultural development of New York City.

Our interactive map plots points of desborde in New York City. These are both spaces of encounter and disruption which we have shared with our accomplices, spanning four of the five Boroughs of the city. As this project is a collaborative effort, we invite our accomplices and colleagues to add to our map in order to further chart the origins of the various vectors of desborde.

We decolonize by walking to and passing over the limits of desborde. This project is a camino with various stops along the way. We invite you to join in and walk with us.

The Miranda Warning

You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court. With these rights in mind, are you still willing to talk with me about the charges against you?

The Miranda Warning, reproduced above, must be read to a suspect upon their arrest. In moments of true desborde at a protest, it is not uncommon to see police intervention and control, often leading to the arrest of one, several, or many protestors. What results is a dissonant, performative, chorus of these rights being read at distinct moments, in each instant affirming the rights of each suspect. Ostensibly to protect the suspect (presumed innocent until proven guilty) from self incrimination, the Miranda Warning also serves to limit overflow, to allow/ensure compliance with the United States juridical system. The suspect is essentially encouraged to remain silent and to consent to their criminal processing, even with the promise of legal protection and representation.

With this in mind, we take it upon ourselves to, in effect, decolonize the Miranda Warning. Below is our Desborde Warning.

You have the right to speak out. Everything you say must be used to fight for truth and justice. You have the right to solidarity. If you fear you are alone, shout all the louder. Allies will hear the call and come to your aid. With these rights in mind, are you still willing to speak out against injustice, to rally against racism, to fight against white supremacy and the hegemonic patriarchy, and to form ethical alliances to ensure a desborde that will sweep away these institutions?


Two foundational ideas have informed the way we have worked with each other. The first one is embracing individual proposals within a collective mindset. The second one is combining the production of cognitive work with the process of building community among ourselves. Thanks to this methodology, our project is born from a structured, horizontal, and fully integrated collective, and thrives from the joy of working together. Each member of the group has incorporated her/his own background and experience in working collaboratively.

Our project has allowed us to put in conversation various methodologies of resistance. Most of them have come from the conversations we have had with our accomplices. Learning from our interactions with de-hierarchical social movements, we have placed decolonization as the central element of all that we have undertaken, especially in order to grant horizontality to the collaborative decision making process. We have also become aware of the possibility of using other languages as a decolonial practice. Thus, we have seen in autotraducción (self-translation) a method that respects the flux and exchange among languages in a non-hierarchical way. And last but not least, we are convinced that the most effective starting point for decolonizing is moving ourselves from where we are. In this respect, we have embraced the practice of walking as a way to acquire knowledge and problematize it.

As a result, we have a polycentric object that moves in many directions and belongs to everybody. The lack of linearity in the process of creation is shown in our chapter; that’s why we encourage our viewsers (viewers and users) to feel free to jump around and disrespect the suggested direction of reading. Wandering is encouraged.

Minifesto para decolonizar una grabación

Decolonizar los medios de producción. La cámara no tiene dueño, todxs la pueden (y deben) usar. Hay que decolonizar su posesión. Los medios de producción no dictaminan la grabación, sino que las circunstancias propias de cada momento definen su uso. La cámara no es más importante que lo que se graba ni lo que se graba es más importante que la cámara. Ambas instancias se interrelacionan de forma creativa.

Rechazar el guion. El guion es un contrato cerrado que limita todos los caminos posibles que se pueden abrir y todos los caminos que no se tomaron. Trabajar sin guion es abrir un espacio para la improvisación y la creación conjunta.

No planificar sino compincharse. Compincharse alude a una relación distinta entre lxs participantes y tiene una connotación activa en lugar de pasiva. Todxs lxs participantes se alían en pos de una meta, una acción, un gesto decolonial. Todo gesto decolonial es subversivo, por eso hay que buscar compinches.

No hay sujetos sino cómplices. Sujetos, un término muy extendido en el mundo de la antropología audiovisual, determina una distancia en lugar de una cercanía. No incita a la creación conjunta como sí hace cómplice. Sujeto también comporta una jerarquía. Dos polos: entrevistador/entrevistado; delante/detrás de la cámara, etc. Un cómplice es alguien que está en el mismo nivel jerárquico.

