Open Collections

UBC Theses and Dissertations

UBC Theses Logo

UBC Theses and Dissertations

Anti-racist activist pedagogy towards socio-political transformation : a case study of LUNDU’s Apúntate… Medel, Sonia 2014

Your browser doesn't seem to have a PDF viewer, please download the PDF to view this item.

Item Metadata

Download

Media
24-ubc_2014_september_medel_sonia.pdf [ 1.7MB ]
Metadata
JSON: 24-1.0167488.json
JSON-LD: 24-1.0167488-ld.json
RDF/XML (Pretty): 24-1.0167488-rdf.xml
RDF/JSON: 24-1.0167488-rdf.json
Turtle: 24-1.0167488-turtle.txt
N-Triples: 24-1.0167488-rdf-ntriples.txt
Original Record: 24-1.0167488-source.json
Full Text
24-1.0167488-fulltext.txt
Citation
24-1.0167488.ris

Full Text

  Anti-Racist Activist Pedagogy Towards Socio-Political Transformation: A Case Study of LUNDU’s Apúntate Contra el Racismo Campaign  by Sonia Medel  B.A., The University of British Columbia, 2008  A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF  THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF   MASTER OF ARTS  in The Faculty of Graduate and Postdoctoral Studies (Society, Culture and Politics in Education)  THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver)  June 2014  © Sonia Medel, 2014i  ABSTRACT The present case study examines the anti-racism campaign Apúntate Contra el Racismo, launched by the Afro-Peruvian non-profit organization, LUNDU: Centro de Estudios y Promoción Afroperuanos, to illustrate how a marginalized group utilizes forms of activist pedagogy to call for the articulation of alternative notions of politics that promote social justice oriented national development. The study is concerned with the ways through which the meanings of public political participation are taught and the goals of development are redefined through the enactment of radical constructions of citizenship. I attempt to address: how LUNDU leaders conceive of themselves as activists and how they construct their activism in relation to discourses of education, development and participatory politics within the context of Peruvian society, how LUNDU leaders come to articulate the public pedagogy that frames the raison d’ être of the campaign and through what means LUNDU leaders leverage political power by conceiving spaces for greater visibility, participatory politics, and civic engagement towards socio-political transformation. To answer the aforementioned I employ a critical conceptual framework on development, citizenship, pedagogy and activism. I also draw on an overall anti-oppressive methodology that engages feminist standpoint perspective, personal narrative, extensive field work and data collection of varied textual and visual document sources and interviews, applied thematic analysis with a critical discourse analysis theoretical approach, and triangulation and organization of data based on the facets of activist pedagogy which this study focuses primarily on. The main case study highlights reveal the campaign impact as ‘successful’ in enacting socio-political transformation, forcing state acknowledgement of re-articulations of development and exemplifying critical modes of citizenship towards a radical participatory democracy through anti-racist and anti-patriarchal activist pedagogical campaign initiatives.    ii  PREFACE This thesis is original, unpublished, independent work by the author, S. A. Medel and received approval from the UBC Behavioural Research Ethics Board.   Certificate of Approval- Minimal Risk University of British Columbia, Office of Research Services Behavioural Research Ethics Board UBC BREB NUMBER: H12-02926                                        iii  TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT ..................................................................................................................................... i PREFACE ....................................................................................................................................... ii TABLE OF CONTENTS ............................................................................................................... iii LIST OF FIGURES ....................................................................................................................... vi LIST OF ACRONYMS AND ABBREVIATIONS ..................................................................... vii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ............................................................................................................ x DEDICATION ............................................................................................................................... xi CHAPTER 1: FRAMING THE INQUIRY .................................................................................... 1 Purpose of the Study, A Personal Narrative Approach ............................................................... 1 Introduction to The Apúntate Contra el Racismo Case Study .................................................. 11 Situating the Study .................................................................................................................... 17 Racism in Peru ....................................................................................................................... 19 Significance of the Study ....................................................................................................... 22 CHAPTER 2: THE CONCEPTUAL FRAMING......................................................................... 26 Introduction: Critical Pillars ...................................................................................................... 26 Engaging Citizenship, Democracy, and Development.............................................................. 26 “D”evelopment as the All-Knowingly Neoliberal Saviour ................................................... 27 Democracy and Citizenship for Alternative Development Possibilities ............................... 29 Citizenship, Participatory Politics, and the Role of Critical Pedagogy ..................................... 41 The Need for Critical Citizenship .......................................................................................... 42 Critical Pedagogy for Critical Citizenship............................................................................. 47 Critical Pedagogy for Participatory Politics: the Case of Peru .............................................. 55 From ‘Critical’ to ‘Activist’ Pedagogy: Towards a Radical Socio-Political Transformation in Peru ........................................................................................................................................ 58 Facet 1: Development of ‘Militant Consciousness’ .................................................................. 67 Facet 2: Embodied Learning ..................................................................................................... 68 Facet 3: Learning from Micro-Politics and Tensions Between Professional/ Academic and Activist Discourses .................................................................................................................... 69 Facet 4: Strategic Acquisition of Democratic Skills ................................................................. 70 Facet 5: Space-Making .............................................................................................................. 71 CHAPTER 3: RESEARCH METHODS ...................................................................................... 73 Methododology & Ethical Considerations ................................................................................ 73 Beginning the Research Process ............................................................................................... 80 Fieldwork: From Limitations to Organic Shifts ........................................................................ 81   iv  Methods of Inquiry and Analysis: Case Study Research .......................................................... 85 Data Collection ...................................................................................................................... 88 Translation: Necessary Gaps ............................................................................................. 89 Interviews .......................................................................................................................... 90 Documents ........................................................................................................................ 91 Data Analysis ......................................................................................................................... 92 Applied Thematic Analysis: ............................................................................................. 92 Critical Discourse Analysis Theoretical Approach to Analysis: ...................................... 94 Triangulation: .................................................................................................................... 95 CHAPTER 4: APÚNTATE CONTRA EL RACISMO, THE CAMPAIGN FINDINGS ............... 98 Socio-Political Context of Afro-Peruvian Action ..................................................................... 98 The History in Brief of Afro-descendants in Peru ................................................................. 98 The Contemporary Groundings of the Apúntate Contra el Racismo Campaign ................. 102 The Beginnings of Afro-Peruvian Activism ................................................................... 102 Afro-Peruvian NGO Relations ........................................................................................ 105 LUNDU’s Fight Against Racism .................................................................................... 108 Apúntate Contra el Racismo: Unpacking the Impact of Activist Pedagogy ........................... 110 The Development of ‘Militant Consciousness’ and the Articulation of Oppositional Ideologies and Discourses ................................................................................................... 111 The Development Reports: Afro-Peruvians, the Elephant in the Room ......................... 113 Embodied Learning and Learning from Tensions between Professional/ Academic and Activist Discourses .............................................................................................................. 126 Creating and Articulating Apúntate Contra el Racismo ................................................. 126 Implementing Apúntate Contra el Racismo .................................................................... 131 In the Midst of Apúntate Contra el Racismo Action ...................................................... 152 Challenging Patriarchy.................................................................................................... 153 Tensions Between Professional Academic/ Non-Academic and Activist Perspectives . 159 El Negro Mama: Legal Opposition to Television Media Racism .................................. 165 The Achievement of Transformative ‘Spaces’: A Pedagogy of Activism .......................... 168 Spotlighting Racism: Virtual and Physical Spaces ......................................................... 169 Direct Impact on Legal Reform ...................................................................................... 173 Building Strategic Alliances ........................................................................................... 176 Constructing the Base for New ‘Critical’ Campaigns .................................................... 185 CHAPTER 5: IMPLICATIONS ................................................................................................. 196 Researcher Dilemmas and Reflections .................................................................................... 196   v  Highlights of the Campaign Findings and Proposed Directions ............................................. 197 LUNDU’s Activist Pedagogy .............................................................................................. 198 Hindrances/ Advances to ‘Afro-descendant’ Movement Cohesion and Solidarity Building ............................................................................................................................................. 205 Rhizomatic Networks: Inclusion? Self-Representation? Appropriation? Co-optation? ...... 207 LUNDU, Higher Education, and Civil Society ................................................................... 219 Concluding Thoughts .............................................................................................................. 223 REFERENCES ........................................................................................................................... 227 APPENDIX A: CHRONOLOGY OF CAMPAIGN ACTION .................................................. 238                   vi  LIST OF FIGURES Figure 3.1: Analysis Framework Chart ......................................................................................... 93 Figure 3.2: Convergence of Evidence ........................................................................................... 97 Figure 4.3: LUNDU's Urban Intervention .................................................................................. 143 Figure 4.4: Presenting Apúntate Contra el Racismo to the Comisión de Pueblos Andinos, Amazónicos y Afroperuanos, Ambiente y Ecología del Congreso de la Republica .................. 147 Figure 5.1: Critical Skills and Knowledges Acquired Through Apúntate Contra el Racismo Campaign Action ........................................................................................................................ 199                    vii  LIST OF ACRONYMS AND ABBREVIATIONS  ACEJUNEP- Asociación Cultural para la Juventud Negra Peruana [Cultural Association for BlackPeruvian Youth]  ADFP- Asociación Deportiva de Futbol Profesional [Sports Association of Professional Football]  AJWS- American Jewish World Service Fund   ANDA- Asociación Nacional de Anunciantes [National Association of Advertisers]   CDD- Católicas por el Derecho a Decidir [Catholics for the Right to Decide]    CEDET- Centro de Desarrollo Étnico [Centre for Ethnic Development]  CERD- Comité para la Eliminación de la Discriminación Racial [Committee for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination]  CHIRAPAQ- Centro de Cultures Indígenas del Perú [Centre of Indigenous Cultures of Peru]  CIES- Consorcio de Investigación Económica y Social [Consortium of Economic and Social Research]  CLADE- Campaña Latinoamericana por el Derecho a la Educación [Latin American Campaign for the Right to Education]  CNDDHH- Coordinadora Nacional de los Derechos Humanos [National Coordinator for Human Rights]  CONAR- Consejo Nacional de Autorregulación Publicitaria [Advisory Council for Advertising Regulation]   CONAPA- Comisión Nacional de los Pueblos Indígenas del Perú [National Commission of the Indigenous Peoples of Peru]  CONCORTV- Consejo Consultivo de Radio y Televisión [Advisory Council for Radio and Television]  DARS- Dirección Académica de Responsabilidad Social [Academic Directive of Social Responsibility]   GCE- Global Campaign for Education  GRADE- Grupo de Análisis para el Desarrollo [Development Analysis Group]     viii  IEP- Instituto de Estudios Peruanos [Institute of Peruvian Studies]  IDRC- Canadian International Development Research Centre  INAPE- Instituto de Investigaciones Afroperuanas [Institute of Afro-Peruvian Research]  INDECOPI- Instituto Nacional de Defensa de la Competencia y de la Protección de la Propiedad Intelectual [National Institute for the Defense of Competition and Protection of Intellectual Property]  INDEPA- Instituto Nacional de Desarrollo de Pueblos Andinos, Amazónicos, y Afroperuanos [National Institute for the Development of Andean, Amazonian, and Afro-Peruvian Peoples]  INEI- Instituto Nacional de Estadística y Informática [National Institute of Information and Statistics]  LUNDU- Centro de Estudios y Promoción Afroperuanos [Centre for Afro-Peruvian Studies and Promotion  MDGs- Millennium Development Goals  MIDIS- Ministerio de Desarrollo e Inclusión Social [Ministry of Culture and Social Inclusion]  MIMDES- Ministerio de la Mujer y Desarrollo Social [Ministry of Women and Social Development]  MNAFC-Movimiento Nacional Afroperuano Francisco Congo [National Afro-Peruvian Francisco Congo Movement]  MNFC- Movimiento Negro Francisco Congo [Black Francisco Congo Movement]  MTC- Ministerio de Transportes y Comunicaciones [Ministry of Transportation and Communication]  PDPI- Proyecto de Desarrollo de los Pueblos Indígenas y Afroperuanos [Indigenous and Afro-Peruvian Peoples Development Project]  PUC- La Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile [The Pontificial Catholic University of Chile]  PUCP- La Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú [The Pontificial Catholic University of Peru]  SIEP- Sociedad de Investigación Educativa Peruana [Society for Peruvian Education Research]  SNRTV- Sociedad Nacional de Radio y Televisión [National Society of Radio and Television]  UN- United Nations   ix   UNICEF- United Nation’s Children’s Fund                                         x  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I am incredibly thankful for the transformational opportunity to be supervised by Dr. André Elias Mazawi. Your breadth of educational wisdom, inspiring work ethic, willingness to always meet with me, and patience with my endless queries allowed me to push past insecurities and keep on challenging myself to strengthen my research skills. I cannot thank-you enough. I am also very thankful to my committee members, Dr. Hartej Gill and Dr. Maxwell Cameron. Your work provided me with new insight for better iterations of my research. Together all of you facilitated my conceptualizing of critical connections between education, citizenship, development and democracy in ways I had never thought possible before.  I offer deep gratitude and solidarity to LUNDU: Centro de Estudios y Promoción Afroperuanos, Mónica Carrillo and Gloria Castro, for all of their willingness to participate with my research and interest in continuing a collaborative research connection. LUNDU’s initiatives have forever impacted my activist spirit and understanding of ‘critical’ pedagogy. Many thanks as well to CEDET (Centro de Desarrollo Étnico), Oswaldo Bilbao, Lilia Mayorga Balcazar, and Carlos Velarde Reyes for welcoming me into the centre and providing me with stimulating discussion and a breadth of literary resources. To every Afro-Peruvian dance teacher and community leader which I have been blessed to encounter… thank-you for teaching me how to find continual strength in my roots.  To Dr. Gerald Fallon, thank-you for providing me with re-inspiring work as an assistant to one of your research projects during the final leg of my thesis writing. To Dr. Benita Bunjun, thank-you for the academic mentorship and inspiring work opportunities. To the RAGA Centre and Network, ‘thank-you’ does not properly describe the how each member contributes to the creation of spaces that empower students to overcome multiple barriers, create original scholarship and challenge the status quo. To Dr. Rita De Grandis and Dr. Alessandra Santos, gracias for passing on the fire of critical Latin American scholarship.  To my mother, Carmen del Rosario Borja and father, José Miguel Medel, los llevo siempre conmigo. To my godmother, Gloria Islas, thank-you for nurturing my soul with your delicious recipes and unassuming abundance of wisdom. I wish I had told you how much you meant to me, mucho de lo que hago es gracias a tu presencia en mi vida. Ivand Pulido, you have impacted my life in more ways than imaginable, gracias acompañangel. To the rest of my family, especially María Angélica Medved and Igor Medved, thanks for laying down some uniquely strict and ‘crazyhorse’ pedagogical stones. Pachanga, my four-legged Pachita, thanks for walking through every MA struggle with me--you are the essence of endless love. For the motivational ladies in my life: Millie Bojic, Teresa Wong, Cat Levine, Jasmin Sangha, and Jennifer Moule, many thanks for supporting my academic efforts in a multitude of roles. Finally, to the UBC Departments of Educational Studies and Political Science, thank-you for assisting me with funds that enabled parts of my research and conference participation. Special thanks to the EDST staff, Roweena Bacchus, Shermila Salgadoe and Jeannie Young for making the graduate road a lot smoother- your contributions are unmatchable.     xi  DEDICATION Para mi madre, Carmen del Rosario Borja. Fui, soy, seré y sueño gracias a ti, eres la fuerza más grande, mi alma, ‘my home’.                       1  CHAPTER 1: FRAMING THE INQUIRY Purpose of the Study, A Personal Narrative Approach The present study examines the anti-racism campaign Apúntate Contra el Racismo1, launched by the Afro-Peruvian2 non-profit organization, LUNDU: Centro de Estudios y Promoción Afroperuanos3. My aim is to understand how a marginalized group utilizes forms of activist pedagogy to call for the articulation of alternative notions of participatory politics that promote social justice oriented national development. Furthermore the study is concerned with the ways through which the meanings of public political participation are taught and the goals of development are redefined through the enactment of radical constructions of citizenship.   I began my MA program in winter of late 2010, completing all required coursework by the summer of 2011 at which point I began to focus in on writing this thesis. However, arriving to the decision of writing on LUNDU’s Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign and the process of actually writing it required confronting my past and present realities. Beginning with the ‘simple’ purpose of completing an MA graduation requirement, my thesis purpose eventually shifted to one of transformation. Transformation took place and continues to take place in all                                                  1 Sign Up Against Racism. 2 I use the term ‘Afro-Peruvian’ most frequently in this thesis, because when I commenced the writing of my research, literature searches revealed that it was the most utilized term by Peruvians of African ancestry who were engaged in the early beginnings of an activist movement during the 1970s and 1980s when they were referring to themselves and their communities. The term ‘Afro-descendant’ only began to be utilized in Peru after the 2001 World Conference Against Racism in Durban and was thus found less often throughout my literature searches (LUNDU, 2010). However, in the past two years and during the course of this research there has been a surge in the use of ‘Afro-descendant’ as it more broadly encompasses people who have some sort of African ancestry. It is also the term preferred in countries such as Colombia, because it connotes a political connection to all African descendants beyond Colombia’s borders (LUNDU, 2010). Nonetheless, this ‘broadness’ has also been critiqued within the Peruvian context for failing to adequately represent the uniqueness of African-descendant communities within each diverse Latin American nation. Sue and Golash-Boza (2009) indicate that in popular slang, people with visible African ancestry are referred to as ‘negro’ or  ‘moreno’, but that not all Peruvians who claim African heritage identify as Blackor with Blackness, and conversely many who identify as ‘negro’ do so without any recognition of their African ancestry. Throughout this work I refer to Afro-Peruvians as “they” because I am currently processing how to appropriately and critically acknowledge my own mixed-Latina-Canadian ethnicity and Afro-descendant ancestry, hence I want to avoid the reader the overwhelming confusion I am experiencing, but nonetheless include this experience through my personal narrative.  3 LUNDU: Centre for Afro-Peruvian Studies and Promotion.   2  areas of my life thanks in part to the work I undertook as a part of this thesis. And hence one of the key pedagogical topics of this thesis became that of personal activist transformation and socio-political transformation through activism. Thus positioning this research from within the process of my narrative and personal standpoint development, I am cohesively trying to summarize my own learning process which so deeply affected and was affected by the research.   Although I have always been acutely aware of my awkward position as a Latina-Canadian and Peruvian-Chilean, the past few years culminated in me coming to terms, exploring, critically analyzing, defending, and finding agency within my multiple and intersecting identities and oppressions. In the past two years I have moved further beyond the Latina-Canadian and Peruvian-Chilean threshold of place of birth, ethnicity and parenthood, to discovering, coming to terms with and probing the rest of the hyphens in my life, such as that of Afro-descendant and academic-activist. Hyphens aside, I am the product of decades of intergenerational displacement resulting from Western colonial imperialism in the Americas. I am also the inheritor of a settler status here in Canada as the child of immigrants who through a combination of forced political exile and ‘personal choice’ (if the desperate search for an escape from depressive economic conditions in Latin American can even be termed as such). Thus I acknowledge that I wrote this thesis on unceeded Musqueam territory upon which the University of British Columbian (UBC) is established and upon which I was born; I do not state this as a tokenized form of recognition. It is a commitment to continuing the arduous and fervent task of working through whatever identities and subjectivities have been imposed, internalized and invoked by me as a result of historical processes of colonization and neo-liberal imperialism which have plagued marked racialized4 marked bodies such as myself, in order to root myself into a subjectivity that is all my                                                  4 Throughout this case study, I employ the term ‘racialized marked’ when referring to people of visible color, because through my personal and community experiences and discussions with faculty such as Dr. Vanessa   3  own, from which I can work in true solidarity within communities of my own and those outside. As many scholars of color such as Anzaldúa, Moraga, hooks, Lorde, Du Bois, and Hughes, amongst many others have said expressed throughout their works and artistic pieces, navigating between our multiple identities and localities of belonging and exclusion is a challenging endeavour and invokes the need for skilled ‘straddling’ of contentious subjectivities and navigating through precarious spaces.  Raised in a single-parent household with a Peruvian mother who fought hard to financially support me due to barriers of English as an additional language, I never felt ‘Canadian enough’. I always felt unsure in social situations of how to express my ‘Latinidad’ without reproducing into the stereotypes of Latinas/os, and grasped for ways to prove that I was Canadian, but just as proud of every bit of my mother’s accent as I was of the opportunities I had as a youth in a ‘peaceful’ and democratic country. In essence choking down the mixed anguish most children of immigrant parents endure related to both loving and hating the ‘American/ Canadian dream’, that both exalts and denies the non-Western body and spirit, was an everyday experience. Every time I was praised for creating bristle boards depicting the Machu Picchu-esque wonders of Peru, yet relegated to ‘special’ after school care for demonstrating personal/ household characteristics that did not fit the ‘Canadian’ mold, I was reminded that multiculturalism was a “discourse of tokenistic colonial benevolence rather than a genuine                                                                                                                                                              Andreotti on works of theorists such as Ramon Grosfoguel, I have come to the ontological perspective that everyone undergoes the discursive process of racialization. However, through the racialization process some bodies are produced as marked (according to class, gender, etc.--also discursive), others as unmarked. Through colonial encounters, non-white bodies have been subjugated and the privilege of whiteness has been hegemonically and repetitively complexly constructed, sustaining white structural privilege. Thus racialization is highly contextual and constantly shifting according to the privileging of whiteness in localities. Some white people have historically experienced racism (Jews, Irish, Italians, etc.), but this has also occurred because of the continuous entrenching of notions of whiteness which pathologize marked bodies as not being ‘fit’ and therefore deserving of subjugation (some theorists date this to imperial colonization, whilst others date it back to Greco-Roman antiquity and more recently in history to scientific racism of the Enlightenment and evolutionary physical anthropology). Hence, I use the terms ‘racialized marked’ and ‘racialized unmarked’ to indicate that although racialization is not solely correlated to phenotypical markers, unmarked bodies have the privilege of some/ oftentimes exempting themselves from such oppressive experiences. See Grosfoguel (2003), Ahmed (2007), Collison (2012) and Lundstrom (2013).   4  decolonizing act” (Gill, 2012, p. 2). I first stepped onto the UBC campus in 2004 as a dazed undergrad fresh out of high school joining the sea of frosh week students. I was embarking on the Canadian post-secondary ‘dream’, joining the societal ‘majority’ as someone with a degree and the opportunity to become anything I wanted to be. Flash forward two years and I was depressed by how not a part of campus life I was. I completed my undergraduate completely drained from years of trying to belong; of trying to ‘dream’ the same as others and being reminded that I never would because I would never really fit the image of the white ivory tower world of privilege. I was too low-income to partake in sororities or any other party that involved a cover charge, I was too not white looking to fit in with the sustainability hippies, yet I also did not fit in with the wealthy foreign Latin American students which the Latin American Studies department consisted of mostly during my undergraduate period. I was painfully aware of my difference, my condition, but unaware of how to claim and fight with it.   I wallowed in insecurity because I could not ‘read’ into the depth of my condition (Spivak, 2004). It was the self-denial of being an outsider that impeded my politicization. I took two and half years away from academia during which employment experiences within the education sector locally in Vancouver and abroad in Mexico and Peru, gave me a crash course in violent work space race relations, neocolonialism, and systemic inequalities. I returned to graduate school in late 2010 with a purpose rooted in every one of my oppressions from a place of continued “Othering of body, nation, place, and culture” (Wahab, 2005, p.16) and a determination to read into, confront, and educate myself about the colonizing discourses impacting me. I understood that it was not that I had failed to empower myself, but rather that the Eurocentrism of the institution had failed to provide pedagogical spaces for me to develop a critical understanding of oppression. It became my goal as a graduate student engaging a   5  research centred educational studies program to explore, learn, question, and understand the “simultaneity of oppression” (Dei and Johal, 2005, p. 2). Yet to no surprise, I realized that not much within the ivory tower had changed; there was a disproportionate low number of faculty and instructors of color and therefore few spaces where I could receive academic support in relation to critical scholarship. However, I was fortunate enough to encounter and intern for the Centre of Race, Autobiography, Gender and Age (RAGA)5, as well as receive the informal mentorship of several critical faculty members and formal support from my supervisor.   