No hay entrevista, hay encuentro. La palabra encuentro rompe la direccionalidad de la entrevista. Para que la conversación fluya no debe haber un entrevistador y un entrevistado como roles fijos. La distribución de saberes debe igualmente ser fluida. En un encuentro todxs lxs participantes contribuyen y todxs facilitan la conversación.

El objeto de la grabación debe ir más allá de imágenes y sonidos. Pensar en términos audiovisuales limita los otros sentidos, que pueden servir para comunicar cosas con la misma intensidad. La relación entre palabra e imagen puede ser subvertida para que haya más posibilidades expresivas. Las conversaciones, los encuentros, no tienen por qué estar limitados a la palabra.

De esta manera tenemos en cuenta el diálogo que se crea entre nosotrxs y nuestrxs cómplices vamos a crear juntos nunca será cerrado o limitado por la forma clásica de cosechar datos en un modelo más bien antropológico. Lo que queremos hacer es inundar el espacio del encuentro hasta que desborde las orillas. Eso significa también que nuestro trabajo nunca será cumplido, sino que siempre habrá posibilidades inexploradas, hilos de los que tirar, y preguntas sin respuesta. Al no controlar de forma estricta nuestras grabaciones, damos paso a futuras posibilidades y complicaciones.

Decolonize the means of production. The camera has no owner. Everyone can and should use it. We must decolonize its possession. The means of production do not dictate the recording. The specific circumstances of each moment define its use. The camera is not more important than what is recorded, and what is recorded is not more important than the camera. Both are organically interrelated.

Reject the script. The script is not a closed contract that limits the paths to be taken and those not to be taken. Working without a script opens a space for improvisation and collaborative creation.

Don’t plan. Conspire. Conspiring evokes a distinct relation among the participants and connotes activity over passivity. All participants ally with one another toward a goal, an action, a decolonial gesture. All decolonial gestures are subversive, so one must find accomplices.

There are no subjects. Just Accomplices. Subjects, a term ubiquitous in audiovisual communication, establishes distance instead of closeness. It does not incite collaborative creation, like accomplices do. Subject implies a hierarchy. Two poles: interviewer/interviewed; behind/before the camera, etc. An accomplice is someone at the same level.

It’s not an interview. It’s an encounter. The word “encounter” breaks the directionality of the interview. If we want the conversation to flow, the interviewer and interviewee can’t have fixed roles. The distribution of knowledge should be equally fluid. In an encounter all the participants contribute and facilitate the conversation.

The object of filming should go beyond images and sounds. Thinking in audiovisual terms limits the other senses that can communicate with the same intensity. The relation between word and image can be subverted to increase expressive possibilities. The conversations, or encounters, do not have to be limited to the word.

In this way, by keeping in mind the dialogue that is created among us and our accomplices we will create something that is never closed by the traditional anthropological model of harvesting information from subjects. What we want to do is inundate the space of the encounter until it overflows the borders. This also means that our work is never finished. Instead, it continues opening unexplored possibilities, threads to be pulled, questions without answers. By not strictly controlling our recordings, we make space for future possibilities.

En nuestro primer encuentro con la performer, activista y política Jesusa Rodríguez pusimos en práctica el minifesto.

In our first encounter with the performance artist, activist, and politician Jesusa Rodríguez, we put into action our minifesto.


Decolonize this Place

There can be no discourse of decolonization, no theory of decolonization, without a decolonizing practice

Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui

Decolonize this Place is a non-hierarchical organization dedicated to calling attention to colonialism in New York City through protest. Their demonstrations raise awareness of the continued impact of colonialist practices and can perhaps be best seen in the organization of Anti-Columbus Day, an event that challenges the colonial discourse perpetuated in the American Natural History Museum and other cultural institutions. This political act consists of occupying the Natural History Museum on Indigenous Peoples Day in order to focus attention on the proceses of colonialism embodied by the museum. The resistence therefore occurs inside of the institutional framework of the museum, subverting the privileged academic and cultural space and converting it into a site of resistance that shields activists from police retaliation. The protest demands the disarticulation of cultural production that reinforces the notion of original people as “a past imagined as quiet, static, and archaic,” denying, as Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui states, the contemporaneity of these populations, excluding them from their contemporary struggles.. The place of the Museum, therefore, appears as a place of “epistemicide” par excellence where knowledges, history, and practices of indigenous people furthers a concept of indigenous peoples and cultures as static, archaic, and requiring ‘preservation.’ The effort that Decolonize this place undertakes focuses on “retaking of their own historicity (of the indigenous population)—a decolonization of imaginaries and of the forms of representation.”

The event’s act of resistance implies a permanent negotiation with the boundaries of protest in New York City. The presence of the collective body occupying the museum functions to push the limits of the space of the museum by capitalizing on its its paradoxical public and private nature. The collective uses the enclosed space of the building to protect themselves from the coercive norms of street protests (defined by police presence), while at the same time disrupting the normal organization and functionality of the museum. It is an act of radical subversion that forces a dialogue with the museum administration. This disruption insinuates the possibility of overflow while taking efforts to avoid the unnecessary exposure of vulnerable protestors, especially undocumented individuals. Tension arises, however, when the Museum insists in retaking and coopting the protests as a part of their discourse of openness to the protesters’ demands. Without agreements, both forces meet in performative action which takes place in a specific time. The action itself is a starting point to something bigger where the possibility of desborde means the possibility of change. Below, Marz Saffore, an accomplice of Decolonize this Place shares thoughts on the role of desborde as an act of resistance.



Feminism and Coloniality

Any decolonial gesture must be feminist or it will never be entirely decolonial. “Any liberation struggle that does not challenge heteronormativity cannot substantially challenge colonialism or white supremacy.” Thus argues Andrea Smith, encouraging us to consider the entanglement of slavery/capitalism, genocide/colonialism, and orientalism/war as some of several pillars of the project of white supremacy.

Historically, the issue of gender was controlled by the colonizer in a biopolitical sense. Aníbal Quijano states that colonialism guaranteed the conquerors’ control over “sex, its resources, and its products.” María Lugones in Colonialidad y Género complemented Quijano’s schema by calling attention to the question of intersectionality. The matrix of colonial power forwards monolithic ideas of gender and sexuality, negating any other prehispanic expression of them. These ideas were constructed around the white/non-white, male/non-male binaries. Lugones suggests that this sistema moderno-colonial de género gave birth to a clear/visible side (white, man, heterosexual) and an obscure/non-visible side of the coloniality of power (what is excluded from the clear side). In this dichotomy, “el lado oculto/oscuro del sistema de género fue y es completamente violento.” Intersectionality enables a more profound understanding of the relations of power. All the people located in the intersection suffer the effect of a double colonization.

That is Gloria Anzaldua’s locus of enunciation: the Borderlands, the space in between, where she constructs her own identity, thriving from the three cultures of which she is a part, and rebelling against their normativity. Borderlands entails at once a split, una raja, and a site of empowerment, “if going home is denied me then I will have to stand and claim my space, making a new culture – una cultura mestiza – with my own lumber, my own brick and mortar and my own feminist architecture.”

Patriarchy has been supported all over the world by the structure that was put in place after the conquest of America and has been wedded to capitalism ever since. In the post-colonial world, in which coloniality did not cease to exist and was rather translated into internal colonialism and neocolonialism, patriarchy has found new ways of exercising its control. Looking at the face of this patriarchal control, feminism then articulates a response bringing about a new decolonial consciousness.


Chiquita Brujita – A Poetic Dance Encounter

Dumbo Archway in Brooklyn feels more in flow when I get off the F train, more east into the island land, rushing to be Presente! with Pedro, uno de los nuevos hermanos de mi resistencia, y Chiquita, Oshun, mi hermana de todos los tiempos en la tierra.

Oshun y Yemanja,


Tal vez,

Madre y Hija

Mar y Río.

The wind in Brooklyn is more in tune than when Chiquita was running ceremony to celebrate our Madre Isla, Borinquen, exactly a year after Hurricane María had run its course. With no answers in one whole year from any governing United States officials, Oshun took it upon herself to manifest her vision.

The wind feels so New York on the day Pedro and Chiquita are waiting for me to walk to the top of a building to film our encuentro.

Water of the East River grooving and everyone is moving in cycle.