It was as a part of RAGA that I began questioning my ‘identities’, unpacking my ‘Latinidad’ and ‘Western-born’ privilege, immersing myself in the work of critical scholars and using critical theories to unpack how power, privilege and oppression work within us and amongst our relations, challenging white entitlement in academia and the rhetoric of multiculturalism’s community engagement. My status as a female student from a very low-income single parent household was affected by encounters with male domination, white privilege, classism, globalization, and empire. As a graduate student I continuously feel displaced amongst a sea of privilege, because of course most others like me who may share elements of my struggle, find it easier to cling to masks as I once did than to claim the position of the ‘Other’. Although the masks are our familiar protection, they “drive a wedge between our intersubjective personhood and the persona we present to the world” (Anzaldúa, 1990, p. xv). I had to learn the skill of ‘tearing’ off these masks to “confront and oust the internalized oppression embedded in them” and find my agency (Anzaldúa, 1990, p. xv). I now embrace the                                                  5 RAGA officially opened as the SAGA (Studies in Autobiography, Gender and Aging) Centre in May 2002, but was transformed into the RAGA (Race, Autobiography, Gender and Age) studies, with a particular emphasis on critical race and feminist scholarship. Currently, the Centre is student run by the RAGA Collective and the Undergraduate and Graduate Student Networks and receives no funding from the university. Yet it continues to provide marginalized students with much needed services such as cross-disciplinary access to critical race scholarship and critical racialized marked mentors, critical Indigeneities, and safety. For more information about current and upcoming events please visit the RAGA Network Blog, http://ragastudentnetwork.wordpress.com/   6  feelings of “extreme estrangement and alienation” to theorize and comprehend not just my own abyss, but that of others (hooks, 2004, pg. 155). I continuously “work through internalized violence and decolonize” myself to “find ways to survive personally, culturally and racially” (Anzaldúa, 1990, p. xvii). In discovering my standpoint I became prepared to master the “oppressor’s language” (hooks, 2004, p. 154) to speak back to the marginalizing entities in my, and confront them with the emotion of the oppressed so often concealed by our own denial.  Ultimately, my experience within a prestigious Western university was that more often than not, education and it institutions are spaces where the new generations of dominant sectors of society gain the tools and learn the strategies of hegemonic control. Propaganda, rhetoric, and polite exchanges, are tactics of the hegemonic and can serve to protect the interests of the dominant and convince the marginalized that the powerful strive to meet their needs. Racialized marked peoples seeking social justice today are often more silenced as they grow more visible in positions of leadership. The enactment of true democratic elements are considered ‘radicalized’ as dangers to societal order. Alternative expressions of citizenship, critiques of the status quo are vilified. Cole’s (21 March, 2012) response to backlash he received for his Tweets on the Kony 2012 video and the concept of the ‘White Saviour’ in relation to development work and humanitarian interventions, perfectly sums up the attitude currently driving my research:  But there's a place in the political sphere for direct speech and, in the past few years in the U.S., there has been a chilling effect on a certain kind of direct speech pertaining to rights. The president is wary of being seen as the "angry Black man." People of color, women, and gays -- who now have greater access to the centers of influence than ever before -- are under pressure to be well-behaved when talking about their struggles. There is an expectation that we can talk about sins but no one must be identified as a sinner: newspapers love to describe words or deeds as "racially charged" even in those cases when it would be more honest to say "racist"; we agree that there is rampant misogyny, but misogynists are nowhere to be found; homophobia is a problem but no one is homophobic. One cumulative effect of this policed language is that when someone dares to point out something as obvious as white privilege, it is seen as unduly provocative. Marginalized voices in America have fewer and fewer avenues to speak plainly about what they suffer; the effect of this enforced civility is that those voices are falsified or blocked entirely from the discourse. (Cole, 2012)    7  Whilst undergoing this process of militant scholarly training and sketching out my thesis I was also working with Latina/o migrant and first generation-born Canadians and reconnecting with Afro-Peruvian leaders back in Lima, Peru. As academic and life pressures mounted I began to practice Afro-Peruvian dancing again, a folkloric Peruvian style of dance which I had engaged every time I returned to Peru. It was during this time that I reflected on the source of strength that Afro-Peruvian leaders and arts were in my life.  During my undergraduate years I had travelled to Chile to complete coursework in Chilean history, culture, and politics and to learn what the experiences of my father (he rarely spoke of this period in his life) had been during the fall of Allende and Pinochet’s dictatorship as a leftist-activist youth. I was welcomed by my family, but experienced challenging feelings of displacement and exclusion in the rest of the Chilean social spheres I navigated. Academic opportunities afforded me a place at the highly conservative La Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile (PUC) and home-stays with two very prominent Chilean families, but in those spaces I was treated with suspicion based on my father’s status as an exile and inferior for my ‘darker’ features and Peruvian background. Thus right after this experience was over, I flew back to Peru and further immersed myself in Afro-Peruvian dance, yet having been bluntly confronted with racial and ethnic questions in Chile, I realized that although my Peruvian family side expressed deep passions for blends of Criollo music and Afro-Peruvian arts, and would often discuss Spanish heritage, Blackness was not. No one ever remarked on the fact that several family members were Black, whilst others varied on the ‘racial’ color spectrum, but nonetheless possessed very dark skin and aesthetic features that to most (especially those in the West) would be associated to some sort of Afro-descendancy. This came as no surprise as the most popular   8  social saying in Peru is, “El que no tiene de Inga, tiene de Mandinga,”6 Not unlike in the rest of Peru, racial nicknames such as ‘Negro’ or ‘Negrita’ were used in my family without any sort of analysis of employment of the terms. After asking several family members about certain family ‘looks’, I realized that few family members were willing to discuss the fact that my grandfather’s family was mixed-race. There was an overall aversion of the ‘race topic’ unless it was ‘comedically explored’ often in racist language, something not uncommon in Peruvian society. I grew motivated to uncover my full ancestry and heritage and began to seek more exchanges with Afro-Peruvian organizations, building my familiarity with pedagogical techniques of self empowerment devised by Afro-Peruvian leaders to cope with the quotidian violence they experienced.   The latter reflection drove me in graduate school to take on a scholastic approach to investigating Afro-Peruvian education development initiatives and the state’s response or lack thereof and couple this with a return to Afro-Peruvian dancing in Vancouver for both Peruvian and non-Peruvian circles. I tried to always fuse some sort of introduction to Afro-Peruvian ‘pedagogical-development’ initiatives and anti-racism work with anecdotes of personal learning in relation to the meaning of certain dance moves. Through these brief ‘exposés’ I was shocked to discover just how unprepared the Peruvian diaspora community in Vancouver was for such discourses. I was looked at with bewilderment, when I spoke of how ‘massive’ Afro-Peruvians’ contributions were to overall Peruvian culture and laughed at when I said we should try not to use terms such as ‘Negroide’ to refer to music and dancing. For most Peruvians I encountered, my ‘critical’ interference with the ‘uncomplicated visual fun’ which folkloric dance presentations usually provided them, was problematic to say the least. I began to fully grasp that although Afro-Peruvians rhythms and flavours are embedded within the national Peruvian fabric;                                                  6 “He who doesn’t have Indigenous in him, has African.”   9  Afro-Peruvians are racially stigmatized, criminalized, and excluded from formal national dialogues on citizenship and development. Hence I pushed forward to further confront internalized and manifested familial and diasporic expressions of racism, whilst continuously researching the growing educational and political initiatives of Afro-descendants in Peru and across the rest of the Americas.  My initial and broad inquiries into Afro-Peruvian citizenship and development scholarship led me to the conclusion7 which Rodríguez (2008) articulates as, “Afro-Peruvians want to be officially recognized as more than an urban myth relegated to the “callejones” (ghetto side streets) of popular culture” (p. 32). In his articulation of Afro-Peruvians as a movement Rodríguez (2008) shares that Afro-Peruvians are determinedly concerned with: the creation of Afro-Peruvian organizations since the 1950s, continual work towards promoting Afro-Peruvian culture, combating racism, defending human rights for all oppressed and minoritized groups, and creating and fighting for new modes of inclusion into Peruvian society for Afro-Peruvians (p. 36-37). Rodríguez (2008) stresses that Afro-Peruvians recognize that to achieve a democratic society that is inclusive and respectful of ethno-cultural differences, it is pivotal that they develop and aim organizational strength towards holding the state accountable for incorporating the proposals of Afro-Peruvians across the various levels of political spaces and social institutions to ensure a holistic treatment of development (p. 38).  The commencement of my academic graduate work aligned with a period of fastly developing Afro-Peruvian initiatives in Peru and growing activism, as well as with intense societal backlash which glaringly revealed the violently racist tendencies of Peruvian society and exclusionary practices of its heavily rhetoric maintained democracy. Afro-Peruvians were not                                                  7 I do not speak for all Afro-Peruvians and realize that the literature from which this conclusion is drawn is representative of Afro-Peruvians involved with activism projects, research, or academia, and highlight there are anticipated contradictions amongst Afro-Peruvians including those involved in grassroots and anti-racism work.   10  remaining quiet about social injustice and inequality in Peru. In 2010 I came across LUNDU’s extensive anti-racism and social justice work and discovered its fight against El Especial del Humor’s, popular ‘comedic’ character of El Negro Mama8, to put an end to blatant systemic racism (LUNDU, 2012). Such instances of ‘struggle’ which every day are being pushed to the forefront of the ‘political’ by Afro-Peruvians themselves, revealed that dominant middle-upper class Peruvians negate the reality of racism within their state’s borders and dismiss anti-racist activism or educational initiatives as irrelevant, pointless, or civically destructive and ‘anti-Peruvian’.   This entire personal narrative brings me to one overarching question that inspires this study: what can research into the intersections of democracy, citizenship, development and pedagogical activism teach us about the process of social transformation in deeply divided societies such as Peru? The answer to this question is vital to grasp what is required for democracy to be truly participatory in Peru and for leaders of marginalized groups to obtain official recognition for their lived pedagogical contributions to citizenship and development. In this study I will focus on what this nexus teaches us about the process of social transformation.  As a Society, Culture and Politics in Education student within the Department of Educational Studies at the University of British Columbia, I approach this study from a critical multidisciplinary research lens that is currently lacking in Peru. Current studies of education undertaken in Peru remain highly gendered (Stromquist, 1986; 2004; 2006; & 2007) and limited to quantitative studies on school attendance, teacher curriculum and practice, and bilingual education. Missing are critical discussions, public commitment and practical research into the ways in which education in Peru (as in other parts of the world) cannot exist outside of the political and goes hand in hand with participatory politics. Missing as well are discussions about                                                  8 The character’s name has two meanings:  the Blackbreast or the Blackman who sucks breast.   11  how education can be practiced in such ways that foster social justice, self-esteem, respect for human rights, and true interculturality. Here, I am inspired by Edelman and Haugerud (2010) who emphasize that “we need new intellectual hybrids: adventurous combinations of culture, economy, discourse, power, institutions, and history. We must imagine other paths as well: new modes of economic organization, moral aesthetics, and forms of social creativity” (p. 1). Addressing education and pedagogical methods, can highlight issues of marginalization and exclusion, thus shedding light on the myriad of institutionalized and societal practices that reproduce systems of class, race, and gender oppression (Kincheloe & McLaren, 1994). Linking critical theories of development, democracy, citizenship and activism through an education lens can permit studies of how systemic inequalities are taught, learned and reproduced impeding sustainable development and veritable democracy. Introduction to The Apúntate Contra el Racismo Case Study   In this study, I argue that the Apúntate Contra El Racismo, a campaign that was launched in 2009 by Afro-Peruvian non-profit organization, LUNDU, offers an opportunity to examine the role of a grassroots organization in the re-articulation of the linkages between activist pedagogies, participatory politics, and sustainable development. It is an initiative that seeks to place the existence of racism and the limits it places on Peruvian civic engagement on the public agenda, with an emphasis on the Afro-Peruvian population. It also focuses on issues of sexism and education (Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog, 6 August, 2009). The main goal is to put an end to racism in the media and affect legal changes to sanction racism.   When I hear the word campaign the first thoughts that come to mind are politics, democratic parties, a platform from which to voice one’s struggle and battle opponents, and taking a stance on an issues or perspective publicly. In its verb form, campaign is a plan or   12  operation, much like in the military sense a set of strategic functions. As a noun, campaign takes on the form of actions such as working or actively engaging in some sort of an organized or strategized form to accomplish certain desired outcomes, usually political. An etymological analysis of the word campaign reveals shifts from military oriented usages to more political applications of the term. Campaign conjures images of political slogans, banners with the faces of presidential candidates, peaceful slogans for world peace. But it also conjures images of activists rallying for change with posters and noise-makers (anti-homophobia and gay pride, anti and pro abortionists, feminists, anti-war supporters, etc.), and aggressive actions against regimes of power (anti-Allende and socialism in Chile pre-1973, human rights marches by the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo in 1970s-80s, current day strike-hard campaigns by teacher unions, etc.).   In both French (campagne) and Spanish (campaña), the word in noun form refers to notions of the vast open country or field, and in verb form refers to fighting for a cause or taking part in a series of actions for a goal one is passionate about. Both linguistic translations imply the notions of speaking out, stepping out beyond your own and surrounding communities, building networks, and taking risks in facing possible opposition or dissention. This latter point is important to note as contemporary uses or references of the word campaign, most often link it directly to democracy. Although certain ‘aggressive’ actions can be attributed to the process of campaigning, usage has stripped from it the violent connotations related to ‘military attack’. Nonetheless there is a certain militant aspect of campaign that cannot be ignored.   In relation to politics and participatory democracy, campaigns provide an opportunity for candidates to use various tactics to portray their political perspectives and convince citizens to vote for them (Nalder, 2010). The strongest of campaigns have dynamic use of the television, radio, and digital media opportunities, live-debates, in person public addresses, and rallies for   13  networking and securing support. Campaigns, seen as “populist democratic tools” have been historically deployed both to use popular resentment to take the rights of marginalized or minority groups and to spotlight the needs and demands of these groups within the national arena of politics with resounding effects (Nalder, 2010).   Campaigns thus serve as platforms for the enactment of different discourses, and strategies and as instruments for marginalized groups taking action for inclusion and official recognition. However, as a political tool for change and articulation of demands, campaigns carry with them and therefore attach to those who employ them, connotations of a challenge to the status quo, usually the established means of societal control and governance. When seeking to interrogate methods and structures of governance, campaigns can therefore serve as a legitimate approach with which to challenge the state.   Apúntate Contra el Racismo is a pro-social justice campaign. It is education based and aims to eradicate systemic social racism as proliferated through the media, seeking structural change. It is a campaign that places the issues of racism and sexism front and centre in Peruvian socio-politics. In the Peruvian context, this campaign highlights the revolutionary possibilities that participatory campaign action can have for democracy. However, it is worth noting that the term campaign can open up disturbing reminders of the 1980s-1990s Sendero Luminoso9 campaign actions. The latter was led by Sendero Luminoso, Maoist guerilla insurgency group that plagued Peru since the 1980s and throughout the early 1990s. It was characterized by its random terrorist attacks on the city of Lima, coercive attempts to control the Peruvian highland peasantry, and large university student affiliation from Peru’s poorer province areas (Hinojosa, 1998). It accomplished its agenda by taking advantage of the brewing disengagement with national conceptions of ‘citizenship’ experienced by youth who entered universities, especially                                                  9 Shining Path.   14  those from highland areas who entered Lima’s institutions and were treated as inferior and were seeking group identities, but also the intellectual fervor inspired since the 1920s by Peru’s first leftist leader Jose Carlos Mariategui (Hinojosa, 1998). Thus in Peru, the face of a student/ youth campaigner became immediately linked with that of an internal terrorist.  Since then contemporary politics of education in Peru have taken a huge shift towards the right. Yet, as memories of human rights atrocities and disappearances of students associated with the extreme activities of Sendero Luminoso agenda permeated society, visions of progress in Peru began to be shaped by the technological manifestations of globalization and by world organizations such as the World Bank and the United Nations (UN). The latter focused on education as a key development factor through such initiatives as the UN Millenium Development Goals (MDGs). Educational institutions were identified by the state as sites for the ‘internationalization’ of Peru. Education began to be seen as a pathway to aligning Peru and its people to world standards of business and development. Within this context, the state maintained a high level of intolerance towards student/ youth mobilization as still present in its memory was the Sendero Luminoso campaign.    Over this backdrop the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign, promoted by LUNDU, should therefore be understood as one case in a much larger multifaceted and contested political history of participatory politics in Peru. Within this context Mónica Carrillo, Executive President of LUNDU, describes LUNDU as “dedicated to promoting new political and cultural understandings of racism, sexism, homophobia, and other types of discrimination” (Jones, 2007, p. 321). Carrillo argues that LUNDU aims to prove that social justice oriented political proposals can be generated through new understandings of citizenship, history, art and culture. With alarmingly few Afro-Peruvians achieving high levels of leadership in Peruvian politics, it is no   15  surprise that LUNDU highlights the need for more Afro-Peruvian youth to learn not just about how to counter the hegemonic forces that sustain practices  such as racism. Thus, for Afro-Peruvians, pedagogy- the act of piecing together critical curricula together through action to actively engage student’s formation of social justice oriented knowledge and skills-  is the pivotal site for learning the participatory democratic skills to engage politics and become leaders of their own development.  Apúntate Contra el Racismo has as an overall objective to place upon the public political agenda the issue of racism as a barrier to sustainable national development, its focus of course being the Afro-Peruvian population, but not limited to it. It also seeks to address issues of sexism and education. The campaign’s direct proposal on behalf of all Afro-Peruvians is for Peruvians as a whole to recognize that racism is real and rampant (Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog, 6 August, 2009). It seeks to create awareness about racism by revealing the importance of “inclusion” as a characteristic of national citizenship practice. It highlights the appalling consequences of racist media representations on minoritized groups. Finally it is a campaign that seeks to utilize the concept of activist pedagogy to stir aconscientious understanding of racism and other forms of oppression in youth, teach anti-oppressive language and methodologies of practice, and cultivate alliances for a more socially just Peru. The campaign is as much about creating reflection and action around social responsibility at the personal, institutional, and political level as it is about the struggle of anti-racism. The LUNDU campaign is therefore essentially a form of public pedagogy rooted in citizenship and learning through activist socio-political action.  The present case study of the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign seeks to understand how activists use strategic democratic action and enact participatory politics to combat racism   16  and transform existing hierarchies and understandings of democracy and development. Central to this concern are the questions regarding political efficacy, which are central to the campaign. The lessons learned from the study of the campaign should shed light on what benefits there are for Afro-Peruvians to gain in terms of their civic engagement, beyond the period of campaign duration in relation to engaging participatory politics. This case study of the campaign will also help to understand what ‘spaces’ and ‘support’ networks are available within Peru for LUNDU to consolidate and use to enhance its anti-oppressive development work. Finally, I hope to bring forward and elaborate on the critical impact of conceptions of democracy when activist pedagogy and participatory politics are engaged to further alternative and sustainable notions of development.  By focusing on the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign case study, I attempt to answer the following questions:  1.) How did LUNDU leaders come to view themselves as activists and construct their activism in relation to discourses of education, development and participatory politics within the context of Peruvian society?  The aim of this question is to grasp how the notion of the campaign came to be through a contextual understanding of their perspectives on critical national discourses and the possible intersections amongst them. I am specifically interested in the antecedents or facilitating factors that gave birth to the campaign. 2.) How did LUNDU leaders come to view and construct an ‘activist pedagogy’ and how does it play out in relation to the campaign? The aim of this second question is to understand the learning experienced throughout the creation, implementation and conclusion of the campaign.    17  3.) How did LUNDU leverage political power through the campaign in order to attain greater public visibility, participatory politics and civic engagement towards socio-political transformation? The aim of this question is to gain a deeper understanding of how the campaign and its leaders were engaged in relation to various constituencies and the possibilities and limits these engagements offer marginalized peoples.  Situating the Study   Peru is a country rich in culture and diverse in identities that portrays itself on the international stage to tourists and policymakers as a true multiethnic state. The social reality is another issue. Political rhetoric in official development documents and public presentations expresses the narrative that the interculturalization of Peruvian education is fundamentally interconnected with the interculturalization of Peru as a democratic state. As Laurie and Bonnett (2002) highlight,  “programmes in equity education, especially in “multicultural”, “intercultural”, and “antiracist” education, are integral components of the modernisation” and “democratisation” process” (p. 32). Devastatingly, such initiatives have served in many instances as covers for the systemic racism that has been engrained in the fabric of Peruvian society since colonial times and diverted attention from the State’s aversion of responsibility for its affective role in ‘Othering’. Afro-Peruvians are attempting to provide answers to many of the questions posed about intercultural education and what it means to be a ‘citizen’ in such a context. Afro-Peruvians, especially Afro-Peruvian youth, are a movement whose voice is getting louder in relation to both on the international and national arenas of development. They represent themselves as not seeking to destabilize the nation, insisting that they are working to “achieve national unity” (Garcia, 2004). Within this context, Afro-Peruvians are attempting to take into account the many perspectives and needs of Peru’s marginalized groups. They acknowledge the   18  necessity of empowering Peru’s plural population to engage politics and ensure that they are governed by leaders that listen to their needs, shape and utilize institutions that validate their perspectives, and participate in the development of policies and laws that correspond to their lived realities.  The literature on Afro-Peruvians offers insight into their history of enslavement (Hunefeldt, 1994; N’gom, Choppy, Scheibel, and Berstein, 2011; Orihuela, 2011), cultural contributions to society (Rodríguez Pastor, 2008), the status of Afro-Peruvian women and gendered racism (Falcon, 2008), experiences of discrimination (Mayorga, 2010; Velarde, 2012a), and contributions to agriculture (Castello, 2008).  Extensive charting of the usage of color labels in Peru and racial identification has also been completed (Golash-Boza, 2010; Sue, 2009). There has also been extensive research on Afro-Peruvian intercultural education projects and perspectives by both outsider (foreign and non-Afro-descendant Peruvian nationals) and Afro-Peruvian researchers (Valdiviezo Arista & Valdiviezo, 2008; Valdiviezo, 2012; Chartock, 2011; Velarde, 2011; Estupiñan, 2012).  In contradistinction, there has been little if scarce analysis and publication of Afro-Peruvians’ pedagogical activism and contributions to democratic development re-articulations. Lewis (2012) and Valdiviezo (2006 and 2012), researched the efforts of Afro-Peruvians in charting their own intercultural education proposals and inter-generational perspectives amongst Afro-Peruvian activists of two NGOs to a greater extent. This said, there has been no sustained nor in-depth research into the role that Afro-Peruvians play in re-articulating the meanings of citizenship, development, and democracy in Peru through their pedagogical and publicly political anti-racism activism.    19  Racism in Peru   Van Dijk explains that racism is a system of social domination (oppression on the basis of ethnicity, gender, age, etc.) where one group abuses their power over the other and it consists of discriminatory practices across various societal spaces and ideological prejudices that become internalized to varying degrees by both the dominant and the oppressed. According to Van Dijk (2010) racism is learned and not an inherent trait in people. When talking about being ‘Blacks in Peru’ Afro-Peruvians are referring to a way of identifying to the culture and traditions, moreso then just physical characteristics. The latter is important when trying to understand racism in Peru, because as Gamarra (2010) states, Peru is a country of “all the bloods” (p. 9).10 Therefore, it is extremely hard to denote ‘Blackness’ by physical features or miscegenation. Racism thus manifests itself as a ‘cultural norm’ that establishes labels, delineates roles and organizes ‘differences’ in levels of inferiority pitting shade against shade (Gamarra, 2010).   Gamarra (2010) highlights that apart from agreeing that racism has been sustained by its often subliminal hold of Peruvians’ consciousness and is one of Peru’s most ‘solid institutions of practice’, researchers (including those that are Afro-Peruvian) struggle to reach consensus on an explanation for contemporary racism. Some suggest that answers to the aforementioned question can be found in market capital based studies of society and interactions, while others study the roots of racism through more sociological or psychological lenses, yet most reach the same undeniable conclusion (Ñopo, Chong, Moro, 2010). Whether the outstanding factors are education, market, or demographically related, there is discrimination, and more specifically racism, in Peruvian society, and it is most palpable to those historically ‘Othered’ through colonialism (Gamarra, 2010). Through colonialism and intricately related clientelistic practices, the democracy that has been learned in Peru has been ‘exclusive’, ‘marginalizing’, and                                                  10 The original text in Spanish: “el Peru es un pais de todas las sangres,” Gamarra (2010).   20  ‘aggressive’ (Gamarra, 2010), 11 ensuring that power remains solidly in the hands of ‘whitened’ mestizo/ criollo elites. The contemporary and most notorious vehicle for the aforementioned practices of marginalization is the Peruvian media.   Lopez12 (2010) questions whether racism in the media resulted from a spontaneous process or whether it was a concerted effort on behalf of hegemonic circles dominated by whites. He concludes that it is difficult to conceive that there could be people who sit around planning on how to implement racist content to impede the development of their own country. However, he does think that there is some sort of systemic mechanism in place, perhaps ‘societal brainwashing’, one of the ‘gifts’ of colonization, that keeps ensuring a high degree of racist content across all public media forms- television, newsprint, radio, comedic advertising, etc.  