At the night of Brooklyn Brujería in Dumbo Archway on September 20th 2018, the energy





was vibrating with the dancing collective Chiquita orchestrated with Love and Dance to be present and feel the water, earth, wind, and fire connection to our mother island and our families in Puerto Rico.

Desborde total en el dancefloor, debajo de la vías, viajando con tambores, bailando, calor en el otoño. All that was missing was flowing copas y platos, pero Chiquita had that covered at the After Party planned nearby in a local Brooklyn business. Chiquita is a committed all night dance comandante, known to set up altares de flores and hold space to read tarot always around the corner from the dance floor. Oshun, bringer of harmony, joy, dance.

Chiquita Brujita, opener of ceremonies for Borinquen and the world. Mover of Joy and Resistance in small daily steps of alegría. Our night of Brooklyn Brujería under the Dumbo Archway closed with a collective howl, led by Liana Naima, to end the ceremony. We stood together and screamed under the bridge’s shelter our echo of resistance, and the rivers carried our love home.


In the spirit of Chiquita Brujita and her dances, we created a deck of tarot cards with words and phrases from excerpts of assigned readings and our names to call another (decolonial) past-present-future into existence.

Instead of creating a vertical effect of back and front, the cards land horizontal. The cards must remain flipped on their side, as if to suggest that the theoretical is vertical and the spiritual is horizontal. Then again, the key to capturing high quality iPhone videos and pictures is to flip the iPhone on a horizontal axis. The horizontal placement of the iPhone allows us to take pictures and record videos while also navigating the streets, avoiding collisions, and walking and talking with others while looking them in the face. Pedro taught us this; it is a decolonial documentarian technique, and the Orishas followed suit, flipping all the vertical photos we took of the tarot cards on their side. The golden script, the non-theoretical text of our names, reveal our Orishas in class.

“The cards don’t lie,” said The Guardian Angel as the desborde began to end (for now), and the party began to filter into the streets outside. Was it over or had it just begun? My life had just begun, this was my first Copa carried by my Ancestors to me. The first party in which I proudly opened tarot deck, with Pride, Elegance, and ¡Presente! during the fiesta of our final Decolonial Theories and Practices encuentro. Could it be? I myself picked the Orisha of Air and Storms, Thunderbolts of decision making, agreement making, and ethical movement. Before she left, Diana picked the same card. She said her quote was: “The way we do this is the way we do everything!” A summary of her and her sister Jesusa’s collaborative practice and implementation of the Pedagogy of Stones. I had known that her gracious entrance into my life was a divine reflection for me to finally put down my combat: my weapon of resistance and instead pick up my feet to enter the dancehall of desborde and decolonial trabajo, el trabajo infinito de unirse, de desbordarse, caminarse juntos en nuestra Santa Tierra. I have a broom in one hand and a copper knife in another, I storm over all the cities of the world crying for the fiesta of our ancestors’ libertade. Who am I? I am winds, lightning, storms: the Force of Movement. These Tarot cards are a physical manifestation of our resistance. 

Odi Gonzales

The last decade of the last century does coincides not only with the celebration of the five hundred years of the discovery of America or the insurgency in Chiapas. It is also the time in which the discussion of drafting an “Indigenous Law” begins in several Latin American countries, in which these countries incorporate into indigenous struggles – the vast majority of which remain unresolved – into their agenda of political interests.

At the same time in New York, there is a group of artists, primarily poets, who have been rediscovered by institutions and critics, often grouped under the label of Poetry of Indigenous Descent. These authors give voice to the various indigenous struggles through their prose. Their experiences do not come from a single cultural source, but appeal to and are nourished by diverse literary traditions, resisting simplification – ser reducidos – within a fixed category. When reading their work, one notices that they develop their literature in a similar way as the “non-indigenous” poets, with writings that touch on universal urban cultural experiences such as hip-hop and punk, along with intertextual dialogues with Western authors such as TS Eliot or Kundera, with a record that approaches the lyric poetry  of George Trakl or a direct appeal to other current poets. All of this, however, they write in a chorus of indigenous languages, as well as in English and Spanish, creating a chaotic plurality of voices and identities. These authors postulate a new social and multicultural model that shatters the monolingual order imposed by Spanish in their countries of origin, as well as English here in the United States.