Lopez (2010) highlights that in the growing public struggle against racism Afro-Peruvians are often questioned for their understanding of oppression and stance on racism. He responds that Afro-Peruvians acknowledge that racism in Peru is not just directed towards those that are ‘Black’. He points out, however, that there are at least over ten hours a week of television dedicated to Andean cultural programming, and that Indigenous heroes, poets and warriors are at least included in all school curricula texts and illustrations. In relation to Afro-Peruvian history children are mistakenly taught that freedom was magnanimously given to the Black slaves, some of which turned down this freedom preferring to keep serving their ‘loving’ white masters vowing to continue dedicating their lives to them. Schmidt is not attempting to create an antagonistic split between Andeans and Afro-Peruvians, however, he is trying to establish that it is Afro-Peruvian culture (history and contemporary practices) that is omitted                                                  11The original text in Spanish: “La democracia que han aprendido ha sido excluyente y agresiva. Ha sido una democracia sin ventajas.” See Gamarra, 2010, pp. 9-10 for an extended explanation on the effect colonialism and racism have on Peruvian society.  12 Carlos Lopez Schmidt is an Afro-Peruvian director, actor and president of Cimarrones, an institution of interethnic global communication.   21  from official state representations of national culture and constantly misrepresented in educational and cultural arenas as criollo.  In the struggle against oppression, Schmidt (2010) calls for zero tolerance when it comes to racist action. The latter means no tolerance whatsoever for racist media and advertisements, writing letters to media channels in protest of racist content, and publicly denouncing acts of racism so that authorities will have no choice but to pay attention. Gamarra (2010) says that it is time to call all Afro-Peruvians and unite them with the rest of civil society, especially other groups for fighting for their rights, to construct a true democratic Peru, through the strengthening of public politics, the redesigning of public spaces, the critique of existing laws and mechanisms for public engagement, the rearticulating of the latter, and the overall improvement of how citizens relate to one another.  As I have reviewed, there is considerable scholarship conducted into the concept of racism, Afro-Peruvians’ historical and contemporary experiences of slavery and racism, and their inter/cultural insights. However, my study addresses a gap, in that it investigates the relevance of the Afro-Peruvian struggle for questions of citizenship and participatory politics in Peruvian society. By focusing on LUNDU’s anti-racism Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign, the study provides an opportunity to critically analyze participatory and politically oriented initiatives and how activists’ learning and their perspectives on public pedagogy play out with the larger struggle in which they are embedded. Furthermore, it reveals LUNDU’s fervent commitment to Afro-Peruvian empowerment, but also to the strengthening of public politics through alliance building with other civil society groups and constant surveillance and re-articulation of public politics.    22  Significance of the Study The proposed study is justified on the basis of three converging viewpoints. Firstly it is my belief that contradictory notions of citizenship collide in the education sphere precisely because pedagogical processes and institutions are supposed to privilege the unpacking and re-articulation of knowledge. This study examines the part that the activist pedagogy of a marginalized group plays in promoting modes of participatory citizenship that are inclusive and socially just. Secondly, Peru faces significant challenges regarding the articulation and promotion of sustainable forms of development grounded in participatory democratic engagement. LUNDU’s Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign, offers the opportunity to address anti-oppressive citizenship and teach participation in relation to the ‘politics’ of development. Thirdly, in a climate of political and economic insecurity in Peru, what remains unclear is the extent to which the anti-racism struggles of marginalized communities, such as LUNDU’s, provide these communities with an opportunity to build and consolidate alliances and strategic engagements towards larger social and political transformation. The aforementioned three viewpoints inform my critical theoretical lens and subsequent analysis. My analysis rests on three key conceptual understandings of activist pedagogy, development and citizenship in relation to democracy. Democracy has been until now discussed as something standing alone in itself. However, I argue that a meaningful discussion of democracy cannot occur without considering what activist pedagogy stands for in relation to development and ‘citizenship’. Only when development and democracy happen in conjunction can ‘difference’ and ‘sustainable change’ for authentic democratic politics for development be achieved. This study posits as crucial for a healthy and inclusive democracy, an understanding of development considered alternative to one that premises indicators of material prosperity,   23  because it premises ‘ethical responsibility’ and often immeasurable holistic well-being (Spivak, 2004). The error of development planners, political technocrats, and institutional leaders is to reduce development to a set of skills or knowledges, or worse, to indicators of material prosperity. The same is true of citizenship: it is not just voting, or even the skills and knowledge to vote, but the exercise of these in a context of freedom and equality. The analysis of development and democracy from the perspective of a community that has experienced inequality and slavery should cast light on these issues. Citizenship and education must therefore also be included in the discussion. This study highlights the importance of focusing on the conceptualization of citizenship13 as having ancient roots and is more closely linked to equality and participation than modernity. Any critiques of citizenship posited within this study are not directed at the egalitarian and participatory dimension of citizenship, but rather at the way that citizenship is used, for example, in neoliberal discourse to refer only to voting or home ownership. I position activist pedagogy as a critically important model for the learning of democratic citizenship and social justice oriented public participation with a significant role in the democracy-development discussion. It is a model through which politics are learned, enacted, and contested- a model through which the tools for societal transformation and democratic revolution can be learned. It attains its privilege from its pivotal functions in shaping educated, solidary and engaged citizens of the future. At the “2013 Maestros, Sociedad y Estado: Bases                                                  13Citizenship is a highly contested and loaded term. It has been used in relevance to claims of nationality in attempts to delineate who does or does not belong to a nation, and thus who has rights to participate civically within the nation. Conflated with contested theories of belonging, immigration, interculturalism, human rights, and globalization, citizenship is often used as an interchangeable term for nationality. I do not use the term in relation to the technical sense of who deserves the title and rights of being a citizen of a particular state as I believe that nobody should be excluded from political participation solely on the basis of nationality. Rather, I discuss citizenship in relation to the systemic barriers that can limit and narrow the definition and enactment of citizenship, how the concept of citizenship is approached in Latin America, the ways in which people acquire the civic competencies to challenge traditional constructions of citizenship itself, and the various modes of civic engagement through which peoples seek to express their needs and perspectives and affect political change.   24  para un acuerdo Nacional por el Maestro Peruano,14” national conference hosted by Foro Educativo15 in Lima, panelist Cotler16 declared that ‘modern’ education (education that is geared towards producing citizens that will be productive in the labour market) must be taught alongside an education that teaches the skills for the praxis of critical democratic citizenship (Foro Educativo, 2012). Fellow panelist Cuenca17, also emphasized that researchers must think of teachers as active social and political figures and that classrooms are where the politics of education must be developed (Foro Educativo, 2012). I maintain that if notions of activism and teaching can be coupled together in Peru to shape critical democratic curricula and pedagogical positions, clearer notions of civic engagement, development and democracy, socio-political transformation, could be articulated. The new vision for socio-political transformation should not just be focused on the re-articulation of a plan for the student, the teacher, the politician and the activist as separate entities. Rather, such a vision should contemplate the creation of a platform on which to unite strategic initiatives by students, teachers, politicians, and community activists and create linkages between societal sectors (so fragmented in Peru) along notions of social justice. Studying LUNDU’s campaign, as a case study is of activist pedagogy, is of vital importance because it contributes to the theoretical discussion of democracy by highlighting the imminent need to inquire into how the implementation of an anti-racism campaign by Afro-Peruvians teaches participatory citizenship, consolidates alliances, exposes systemic inequalities, and reconfigures patterns of both social and political governance to chart a new path of                                                  14 2013 Teachers, Society, and the State: Bases for National Plan for the Peruvian Teacher; the two part conference took place on February 14-16th, 2013 (Part 1) and August 7-9th, 2013 (Part II); panelists cited in this research presented during Part 1 of the conference.  15 Educational Forum, is a plural and independent non-profit association based out of Lima, Peru, from diverse backgrounds, dedicated to the transformation and development of Peruvian education from a sustainable and democratic framework, whose aim is also to support both state and civil society initiatives; for more information see, http://foroeducativo.com/ 16 Julio Cotler is anthropologist and principle investigator at the Instituto de Estudios Peruanos (IEP).  17 Ricardo Cuenca is Director of Research at the IEP and founding member of the Sociedad de Investigación Educativa Peruana (SIEP), where he is currently director of publications.    25  development and strengthen an inclusive notion of democracy in Peru. Finally, and most importantly, it highlights that democracy and citizenship reflect multifaceted and dialectic dynamics that are powerfully situated in relation to specific contexts of political action.                   26  CHAPTER 2: THE CONCEPTUAL FRAMING Introduction: Critical Pillars I approach the study of the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign from a ‘critical theory’ perspective. The term ‘critical theory’ was first used in the late 1930s by members of the Institute for Social Research in Frankfurt, Germany, after they emigrated to the United States, following the rise of Hitler (Kellner, 1990). For them, the term served as a code word for their version of Marxist social theory and research (Kellner, 1990). More recently, Billings and Jennings (2001) pointed out that:  [Critical theory] now refers primarily to Marxist studies done or inspired by this so-called Frankfurt School and its contemporary representatives such as Jurgen Habermas. Critical sociologists working in this tradition share several common tenets including a rejection of sociological positivism and its separation of facts from values; a commitment to the emancipation of humanity from all forms of exploitation, domination, or oppression; and a stress on the importance of human agency in social relations. (Billings & Jennings, 2001, p. 539) By drawing on critical theory, I seek to unpack the impact of activist pedagogy on citizenship and development in a way that unsettles hegemonic systems of power in Peru contributing to a re-articulation of democracy. More recent applications and reiterations of critical theory emphasize the impact of hegemonic manifestations of imperialism and colonization on class, gender and race relations and the need to investigate the systemic interrelatedness of forms of oppression through alternative articulations of pedagogy, development, citizenship and democracy. It is to these critical intersectionalities that I hope my study will add further depth. Engaging Citizenship, Democracy, and Development   In the following section I set the stage for the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign case study with a theoretical discussion of citizenship, democracy and development because it is important to grasp how development is being implemented by neo-liberalism in ways that are re-colonizing and displacing historically marginalized peoples, excluding them from participation in the politics of democracy and limiting their civic agency. Following a discussion of dominant   27  development discourse I continue to examine how development can be re-articulated through an analysis of citizenship and democracy scholarship which propose the proliferation of critical civic competencies and pedagogies. I try to create a map for how the public activist campaign work of LUNDU reveals the democratic citizen action necessary for an inclusive socio-political re-imagining of Peru.   “D”evelopment as the All-Knowingly Neoliberal Saviour Discourses on ‘development’ sprung up and began to take sweeping force in the 1940s as World War II drew to a close, communist fear brewed, and the US declared that poverty was a threat to world peace and its interests (Senarclens, 1997). However, ‘development’ as a strategy of imperialist control and requirement for ‘modernity’ had begun to unfold many centuries ago as lands were seized and peoples became enslaved to foreign and domestic masters. In the 1940s, the “logic of imperialism required that development be taken on as a burden of the metropolitan powers” (Senarclens, 1997, p. 191). It was implied that ‘development’ would play out according to Western modes of reasoning and social and cultural production (Senarclens, 1997, p. 192). Development reflected an educational discourse with which to instill and reproduce the values and norms of the hegemonic groups of the world, specifically American modes of consumption and industrialization. It was a notion that premised economic wealth above any other.  Such theorists as Walt Rostow, Edward Shils, Samuel Huntington, and Davis Lewis led the way in conceptualizing development as intricately dependent on American processes of production, consumption, and planning (Chari & Corbridge, 2008, p. 126). Rostow’s Five Stages of Economic Growth theory predominated development planning post-1960s, sharply privileging US modernisation theory. The latter premised an age of high mass consumption and cold war competition while the US and the Soviet Union raced for the “hearts and minds of the people in   28  the global periphery” (Chari & Corbridge, 2008, p. 126). Efficiency and productivity became the order of the day with democracy taking a back seat to often authoritarian and non-participatory practices that sought to promote modernisation through stringent policies. (Chari & Corbridge, 2008). Within this context, the ideal of democratic citizenship was shaped in relation to modernity and development. Being a good citizen meant gaining an education to obtain the skills required to thrive in the market (human capital approach), contribute to the consumer economy, and relieve the state of its welfare duties. Although democracy itself is grounded upon the ideals of plural freedoms and a diversity of rights, development and citizenship were rigidly defined. Development with a capital D, ‘Development,’ became recognized and taught as a process directed by governments, private companies, and powerful international and state institutions (Chari & Corbridge, 2008). Escobar (1992a) points out: Development was characterized from the outset by certain basic statements relating a few variables such as capital, technology and resources. Once established through theories and institutionalized in practices (embodied in strategies and programmes), this set of statements determined what could be said, thought, imagined: it defined the space of Development. Industrialization, family planning, the green revolution, macroeconomic policy etc, all refer to the same space, all repeat in different ways that same set of statements. But since the discourse creates endless prescriptions, views, institutions, programmes and so forth, it gives the impression of a great learning process, of constituting a vast terrain for expression and innovation. (p. 414) As Ferguson (1997) affirms, development is seen as something only possible through official government action and decision-making. Escobar (1992a) underscores the major flaw of this construction of development arguing: Development was the result of refined forms of knowledge and greater potentialities of science and technology that could be put to the service of the non-industrialized world. But none of these conventional explanations accounts for the concrete form that Development took, and for the pervasive way in which it became the one and only way to think and act. In short, they would be at pains to explain how Development became an inescapable and totalizing domain which in turn made possible certain states of domination. (p. 413) Fals Borda (1988; 1992) sums up the devastating effects of neoliberal development as exploitative, destructive, invisibilizing, paralyzing, indebting, and marginalizing, rendering many people voiceless and breaking down conventional political mechanisms and eventually democracy itself. Thus if we are to envision the transformation from neoliberal societies with   29  weak democratic governance structures into sustainably oriented democracies that support their citizens’ participatory actions for greater social justice, we should consider research and pedagogy that considers civil society projects with plural perspectives that are closely linked with the expansion of concepts of citizenship and development, integral.  Democracy and Citizenship for Alternative Development Possibilities In this section I unpack the concepts of democracy and citizenship and discuss how strong democracies with sustainable processes of development attempt to foster and support citizens’ deliberative, participatory and radical qualities and skills. I begin by briefly diverging to address why, democracy, of all forms of state governance was selected for this case study analysis. With this overall discussion I foreground the practical relevance and innovation of the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign. Scholarship calling for participation as political adversaries, citing the importance of the ways in which marginalized groups leverage power, the ways in which neocolonial dominance is countered, and an analysis of how injustice, that which is suffered individually and collectively can be narrativisable and thus challengeable, indicates that democracy, citizenship and development are contextually malleable concepts. This case study speaks to the radical, participatory, and anti-oppressive forms of critical civic action with which a marginalized group takes legitimate democratic action to re-take the epistemic concepts which have been imposed since colonial times. Thus discussing democracy, citizenship and development guides an analysis of how alternative socio-political realities are possible and leads to the contested juncture of education where these discourses collide. In relation to Peru’s context, democracy was the only fathomable option (putting my own political passions aside). Recent Latin American elections indicated that there is widespread popular support for leftist leaders and governments. Even those labelled as ‘bad leftists’ have   30  proven in many cases to provide more mass stability, opened up venues for new forms of democratic participation, and for the most part avoided the violent rights abuses of authoritarian governments which claimed democratic identities as Fujimori’s regime (Cameron, 2013a, para. 1). Yet, despite the election of so-called ‘leftist’ leader Ollanta Humala into the Peruvian presidency, the Peruvian state has taken large shifts to the right. Cameron (2013a) states that it is the ‘will’ of the “powerful minorities--economically powerful groups, the media, the armed forces, and so forth--that prevents the social change demanded by majorities” and any possibility of a cohesive ‘majority’ in Peru is inhibited by an experience based fear of military and authoritarian rule (para. 8). So in the case of Peru it is more productive for any sustainable development and social justice based possible envisioning of society and state to focus on expanding and strengthening participatory mechanisms, and as Cameron (2013a) beckons: [imagining] a wider range of possible democracies in which constitutionalism, the rule of law, fundamental rights and freedoms, and full and active participation are brought together in mutually reinforcing ways to make it possible to collectively achieve a better future for our children and our planet. (para. 12) Thus, I proceed to connect core elements of participatory and radical forms of democracy to establish the framework for a Peruvian democratic state that values deliberation skills in its citizens and politicians moving beyond just a ‘voting’ concept of democratic engagement, supports the creation of spaces and mechanisms for greater citizen participation especially those from historically marginalized groups, and productively channels ‘difference’ and ‘dissent’ for the evolution of a democratic state that is truly respectful of diversity amongst its peoples.  A deep analysis of Mouffe’s (2005) concept of ‘agonistic democracy’18 allows for a critical, yet practical and realistic, view of Peruvian politics and society. It also facilitates the                                                  18 ‘Agonistic democracy’ also referred to as ‘radical pluralist democracy’ by Chantal Mouffe, was selected for the democratic theoretical grounding discussion of the Peruvian state and LUNDU’s Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign, because it was deemed most appropriate over a deliberative or communicative democracy model for the following reasons: 1.) I understand Peru to be a state where the rhetoric of public and participatory spaces has dominated supposed democratic practice and reports, without actually existing; 2.) there is a socially systemic   31  proposal of a radical pluralist form of democracy that challenges Peru’s empty rhetoric of intercultural inclusion and pushes for the opening up of public political spaces even to those who may not have a constitutional claim on the state. Succeeding presidents and their parties have enthusiastically and widely employed ‘democratic’ rhetoric such as ‘interculturalism’ and ‘minority rights’ and also constructed corresponding institutions, without actually adhering to their pluralistic definitions. Mouffe theorizes the latter as the consequences of neoliberal politics which do not foster, nor lend support for the discussion of varying perspectives. Such neo-liberal constructions of democracy reveal for Mouffe a “complete lack of understanding of what is at stake in democratic politics and of the dynamics of constitution of political identities and, as we will see, it contributes to exacerbating the antagonistic potential existing in society” (p. 2). Mouffe’s argument is twofold: 1.) When the channels are not available through which conflicts could take an ‘agonistic’ form, those conflicts tend to emerge on the ‘antagonistic’ mode 2.) Collective identities play a central part in politics and the task of democratic politics is not to overcome through consensus but to construct them in a way that energizes the democratic confrontation. Mouffe indicates the mistake of liberal rationalism is to ignore the affective dimension mobilized by collective identifications and to imagine that those supposedly archaic ‘passions’ are bound to disappear with the advance of individualism and the progress of                                                                                                                                                              embedded hierarchy resulting from (neo) colonization, that certain individuals are less ‘rational’ or ‘reasonable’, thus these marginalizing perspectives need to first be exposed; 3.) without spaces and institutions for agonistic encounter, there are just ‘public’ encounters where people ‘perform’ democratic attitudes; 4.) power constitutes all social relations, therefore, there is no freedom from coercion and hegemonic coercive patterns need to revealed, but there also needs to be an acceptance that total transparency and harmony can never be claimed or acquired, and thus there needs to be constant civic action to ‘check’ democratic institutions and processes; 5.) political ‘equality’ cannot be beckoned in Peru without first outlining who has historically been excluded and included; 6.) and Peru has a history of fraudulent and violent ‘democracies’ and too much emphasis on consensus and the repetitive negation of confrontation can lead to political apathy. For further justifications for and arguments against radical agonistic and deliberative forms of democracy see Martin (2000) and Young (2000) from which I drew comparative understandings of democracy for the previously outlined reasons.    32  rationality; also why democratic theory is so badly prepared to grasp the nature of ‘mass’ political movements as well as phenomena such as nationalism.  Mouffe (2005) argues that constructing a radical pluralist democracy requires the building of predispositions within people to contend with difference and affective dimensions of citizenship. It is about opening-up spaces for non-state actors, apart from parties, to engage in the political in ways which consolidate a ‘democratic’ sphere. Mouffe’s (1993, 2005) perspective of citizenship is ‘agonistic’; the idea that to act as a citizen means acting only in one way is irrational. There is a multiplicity of ways of enacting citizenship. Therefore she promotes a form of conflictual consensus in relation to the creation of discourses of governance and development. This concept of conflictual consensus derives from her belief that hegemony is always the result of articulations of citizenship that amass power for certain groups at certain times. In Carpentier and Cammaerts, 2006) Mouffe discusses hegemony and any of its articulations as never final nor total, and continuously open to re-articulations (p. 966). Mouffe’s model of radical and effective citizenship, is one that calls for a synergy between civil society, political parties, and democratic institutions (p. 970). Hence there is also a need for marginalized groups seeking to alter hegemonic patterns of dominance and gain official recognition to create a “chain of equivalence between different democratic struggles;” so that the demands of one group will not be met at the expense of another (p. 971).  For democratic forces to counter the dominating neo-liberal hand, “new identities are required,” grounded in the “common political identity as radical democratic citizens” (Mouffe, 1993, p. 71). Mouffe emphasizes that the latter can only be formulated and understood through the conceptionalization of a problematic that “conceives of the social agent not as a unitary subject but as the articulation of an ensemble of subject positions, constructed within specific   33  discourses and always precariously and temporarily sutured at the intersection of those subject positions” (p. 71). Therefore it is vital to not essentialize the needs of any one group of citizens and to approach political change through intersectional lenses. Although Mouffe’s perspectives on democracy and the characteristics which qualify states to engage a radical re-articulation of the concept are heavily Eurocentric, she does convey her belief that there can be as many forms of citizenship as there are interpretations of democracy. For her, the tension that exists between one’s individual concerns and the duties of being a citizen of a democracy which can never be reconciled is what characterizes democracy. As Mouffe (in Carpentier and Cammaerts, 2006) highlights, “Agonism removes the violent and destructive aspects from the antagonistic and transfers the enemy-other into the adversary-other” (p. 971). Mouffe’s perspective that the “political struggle is political struggle over the transformation of the (always contingent) patterns of power relations that organize society” (Rummens, 2009, p. 379) reveals that in ‘true’ democracy there will never be complete consensus amongst and between peoples over the ethico-political values of liberty and equality (Rummens, 2009). Rather, it is in the process of defining one’s views of this, that forms of identification are strengthened and ‘justice’ is neared.  Mouffe (1993) stresses that relations of domination must be challenged if the democratic principles liberty and equality are to apply in ‘democratic’ governance (p. 70). The latter is also true for the re-structuring of top-down and conventional forms of ‘development’ to be re-structured into sustainable and inclusive methods. Mouffe (1993) emphasizes that plural communities owe the ‘ethical’ state dedication, and the state in return owes it plural citizen masses a very clear explanation of what it stands for. This crucial ‘partnership’ grounded in the agonistic struggle is the challenge to the hegemonic articulation of capitalism. Nonetheless, the question remains how does one move from the agonistic encounter of the state and plural groups   34  to a participatory collective force of action in the defense of legitimate democracy? In other words, how will the democratic state contend with the various plural voices and how will these plural voices forge ‘democratic alliances’ to transform state democratic functions along participatory lines and also establish national stability? A radical democratic government provides surfaces of inscription, agonistic spaces, where the diverse demands could be articulated with cultural and artistic practices playing an importance role in the agonistic struggle because they are a privileged terrain for the construction of new subjectivities (Mouffe, 2010). How can these ‘agonistic’ spaces be fostered? Alternative conceptions of development tell us that the answer to the aforementioned questions lies in the rhizomatic (Deleuze &Guattarri, 2004) efforts of grassroots groups and social movements. The idea behind rhizomatic action is that connections are propagated in various directions and the limits of norms, binaries, and dualistic structures are countered. Grassroots groups often develop an identity based on their plural understanding, historic yet evolving identities, and vast efforts to build counter-capitalist networks which allow them to carry on with their work despite often challenging circumstances. Through their daily rhizomatic activities, they contend with hegemonic relations, confront internalized colonialism and “epistemic violence” (Spivak, 2003), and push forward with critical and participatory strategies that peel away the falsities of empty rhetoric and check the ‘democratic’ validity of institutions. Although Mouffe proposes a radical re-articulation of democracy and citizenship, she lacks a thorough explanation of what ‘citizen actions’ and ‘development’ for an alternative and stronger construction of democracy would look like. She leaves the concept of ‘alternatives’ and the methods for establishing them quite vague. Escobar provides insight into the aforementioned. He elaborates that the notion of ‘democracy’ is not the same around the globe and thus   35  ‘development’ must look different according to the varying needs of the people it is meant to serve. Thus, as Escobar underscores the myriad of ways in which these ‘expressed’ modes of citizenship require in-depth analysis and charting in relation to theories of critical pedagogy, development and democracy.  He therefore also counters Mouffe and Laclau’s view that pluralistic manifestations and alternative articulations are only possible in countries labelled as ‘advanced’ because the Third World, lacks the ‘connaissance’ of democratic political diversities due to their continued confinement by imperial confines. Escobar furthers that post World War II hegemonic development has pushed and inspired people, especially those in Latin America in a myriad of ways to create not just tactics of survival but new pedagogies that preserve traditional knowledge systems and give birth to new ones.   Modernity gave birth to the imperial-colonial paradigm of development. Thus, Escobar begins by challenging its Eurocentric theorization and application. Vital for a stronger conceptualization of radical participatory democracy is Escobar’s deeper analysis of Mouffe’s employment of the concept of ‘modernity’ in relation to development (Escobar, 1992b, p. 67). He contends that “modernity can be seen as an attempt to provide a foundation for society that is grounded in reason, the economy, and a project of global emancipation. ...overlooked are the manifold techniques of power necessary to create modern classes, modern rationalities, and, especially the modern subject” (Escobar, 1992, p. 67). For Escobar, the greatest consequence of the “modernity” concept of that it converted “modern man” into the “policed subject” and the consequences included the marginalization of other types of knowledge and the control of women, nature and subaltern classes” (p. 67). Modernity has impacted Latin America in a unique way and thus Latin American modernity has a social and temporal heterogeneity related to the co-existence of “premodern modern, and even antimodern forms” (Escobar, 1995, p. 218). In   36  Latin America, the concept of “modernity” takes on multifaceted and hybrid manifestations. Unsurprisingly, Escobar disagrees with Mouffe and Laclau’s view that such pluralistic manifestations and articulations are only possible in countries labelled as ‘advanced’ because the Third World, lacks the ‘connaissance’ of democratic political diversities due to their continued confinement by imperial confines. Escobar argues that the post-war hegemonic form of development, which has served as a tool of neoliberal imperialism, has also resulted in a multiplicity of antagonisms and identities (all of the victims of development who are the subjects of recent forms of protest) (Escobar, 1990). Despite their distinct paradigmatic approaches to the concept of modernity, both Mouffe’s and Escobar’s respective theories on radical democracy and its relation to development reveal that socially and politically marginalized actors redefine how spaces of civic engagement look, offering insights for the re-articulations of the links between democracy and development (Escobar, 1992b, p. 68). But for Escobar, this ‘alternative path’, as he terms it, is entirely Latin American, because unlike any other place, it “is the most ancient source of an historical rationality made up by the confluence of many conquests and many rationalities and cultures” (Quijano, 1988, p. 34; cited in Escobar and Alvarez, 1992, p. 68).  Thus, Escobar’s perspective on development in the Latin American context is key to comprehend Peru’s development challenges and their contribution to the consolidation of participatory and inclusive politics. He states that “it has become customary to see development either as a series of strategies intended to bring about “progress” or, in the opposing view, as a form of neo-colonialism and dependency, that is, an instrument of control over the Third World (Escobar, 1992b, p.65). However, “that the development process implies the destruction of traditions, the normalization of living conditions along Western criteria, and the restructuring of   37  entire societies does not seem to concern those who advocate “progress” and the modernizations of national societies” (Escobar, 1992b, p. 65). Development and democracy do not require the oppression of pluralistic histories and contemporary realities. There is no one single version of democracy which should be adhered to by all countries. There is also no sole path of development that should be applied to all groups of peoples or areas in the globe, for the sole purpose of ‘being democratically progressive’. A more direct valuing of history and cultural epistemic knowledge systems is missing from the development-democracy discussion. Thus, many countries and groups of people around the globe continue to internalize that they are not developed enough and agree to a development premised upon external agendas.  Escobar (2010) interrogates the continual reference to and application of the term ‘development’. He states that many civil society grassroots leaders in Latin America are rejecting the entire development paradigm in so far as it posits comparisons with the West and a drive to ‘catch-up’ with the latter and instead trying to “experiment with different ways of organizing societies and economies” (p. 343); hence the search for ‘alternatives to development’ rather than ‘development alternatives’. Yet it is also important that the discussion of ‘alternatives’ can often get heavy with ‘contra-development’ rhetoric, prevalent in ‘post’-critical/ colonial theorization, which can unconsciously restrict dialogue amongst groups practicing their own ‘development visions’ (for lack of a better term) and at times even paralyze critical personal and communal applications of counter knowledges and practices (some of which may be hybrids of foreign models). As Andreotti (2014; forthcoming) highlights, post-critical narratives of development struggle to offer viable political answers to challenge systemic forms of oppression and often fail to address historically and collectively defined hegemonic power relations. Throughout this case study research I employ the terms ‘development’, ‘sustainable development’ and ‘societal   38  transformation’ in an attempt to linguistically facilitate comprehension of LUNDU’s contemporary struggle with the “D” evelopment paradigm, critical engagement with the discourse and search for socio-political transformation. My research inquiries revealed that Afro-Peruvians prefer referencing development, as ‘desarrollo humano’19 which as I understand moves beyond Sen’s (1999) theorization of ‘human development’20 and imagines development according to holistic principles of well being especially grounded in Afro-descendant (from Peru and neighboring countries such as Colombia)21 perspectives. These perspectives call for a leading focus on the wellbeing and wealth (cultural, spiritual, and physical) of human life, greater access to knowledge as social progress, social justice as an overall aim, protection for cultural and bio diversity, and true freedom for full personal development and political participation, rather than on the well being of the economy and the acquisition of capital and power. Above all public and inclusive dialogue is emphasized by Afro-Peruvians in discussions as needing to precede any changes, especially foreign imposed ones, as it is the space where people create their own logics and power to check any injustices of the state and mass society. Through a resistance to development marginalized groups in Third World countries create new identities through processes and categories that are “more flexible, modest, and mobile relying                                                  19 Human development.  20 Amartya Sen’s work provided the conceptual foundation for an alternative and broader human development approach defined as a process of enlarging people’s choices and enhancing human capabilities and freedoms, enabling them to: live a long and healthy life, have access to knowledge and a decent standard of living, and participate in the life of their community and decisions affecting their lives (Human Development Reports, http://hdr.undp.org/en/content/what-human-development-paradigm-and-how-does-it-guide-reports). However, despite serving as an alternative development model, Sen’s work has been critiqued for lacking critical analysis of power relations that cause and reproduce underdevelopment through national and international political institutions and also of the state political contexts in which ‘development’ unfolds; Sen also fails to account for the element of political struggle and social mobilization required for marginalized or impoverished groups to acquire greater freedoms (Navarro, 2000; Corbridge, 2002).  21 Here I am referring specifically to the work of Colombian Afro-descendant Activist, Carlos Rua Angulo, who refers to development as “bienestar” [well-being] and new ways (although perhaps grounded in ancestral knowledges) of establishing relationships for the construction of the best universe possible; see CEDET, 2011.   39  on tactical articulations arising out of the conditions and practices of daily life” (Escobar, 1995, p. 216).  It becomes critical for researchers and policy-makers alike to avoid essentializing, romanticizing or relegating marginalized peoples into traditional spheres. Although many groups may address nature, societal construction and overall human relations from different sociocultural paradigms, this does not mean that they do not want inclusion or autonomy in market oriented projects and re-articulations of governance that will benefit their peoples’ well-being and the environments. Locking them into ‘pristine’ spheres of existence can often be another form of marginalization, whether intentional or not. Escobar (1995) speaks to the latter stating that, “rather than being eliminated by development, many “traditional cultures” survive through their transformative engagement with modernity” furthermore  “popular sectors rarely attempt to reproduce a normalized tradition: on the contrary, they often exhibit an openness toward modernity that is at times critical and at times transgressive and even humorous” and if we “continue to speak of tradition and modernity, it is because we continually fall into the trap of not saying anything new because the language does not permit it” (p. 219). Thus for Escobar “Latin America oscillates between two logics, two forms of politics: a logic of popular struggles in a relatively (“tendentially”) unified political space (against oligarchies, imperialism and developmentalist states), and a logic of “democratic” struggles in a plural space,” yet examples of both forms of political engagement can be found. There is a political treasure of alternatives, which he seems to suggest lies waiting in the study of how these aforementioned methods of articulation inform each other and how through both logics and a constant analysis of the influence of culture, Latin America can develop a more “autonomous and satisfactory political practice and social order” (Escobar, 1990, p. 40).    40  The task at hand for this case study becomes about discussing what type of pedagogies are necessary for the preparation of people to participate publicly as political adversaries, analyzing the “complex semiotics of protest” (Escobar, 1995, p. 219), and piecing together the impact of ‘alternative’ actions on new forms of doing politics. In this study, I approach LUNDU’s leaders as social actors who question the mechanisms underpinning the production of meanings, identities, and social relations in Peruvian society (Escobar, 1992b, p. 68). But these new social actors, to the extent that they question the existing mechanisms for the production of meanings, identities, and social relations meet significant resistance in their social justice based struggle for greater political engagement. The previously outlined conceptualization of democracy and development shows how both processes of societal governance and change (for purposes of the improvement of living conditions and rights) are intricately webbed together and dependent on each other. Of vital importance is how marginalized groups utilize institutions and engage democratic processes in participatory ways for a re-articulation of democracy in their national contexts and the growth of sustainable development projects (which can take on many forms). Escobar’s work highlights that Latin America is a cradle where groups of peoples who have suffered marginalization by repeated similar processes of hegemonic colonization, have found ways to preserve their cultural epistemic forms of knowledge in the face of sweeping agendas of modernization to teach their societies alternatives ways of knowing, being, and moving forward. This case study places as a central focus the ways in which Afro-Peruvians utilize their struggles to craft a social justice anti-racism campaign to demonstrate a pathway of critical public and political engagement to participative democracy and inclusive development. It also illustrates how Afro-Peruvians are taking on the role of public activist pedagogues, opening the door wider to diverse conceptualizations of citizenship missing in Peru.   41  Citizenship, Participatory Politics, and the Role of Critical Pedagogy The world has been witness to the unfolding of the “two logics” which Escobar identifies Latin America oscillates between. Apart from these two logics, Latin America is in the glaring eye of neoliberal leaders (be it countries or the heads of capitalist corporations) that first target the traditionally colonized sectors of the world through the mechanisms of globalization such as technologies and business treaties that pillage entire ecosystems displacing peoples and cultures, and academic capitalism’s technocratic planning that strips away notions of justice from public landscapes replacing them through capitalist media with market driven messages. Cotler (Foro Educativo, 2012) highlights that Peru, which is currently undergoing its most massive economic growth in decades, is suffering from near total political “desafecto”22. While the country is propelled forward through new neoliberal trade deals in the mining, forestry, and engineering sectors which were signed by previous president Alan Garcia, the entire state is floundering in a cesspool of participatory incapacity and foreign models that destabilize any attempts at democratic political action by both public social actors and government ministers. Education is thus currently prey to the same negative impact of neocolonialism visible in the thoughtless changes being instated to the national curriculum, the stripping away of critical learning courses and goals from higher education institutional planning, cutbacks to teacher support, massive upspring of private education institutions and ‘universities’ in general (there are currently one hundred universities in Peru, of which the ‘good’ ones are constituted by those who promote business/ information technologies/ engineering skills related learning), and the focus on only learning things that ‘serve’ the market and foreign interests (Cotler, Foro Educativo, 2012). Education, the relationship between student and teacher, is for the market. There is a lack of                                                  22 The closest English translation for this term is “disaffection” or “hostility”.   42  critical pedagogy. Hence, there is little to nothing being taught to cultivate a Peruvian citizen versed in notions of social justice and prepared to participate in society democratically.  The Need for Critical Citizenship In this section I introduce how scholars theorize what citizenship for a radical participatory democracy entails, and the many possibilities for re-articulations of development and democracy extending from the latter. I draw on citizenship scholars to speak to Mouffe’s and Escobar’s most pertinent call in relation to socio-political transformation which is the teaching of skills for the politics of everyday life as needed by  people to engage each other and engage processes of socio-political re-conceptualization to counter neo-liberal marginalization and re-colonization. In the previous section I introduced Mouffe’s conceptualization of agonistic citizenship, a way of acting such that differences and emotions are channeled towards healthy democratic discussions and political participation. Ruitenberg (2009) clarifies that educational projects or programmes that seek to increase civic competencies should look to the following three areas as objectives: education of the emotions, fostering an understanding of the difference between moral and political disputes, and of power as constitutive of society, and developing an awareness of the historical and contemporary political projects of the “left” and “right”. She furthers that civic education is required to educate youth to become political adversaries rather than moral enemies or competitors. Thus, Ruitenberg first calls for emotions to be given greater legitimacy in the field and praxis of education. Ruitenberg describes Mouffe’s concept of political emotions as having a ‘political object’ “bound up with the power relations in a society and with a substantive vision of a just society” (p. 277). If the object is political then the aim is to teach commitment to a view with political ends and how to demonstrate this commitment, in   43  spaces of direct confrontation. Ruitenberg highlights the difference between adversary and competitor because ‘competition’ has become an educational goal thanks to neoliberalism. She contributes to the discussion on citizenship education that educating political adversaries “requires that the supposed neutrality of the terrain in which different groups fight for their view of a just society is contested, and that the economic paradigm that pervades both politics and education is made explicit as paradigm” (p. 278). Finally she calls for a re-engagement of youth with formal political practices and institutions, indicating that single issue campaigning in civic spheres must be coupled with direct engagement with “politics qua the political” (p. 280) capturing why and how the LUNDU campaign was structured.   Oslar and Starkey (2003) contribute that how citizenship education responds to diversity and to the formal and informal barriers faced by minorities should be analyzed. Moreover, focus should be placed on how young people contribute to controversial citizenship debates as how they understand their present and future roles within the constitutional and legal framework of the state is crucial for teaching citizenship. The authors conclude that it is the experience of minority youth who in post-colonial societies are often more harshly judged and exposed to everyday racism we should be drawing from them to shape citizenship programmes and development strategies. Here is it is important to note that Oslar and Starkey promote a specific form of citizenship education--education for cosmopolitan citizenship. They suggest that “cosmopolitan citizens will be confident in their own identities and will work to achieve peace, human rights and democracy within the local community and at a global level” which in many ways speaks to LUNDU’s work (p. 246). Oslar and Starkey also identify characteristics23 that should be fostered in youth such as: accepting personal responsibility, recognizing the                                                  23 Oslar and Starkey cite a previous work Oslar and Vincent (2002) where they first used UNESCO (1995) as the framework from which they identified characteristics of an educated cosmopolitan citizen.    44  importance of civic commitment, working collaboratively to solve issues, respecting diversity, recognizing that worldviews are shaped by personal and societal histories and cultural traditions, respecting cultural heritage, and promoting solidarity and equity at national and international levels. These characteristics align with Escobar and Mouffe’s calls for the learning of critical citizenship skills along a principle of action, striving constantly towards the common--yet discursive and open for interpretation-democratic ethico-political values of liberty and equality for all. However, according to Mouffe’s theorization on agonistic and plural citizenship, Escobar’s emphasis of place-based and participatory development and governance, and their mutual distaste for the privileging of universalism and global/ cosmocentrism, there is a deeper analysis missing in Oslar and Starkey’s (2003) promotion of citizenship education premised upon ‘cosmopolitanism’. Mouffe and Escobar stress that looking to ‘cosmopolitanism’ and for a citizenship education response to diversity at local, national, regional, and global levels, could provide opportunities for greater Westerncentrism, ahistoricism, paternalism, elitism, and dehumanization despite calling for inclusion of marginalized youth voices, and the privileging of engagement with international institutions and global exotics, versus local and state issues and politics (Escobar, 2001; Worsham & Olson, 1999; Thaler, 2010). Salman (2004) approaches writing on citizenship from the context of Latin American societies. He states that there is an “apocryphal” side with respect to citizenship (p. 855). According to Salman, much of the literature on citizenship focuses on the deficiencies of the system and its institutions and on the alleged absence of citizenship awareness among poor or marginalized Latin Americans (p. 855). Hence there is very little informing the construction and learning of citizenship in Latin America and also the various conceptions of citizenships that exist amongst diverse groups. Thus, because literature is lacking on how rights are taught and   45  learned in Latin America, Latin America with its turbulent and unstable democratic histories is often further portrayed in citizenship discussions as ‘lacking democratic competency’. As is the case with Peru, citizenship analysis focuses upon “political culture, highlighting the vices of authoritarianism, elitism, clientalism, nepotism, populism, corruption, and prebendalism, declaring all those cultural traits premodern” and culture becomes an obstacle (p. 859). Alternately, emphasis is placed on the ‘informal’ and practices and how Latin Americans for the most part, self-exclude themselves from the domain of legal regulations, formal ruling, and most public and political spaces, considering politics and legislation a hostile and inaccessible (Salman, 2004, p. 861). For Salman, citizenship as a concept only makes sense if people have some knowledge and awareness of their social and political rights, and if necessary make state institutions or other actors and resorts, apply them (p. 857). The aforementioned aligns with LUNDU’s overall organizational goals and initiatives. I argue further on in this research that Afro-Peruvians and LUNDU in particular are engaging a multi-pronged approach of mass popular citizen techniques and formal democratic mechanisms to have their claims heard, re-shape state development and re-articulate Peruvian democracy. Salman’s (2004) work lacks a deeper and more critical analysis of how citizenship plays out in Latin America especially at the grassroots level.   Cameron, Hershberg and Sharpe (2012), directly counter Salman’s discourse of citizenship in Latin America indicating that a watershed has been established in relation to the proliferation of informal and formal spaces where political participation takes place. Hence, we can conclude that the opportunities for reconceptualizations of democracy and citizenship are growing. Yet, for any of these participatory spaces to effect any change, “citizens have to learn how to exercise their voice in ways that strive to some level of agreement on agendas, decisions,   46  and coherent policies” (Cameron, Hershberg, & Sharpe, 2012, p. 12). Thus, learning for democracy means strengthening the adversarial and ally skills to navigate the public and political with a constant critical awareness of the rhetorics of participation that may not actually serve democracy’s goals.   In summary, with critical citizenship skills, the radical democracy theorized by Mouffe and the alternatives to “D”evelopment posed by Escobar are possible. Some of the questions that remain from this discussion of democracy and citizenship are: how do we educate political adversaries? What are ways to legitimize emotions in the realm of education and politics? How can we prepare people firstly for informal public participation and secondly for formal political participation? How do we reconnect citizens with the true goals of democracy? Do we need to further broaden our conception of citizenship and what is needed to teach citizens if we aim to transform societies into social justice based models? Which citizens are being excluded and how? How can power be leveraged by marginalized groups for space-making? How can the latter be taught? While questions are endless, we understand from all of the aforementioned scholars that education for political participation and re-articulations of development need to be grounded in already existing struggles of those most marginalized. Escobar’s work highlights that there is a breadth of manifestations of citizenship within counter-neoliberal and other social movement or civil society initiatives. Hence I begin to turn to critical pedagogy and its role in the construction of citizens, possibilities for re-articulations of democracy, and an alignment of development with the actual needs of the plural peoples of Latin American countries such as Peru. Critical pedagogy theorists have for a long time grounded their theories in the lived experiences of grassroots civil society initiatives and activist understandings.    47  Critical Pedagogy for Critical Citizenship  Peruvians need to begin by re-addressing as a group a notion that can be seen as clearly understood by Afro-Peruvians through their education initiatives- that of pedagogy. Pedagogy is a much confused term for Peruvians, sociologists, and even education specialists worldwide. There is much hesitation to define or engage its historical origins as an extra-institutional practice or to Freire-inspired demands for critical engagement inside and outside of schools and reconceptualization of embodied spaces and workings (Sandlin, Schultz, & Burdick, 2010, p. 2). For many, the aforementioned seem like daunting and destabilizing undertakings. Critical scholars began establishing theoretical connections between hindrances to true democracy and forms of oppression such as racism, with the ‘acquisitive’ society in the mid-eighteenth century (Douglass 1845 and 1968; and DuBois 1903; Provenzo, 2002). These theoretical connections have been woven together by critical scholars into ‘pedagogies’ grounded in the oppressions of their lived experiences. Loosely defined by Andreotti (forthcoming,) as an “educational practice that emphasizes the connections between language, knowledge, power and subjectivities”, an analysis of ‘critical pedagogy’ is necessary for grasping the ways in which revolutionary civic actions that re-articulate democracy and development are taught and learned (p. 1).  W. E. B. Du Bois, born in 1868 in Great Barrington, Massachusetts, was the first Black education activist to counter not just white America society but also the educational and political constructs of some of the Black men of his time, such as Samuel Chapman Armstrong and Booker T. Washington and other leading Black businessmen of his time, who did not challenge traditional social power (Provenzo, 2002). Du Bois challenged the concept of educational segregation stating that the idea of separating citizens of a nation was the biggest threat to democracy. Yet, Du Bois believed, “that Black children were introduced, in their textbooks, to   48  the world too much in terms of white culture and society” and needed a “broader idea of how their struggle for personal freedom and dignity was connected to a much larger Pan-African struggle” (Provenzo, 2002, p. 15). His emphasis resonates with John Dewey’s (1916) envisioning of schooling as one dimension of public pedagogy wherein the reorganization of experience could occur; and schools themselves as miniature societies in which democracy and reconstructive individual inquiry might flourish (Sandlin, Schultz, & Burdick, 2010, p. 2). By the 1930s Dewey was convinced that “democratic education that is built upon individual and communal interests” oriented towards critical meaningful inquiry, had met a “nearly ubiquitous obelisk of resistance: the acquisitive society” (p. 2). Thus, the term ‘pedagogy’ became preferred in critical spheres when discussing education, teaching, and learning needs in relation to larger social transformation. This is perhaps best exemplified in the work of Paulo Freire (1970), who approached pedagogy as “inherently being directive and must always be transformative” (p. 25).   Freire first introduced the world to his philosophy of education in 1959 in his doctoral dissertation at the University of Recife (Shaull, 2003, p. 31). Freire’s (1970) pedagogy of the oppressed, animated by authentic, humanist (not humanitarian) generosity, presents itself as a pedagogy of humankind. Pedagogy which begins with the egoistic interests of the oppressors (an egoism cloaked in the false generosity of paternalism) and makes of the oppressed the objects of its humanitarianism, itself maintains and embodies oppression. (p. 54) Freire contemplated how it could be possible for liberating education to be practiced if the oppressed have no political power. He determined that one way is realized in the distinction between systematic education, which can only be changed by political power, and educational projects that can be carried out with the oppressed (p. 54). Freire outlined the two distinct stages of the pedagogy of the oppressed as firstly the oppressed unveiling the world of oppression and through praxis committing themselves to its transformation and secondly, the pedagogy ceasing to be just of the oppressed and becoming a pedagogy of all people in the process of liberation.   49  Macedo (2000) highlights that “Freire’s later works make it clear that what is important is to approach the analysis of oppression through a convergent theoretical framework where the object of oppression is cut across by such factors as race, class, gender, culture, language, and ethnicity” (p. 15). Evident in Freire’s final publications (2004,  2006) with his insertion of the female referent, is that he himself realized his failure in properly addressing the facet of gender as a critical component of oppression and liberation by excluding a focus on the experiences of women (of diverse classes and ethnic backgrounds). Finally, Freire contributes to the discussion of critical pedagogy the integral process of conscientização which is the “deepening of the attitude of awareness characteristic of all emergence” (p. 109). This process calls for a continual reflection on and awareness of themes24 which impact our lives, history and situationality, as without this holistic approach to our contemporary positions we cannot emerge from past oppressions, nor proactively problem-solve our present ones. Thus the truly critical dialogical teacher does not just approach ‘critical pedagogy’ as a simplifiable methodology, but to re-present the realities or issues revealed by the students back to them as a problem to be thematically investigated25, decoded, and transformed.  If it has yet to be noted from this very theoretical discussion, although education is stereotypically portrayed as a ‘gendered’ field dominated by women, very few female scholars, especially scholars of color, are actually included in formal theoretical discussions of critical pedagogy. The latter becomes even more relevant in the case of scholarship by Black feminists. As I experienced within higher education, Black feminist scholarship on issues of race, class, and                                                  24Freire (1970) refers to ‘themes’ as the “doubts, values, and challenges in dialectical interaction with their opposites, striving towards plenitude. The concrete representation of many of these ideas, values, concepts, and hopes, as well as the obstacles which impede the people’s full humanization, constitute the themes of that epoch” (p. 101). 25 Freire (1970) cites unpublished work of sociologist Maria Edy Ferreira, to explain that ‘thematic investigation’ are “only justified to the extent that it returns to the people what truly belongs to them; to the extent that it represents, not an attempt to learn about the people, but to come to know with them the reality which challenges them” (p. 110).    