The space in which a poet of indigenous descent writes in the American literary system is a double border position. It must be expressed in the dominant English-Spanish language, and at the same time, to determine its relationship with a mother tongue that is not always present. For greater complexity, they write their poetry and account for an oral literary tradition that is outside the dominant language and, in the case of some authors, this tradition is often placed outside of their own experience. However, these authors resist thanks to their bicultural and bilingual minds which forces them to define themselves, to translate – or rather to self translate – their position between two worlds, between two cultures, in front of the reader.

La resistencia está en un lugar

Hay un lugar donde los cambios ocurren. No son inventados ni son particularmente empujados por quienes se sientes santos o profetas. Ocurren en un momento y en un lugar. En una esquina de tu barrio o en el comedor donde te sientas a cenar todas las noches: La vida cambia deprisa, la vida cambia en un instante, te sientas a cenar y la vida que conocías se acaba, escribió Joan Didion. ¿Cuál es ese lugar donde los cambios ocurren? El desborde. Es el desborde el lugar que debemos encontrar y en esta búsqueda darle sentido a la resistencia. Es el desborde lo que el capitalismo eclipsa y espera que sucumbamos perdidos, sin rumbo, sin saber si quiera que existe ese lugar. Hemos cruzado un río y el viento sólo ofrece un remolino entumecido de frío y nos hemos adaptado mansamente, sin esperar ya nada más que lo que nos ha sido dado, sin preguntar cómo es que hemos llegado a este lugar, no nos importa que nada haya resultado como esperábamos. Al parecer, no hay manera de dispersar la niebla en la que vivimos, ni hay manera de saber que hemos aguantado un día más. La silenciosa nieve del pensamiento se derrite antes de que pueda cuajar. Nadie tiene idea de dónde estamos. Las puertas a ninguna parte se multiplican y el presente queda tan lejos, tan profundamente lejos. Pero resistimos. Hay un lugar. Marchemos. Vamos al desborde.

Resistance is in a place

There is a place where changes occur. They are not invented nor are they particularly pushed by those who feel themselves to be saints or prophets. They happen in a moment and in a place. In a corner of your neighborhood or in the dining room where you sit down for dinner every night:

“Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends” writes Joan Didion.

What is that place where the changes occur? The overflow. It is the “overflow” place that we must find and in this search give meaning to the resistance. It is the overflow that capitalism eclipses and to which we are expected to succumb, lost, without direction, without even knowing that this place exists. We have crossed a river and the wind only offers a swirl numb with cold and we have adapted tamely, without expecting anything more than what has been given to us, without asking how it is that we have arrived at this place, we do not care that nothing has resulted as we expected. Apparently, there is no way to disperse the fog in which we live, nor is there any way to know that we have endured one more day. The silent snow of thought melts before it can stick. Nobody has any idea where we are. The doors to nowhere multiply and the present is so far, so far away. But we resist. There’s a place. Let’s go. Let’s go to the overflow.

Works Cited

Anzaldúa, Gloria. Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza. San Francisco: Aunt Lute Books, 2007. Boulding, Kenneth E. "Towards a Theory of Protest." ETC: A Review of General Semantics 24. no. 1: 1967. 49-58. Didion, Joan. The Year of Magical Thinking. New York: Knopf Doubleday, 2007. Lugones, María. "Colonialidad y género: Hacia un feminismo descolonial" énero y descolonialidad. 13-42. Buenos Aires: Del Signo, 2008. Quijano, Aníbal. "Colonialidad del poder, eurocentrismo y Amércia Latina" La colonialidad del saber: eurocentrismo y ciencias sociales. Perspectivas Latinoamericanas. 201-246. Buenos Aires: Consejo Latinoamericano de Ciencias Sociales, 2000. Reguillo, Rossana. Paisajes insurrectos: Jóvenes, redes y revueltas en el otoño civilizatorio. Mexico: Ned Ediciones, 2017. Rivera Cusicanqui, Silvia. "Ch’ixinakax utxiwa: A Reflection on the Practices and Discourses of Decolonization." South Atlantic Quarterly 111. no. 1: 2012. 95-109. Smith, Andrea. "Heteropatriarchy and the three pillars of white supremacy: Rethinking women of color organizing" Transformations: Feminist Pathways to Global Change. 264-272. New York: Routledge, 2016.