50  gender are usually excluded to discussions of ‘critical race’ or ‘feminist’ initiatives without explicitly linking their direct contributions to the theorization and praxis of pedagogy and activism.  At this point bell hooks’ contributions to our understanding of what a radical revolutionary and activist pedagogy stands for, allows us to expand on the notion from a ‘revolutionary feminist intersectional perspective’. Like Freire, hooks theorizes that oppression is multi-dimensional and cannot be reduced solely to race, gender, nor class. Although using intersectional theory to analyze racism and anti-racism activism is outside the original scope of this case study, I need to point out that hooks’ use of intersectionality to theorize about racism and oppression shapes her pedagogical perspectives and methodologies. This is pivotal for LUNDU’s work because LUNDU’s leaders are women, hence bringing into play a gender dimension both implicitly and explicitly. I can only assume that along with having to confront racism through a political perspective, LUNDU activists have had to tackle oppression in relation to gender, ethnicity, class, and age through their frontline activism within the context of patriarchal Peruvian society. Jaramillo and McLaren (2009) interpret hooks as calling for the use of the particulars of oppression to “come to voice and revolutionary action” (p. 24), and using these “liminal pedagogical spaces [as a] means to move outside the immediacy of personal experience and into the realm of critical agency” (p. 25). hooks re-centers the experiences of women amongst the dominant male theorists of the education field. hooks (2004) states that radical Black activist women are as “much often an ‘Other’, a threat to Black people from privileged class backgrounds who do not understand or share our perspective, as we are to uninformed white folks” (p. 156). Hence, she advocates the feminist praxis of “self-recovery as a   51  process of education for critical consciousness and thinking and writing, as an act of reclamation”26 (hooks, (1989); cited in Jaramillo and McLaren, 2009, p. 22). Thus, hooks along with other intersectional theorists such as Audrey Lorde, show us that community-building or ‘working in the margins’ takes on a whole new “impact of multiple oppressions and social relations” for racialized marked bodies (Bunjun, 2012, p. 54). hooks firmly advocates for pedagogy that is ‘engaged’ rather than just critical, demanding that those who take on the role of teacher involve themselves in a constant process of ‘self-actualization’27 and community building (Jaramillo & McLaren, 2009; Generett, 2009). Generett (2009) elaborates that the process of community building can be most challenging and exhaustive because of peoples’ (even those supposedly working together against oppression) aversion of critically addressing their own personal narratives and mental models which white academia has passed on. hooks teaches us of the need to carve out personal and community spaces for healing and regeneration when engaging in activist work. Along with this a reflection on and valuing of emotions (rage, frustration, pain, love, happiness, excitement, etc.) is encouraged by hooks throughout her work through the use of methods such as writing, academic or creative, and the arts, to strategically develop ourselves, to learn how to confront our insecurities and traumas, and to learn how to confront others for understanding. Furthermore, hooks (1994; 1995; 2001; 2003) beckons for an activist and political ‘knowing’ of love elaborating that ‘political love’ (not the sentimental type that can sometimes lead to mis-self-representations and attempts at domination) was at the root of Martin Luther King’s work and the civil rights movements’ successes facilitating for Blacks and whites to ally across differences. hooks emphasizes that love is                                                  26 hooks acknowledges throughout her works, building on the work of Freire; Jaramillo and McLaren (pp. 22-24) relate this to Freire’s theorization of ‘conscientizacao’ (consciousness raising), “the deepening of the attitude of awareness characteristic of all emergence”; also see Freire (2000), Pedagogy of the Oppressed.  27 hooks (1994) refers to this as the pivotal need to focus on holistic personal well-being in order to be able to empower and teach others.   52  necessary for anti-oppressive struggle to avoid becoming consumed by self-centred desires of power and to continue developing solidarity for racial and other forms of justice.  hooks’ (1990; 1989) work provides various critical and transformation centred points to address when engaging in revolutionary activist forms of pedagogy: an awareness of the commodification of Blackness by institutions for purposes of diversity legitimacy; stimulating learning versus just depositing knowledge into academia; an avoidance of exploitative Black-white relations where whites tokenize bodies of color or use them to further their own agendas, but nonetheless maintaining an openness to white people who are committed to the struggle against white supremacy based on critical terms of reciprocal allyship; and the need for ‘talk back’ as an activist tool of resistance in strategic forms of speech, writing, and artistic and political presentations. Finally, hooks states that through critiques of essentialism one can create conditions for Blacks to escape practices that undermine Black subjectivity such as ‘dissimulation’28 (Headley, 2009) and locking themselves into restricting paradigms29 that inhibit the transformative act of talking to each other across their differences and working together politically. The work of Peter McLaren and Henry Giroux further expands the potential of critical pedagogy as a means to counter various forms of oppression that impede the enactment of participatory citizenship for democracy. McLaren (1997) highlights that the central struggle of                                                  28 hooks defines ‘dissimulation’ as: the practice of taking on any appearance needed to manipulate a situation- is a form of masking that Blackfolk have historically used to survive in white supremacist settings. As a social practice it promoted duplicity, the wearing of masks, hiding true feelings and intent. While this may have been useful in daily relations with all-powerful white exploiters and oppressors during a situation of extreme racial apartheid when our lives were constantly at risk, as a paradigm for social relations it has undermined bonds of love and intimacy by encouraging the overvaluation of duplicity, lying, masking, etc.; see hooks (1995). 29 The paradigms Headley (2009) refers to are: 1. The master narrative amongst Black militants which advocates for separatism and negates any possibility of Blacks and whites sharing the same interests or having the same political agenda; 2. Cultural Blackness, Blackness as having unique cultural characteristics in opposition to whiteness rather than rooted in the experience of shared suffering and as a strategy for survival; 3. The promise of an integrative society where racial difference had no impact on an individual’s future, focused on promoting and ethos of humanism that emphasizes commonalities between whites and Blacks; also see hooks (1995).    53  critical education should be about choosing against ‘whiteness’, and all of its manifestations, as a position of privilege, “Whiteness, then, can be considered as a form of social amnesia associated with modes of subjectivity within particular social sites considered to be normative” (p. 267). He describes the effect of whiteness as being the displacement of “Blackness and brownness, specific forms of nonwhiteness- into signifiers of deviance and criminality within social, cultural, cognitive, and political contexts” (p. 268), excluding many from political participation. Critical pedagogy is envisioned as ‘public’ awareness of oppressive systems. ‘Popular action’ and activism by civil society can be seen as a public vehicle through which to teach the masses critical awareness outside of the classroom. McLaren goes so far as to include Noam Chomsky’s argument that what government officials fear the most- from conservatives to liberals- is “the crisis of democracy,” crisis referring to popular democracy by the people (p. 248). In support of Chomsky’s perspective, McLaren declares …critical educators need to constantly struggle around the issue of naming and defining democracy in ways that unsettle and destabilize Eurocentric and white supremacist forms of procedural, difference-neutral citizenship based on the liberal compact as the telic point of history and civilization. (McLaren, 1997, p. 249) From this perspective, pedagogues act as part of a struggle against the neoliberal and oppressive interpretations of democracy. They develop not just curricula through which to teach critical thought, but also pedagogical strategies to surpass social and political barriers, thus emphasizing the centrality of social justice awareness and activist consciousness in “recreating culture and agency through the practice of criticism and the criticism of practice” (McLaren, 1997, p. 283). In this regard, McLaren illustrates critical pedagogy “not as a set of classroom teaching practices” but as imbedded within the larger political problematic (p. 289). Pedagogy is about developing a “disposition” to being politically informed and committed to those that are marginalized in the “service of justice and freedom” (p. 289).    54   In his earlier work, Giroux used the term ‘public pedagogy’ more liberally to refer to the concept that teaching, learning, and the development of learning materials had transformational political power. Giroux’s (2010) current use of ‘public pedagogy’ refers to neoliberal ensembles of ideological and institutional forces aiming to produce competitive, self-interested individuals vying for their own material ideological gain and ‘critical pedagogy’ to refer to education that allows for power to be made visible enabling the possibility to challenge the ideological circuitry of hegemonic knowledge especially in relation to efforts for political change. For Giroux, critical pedagogy fosters the creation and development of ‘politics by the people’ which centres where politics happen and “how proliferating sites of pedagogy bring into being new forms of resistance, raise new questions, and necessitate alternative visions regarding autonomy and the possibility of democracy itself” (Giroux, 2010, p. 486). In relation to communications and media technologies, the ‘public’, is a sphere dominated by corporate entities (Giroux, 2010). However, it is also a sphere that can be used for the purposes of critical pedagogy by marginalized groups to turn youth into political actors, rather than passive consumerist spectators as neoliberalism aims to create. Giroux stresses that to combat ‘communicative capitalism’30, teaching becomes not just about getting students to learn texts, but about bringing in their lived experiences and situating them within the broader politics of the state, and assisting them to critically analyze the impact of media on their lives and focus on the messages portrayed by media.  Citizenship and democracy theorists looking for socio-political transformation premised upon greater social justice call for critical analysis of power relations, the media, and political engagement. Critical pedagogy scholarship speaks to this critical awareness. It illustrates the reflective and reflexive elements needed to enable people to think and make decisions from the                                                  30 Political media theorist Dean (2009 & 2010) conceptualizes that ‘communicative capitalism’ (technological network communication capitalism) affectively draws the public into the democratic rhetorics of neoliberalism through capitalist networking projects such as Facebook.    55  myriad of possibilities that exist (Andreotti, forthcoming) to create socio-politically transformative leaders, actions and spaces. Transformative leadership focuses on “redressing wrongs, and on ways to intervene in educational processes to ensure that equitable outcomes are accompanied by more equitable use of power and widespread empowerment. Transformative leadership challenges deficit thinking as well as attitudes, policies, and practices that pathologize” (Shields, Bishop, & Mazawi, 2005, p. 21). Hence, centering the Apúntate Contra el Racismo Campaign within critical pedagogy scholarship allows for an analysis of the ways in which LUNDU is actively reconstructing civic action norms and challenging the status quo through both informal and formal political processes. Furthermore, by approaching LUNDU’s campaign work from this conceptual lens guided by critical pedagogy scholarship, it is possible to understand their activities as participatory political action with learning value not just for Afro-Peruvians, but for other groups strategically pathologized by the state and dominant society into static, depoliticized, minority, and marginal positions.  Critical Pedagogy for Participatory Politics: the Case of Peru The discussion of critical pedagogy and its relation to development, democracy, and its contributions to the enactment of participatory citizenship is fundamental for Peru. Peruvian higher education institutions have become just as swept up by the rush of ‘academic capitalism’ as their Western and European counterparts, although perhaps under much more desperate conditions of competition exacerbated by dependency patterns linked to the information technology boom (Slaughter & Leslie, 1997; Hoffman, 2012; Altbach, 2003). Increasing numbers of youth look for training and knowledge to get them into global work markets (Schwartzman, 2002; Yamada, 2009). Academic freedoms used to address socio-political issues and foster creative intellectual spaces grow more threatened each day as faculty and   56  administration become expendable commodities, especially when they challenge or derive from market oriented learning. The current development climate of Peru makes necessary an exploration of how marginalized groups are engaging activist work as a platform to voice their societal concerns and build alliances to support pedagogical initiatives that challenge socially unjust development agendas and modes of governance. LUNDU’s work recenters public focus on how institutions in Peru, even non-state-run higher education institutions, are still politicized sites whose ‘neocapitalist’ leanings can perilously impact any possibilities of a true democratic future. The nexus between critical pedagogy and participatory engagement with politics has yet to be clearly delineated in research, as the effects of its ‘transformative impacts’ are not obvious. Nor is the claim regarding the transformative power of this nexus clear in relation to the consolidation of socially just, inclusive, and participative modes of civic engagement. Researchers such as Hordijk (2005) have outlined the need for shifts in “the ways in which citizens’ voices are represented in the political process and a reconceptualization of the meanings of participation and citizenship in relation to local governance” (p. 219). In the Peruvian context I would argue that research on ‘radical’ and ‘activist’ civic engagement has not been supported, neither by Peruvian state institutions, nor even by NGOs. In more direct terms, ‘participatory engagement’ has been deployed by both governments and researchers in non-radical ways to reference civic action. It serves as a “hegemonic control mechanism by which governments- sometimes deliberately- alleviate themselves of certain responsibilities by expecting civil organisations to carry out those tasks” (Marquardt, 2012). This point is well captured by Panfichi (2007), who observes that there has been increasing proverbialization of the benefits of ‘participation’. Most ‘official’ attempts in Peru at moving forward with actualizing the vision of   57  a stronger participatory democracy have resulted in discourses that have been more homogenizing than representative of Peru’s diversity (Panfichi, 2007). Panfichi points out that not just the political arena, but academia (including community engaged academics) as well have neglected and perhaps even avoided research on particular ‘participatory action’ experiences. Although Panfichi does not elaborate on the aforementioned statement, I attribute the latter to any of the following possibilities: disheartening struggles and small gains which citizens and groups, especially marginalized groups such as Afro-Peruvians, have encountered when engaging the rhetoric heavy ‘participatory’ projects that have multiplied since the Toledo regime; participatory initiatives may cover up or result in “clientalistic practices” (Cameron, Hershberg, &Sharpe, 2012); and/ or precarious political triumphs. Cameron and Sharpe (2012) highlight that even within a democratic context “participation may be designed not to deepen or even radicalize democracy” (p. 245). At the 2013 Foro Educativo Conference panelists Crosso31 and Robalino32 both emphasized that the concept and practice of education cannot exist outside of the ‘political’ because pedagogy and participatory politics go hand in hand. It was a shared conference sentiment that civil society engagement with politics shapes policymaking that directly (if they are specifically education related) and indirectly (if they are related to development, rights, etc.) effects how education plays out in Peru, and educational institutions then produce citizens which will or will not engage in democracy. However, beyond indicating that pedagogues should be considered political figures and that teaching should be about critical praxis grounded in civil society experiences and needs, it was never explained how state policymaking and anti-oppressive grassroots initiatives could complement each other to transform education planning,                                                  31 Camilla Crosso is president of the Global Campaign for Education (GCE) and coordinator of the Campaña Latinoamericana por el Derecho a la Educación (CLADE); GCE, http://www.campaignforeducation.org/en/ 32 Magaly Robalino is the Program Specialist for United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization,  (UNESCO), Quito, Ecuador; UNESCO, http://www.unesco.org/new/es/quito   58  especially in cases where civil society action might be very relevant for societal transformation but outside of what would be considered the official education sector. Thus focusing on participatory politics launched by Afro-Peruvians would spotlight the vast potential for transformation that lies in grassroots activist pedagogical initiatives and the massive amount of work that grassroots organizations do to have their voices included in formal institutional and political spheres. This campaign case study also contributes to a knowledge gap on participatory political action that unfolds as a result of junctures between popular interventions and ‘formal’ participatory institutions (Cameron, Hershberg, & Sharpe, 2012)  From ‘Critical’ to ‘Activist’ Pedagogy: Towards a Radical Socio-Political Transformation in Peru  In this section I conceptualize why it is important to shift beyond ‘critical’ pedagogy to gasping the relevance for transformative socio-political transformation of ‘activist’ pedagogy. Without devaluing the contributions of the breadth of critical pedagogical studies theorization, I emphasize that ‘activist pedagogy’ better frames this case study because it is the call to action part of critical pedagogy. It also succinctly captures the calls for critical pedagogy to be valued as needing to occur outside of classroom walls and the myriad of ways in which citizens are engaging forms of critical pedagogy that challenge and disrupt established configurations of power to ‘shift power back to all of us for a safe, democratic, and equitable and present future” and learn “how to be agents of social change” (DePape, 2012, p. 19). However, I want to highlight that in drawing attention to the need for more engagement with ‘activist pedagogy’, I am not saying that only more ‘radical’ forms of actions can lead to transformation. Rather, I am trying to show that if “critical pedagogy is a pedagogy of action that aims to an informed transformation of society through a praxis involving the articulation between theory and practice,   59  thinking and doing” than activist pedagogy is that action in its myriad of multifaceted forms. Hence, I am trying to underline the stigma that has been associated to ‘activism’. The need for activist pedagogy is not about teachers “trying to indoctrinate students into one ideology” nor a “one-sided perspective”, but it is about finally acquiring the independent and collective consciousness as societies and human beings that we need to take action together for social justice and having enough courage to stop just citing theories, analyzing and dialoguing them, and shift to grappling with the raw-real life impacts of taking action for socio-political transformation and blurring the lines between academia and community. Therefore, embracing activist pedagogy will hopefully reduce the tendencies for critical pedagogues to utilize methodologies without acknowledging activist experiences and contexts and attempt to dissociate themselves from any type of political position into a supposedly objective stance.  Hence, further breaking down the misconception of pedagogy and institutions as neutral spaces and developing the urgency for theory and praxis to be developed simultaneously. I begin now by first addressing how scholars in Peru versed in aspects of critical pedagogy are trying to develop critical approaches to intercultural education. I highlight the need for pedagogy in Peru to be more action and activist centred. My aim is to emphasize the differences between critical discussions of intercultural and other models of multi/plural education, and actual transformation focused pedagogy. After which, I proceed to clarify a framework of activist pedagogy theory for this case study.  In Peru, critical pedagogy has most popularly become known as ‘intercultural education’33. Instructors and education planners have all been heard tossing around pro-                                                 33 My literature review revealed that recent Latin American scholarship on critical education, refers to the terms ‘ethnoeducation’/ ‘ethnopedagogy’/ ‘intercultural education’/ ‘interculturality’/ ‘interculturalism’/ ‘interculturalization’ that were adopted during the late eighties and nineties by Peruvian and other Latin American states based on cultural and educational programming and in relation to Indigenous communities which were later   60  intercultural terminology and speaking about how critical their curriculum is becoming thanks to new ‘intercultural’ infusions. National education and development conferences have also spoken of the need for more democratic education to strengthen critical skills for the growth of social justice understanding and political knowledge. Supporting the enhancement of intercultural curricula for greater societal representation is referenced in relation to the latter, but it is rarely discussed how intercultural curricula will be more than just another rhetoric filled methodology. Hornberger (1988, 2000), Freeland (1996), Freeland and Howard-Malverde (1995), Aikman (1997, 2003), Valdiviezo (2006), Valdiviezo and Valdiviezo (2008) and Walsh (2011) have all hypothesized that the problem with interculturality in Peru is that the concept was imported and heavily interrelated with foreign aid dollars, therefore the government has struggled unsuccessfully to internalize intercultural education as a social justice oriented method to challenge discrimination and exclusion, hence promoting very ‘apolitical’ models of it and directing interculturalization towards those most discriminated as a required process for them to engage. The overall point is that throughout the world, ‘critical’ is applied too liberally to pedagogical enterprises, but this is especially the case of Latin America and more specifically, Peru. Of particular interest to this case study research is how critical researchers/ pedagogues/ professionals/ activists grounded in Afro-descendant perspectives are according to varying degrees approaching interculturality.   For example, the work of education sociologist Estupiñan (2012) stands out in this regard. Estupiñan created a pedagogical manual for intercultural education in Peru where he                                                                                                                                                              applied to Afro-descendant peoples (Velarde, 2011; Garces, 2011; Walsh, 2011; Valdiezo, 2011). Ethnoeducation is most often referred to as being grounded in the perspectives, cultural practices, identities and curricular design of the very communities it refers to (as is the case with Colombia where Afro-descendant communities design their own ethno-education plans), whereas intercultural education is referred to as an education model that respectfully considers the diverse characteristics of different ethnic and socio-cultural groups and invites cross-engagement to improve societal dynamics of unity and political cohesion (Velarde, 2011; Garces, 2011; Walsh, 2011). I focus in on the ‘inter’ terms as they represent the models most employed by the Peruvian state, Ministry of Education and Peruvian Afro-descendant researchers.   61  defines the purpose of intercultural education and its learning opportunities for students, proposes an intercultural methodology to counter racism, discusses racism in relation to Peru’s societal context (elaborating that it is a contemporary psychological and relational issue versus structural), and provides some tools for intercultural education. However, Estupiñan only extends his methodology towards formal classroom spaces through the proposal of learning and evaluation activities. Estupiñan identifies twelve student intercultural learning outcomes34 and seven learning outcomes35 for teachers. The main idea behind one of his activities of the non-scientific existence of races, that everyone should believe in human equality, and adopting a more democratic, rational and autonomous stance, sums up the tone of his intercultural teaching methods (Estupiñan, 2012, p. 91). His manual provides no critical analysis of the reparative and static employment of intercultural terminology by the state, nor tools to unpack meta-narratives, and fails to explicitly value Afro-Peruvian perspectives in the process of interculturalization creating what Andreotti (forthcoming) describes as a “simplistic analysis” which can do “more harm than good” (p. 6). The manual also reflects several exploitative hegemonic tendencies, termed by Andreotti (forthcoming) as “HEADS UP”, an acronym which stands for hegemonic, ethnocentric, ahistorical, depoliticized, salvationist, un-complicated, and paternalistic pedagogical tendencies (p. 6).  In hyper contradistinction, Walsh (2011) calls “multi-pluri-inter-cultural[ism]” (p. 93) initiatives part of the trending societal vocabulary and tools of colonization and transnational capitalism that assist in sustaining the false discourse of intercultural democracy and social inclusion. She promotes ethnoeducation as a strategy and action of intercultural education that derives pedagogical initiatives from Afro-Peruvian perspectives and challenges the overall                                                  34 See Estupiñan (2012), pp. 75-76, for the complete list of twelve student learning outcomes. 35 See Estupiñan (2012), pp. 76-77, for the complete list of seven learning outcomes for teachers and schools.   62  ‘system’ (education, development, and democracy). Walsh sums up any prospective of interculturality contributing to liberation and transformation as needing to include methods to directly challenge hegemonic constructs of power relations, oppressive social and structural issues such as racism, and an assessment of how they can be inversely used as neoliberal tools. Overall she assumes a critical intercultural stance, yet declares that a formal critical understanding of interculturality does not exist. Hence she beckons for utilizing interculturalization as an action grounded strategy reclaiming it as ‘critical intercultural pedagogy’, that constructs itself as part of a political, social, ethical and epistemic project that seeks to change rather than just fix the education system, preventing it from being utilized as an instrument of ‘foreign control’ albeit state or international tied to funding.  Valdiviezo’s (2012) dissertation verges on a more in depth critical literary and socio-political exploration of the concept of intercultural education aligning itself with Walsh’s discourse. He charts examples of how lived experiences of Black leaders such as Senegalese Leopold Sedar Senghor (1906-2001), and Afro-Peruvians Nicomedes Santa Cruz Gamarra (1925-1992) and Jose Carlos “Pepe” Luciano Huapaya (1956-2002) can contribute to “rethinking Peruvian cultural diversity and intercultural policies from decolonized, democratic, and global perspectives” (p. vi). Valdiviezo argues that “one important component of the difficulties in democratizing Peruvians educational intercultural policy is ideological in origin, based on a colonial tradition that assumes a Eurocentric and hierarchical order among Peruvian cultures” (p. 170) and privileges the “duality Spanish-Inca” (p. 144). However he highlights that the “discourse of Negritude36 can be understood as a political tool in order to overcome racism and Euro-centric colonialism, but not to promote an alleged Negritude supremacy” (p. 144). Thus he                                                  36 For a greater understanding of the concept of Negritude, see Senghor, L. S., 1964, 1971, 1974, 1977, 1988, & 1993 and Luciano, J. C., 2012.   63  elaborates through discussion of African and Afro-Peruvian philosophies, politics, and sociological proposals how interculturality can be rethought from a contextualized non Eurocentric framework.  Although Valdiviezo begins a solid discussion on the necessity for ‘decolonizing pedagogogies’, and refers principally to Senghor’s principle of ‘complementary cultures’37 and Luciano’s activist perspectives, he does not provide material examples of what these decolonizing and or activist pedagogies38 look like in contemporary Peruvian society (p. 172). Valdiviezo’s analysis of critical pedagogies grounded in discourses of Negritude, also fails to address the pivotal contributions of women such as Victoria Santa Cruz Gamarra, Nicomedes Santa Cruz’s very own sister, who also established pivotal counter-colonial thought through their activist infused artistic creations and representations of Afro-Peruvian and national dance, theatre, and musical culture. Hence he reproduces a patriarchal conception of militant                                                  37 For an explanation of how Senghor developed and utilized the concept of ‘complementary cultures,’ (drawn from the theory of negritude) see Valdiviezo, 2012.  38 Valdiviezo refers to ‘decolonizing pedagogies’ and ‘activist perspectives/ pedagogies’ interchangeably. However, I do not feel thay they are interchangeable terms. I understand ‘activist perspectives and pedagogy’ as highly contextualized and in relation to discourses of action, usually social justice oriented, however, the ‘action’ does not necessarily in all cases equate opposition to colonialism/ neocolonialism, nor acknowledgement of struggles for sovereignty or land repatriation. It would seem more appropriate to understand activist and other critical revolutionary pedagogies as decolonial consciousness-raising towards true decolonization action. I question Valdiviezo’s employment of ‘decolonizing’. Tuck (2012) states that “decolonization is not a metaphor” nor is it “a swappable term for other things we want to do to improve our societies and schools” (p. 3). Tuck goes on to highlight that “‘decolonizing’ creates a convenient ambiguity between decolonization and social justice work, especially among people of color, queer people, and other groups minoritized by the settler nation-state” (p. 17). I understand decolonization as an ongoing process that includes and acknowledges Indigenous struggles and socio-political and theoretical contributions, and extends much further beyond the anti-colonial counter to socio-political and economic subordination which Valdiviezo seems to be illustrating. 'Decolonization' did not appear frequently employed by Afro-Peruvians in the literature search I conducted for this case study. When it was employed, it was unclear whether or not Afro-Peruvians consider themselves as 'colonial subjects'. It is with more frequence that some refer to being descendants of Indigenous lands and peoples in Africa, but do not discuss land 'rights' in reference to the current state of Peru, as is more common amongst Afro-descendant communities for example in Colombia. The case study research process revealed to me the ‘different’ approaches to ‘decolonization’ theory and praxis according to ones own identity and geo-political positionality. It also highlighted the immense research that is left to be done into Afro-Peruvian and Indigenous relations. Therefore, at no point in this case study, did it feel contextually appropriate for me to impose decolonization theories, pedagogical frameworks or terminology as they are understood from Western academic frameworks onto Afro-Peruvian action.    64  consciousnsess and action--the illusion that women had no leading roles in Peruvian democratization. I shift directly to Luciano’s (as cited and discussed in Velarde, 2012a) work because he was the first academic to merge his sociological training with his activist experiences as an Afro-Peruvian to theorize about an alternative Peruvian society, more participatory politics, critical citizenship (Velarde, 2012b). Luciano outlined that the Afro-Peruvian movement should commence from a point of self-esteem founded in an empowering notion of Afro-Peruvian identity, an awareness of history as experienced by Afro-Peruvians (not the official version that excludes their contributions), a revision of society’s structures, their policies and guiding politics, and a proposal for transformation that guarantees for militant work towards ensuring that the state is not a prime facilitator for racism and discrimination in society (Velarde, 2012b). He also theorized some guiding points on how to deconstruct racism internally, societally and politically. Luciano (1998) believed that racism was a structural issue, because politicians were not undergoing processes of critical self-examination (as cited in Velarde, 2012a). Acccording to him although laws have been passed in Peru criminalizing racism, few politicians, institutional representatives, and organizational leaders have internalized an anti-racist standpoint inherently preventing a true end to structural racism. Luciano pointed out that ‘Peruvians’ identity crisis’ is linked to an identity crisis suffered by those who have led the country. He proceeds to explain that the crisis of national identity is rooted in a colonial (Spanish conquest) and neoliberal (whiteness perpetuated through the global market) rooted in a privileging of whiteness. Luciano therefore stressed that although color had to be addressed in relation to racism, it should not be the uniting force for the movement because Peru’s ethnic make-up and racial appearance are not always representative of each other, unlike it could be more of the case in other Latin American   65  countries. He focused in on building a critical and proud consciousness of ‘roots’, Indigenous, Asian, Middle Eastern, etc., and in the case of Afro-descendants of African-Peruvian ancestry, hence calling for a stop the cyclical ‘schizophrenic’ self and peer bashing (Luciano, 1998; as cited in Velarde, 2012a).  Valdiviezo (2012) emphasizes Luciano’s belief that, “the struggle against social injustice should use political and democratic tools, which meant the this should be done through public discussion, legislation, programs, elections, not be sacrificing the live[sic] of individuals and communities in order to impose one political doctrine” (p. 141). Luciano explicitly underscored the element of ‘participation’. He expressed that it was vital for Afro-Peruvians to participate in Peruvian democracy through everyday political and public action by discussing, negotiating, and conversing openly.39  This said he did not outline how this participation should look like or take place both in ‘informal’ civic public spheres and ‘official’ spaces of politics and legislation-making.40However, Luciano did actively demonstrate the vital importance of engaging in dialogue across various spaces. Most who knew Luciano share that it was his personal goal to engage as many people as he could in all of the communities across Peru and Latin America that he would come to work in around concepts of identity and democracy through his Afro-descendant lens (Velarde, 2012). And for the latter, he strived to listen reciprocally and to make sure that whatever theory he was conveying was first reflected and analyzed through his own experiences, with an awareness of his personal subjectivity and worldview. Hence he tried to end most conversations whether in social, academic, or political spheres by asking: what type of identity are we as Peruvians constructing today?, what is the role that groups such as  that of the Afro-Peruvian people, can play within this process?, What do we expect from this nation?, and                                                  39 For the Spanish text see Drzewieniecki’s interview with Luciano in 2002, published in CEDET, 2012, p. 193. 40 For the extensive Spanish text see, Luciano, 2012, p. 132.    66  What can we propose to this nation to ensure that the tensions that exist between inequality and diversity do not become obstacles for the development of the country, nor our own, as people who deserve to have the best conditions for complete self-development? (Luciano; as cited in Velarde, 2012a). Deriving from Luciano’s conceptualizations of personal and political engagement for transformation, I shift to a more focused discussion on activist pedagogy. Activism is defined by Oxford Dictionaries Online (2013) as ‘the policy or action of using vigorous campaigning to bring about political or social change’. Yet it is so much more. Activism is critical pedagogy alive in the ‘real’ world. It is the expression of social justice awareness. I am approaching activism and activist pedagogy from a working and diverse standpoint seeing it enacted in a multiplicity of ways throughout Latin America and by Latin American diaspora. Experiencing the vast difference that exists amongst activists and hence within resulting pedagogy, I pose that the discussion of activist pedagogy in this thesis be considered just one case of many that together constitute the political potential of activist pedagogy. Key questions to always consider are: who identifies with the term and how does one come to identify with the term and later define it? I believe that it is important for those partaking in or leading social justice action to define for themselves what the entire process entails- emotions, relational constructs, ideological perspectives, skills acquisition, etc. It is critical that static notions of activism, which often times even activists themselves hold, be interrupted so that new pedagogical possibilities can be established in and outside of classroom walls. Related to the latter, is the pivotal need to shift away from notions of activism only leading to transformation if it seeks the overall overthrow of democracy, versus trying to re-align democracy with its true ideals, and as such utilize some of its ‘tools’. As Walia (2012) highlights, using certain tools or methods such as disciplined   67  attempts at‘consensus decision-making’ can become ‘testaments’ to an ability to organize according to principles of direct democracy.  LUNDU’s Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign allows me to treat learning and education as “complex and contested social activities” and “develop a picture of this complexity, … [by writing] … [a case study] of learning in struggle, making explanatory connections between the broad political and economic context, micro-politics, ideologies, discourses and learning” (Foley, 1999, p. 132). Ultimately, the case study will contribute to a better understanding of activist pedagogy in context, from the point of view of engaged actors and their lived experiences. Indeed, Sandlin, Schultz, and Burdick (2010) use the term “social activist counter-hegemonic and resistance efforts” (p. 4) to describe the work of grassroots organizations, NGOs, artists, and advocates. In this regard, Ollis (2012) states that “there is an enormous amount of skill that is developed as activists go about their important work, mainly informally” and “on the job” (p. 2). It is activists and the groups to which they belong that usually bear the more offensive brunt of societal critique and oppressive discrimination because of the more ‘public’ threat they pose to hegemonic circles. My study of LUNDU’s campaign allows me to focus on the complex dynamics of learning and teaching that happen in one such civil society grassroots organization. To that end, I draw on the works of Ollis (2012), Luciano (in Velarde, 2012), Zambrana-Ortiz (2011), hooks (as discussed in Davidson & Yancy, 2009), and Foley (1999), in order to identify the main facets of an activist pedagogy this study focuses on more particularly:  Facet 1: Development of ‘Militant Consciousness’ (Luciano, in Velarde, 2012). This facet captures how activists develop revolutionary and feminist forms of consciousness (hooks, as cited in Davidson & Yancy, 2009), political consciousness (Foley, 1999) and how they become   68  aware of oppositional ideologies and the totalizing discourses that dominate society (Foley, 1999). The term ‘militant consciousness’ is derived from Luciano’s reference to the need for people to move to a critical state of mind where they are able to recognize their subjugation and move to take action to counter their own and societal oppression. The latter resonates with hooks’ calls for women, especially racialized marked women, to grasp how their oppression is constructed by a myriad of factors and develop a revolutionary feminist consciousness to counter intricately embedded patriarchal models and the micro-politics are obscured. Thus learning through interactions informs a critical understanding of how “power” and “hegemonic struggle plays itself out in instances of social action” (Foley, 1999, p. 26). Foley highlights how French scholar Michel Foucault brought to the forefront the dominating power of totalising discourses that are often so systemically embedded in the ways societies function that the very people often subjugated by these discourses unconsciously reproduce and support them. Overall this category speaks to the development of an activist consciousness that intersectionally challenges prejudices through a hyperawareness of formal and informal politics that assists in the recognition of external and self-prejudices and marginalizing assumptions. A militant consciousness speaks to the beginning of an activist identity and pedagogy that seeks societal transformation.  Facet 2: Embodied Learning (Ollis, 2012). This facet captures how activists learn on the job (Ollis, 2012) and how they develop critical reflection and emotional reflexivity (Ollis, 2012). This facet also includes how activists come to construct emotions as pivotal for taking action (Zambrana-Ortiz, 2011). Ollis (2012) states that almost all learning that activists undergo is “often driven by emotional agency, is social, is informal, and critically cognitive” (Ollis, p. 2). She uses the term   69  to summarize and characterize activists’ overall learning. However, I treat ‘embodied learning’ as a compact category to analyze aspects of activist learning and pedagogy that include what Ollis (2012) refers to as, “the embodied nature of activists’ knowing. She states that “if reason and the emotions are entwined, the emotions are not something that can be ignored or cordoned off” (Ollis, 2012, p. 52). Ollis indicates the greater “agency” experienced by activists as their “knowing includes the mind, body, emotions, and self, all of which contribute to their effective mastery of learning” and overall empowerment (p. 52). Embodied learning forefronts a merging of engaged ‘formal’ and ‘informal’ learning techniques and spaces. This is critical because activists are often cordoned off, especially in educational or political discussions, behind limiting categorizations of ‘public’ pedagogues, ‘informal’ learners, ‘unprofessional’, and ‘community-based’ (as if this meant they are not or could not also be academically grounded and trained, nor have rigorous theoretical understanding). Zambrana-Ortiz (2011) captures the immense pedagogical and political potential of emotions with her term, ‘pedagogy in (e)motion’, which “proposes that emotions lead and enrich our pedagogy because it implies movement within ourselves” (p. 17). Ortiz emphasizes that “the moment we become conscious of emotions we have the flexibility of response based on the particular history of our interactions with the world; means as environments, human landscaping, and contexts” (p. 5). Facet 3: Learning from Micro-Politics and Tensions Between Professional/ Academic and Activist Discourses (Foley, 1999). This facet refers to how activists develop awareness of the micro-politics that operate within society. It inquires into how activists position themselves in relation to professionals’/ academics’ discourses and activist ones and how they navigate the tensions and clashes that operate between these discourses (Foley, 1999).    70  Often times, activists act and are perceived by professionals and the media as being emotion-driven and radical, whereas professionals and academics are portrayed as emotionally collected and strategic. Foley (1999) states that the clash of professional/ academic and activist discourses often sets up dynamics that are “highly educative” for activists (p. 19). I would argue that, sensing the tensions and contradictions between these discourses and analyzing why activism is usually conceptualized as non-professional/ academic, renders the process educative for both sides, especially when those partaking in the action are able to identify with new perspectives and perhaps even inhabit the others’ roles, thus invigorating transformative dynamics. Foley (1999) indicates that activists experiencing a clash of perspectives develop tactics that are “more sophisticated and confrontational” (p. 19).  Facet 4: Strategic Acquisition of Democratic Skills (Foley, 1999; Ollis, 2012). This facet captures how activists learn participatory forms of communication, networking, the strategic use of media technologies, and official engagement with government and other NGOs through report writing and presentations (Foley, 1999; Ollis, 2012). Ollis (2012) indicates that although some knowledge is acquired by activists through formal high school and university schooling, most skills pivotal for activists’ work are gained on the job as they are thrown daily curve balls and have to manage unexpected situations (p. 71). Some of the skills listed by Foley (1999) and Ollis (2012) are: interactive teamwork skills, strong leadership and task management coordination abilities, strong communication and participatory facilitation skills, technical expertise, strategic use of media sources, etc. It is important to note that the acquisition and/ or development of democratic skills speaks to the merging of practical and theoretical knowledge, and draws from ‘formal’ and ‘informal’ learning spaces.     71  Facet 5: Space-Making (hooks, as discussed in Davidson & Yancy, 2009). This facet captures how activists come to build community, alliances and develop advocate competencies (hooks, as discussed in Davidson & Yancy, 2009)  hooks (2004) refers to the concept of space-making in relation to both the struggle to remove yourself from the space of ‘the Other’ to which many are relegated to suit the purposes of those hegemonically in power and to the process of forging relationships of understanding to transform society. Both require extreme patience, dedication, and critical awareness and are intertwined with the ability to conceptualize alternatives. Only lived experiences can shift the perspective of the margins as a space of oppression to one of the margins as a space of resistance and also a space for complete reconceptualization of social relations and discourses. Hence, creating spaces is concerned with a process of personal action but also alliance and advocacy building. For the latter there has to be self-interrogation followed by learning how and when to put your personal agenda aside in order to truly be able to support the needs of others and become an advocate for their platform, even if there are subtle differences in perspectives. Thus space-making, the learning of advocate competencies and the participatory skills needed to construct a sustainable and alternative form of development and democratic visioning become interlinked. Finally the concept of space-making re-highlights the importance of emotions and the process of cultivating ‘political’ emotions in order to facilitate the creation of strategic alliances for socio-political transformation. In this study, I examine how these five facets played out among LUNDU leaders along the various stages of the campaign, their struggles and alliance building. These five facets will also allow me to contextualize the impact that the campaign has had and to compile an understanding of the micro-politics and embodied learning related to anti-oppressive action.   72   Drawing on the aforementioned five facets I formulated the following three research questions that will guide my study:  1.) How do LUNDU leaders conceive of themselves as activists and how do they construct their activism in relation to discourses of education, development and participatory politics within the context of Peruvian society? The aim of this question is to understand the form of political and militant consciousness that facilitated the emergence of the campaign as a viable strategy of civic engagement.  2.) How did LUNDU leaders come to articulate the public pedagogy that frames the raison d’ être of the campaign? The aim of this second question captures the learning experiences of LUNDU leaders in relation to how they created, implemented and advocated for the campaign. 3.) Through what means did LUNDU leaders leverage political power by conceiving spaces for greater visibility, participatory politics, and civic engagement towards socio-political transformation? To answer it I focus on the ‘strategic methods and skills’ (Foley, 1999; Ollis, 2012) with which LUNDU leaders carved out spaces for greater political participation. By also focusing on the ways through which they learned from micro-political and discourse tensions to and moved on to develop advocate competencies and create alliances, I will also be able to gain a better grasp of the partnerships and or end of partnerships that resulted from the campaign process, hence also what potential there is for further space-making. The aim of this question is to gain a deeper understanding of how the campaign and its leaders were engaged by various constituencies active within the public sphere, and the extent to which they leveraged the visibility of the campaign’s agenda through advocacy strategies and coalition and alliance building.   73  CHAPTER 3: RESEARCH METHODS Methododology & Ethical Considerations This inquiry is grounded in a critical and anti-racist framework as charted by Dei and Johal (2005). This framework is ideal for research conducted with Afro-Peruvians because in my work I view them as “theorists of their own everyday lives and practices” (Dei, 2005, p. 5) and take on a highly discursive view of development, citizenship, and democracy. This inquiry is an expressly political project aimed at creating knowledge about the social relations and practices of domination for challenging and changing the systemic inequalities put into place, first by imperial colonial forces and now neocolonial groups (Hughes, 2005). Using a critical and anti-oppressive lens allows me to shift the development gaze from one rooted in unitary notions of society and polity, to one that recognizes the voices of the marginalised as part and parcel of a radical participatory democracy.   I commenced my research by analyzing my role as an “insider-outsider” (Merriam et. al, 2001). My focus on the “insider-outsider” dilemma resulted from theoretical inquiries I carried out whilst completing community service learning work with Latinas/os in Vancouver. I cannot deny that to a certain extent when I was beginning my trajectory as a graduate student I felt that I was “authorized by virtue of our academic positions to develop theories that express and encompass the ideas, needs, and goals of others” (Alcoff, 1991, p. 7). I was encouraged within the few critical educational studies classes available at the time, by my supervisor and community mentors, to keep contemplating this insider-outsider status as a method to challenge my own privilege and power. I thought that as someone with mixed Peruvian ethnic ancestry who has spent a lifetime engaging Afro-Peruvian communities through dance, immersing myself in studies of Afro-Peruvian culture, and completing community service learning projects locally   74  with new immigrants utilizing feminist anti-oppressive theoretical frameworks, that I was somehow more able to and ‘in the right’ to bring forward critical understandings of the historicity of the social dynamics of Afro-Peruvians and Peruvian society.  However, months before departing for my research in Peru I began to question the position most researchers engage without being aware of. Alcoff (1991) terms the position as ‘speaking for others’. I grew more perturbed pondering what authorization I ever had to conduct research on anything related to Afro-Peruvians. The former is still very unresolved for me. I proceeded to unpack and question my own identity and process of self-indentification, growing painfully aware of my intricate positionality as a Latina-Canadian of African-Mestizo descendancy who has received academic training in a Western nation. Although I experienced marginalization as a racialized marked body and I struggled for ‘inclusion’ within Canadian society, I had to come to terms with accepting that I was a born-citizen of a settler colonial state, and as such I possess certain privileges other researchers may not. I had to begin confronting the ‘colonial’ privileges I had internalized (something I remain hyper-critically reflective of). An example of the latter, was that although I struggled and continue to struggle with linguistic barriers, being that my mind has always thought in Spanish, but has been forced to communicate publicly and academically in English, I had as a result of twelve years of tutoring assistance developed a completely ‘anglo’ accent. No previously experienced oppression in relation to language struggles can cover up the power and privilege that one gains in Canada and even moreso abroad, with a perfect anglo accent. Alcoff highlights that, a speaker's location (which I take here to refer to their social location, or social identity) has an epistemically significant impact on that speaker's claims and can serve either to authorize or disauthorize one's speech (p. 7). The fact that my skin is not ‘Black’ and I possess an anglo accent leaves me with the ‘choice’   75  of negating my mixed ethnic ancestry. It also made me realize the danger I ran of essentializing notions of ‘Blackness’ or misrepresenting the struggles of Afro-Peruvians which, although I felt a connection to, I had not experienced firsthand on a daily basis. Alcoff’s (1991) words resonate with my identity and research dilemmas perfectly when she references her own “membership in many conflicting groups” and refers to all of her memberships as “problematic” (p. 8). She complicates the entire concept of rationalizing research and ones’ role with the following: On what basis can we justify a decision to demarcate groups and define membership in one way rather than another? No easy solution to this problem can be found by simply restricting the practice of speaking for others to speaking for groups of which one is a member. Moreover, adopting the position that one should only speak for oneself raises similarly problematic questions. For example, we might ask, if I don't speak for those less privileged than myself, am I abandoning my political responsibility to speak out against oppression, a responsibility incurred by the very fact of my privilege? If I should not speak for others, should I restrict myself to following their lead uncritically? Is my greatest contribution to move over and get out of the way? And if so, what is the best way to do this-to keep silent or to deconstruct my discourse? (p. 8) The aforementioned correlates to my comprehension of positionality as a notion that “rests on the assumption that a culture is more than a monolithic entity to which one belongs or not,” (Merriam et al., 2001, p. 411). Rather it is “characterized by internal variation” (Aguilar, 1981, p. 25 as cited in Merriam et al., 2001, p. 411). Therefore, to say that one is an insider or outsider, raises the questions posed by Merriam et al. (2001), “What is it that an insider is insider of?” (p. 411).   I decided to ‘get real’ with my reasons for setting out to conduct research abroad in Peru and related to Afro-Peruvians. I was aware I needed to address my role as a child of immigrant settler-colonialism and develop my knowledge of issues of marginalization in Vancouver to strive towards decolonizing allied work together with Indigenous peoples. However, something inside of me needed to first return to the only place of belonging I had known since I was a child, Peru. I needed answers to questions regarding intersecting issues I experienced or witnessed in Peruvian society, and I needed in order to genuinely reach the core of my standpoint, to learn as   76  much as I could about the missing voices from my personal history, but also overall Peruvian constructions of nationhood and development.  I want to rehighlight Escobar’s (1995) concept of ‘hybridity’ and ‘hybrid identities’. Colonialism and now neocolonialism has had a hybridizing effect on Latin America, its people and diasporas. However, this process of ‘hybridization’ has not been one necessarily of pacification, but has consisted of unique ways of dealing with multiple oppressions and identity struggles; hybridized methods of ‘survival’ and ‘coping’ have also been created by different peoples for alternative revisioning. Part of this hybrid nature is being very sensitive to differences but also seeing the lines of difference constantly and simultaneously blurring and redrawing themselves. On their own, critical feminist scholarship did not provide me with the tools to understand my ‘hybridity’. A lack of overall scholarship by and on Latinas/os in the Canadian context led me to the work of Chicana scholars which is assisting me in grappling with coming to terms with my own process of understanding privilege, power, and oppression. This thesis became far more than fulfilment of a graduation requirement; it essentially became what I will term my first theoretical attempt at ‘de/re-rooting my self’. What this entails is facing the borders, emotional barriers, and attempting to balance the various cultures I carry, which Anzaldua (1999) captures as: … neither hispana india negra ni gabacha,  eres mestiza, mulata, half-breed caught in the crossfire between camps while carrying all five races on your back not knowing which way to turn to, run from; (p. 216) Part of this process has also been the challenging realization that although I have to strive to see the many ways in which I am or can be an oppressor (I believe that because power is relational we at times unconsciously become oppressors ourselves). I must take critiques as learning opportunities whilst understanding that no one but myself can truly grasp my hybridity nor the   77  roots I need to cut and those I need to lay. Most women of color within the overall social justice movement, including those who have mentored me, have acquired privilege through their own moments of “cognition” (Rebolledo, 1990, p. 366). Hence, because “sameness” is still venerated and often plays out as feminism’s most internalized ‘denial’ even amongst women of color, I can only do my best to deconstruct my differences and those of others and then move on to accept and celebrate them (Molina, 1999, p. 330). Thus I established a critical working baseline for myself with the following goals: 1.) to remain constantly reflexive of personal and relational moments out in the field, striving to dismantle the harsh divides between the ‘self’ and ‘Other’(Lal, 1999), especially because separations of ‘insider’ and ‘outsider’, ‘us’ and ‘them’, are all subject to both institutional and internal reproductions of power (Kirsh, 1999); 2.) strive to create wherever possible the conditions for dialogue and the practice of speaking with and to rather than speaking for others (Alcoff, 1991, p. 23);  3.) constantly check my ‘Western’ perspectives, to ensure that I do not impose foreign discourses onto those of LUNDU; 4.) address critical feedback to the best of my ability at this point in life, but not change my standpoint perspectives simply to appease others;  5.) and do my best to keep ‘nourishing’ the roots established through continued reciprocal research engagement from a place of honest personal-political motivation.   Saldivar-Hull (1999) states that “a radical re-construction of space in the Americas where political struggles and alliances are forged” is possible “only after risking conflicts, appropriations, and contradictions in the face of power and domination” (p. 13). Hybridity implies a ‘non-static’ quality, hence I am not engaging it as a tool as a tool with which to shirk   78  my responsibility nor mask actions that increase conflicts or appropriations. Instead it is what fuels my relentless daily hyper drive to forge research alliances towards social justice transformation. As Rebolledo (1999) highlights in relation to Anzaldúa, hybrids are in a position as “object[s] of multiple indoctrinations of the oppositional thinking of others” to “help [them] come to terms with the politics of varied discourses and their antagonistic relations” (p. 366).   For the overall framing of the case study I made specific critical and anti-racist methodological choices. I utilize standpoint41 perspective, of which my personal narrative forms a part of, to introduce and discuss the study. Working from a standpoint perspective means that I cannot claim nor do I wish to claim ‘objectivity’. I do my best through methods of triangulation to review my data and report ‘findings’ that arise from the data, I cannot claim nor do I wish to claim complete ‘scientific ‘neutrality’ as I view all knowledge and forms of knowledge production as ‘value-laden’ regardless of what methodological procedures are followed or what positional perspectives are declared. Harding (1995) calls attention to the colonial character of ‘objective neutrality’ referring to it as the dominant scientific discourse that has throughout the decades hegemonically limited the proliferation of social justice oriented research. Harding (1995) agrees with the notion that methodological rigour is often missing in the social sciences; however, she critiques the notion that taking a standpoint inhibits identifying androcentric or Eurocentric assumptions. In critique of ‘weak objective’ efforts to ‘neutralize’ research through claims of ‘systemization’ Harding (1995) states,  ... where the social constitutes scientific projects, the neutrality ideal provides no resistance to the production of systematically distorted results of research, as I shall shortly show in more detail. But to put the matter this way is too mild a criticism of it. It is not just useless in these                                                  41 Standpoint theory emerged in the late 1970s and 1980s as a feminist critical theory about relations between the production of knowledge and practices of power. It is characterized by its ability to merge fields and disciplines standardly kept separate and identified as both a feminist social theory and a political strategy. The ‘logic of a standpoint’ has also been utilized by race, ethnicity-based, anti-imperial and Queer social movements, therefore it is a “kind of organic epistemology, methodology, philosophy of science, and social theory that can arise whenever oppressed peoples gain public voice”; see Harding, 2004, pp. 1-4.   79  circumstances; worse, it becomes part of the problem. Objectivism defends and legitimates the institutions and practices through which the distortions and their often exploitative consequences are generated. It certifies as value-neutral, normal, natural, and therefore not political at all the policies and practices through which powerful groups can gain the information and explanations that they need to advance their priorities. (p. 337) To address my ethical concerns of ‘favouring privilege’ I seek to establish through my research a ‘strong objectivity’ (Harding, 1995). Objectivity as an ideal is not necessarily wrong, as for many it represents the effort to be fair and understand others’ perspectives. However, Harding says that it should be stripped from the notion that one needs to claim impartiality, to ignore historicity, or negate emotion. Harding affirms, “In order to gain a causal critical view of the interests and values that constitute the dominant conceptual projects, one must start one's thought, one's research project, from outside those conceptual schemes and the activities that generate them; one must start from the lives excluded as origins of their design--from "marginal lives" (p. 342). I made a conscious effort to establish a conceptual analysis and literature review that drew from both racialized marked and racialized unmarked critical scholars and also scholars that may not necessarily construct their work from a ‘critical’ standpoint, but that are nonetheless pivotal for a comprehensive discussion of the impact of a civil society anti-racism campaign on reconceptualizations of citizenship, development and democracy. Rebolledo (1999) points out that “as the complexities and shades of our literature grows, we must be careful not to canonize a certain few to the exclusion of other equally fine writers” (p. 352). The case study focus on activist pedagogy of which conceptualizations are still very broad calls for a mixed, but strategic literature review which unpacks the terrain of pedagogy more broadly and politically, and then narrows in on the work of theorists directly engaging the activist field. As I believe is the case with any pedagogy seeking to be transformative, activist pedagogy requires a contextualized   80  approach as activism itself in relation to citizenship, development, and democracy is such a dynamic concept. Beginning the Research Process  After several years of engaging in literature reviews and maintaining up to date on Afro-Peruvian social justice oriented initiatives in the arenas of education, development, and democracy, I narrowed in on LUNDU’s Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign, because of the unique and transformational political impact I felt it was having on Peruvian society. Originally, I had intended for my research to focus on how Afro-Peruvians engage higher education as a platform for their initiatives, and how higher education responds to initiatives by traditionally marginalized civil society groups. I believed that there was critical importance in studying Afro-Peruvian and higher education relationships to develop knowledge on how civil society and higher education shape discussions of development and citizenship in Peru.   I initiated email exchanges with LUNDU, El Centro de Desarrollo Étnico (CEDET), universities in Peru which through internet searches seemed to be supporting Afro-Peruvian initiatives, and development institutions in late 2012. Most responses I received prior to departing for my Lima fieldwork from development institutions some of which receive Canadian International Development Research Centre (IDRC) funding and have mission statements stating goals to elevate national discussions over political and social issues with academics, civil society groups, communication industry representatives, private industry leaders and international bodies towards sustainable development42, included direct statements that research projects focusing on such research projects by Afro-Peruvians were not considered of importance for their institutes’ development focus. This type of response indicated to me the importance of continuing on with                                                  42 This is part of the mission statement of CIES.    81  the research. There was a clear disjuncture between ‘development and democracy’ articulation in Peru and the reality of Afro-Peruvian civil society perspectives. Fieldwork: From Limitations to Organic Shifts  I conducted fieldwork interviews in Peru during February/ March 2013, many of which included follow-ups via Skype which concluded August 2013. Upon arrival I had general discussion meeting set up with Afro-Peruvian organizations CEDET and LUNDU to discuss my intended research focus. The discussion with LUNDU was extremely important, because I was set on not proceeding with any research until the focus was collaboratively agreed upon with LUNDU’s executive president and activist Monica Carrillo, but it was also critical to gain a thorough grasp of areas deemed by other Afro-Peruvian organizations as requiring research inquiry.  The meeting with CEDET was extremely informative. Several of CEDET’s staff, including executive director Oswaldo Bilbao, sat down to discuss my research interests during which they provided me with extensive books and published materials on the topics of activism, education, racism in the media, and development grounded in Afro-Peruvian perspectives. They also expressed the clear need for there to be in-depth and structured research on the lack of Afro-Peruvian inclusion within higher education planning and the contrasting views that exist in Peru in regards to the relationship between racism, development, higher education and democracy. However, to do justice to a study seeking to unpack the actual role of higher education and its historical and contemporary support for or lack thereof for Afro-Peruvians, would require much more time and networking.  Discussions with LUNDU’s Gloria Castro also highlighted how pictures with Afro-Peruvian leaders and LUNDU volunteers and statements of ‘growing engagement with civil   82  society groups’ posted by higher education institutions falsely promoted the idea of existing formal support for Afro-Peruvian organizations and their initiatives. Hence after more discussion with Castro and Carrillo it was agreed that a focused case study on the contributions of Apúntate Contra el Racismo’s anti-racist work and the overall concept of activist pedagogy in Peru could really contribute to future studies on the re-articulation of development and democracy, but most of all the concepts of citizen action that could contribute to the latter. Intensely occupied with work on their new campaign, Castro and Carrillo encouraged a study on Apúntate Contra el Racismo and generously provided me with extensive materials on the campaign including publicity materials, pamphlets, and directions to online blog and news postings, along with other materials on LUNDU’s broader projects and perspectives such as booklets, the Estética en Negro cd, and other published materials. I shared with Castro and Carrillo that I was aware of the time and energy they would be committing to the case study and inquired as to how our relationship could be more reciprocal. Hence, it was agreed that as LUNDU needed administrative or workshop assistance in relation the new campaign or any prospective educational projects, that I would remain connected and assist via my remote location with any administrative or logistical need, such as quick Spanish to English translations or summaries, an agreement which I remained very committed to.   I faced very specific challenges that were overall related to the threat of danger and unsafe political atmosphere for Afro-Peruvian activists and any people working the legal or political field to represent their interests. As this case study highlights, despite there being recent political accomplishments by Afro-Peruvians and anti-racist and discrimination legal changes instituted or proposed, Afro-Peruvians are still publicly demonized as peace-disturbers. Although I intended to include interviews by ministry officials and was recommended by Carrillo to   83  include legal perspectives by lawyers who had not worked on the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign or related legal case, but were known to support Afro-Peruvian and social justice reforms in Peru. Originally, I was approved by representatives of the Ministerio de Cultura43, Ministerio de Desarrollo e Inclusion Social44 (MIDIS), and lawyer who is extremely familiar with the campaign for interviews. However, with numerous last minute re-schedules (some as I was making my way to the meeting) it became increasingly challenging to conduct the interviews. The interviews I was able to conduct I decided not to incorporate into the research, as ministry and legal interviewees did not agree to sign consent forms and showed intense resignation and formally being associated to any perspectives directly supporting Afro-Peruvian initiatives.   The entire research process poignantly taught me how my overall mixed identity was both a limiter and facilitator in the Peruvian context. My graduate student affiliation to the University of British Columbia and yet mixed Peruvian ethnicity seemed to evoke general uneasiness on the part of ministry and higher education representatives. Interestingly, they voiced their opinions of more ‘critical’ research taking place out of Canadian universities. It proved impossible to schedule any meetings with higher education representatives working in the areas of social responsibility or community engagement to inquire into their possible familiarity with the campaign, as their responses conveyed complete hesitation at any inquiries into their ‘community engagement’ structures and planning, even going so far as to state that they would only carry out meetings with doctoral students looking to complete approved research through their institutions. When I was engaging people face-to-face, it was also not uncommon for people, especially non-Afro-Peruvians, to comment on what was evidently a seemingly                                                  43 Ministry of Culture. 44 Ministry of Development and Social Inclusion.   84  confusing and hence worrisome identity to them, “Por los correos electrónicos, nuestra conversación por teléfono y que vienes de Vancouver, pensé que sería hmmm diferente (referring here to my non ‘gringa’ racial appearance)… de donde dijo que era?”45 This attitude correlated to the often rude, dismissive and then suspicious attention I was given by ministry office security. Usually I was first abruptly told, “Hoy no atendemos al publico!”46, despite the website explicitly stating it was open office hours for public attention. Yet after I expressed I had a meeting scheduled and provided my information, I was usually expressed something along the lines of, “Usted es de Canadá?! Hmmm, voy a confirmar si tiene cita, espere afuera,”47 with an overall look of suspicion and confusion. While conducting my research in Peru and transiting throughout the city, I tried to dress as plainly as possible, without ostentatious or fine clothing as thefts for any objects assumed of worth are of high frequency. My skin which aside from being ‘darker toned’ and what often has people refer to me as ‘morena’ according to Latin American descriptions, was even darker due to extreme heat and sun exposure, clearly posed a barrier, because other ‘whiter’ bodies entering the building were barely checked for identity cards. My Spanish with hints of perfectly pronounced English words and tones of Chicano, Mexican, and Chilean drew suspicion.  Engaging staff and leaders from Afro-Peruvian organizations was a different story. On the one hand, my Western institutional background threatened most of the Afro-Peruvians I dialogued with of a possibly neo-liberal agenda. It was expressed by several Afro-Peruvian NGO staff members and activists that they were used to students conducting research and then somehow producing through their research a highly positive spin on Western and national state                                                  45 “Because of the emails, our conversation over the phone and that you come from Vancouver, I though you’d be more gringa… where did you say you were from?” 46 “Today, we are not tending to the public!” 47 “You are from Canada, I will confirm if you have an appointment, please wait outside.”   85  development interventions, despite more critical insight provided to them by the NGOs. However, on the other hand, I also experienced from them a high degree of understanding. Although at first they too inquired into my research background and motives, they allowed me the time and space to express my precarious identity situation. I did not feel ‘Othered’ by them upon any first encounter. And they seemed prepared to engage and even support an individual such as myself who was seeking to develop an understanding of their mixed ethnic roots and considered it an integral part of the research process. I was even probed about my research experiences in Lima and encouraged to discuss experiences of racialization and/ or preferential treatment I had undergone. My ability to speak in Spanish, although I lacked the ability to interpret some forms of slang or ‘sayings’ and general honest disposition of my research intentions and curiosities, fostered open dialogue even during meetings and interviews. In many instances highly personal information disconnected from the research topic was shared. I made sure to take notes of points that should remain private and excluded from the formal data. Carrillo also shared a couple of in-progress poetic pieces on the topics of racism, violence, and identity, which although very insightful into her activist perspective I refrain from referencing in this study. Methods of Inquiry and Analysis: Case Study Research  The present Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign case-study research seeks to contribute to scholarship on activist pedagogy which focuses on the relevance of the struggles of marginalized groups and the strategies which they undertake to develop participatory methods of democracy and obtain formal inclusive recognition by governments. Understanding the strategic decisions undertaken by LUNDU leaders in relation to the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign is essential for acquiring an in-depth response to the research questions I seek to answer. As outlined by Yin (2009),   86  A case study is an empirical inquiry that  o investigates a contemporary phenomenon in depth and within its real-life context, especially when  o the boundaries between phenomenon and context are not clearly evident.   The case study inquiry  o copes with the technically distinctive situation in which there will be many more variables of interest than data points, and as one result  o relies on multiple sources of evidence, with data needing to converge in a triangulation fashion, and as another result o benefits from the prior development of theoretical propositions to guide data collection and analysis. (p. 18) Links from Yin’s classification of a case study inquiry to my specific case study can be directly made. I seek to develop understanding of LUNDU’s real life context, day to day interactions and alliances, because despite there being existing research on Afro-Peruvians, the aforementioned is an area that has not been consistently or analytically approached. Due to the fact that I am ‘case-oriented’ I am therefore, not seeking to generalize beyond the case but rather to gain and map a holistic understanding of the case as a point of departure for further discussion and to explore causal processes. Thus, I draw on “process theory” which “deals with events and the processes that connect them; it is based on an analysis of the causal processes by which some events influence others” (Maxwell, 2004, p. 5).  I am not studying the totality of Afro-Peruvian communities, although an understanding of other Afro-Peruvian organizations was necessary to grasp LUNDU’s alliances and critically locate it amongst the Peru’s diverse societal context. I also draw from several sources both from within and outside the Afro-Peruvian community to properly contextualize the case study and build a thorough ‘warehouse’ of information on the vast contributions of Afro-Peruvians of which LUNDU is a case in point, to the nexus arena of development, participatory politics, and democracy. As Maxwell (2004) points out “process-oriented” approach to explanation “recognizes the reality and importance of meaning, as well as of physical and behavioural phenomena, as having explanatory and revelatory significance, and the essentially interpretive nature of our understanding of the former” (p. 8). Single case studies that are “process-oriented” rather than variable oriented, highlight the “importance of the context   87  of the phenomena studied, and does so in a way that does not simply reduce this context to a set of extraneous variables” (Maxwell, 2004, p. 9).   Case studies are conducted for their unique qualities and the in-depth information that they usually provide on focused issues, people, or programs. Stake (1995) explains that some case-studies are ‘intrinsic’, because the particular case itself is of focal interest, whereas others are ‘instrumental’, because although they are of particular interest, it is because they are seen as vital for the comprehension of larger research questions. This research is an ‘instrumental case-study’ because it is about more than understanding the successes or failures of the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign or how an anti-racism campaign is carried out. The Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign case-study is necessary to further knowledge of alternative notions of participatory citizenship, reconceptualizations of development, and how activist pedagogy can be used by marginalized groups as sites of political and social activism from which to promote participatory politics and re-articulations of democracy.   According to Stake (2000) the case study’s “best use appears... to be for adding to existing experiences and humanistic understanding,” which to me seems critical for scholarship on development and democratic citizenship, as they are areas of social science research lacking focus on the participatory and social movement raw lived encounters of peoples, especially those whom development and state governance policies most oppress. Stake (1995) also highlights that the "case study is the study of the particularity and complexity of a single case, coming to understand its activity within important circumstances" (p. xi). This means that the researcher must remain aware that no case is “identical with the settings to which they relate: they involve emphasis only on those aspects of these that are relevant to the research focus” (Stake, 1995, p. 108). The latter supports my case study approach because research on Afro-Peruvians, their   88  alliances, civic action, political participation, democratic and development views, and overall societal condition is lacking and what does exist is fragmented, therefore many questions regarding the plurality of the Afro-Peruvian community remain to be researched with precision and care that are outside the scope of this research.  Finally, as a case study investigator it was my duty to be as open as possible to “contrary findings” throughout the research process (Yin, 2009, p. 72). Although it was not my intentional goal to focus on LUNDU’s organizational weaknesses or controversies amongst Afro-Peruvian organizations, it was my duty to ensure that my data findings and analysis reflect surprising or “compelling evidence” (Yin, 2009, p. 73). In more straightforward terms, it is my ethical concern that I do not seek to ‘serve privilege’ in any sort of way within the frame of this case study research or during the dissemination process.  Data Collection   In case study research, data can be collected from many sources (Yin, 2009, p. 99). Data types include interviews and document analysis (includes electronic media sources). Interviews provide “causal inferences and explanations” (Yin, 2009, p. 102). However, they may also reveal inaccuracies due to poor recall, articulation abilities or reflexivity (giving the interviewer what they want to hear) (Yin, 2009, p. 103). Documents serve as a data source that can be reviewed and reflected upon frequently; they are also unobtrusive, contain exact information regarding people or events, and can provide broad coverage of events allowing for a better grasp of contexts and factors influencing the case study (Yin, 2009, p. 102). Documents found on or part of electronic media sources and publications offered alternative points of entry into the case study by revealing varied perspectives on the campaign. This offered me the opportunity to gage the public’s opinions in relation to the campaign and contributes to stronger triangulation and   89  contextualization of the data. The combination of interview and document analysis will also provide valuable insight into the “dimensions of dominance” (van Dijk, 1996, p. 84).  Translation: Necessary Gaps  It is important to highlight that I present all of my data in its original language. Due to the fact that most of the documents I engaged were published in Lima and I also made an effort to seek out original versions of documents, the majority required analysis in Spanish. In many ways Spanish was my first language being that it was what I first spoke at home as a child, so I was able to transition out of the Spanish and English texts with relative ease. However, because I have not lived for an extensive period of time in Peru since I was a child and my Spanish has absorbed Chicano, Mexican, and Chilean linguistic influences, I at times struggled with specific cultural and linguistic references. Hence, I did my best to keep all Spanish quotes from interviews exactly as they were expressed to me to avoid their true meaning getting lost in my translation. However, to facilitate comprehension for the reader I included English translations next to all Spanish text included as case study data.  I engaged in conversations with Afro-Peruvian interviewees around certain terms--such as estética [aesthetic], which comes up in the following chapter--and how we understood, felt and experienced them according to the societies and communities we had grown up in and the current work we were involved with. Yet, I felt immense academic pressure to make my data and the overall case study completely comprehensible by Western readers and concise for academic standards. The reality was I would never quite be able to convey, “the feel of things, the contribution of exact words, tone, look, etc. in producing the fury and humiliation of a racist treatment” (Bannerji, 1995, p. 168). “Context” plays an important part in the act of interpreting data--despite my best attempts at contextualizing the data, there would be gaps (González y González & Lincoln, 2006, p. 2). Needing to meet academic standards of thesis length, I had to   90  cut back on ‘context’--this caused me much guilt and nausea. Hence, I maintained the contextualizing throughout this case study quite extensive and the quotations in Spanish for the most part, as they were first expressed, despite any seemingly odd syntax. I also found myself footnoting to elaborate on translations. A footnote is a device that “might offer on the one hand the danger of objectification, of producing introductory anthropology, on the other, conversely, might rescue the text from being an orientalist, i.e. an objectified experience and expression” (p. 169). After extensive hours of translating I understood that ‘gaps’ are necessary (Bannerji, 1995; González y González & Lincoln, 2006). It became evident that the depth, emotion, experience, and diverse multiplicity of words, phrases, and stories, especially from interviewees, could never be captured in translation. Therefore, I had to come to terms with and learn the value of this case study being “a text with holes for the Western reader. It needs extensive footnotes, glossaries, comments, etc.--otherwise it has gaps in meaning, missing edges” (p. 169). I now believe some things should not be precisely captured in text. It was ok for the Western reader to suffer such a loss. As Bannerji (1995) highlights, “A whole new story has to be told, with fragments, with disruptions, and with self-conscious and critical reflections. And one has to do it right. Creating seamless narratives, engaging in exercises in dramatic plot creating, simply make cultural brokers, propagators of orientalism and self-reificationists out of us” (pp. 178-179). Interviews   During the research ethics approval phase and prior to conducting the research fieldwork, data collection, and analysis, I completed an interview guide that would allow me to probe interviewees on topics that would inform the research questions. The interview guide was approved by my supervisory committee. I conducted in-depth interviews that were semi-structured in format. In-depth semi-structured interviews allowed me to guide the interview process, while allowing the “interviewee to propose her or his own insights into certain   91  occurrences and may use such propositions as the basis for further inquiry” (Yin, 2009, p. 107). In such interviews, the interviewee is considered more of an “informant” rather than just a straightforward “respondent” (Yin, 2009, p. 107). The target duration of each interview was between one to two hours. I selected interviewees through a literature search of publicly available documents and publications on Afro-Peruvians and their activism. Therefore, I only interviewed people about their publicly available work trying to pose as minimal risk to their privacy and safety as possible. However, personal perspectives were shared with me during the interview process. Therefore I made sure to ask for special permission in regards to these disclosures, especially if I felt that they were relevant to the study focus.  In the interviews I asked them about their work in a conversational format. Throughout each interview I pursued certain threads as long as they were connected to the thematical structures from the guide. Originally I conducted interviews with two LUNDU staff members and government ministry representatives, however, due to a refusal by ministry representatives to sign consent forms, I was unable to formally include their insights, but did draw from my own reflections annotated prior, during, and after all of the interviews. By conducting these interviews and triangulating them with analysis of other document sources, I was able to identify configurations of power relations associated with the minoritisation and marginalization of Afro-Peruvians and also that underpin their persisting social and civic engagement for political change and transformation. Documents  Documents can be highly useful and invaluable tools for case study research even though they are not always accurate and may contain bias (Yin, 2009, p, 103). Therefore, I only used documents selected carefully and understood I should not accept them as “literal recordings” (Yin, 2009, p. 103). I used documents to corroborate information provided by interviewees and   92  to make inferences, for example by studying the names of supporters listed on a website, I developed new questions about strategic networking or alliances with other organizations (Yin, 2009, p. 103). Extended research into the case study and interviews in Peru, led me to uncover integral document sources. Systematic searches of the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign led me to invaluable documents of the following types: LUNDU publicity materials including the organizational website and campaign products such as posters, official development reports created by LUNDU, relevant reports from ‘official’ development bodies i.e. the World Bank or the State Department of Development, and electronic newspaper articles on LUNDU’s work and campaign efforts. Due to the large quantity of publicity materials produced both by LUNDU and external parties, I ‘triaged’ the document materials by their centrality to my inquiry (Yin, 2009).  Data Analysis  Guest, MacQueen and Namey (2012) feel that good data analysis (and research design, for that matter) combines appropriate elements and techniques from across traditions and epistemological perspectives (p. 3). In this vein, I engaged a system of applied thematic analysis (ATA). However, I also did my best to ground the review and analysis of my textual data in critical discourses analysis (CDA) theory. Although completing CDA to a depth that does it justice, with careful analysis of stylistic, linguistic, and lexicogrammatical features of texts, ended up falling outside of the scope of this thesis, I still attempted to apply the tenets of CDA to data readings.  Applied Thematic Analysis:  ATA as defined by Guest, MacQueen, and Namey (2012) “comprises a bit of everything—grounded theory, positivism, interpretivism, and phenomenology—synthesized into one methodological framework” (p. 15), however its “primary concern is with presenting the stories and experiences voiced by study participants as accurately and comprehensively as   93  possible” (p. 16). Hence, ATA provided the ideal analysis structure to address the diversity of the case study data, whilst honoring the depth and value of the learning expressed by the interviewees. ATA also strategically facilitated analysis of the data in a shorter period of time. As Guest et al. (2012) highlight, with ATA, you do not sacrifice quality, nor do you discard valuable data. If there are more data than you can analyze with the given resources and time frame available, it is not discarded; it is systematically cataloged so you and others can come back to it as opportunity allows” (p. 29).  With ATA I was able to easily organize the breadth of data I collected. ATA prompts the researcher to remain hyper aware of the research questions which prompted the data collection and return to them frequently. Guest et al. (2012) indicate that if there is “more than one research objective, then you should translate each of those objectives into an analysis objective and then outline the steps necessary to achieve that objective” (p. 29). Therefore I returned to the activist pedagogy facets and research questions elaborated at the end of Chapter 2, to establish an analysis framework which evolved into a practical chart with which to organize my data and emerging themes.  Figure 3.1: Analysis Framework Chart Research Questions: How did LUNDU leaders conceive of themselves as activists and how do they construct their activism in relation to discourses of education, development and participatory politics within the context of Peruvian society? How did LUNDU leaders come to articulate the public pedagogy that frames the raison d’ être of the campaign? How did LUNDU leaders come to articulate the public pedagogy that frames the raison d’ être of the campaign? Through what means did LUNDU leaders leverage political power by conceiving spaces for greater visibility, participatory politics, and civic engagement? Facets 1  2 & 3 4 & 5 Data Analysis    Implications    94  This process of organizing my data, allowed me to see and grasp ‘common threads’ and draw implications assisting an overall critically analytical and descriptive approach that nonetheless, considers context throughout the data analysis process (Vaismoradi, Turunen, & Bondas, 2013).   Critical Discourse Analysis Theoretical Approach to Analysis:   The works of Wodak (2000 & 2002), van Dijk (1996 & 2010), van Leeuwen (1996), and Fairclough (1985 & 2003) aided me in developing a critical and deconstructive awareness of the case study data. Critical discourse analysis theory accounts for how language produces and reproduces hegemonic discourses that sustain systemic inequalities. Therefore, as an analytical model, CDA allowed me to uncover the social reality of Afro-Peruvians, rather than just recycle the dominant conservative and limiting development discourses through which they are portrayed. I utilized the CDA model to review my data and examine how power relations work across networks of structures and to extrapolate the contradictions in the ways in which Afro-Peruvians represent themselves and their social justice initiatives in comparison to how they are often misrepresented by the wider Peruvian public, and state and development officials (Fairclough, 2003). Fairclough (2003) brilliantly observes that what is ‘said’ in a text is always said against the background of what is ‘unsaid’--what is made explicit is always grounded in what is left implicit” (p. 17) and “Seeking hegemony is a matter of seeking to universalize particular meanings in the service of achieving and maintaining dominance” (p. 58). Therefore, I collect and triangulate data to reveal how LUNDU’s self-representations through the campaign process, products and  related encounters, counter existing notions of who the ‘democratic actor’ ‘development leader’ is and should be. According to van Dijk (2010), CDA offers the most sophisticated strategy for conducting qualitative analysis of racism and anti-racism efforts because it focuses on the experiences of racism by those that live it day to day, it facilitates the   95  unpacking of propaganda, interviews of state officials, political representations, texts both inside and outside the classroom, and legal discourses--all pieces involved in the fundamental reproductive process through which racism is systematized. As van Dijk (1996) emphasizes, through analyzing ‘patterns of access’, ways in which Afro-Peruvians are excluded from key development and state documents and the ways in which they have limited access or circumstantial access to the media, academia, and politics, I seek to show how discourse becomes cognitively marginalizing for Afro-Peruvian initiatives. If we couple van Dijk’s argument with Fairclough’s (1985) perspective that institutions are pluralistic, with their own actors and goals and also grasp that there is heterogeneity within institutions and amongst the perspectives of their participants, it becomes vital to use CDA theory to analyze institutional diversity. Utilizing CDA theory I paid critical attention to the discourses employed by institutional and organizational representatives and how these discourses relate to those espoused by the state in regards to development and democracy. Applying CDA theory allowed me to grasp the controversial discourses surrounding LUNDU’s work and the phenomenon of racism in Peru. Ultimately through the use of CDA theory, I focused in on the ideological constructs and hegemonic forces circumscribing LUNDU’s initiatives and marginalizing Afro-Peruvians.  Triangulation:   Yin (2009) states that “a major strength of case study data collection is the opportunity to use many different sources of evidence” (p. 115). I triangulated my different sources of data to strengthen the resulting arguments from the case study in relevance to the research questions. The critical value of triangulating data are the resulting “converging lines of inquiry” (p. 115). Triangulation assisted me in supporting my case study ‘claims’ with multiple sources of evidence which provided “multiple measures of the same phenomenon” (p. 117).   96   Triangulating sources is pivotal when engaging CDA, because it sheds light on contradictory discourses and ideological patterns, thus revealing dominant forces. In Peru, the media is predominated by white figures. Media coverage does not focus on Afro-Peruvians unless it is to report an act of mass violence against them portraying them as helpless victims, or the opposite as violent criminals. Thus it will be of critical value to compare, contrast, and corroborate LUNDU’s campaign materials and self-reports on their initiatives and the status of Afro-Peruvians, with public media depictions of Afro-Peruvians and the ‘official’ claims made by development and state bodies. This document-media triangulation will provide information about the “access” of Afro-Peruvians to the mass media, which is a “critical condition for their participation in the public definition of their situation” (van Dijk, 1996, p. 92). As van Dijk (1996) highlights, marginalized and minoritized groups usually have limited access to academia’s institutions and scholarly discourse. Critical issues such as racism and other forms of discrimination which hinder sustainable development and impact democracy are also usually left properly unaddressed and research on such issues, unfunded by development institutions and governments. Therefore it was extremely insightful to triangulate interview perspectives and documents on Afro-Peruvian participatory initiatives of which the Apúntate Contra el Racismo development and democracy in Peru. Figure 3.2 represents the triangulation system I adhere to.               97  Figure 3.2: Convergence of Evidence   (Modified by Medel, S., 2012 from Yin, 2009, p. 117)       Semi-Structured  Interviews LUNDU's Organizational Materials (inc. official reports) Reports by Official Development Bodies (i.e. World Bank and State Ministries) Public Media  (electronic and newsprint) Campaign Publicity Materials ASCERTAINED  FACT   98  CHAPTER 4: APÚNTATE CONTRA EL RACISMO, THE CAMPAIGN FINDINGS Socio-Political Context of Afro-Peruvian Action The History in Brief of Afro-descendants in Peru   The first Afro-descendants arrived in Peru during the beginning of the Spanish conquest of Peru as colonized and displaced peoples removed from their Indigenous African lands. As Rodríguez (2008) indicates, Africans or “ladinos” (p. 15),48 would have at the time arrived with some of the first Spanish conquerors such as Francisco Pizarro, as forced assistants whose main role seems to have originally been translation between the Indigenous peoples of Peru and the Spaniards. However as the slave trade grew more profitable and colonization spurred the acquisition of resource rich lands for which European colonizers needed cheap labour, so did the number of slaves brought to Peru totaling more than 100, 000 between 1528 and 1821 (although this was notably less than were brought to Brazil, Colombia, Cuba, and Venezuela) most of which were forced into coastal agriculture work (Hunefeldt, 1994). Approximately 85% of Afro-descendant slavery was concentrated along the Peruvian coastlines where eventually they would also be forced into the roles of agricultural labourers, domestic servants, cooks, gardeners, and cattle workers, etc (Velázquez , 2005; Rodríguez, 2008).   During the mid-nineteenth century, the industry of slavery began to change as an underground counter movement began to brew stemming from the slaves themselves (Rodríguez Pastor, 2008). Slaves at the time, Afro-Peruvians cultivated their culinary and musical traditions despite oppressive daily living conditions. This growing behaviour of ‘challenge’ on behalf of the slaves along with the rapid increase of liberal anti-slavery scholarship and politics, led to the declaration by Ramon Castilla (Peruvian President 1845-1851 and 1854-1858) of the abolition of slavery on December 3rd, 1854. Yet despite the abolition of slavery, the trajectory of Afro-                                                 48 The term is sometimes used to refer to Black slaves who spoke Spanish.   99  Peruvians being treated and written into Peru’s national story as ‘inferior’ had already been cemented and continued to be entrenched through leadership of first the Spanish and then the Republican criollo state. Valdiviezo (2012) highlights,  In the transition between the 19th and 20th century, criollo intellectuals re-elaborated images and discourses on what it meant to be Peruvian in order to design a national identity more appropriate to the social diversity of the country. It was necessary to recognize the massive exchange between socio-cultural groups for centuries. They designed a Castilian-Inca mestizo model of national identity. Based on this model, the history of the Republic was written. This model kept the idea of superiority of the Hispanic over the Inca’s culture and omitted Peru’s African and Middle Eastern roots. (p. 29) De la Cadena (2000) illustrates that during the twentieth century education was promoted by leaders such as Mario Vargas Llosa and other criollo elites, especially those in Lima, as a vehicle through which poor uneducated ‘Others’ such as Indigenous peoples, could evolve from a ‘primitive Indianness’ into more civilized and cultured mestizo ways of being. However, De la Cadena also points out that ‘mestizo’ was given another meaning by ‘Indigenistas’ in Cuzco who use the term to “identify literate and economically successful people who share Indigenous cultural practices yet do not perceive themselves as miserable, a condition that they consider ‘Indian’” (p. 6). Counters to the criollo mestizaje project therefore came from Indigenista intellectuals such as Eduardo Valcarcel, who represented Andean Cuzqueños that were proud of their “Indigenous cultural heritage” and thus advocated for the superiority of the latter (De la Cadena, 2000, p. 6). Important to grasp is the glaring reality that Afro-Peruvians were excluded from the central debates of race, ethnicity and nation-building, unless it was to reinforce the notion that there were Peruvian citizens trapped in a colonial backwardness in need of a project of cultural improvement such as mestizaje (Valdiviezo, 2012). N’gom Faye (2010) states that Afro-descendants in Peru were disenfranchised from claims to resources of the nation state through a process of systematic trivialization, through which they were stripped of their historical roles, thus leading to their contemporary invisbilization (p. 19). These ideas of physical and cultural whitening through miscegenation became so embedded in the psyche of Peruvians   100  and Peruvian society that they continue to play a massive role in Peru’s social organization in terms of influencing who is considered educated and who is allowed to navigate through higher societal echelons.  Rodríguez (2008) highlights that the early 1900s marked a challenging psychological turning point for Afro-Peruvians. Decades after slavery was abolished, they were the ones tormented by the memory of the immense labor they had contributed to the construction of a nation that had abandoned and marginalized them into what many described a desperate attempt through mestizaje to escape their social realities. It is important to make a few critical notes on often misinterpreted topics. Afro-Peruvians living in rural coastal areas cultivating sugar cane and cotton continued to suffer much more intense forms of violence as hacienda owner’s ‘power’ went unchecked and they often inflicted their own forms of ‘state’ control, limiting freedoms and restricting rights (Rodríguez, 2008). This led to massive migration tides of Afro-Peruvians into the city beginning and after the 1950s, although many today recall their parents or grandparents regrettably voicing having to leave the lands they ‘shared their souls with’. Researchers highlight that historically, it was easier for Afro-Peruvian women to relocate to Lima, where they were able to acquire work much quicker than men, as domestic servants and it was most often the case that both within rural and urban households, women in domestic service positions experienced much better treatment from their employers (Velázquez, 2005; Rodríguez, 2008).  Servants in Lima households were able to access greater social mobilization through often times easier access to education, foreign trends, and better treatment from their employers. However, the latter should not override the physical and psychological trauma that Afro-Peruvians endured individually and collectively within Peruvian society both during and after slavery.    101  Researchers such as Velázquez (2005) and Mannerelli (1994) highlight that colonization and colonial society created and reinforced complex and asymmetric gender divisions and (mis)representations. On the one hand they reinforced illegitimacy, hypergamy, the disrespect for women and the female body--the material view of women soley as reproducers and property for sexual pleasure, and promtoted male-female sexist and patriarchal dichomaties, while at the same time also demasculinizing males (Velazquez, 2005). Viceregal law had also stipulated that women passed on their slave/ free status to their children. The fact that women ended up occupying work positions in Lima and within households, and thus often developing affective relationships with their owners that facilitated their freedom from slavery, also impacted their relationships with Afro-Peruvian men. Colonial processes continue to affect gender relations in Peruvian society, amongst Afro-Peruvians and inter-ethnically.   Rodríguez (2008) indicates two powerful opposed juxtapositions that unfolded for Afro-Peruvians. Leading up to the 1950s Afro-Peruvians began to reveal their impressive strengths and skills in areas such as civil construction, textile design and manufacturing, cooking, and music composition. The aforementioned two especially served as vehicles for the dissemination of Afro-Peruvian practices into almost every Lima household. Yet, whilst the Afro-Peruvian mark was being cemented in monumental cultural practices such as the religious procession, El Señor de Los Milagros, and the establishment of Club Alianza Lima which has always featured a majority of talented Afro-Peruvian soccer players, Afro-Peruvians were being constructed in societies’ psyche through systemic and rapidly developing internalized forms of racism from ‘victims to victimizers, innocent to guilty’. Apart from suffering ‘criminalization’, Afro-Peruvians also suffered invisibilization by the state.49 The 1940 census by the Instituto Nacional                                                  49 Velázquez (2005) theorizes that right after the War of the Pacific with Chile and the sweeping onslaught of modernist writings and state political projects, the memory of Afro-Peruvians as individuals who had empowered   102  de Estadística e Informática (INEI) incorrectly published the Afro-Peruvian population at 0.47%, after which it admitted several discrepancies; however it did not proceed to include sufficient questions relevant to the Afro-Peruvian condition on following censuses (Defensoría del Pueblo, 2013). Based on statistics collected by international development organizations, Thomas (2011) cites the current Afro-Peruvian population at somewhere between five to ten percent and states most are currently located along the Peruvian coasts, in central Peru50, the south, and north, with a heavier concentration in the departments of Piura, Lambayeque, Ancash, Lima, El Callao, Ica, Arequipa y Tacna. Overall, inaccurate population statistics51 on Afro-Peruvians, have further minoritized them and entrenched perceptions of them as ‘non-existent’ and ‘marginal’.  The Contemporary Groundings of the Apúntate Contra el Racismo Campaign The Beginnings of Afro-Peruvian Activism  As mentioned in the section situating this study, most researchers addressing Afro-Peruvian work or organizational initiatives, usually focus on their resistance to colonial slavery and or their cultural/ artistic music and dance related work beginning in the 1950s. With the emergence and rapidly growing popularity amongst criollo elites of Afro-Peruvian artists such as                                                                                                                                                              themselves to survive, negotiate, undermine and bring an end to slavery was troubling. Unprepared to handle such a monumental ethnic ‘Other’, Afro-Peruvians were applied a myriad of antagonistic identities by criollos--barbarics, superstitious, incapable, unprofessional, etc.--but the misrepresentation that would impact them the most socio-economically would be that of politically irrational. Afro-Peruvians were seen as incapable of having any political rationality. Perhaps related, is the fact that although there is evidence that a great number of Afro-Peruvians practiced medicine and hence had close exchanges with Lima elites in the 1800s, their participation in such professional networks was omitted from both official and more popular accounts of Peruvian history. 50 Lima districts: Barrios Altos, La Victoria, El Rímac, Breña, El Callao, San Miguel, Lince, San Juan de Lurigancho, Villa el Salvador, Surquillo, Chorrillos, San Martin de Porras y Comas. 51 Velázquez (2005) collects a wide range of statistics from censuses and colonial documents dating back to the 1700s and until the mid 1900s on the Afro-Peruvian population in Lima throughout and post-slavery. He concludes the following: 1.) From the mid 1600s Lima was a city with a high African presence (with people of African descendance and features totaling nearly 46% of the overall population); 2.) the number of slaves (especially female slaves) decreased drastically after the wars of independence; 3.) the wars of independence eroded the practice of slavery, favouring freedom for men; 4.) despite a growth in the Peruvian economy due to the guano industry boom, the number of Afro-Peruvians begins to decline drastically in the mid-1800s; 5.) it can be concluded that there were low levels of new births and growing levels of pre-natal mortality; 6.) there was a drastic increase in hypergamy and miscegenation due to worsening exclusion and conditions of increasing poverty experienced by Afro-Peruvians as colonial markets shifted; 7.) and from 1790-1930, the population of Afro-descendants went from being the most important ethnic community to being the least important in qualitative and quantitative terms.    103  Nicomedes Santa Cruz, Victoria Santa Cruz Gamarra, Lucha Reyes, Edith Bar, and Arturo ‘Zambo Cavero’ Velasquez throughout the 1950s and onwards, Afro-Peruvian musical culture was spotlighted nationally. With the development of newer talents during the 1970s and onwards such as Peru Negro, Eva Ayllon, and Susana Baca, Afro-Peruvian culture gained international recognition drawing in researchers mostly focusing on Afro-Peruvian percussion, dance, and lyrical traditions (Leon, 2006). Rodríguez (2008) relates the growth and popularity of Afro-Peruvian arts to an overall awakening of “Black conscience”52 (p. 427). Apart from the public Peruvian recognition of Afro-Peruvian musical traditions, Rodríguez (2008) highlights the sudden cultural renaissance and upspring of diverse institutions and centres that attempted to first rescue Afro-Peruvian history and societal contributions and attain the contemporary acknowledgement they deserve, and then struggle against racism, working to revindicate the presence of Afro-descendants in Peruvian society. These institutions and centres were also there to prove that Afro-Peruvians were not just ‘entertainers’ of Peru, but citizens of the nation who should not receive inferior treatment by the law, nor by the ‘informal’ sectors of Peruvian society.   As Luciano and Rodríguez (1995) recount, the first Afro-Peruvian groups inspired by the U.S. Civil Rights Movement appeared in the 1960s and were focused on promoting Afro-Peruvian racial and cultural pride. In 1972 the Asociación Cultural para la Juventud Negra Peruana53 (ACEJUNEP) was formed with international funding to execute rural development projects in Afro-Peruvian communities (Golash-Boza, 2011). In 1983 the Instituto de Investigaciones Afroperuanas54 (INAPE) was founded by Afro-Peruvian activists José Campos,                                                  52 Rodríguez’s (2010) original phrasing for this in Spanish is “un despertar de la conciencia de nuestra negritude” (p. 427). 53 Cultural Association for BlackPeruvian Youth. 54 Institute of Afro-Peruvian Research.   104  José Luciano and Juan José Vasquez, which along with the participation of several other Afro-Peruvians succeeded in conducting numerous reports on the rural condition of Afro-Peruvians amongst other topics, but above all introduced the concept of Afro-Peruvian research into academia (Rodríguez, 2008). However, both collapsed due to lack of overall support from the greater Afro-Peruvian community and international funds (primarily from the Ford Foundation) running out (Golash-Boza, 2011, Rodríguez, 2008). However, on November 30th, 1986, members from the former two groups came together, along with other Afro and non-Afro-descendant multi-racial Peruvians, unified to form the Movimiento Negro Francisco Congo55 (MNFC), and as such became the only Afro-Peruvian group which self-identified as a social ‘movement’ (Thomas, 2011).   MNFC grew rapidly during the 1980s and 1990s, successfully organizing regional committees and coordinating the first national assemblies on issues related to Afro-Peruvians (Thomas, 2011). Their main focus was carrying out projects to improve the socio-economic position of Afro-Peruvians. However, in 199256, Rodríguez (member of MNFC) was published stating that there was a need for an Afro-Peruvian movement because of the raw need for greater institutional, organizational and government representation to defend the rights of Afro-descendants (Rodríguez, 2010). In 1995, they were the first collective group of Afro-Peruvians to present a document of political proposals to the presidential parties and candidates running for president elect that year (Rodríguez, 2008).                                                   55 The BlackFrancisco Congo Movement. 56 Rodríguez (2010) cites, Boletin N. 1 del Primer Encuentro de Comunidades Negras en el Peru, Lima, October 1992, as the original source of his statement.    105  Afro-Peruvian NGO Relations A study by Thomas (2011)57 provides a starting point for analysis of LUNDU’s campaign work and organizational positioning in relation to other Afro-Peruvian groups. Thomas’ study categorizes Afro-Peruvian institutions into the following groups: community organizations, social movement organizations, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and cultural entities. In the 1990s MNFC, decided to separate into two independent branches: the continuation of the social movement became known as el Movimiento Nacional Afroperuano Francisco Congo (MNAFC) and the development of an NGO whose purpose would be providing technical and academic assistance (eventually this would result in the creation of CEDET). The aforementioned process was for the strategic purposes of creating a solid platform for the dissemination of Afro-Peruvian work nationally and internationally, and thus also gaining greater financing for projects benefitting Afro-Peruvian communities from international sources (Thomas, 2011). In 1998, Luciano referred to MNAFC as ‘a group of Black brothers’ who he proudly associated himself to and congratulated for their sustained commitment of over a decade to the improvement of Afro-Peruvian conditions (Luciano, 2012). MNAFC was indeed through its male leadership a ‘brotherhood’. Sadly, however, the MNAFC is no longer engaging activist work and its activities have for the most part ceased, while CEDET has continued with the mission of community activism, research production, and social development concerning Afro-Peruvians. CEDET also followed in this ‘brotherhood’ form of leadership. It has been under the same male directorship of Oswaldo Bilbao Lobaton, since its founding (Lewis, 2012). Despite its continued male leadership, CEDET has provided spaces for women such as Lilia Mayorga                                                  57 Political scientist John Thomas III conducted a study of the context of Afro-Peruvian institutions in Peru with funding from the World Bank.   106  Balcazar, to take on key positions of publishing coordinator of several key projects. Nonetheless, CEDET became publicly known throughout patriarchal Peru as a male spearheaded Afro-Peruvian NGO, possibly facilitating its inclusion in a myriad of ‘official’ development and political spaces. CEDET’s current work focuses on the production of academic works and the production of educational seminars for Afro-Peruvians in rural areas; however its audience is limited in scope, predominantly consisting of an established academic/ professional community and young researchers (Thomas, 2011). Nonetheless it is the most active and best known Afro-Peruvian NGO in Peru often referenced for academic and state studies on Afro-descendants.   LUNDU was officially created on March 21st, 2001, as a space for dialogue (primarily targeting Afro-Peruvian youth) focused on promoting the social organization of Afro-Peruvians from a gendered perspective (LUNDU 2013b). LUNDU’s leader has always been predominantly female. It’s founder and Executive President remains former ‘youth’ leader and practicing artist, Mónica Carrillo. LUNDU is differentiated from other Afro-Peruvian organizations by its youth focus, and very public anti-racism activist and feminist stance. It has since its inception proclaimed to be anti-all oppression and pro solidarity with other marginalized groups. During the 2007 to 2010 period when Roció Muñoz (current Representative of Afro-Peruvian Populations for the Instituto Nacional de Desarrollo de Pueblos Andinos, Amazónicos y Afroperuanos (INDEPA)) served as Executive Director of LUNDU, the organization joined Peru Afroperuanas Feministas (Peru’s Network of Afro-Peruvian Feminists), formally including womens’ issues as central on their anti-oppressive work agenda. LUNDU is currently characterized as an NGO which under Carrillo’s directorship received financial support from international organizations such as UNICEF to develop youth projects in the El Carmen region,   107  education projects in el Callao, and reconstruction efforts in Chincha after the 2007 earthquake.58 Described as a recognized poet who is active in international networks and leading the fight against racist media for the achievement of anti-discriminatory legislation changes in Peru, Carrillo and LUNDU are placed in the difficult balancing position amidst the activist realm of social movements, the hands-on terrain of community workers, and the arena of ‘official’ political work. It needs to be understood, as Thomas (2011) points out, that there is vast discrepancy between the highly visible public activism of Afro-Peruvian organizations in Lima and the assistance they receive. Although Thomas highlights that Afro-descendant rural and urban communities’ needs vary in certain aspects, LUNDU’s work has aimed to reveal that they share that the issues they struggle with share the same root causes. Thomas (2011) continues on to point out that international development funding bodies have constructed urban and rural needs in often self serving ways. Rural communities and their organizations are disproportionately self-represented within international networks, as it is usually urban organizations that are invited to or are economically assisted to attend international conferences. Yet, funding for urban organizations has been allotted according to the ‘rural projects’ that they carry out. I attribute this to a neoliberal salvationist conceptualization of poverty which pervasively positions ‘rural’ people in a ‘worse off’ position of subalternity that requires heroic gestures, versus those who live closer to or in urban centres and supposedly have a ‘better’ chance of accessing modernity’s technologies. Thus, although it has historically (and continues) to be Lima-based NGOs that are leading the creation of a social movement agenda, they receive very little funding for projects that engage the needs of urban dwellers, because it is commonly perceived that the relative poverty by Limeño Afro-descendants, pales in comparison to the extreme poverty that is ‘visible’                                                  58 For an extensive descriptive list of other Afro-Peruvian institutions see Thomas, J. (2011).    108  in the south, which is a very superficial conclusion by donors (Thomas, 2011). The latter disenfranchises Lima-dwelling Afro-Peruvians and has created a relation of dependency of rural NGOs on urban NGOs. Thomas (2011) lays down the groundwork for understanding the lack of cohesive decision-making amongst Afro-Peruvian organizations stating that Afro-Peruvians have expressed feeling a sense of fractured leadership and lack of clarity in regards to how Afro-Peruvian organizations want to shape an Afro movement. Although some organizations, such as CEDET and LUNDU collaborate occasionally on projects and lend each other public support for select initiatives, there is clear lack of cohesion between leadership styles, issues selected for focus, methods for tackling issues publicly, and perspectives on how to engage critical issues such as racism.  LUNDU’s Fight Against Racism   LUNDU began its work with youth in 2002 when it launched its first projects in Lima and Chincha, Ica, titled, Reencontrar las Raices59 (LUNDU, 2013b). This project resulted in the formation of an Afro-Peruvian youth network which is still active. In 2005, LUNDU began concerted efforts to eliminate discrimination amongst children through the development of an educational project titled, Estética en Negro,60 which targeted the impoverished and mostly Afro-descendant population of the district of El Callao. This project had as its objectives to contribute to the strengthening of identity and self-esteem in children through the implementation of critical art and music projects focused on identifying stereotypes and delineating baselines for the                                                  59 “Rediscovering the roots”. 60 “Aesthetic in Black”. It is important to note here that this term will reappear in relation to the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign and to describe much of LUNDU’s work and goals as it was frequently used by Carrillo, Castro and even former staff member Muñoz when describing the impact of LUNDU’s initiatives on the elaboration of forms of visual representation and public engagement rooted in Afro-Peruvian experiences and perspectives. When the term‘Estética’ was employed, it was done so in relation to one and/ or more of the following: 1.) the principles and goals of physical and/ or visual representation in relation to beauty; 2.) the physical appearance/ attitubutes of a certain aspect of a project; 3.) creative processes for visual representations of development and education; 4.) and forms of self expression for engaging the Peruvian and international public, but also for personal holistic well-being.   109  valuing of others’ abilities (LUNDU Website). In 2008, the project was transferred over to El Carmen, Chincha, and continues to operate there. A discussion with Carrillo about the Estética project revealed the extensive collaborative effort that was put into creating everything from the pedagogy of the project to the actual final CD product. Indicative of the teamwork, participatory and artistic pedagogical experience it allowed them to gain, Carrillo shared with me several email exchanges between LUNDU staff members. The exchanges illustrate how they strived to incorporate the paintings and symbols created over a span of five years by the children they were working with in El Callao during the ‘Estética’ workshops, into every aspect of the project. This grassroots pedagogy which resulted in a unique Afro-Peruvian asesthetic creatively designed by the children led to their receiving a prize for innovative methodology by the United Nations (UN).   Over the course of their first few years running projects, LUNDU began to develop a stronger gendered and feminist perspective, advocating for women’s rights and bringing to the forefront the additional marginalization faced by Afro-Peruvian women as a result of the high levels of sexism in Peruvian society. They designed a reference centre to develop and advocate for the sexual and reproductive rights of women. This centre, located in El Carmen, is not only a resource space for women, but a place for the creation and delivery of educational workshops targeted towards children and youth and focused on capacity and self-esteem building (LUNDU, 2013b).  In 2007 after the August earthquake which destroyed most of Pisco, Ica, and Chincha’s infrastructure, LUNDU received funds from the Ford Foundation to assist with temporary housing and reconstruction efforts in El Carmen. As a result of a collapsed infrastructure in the South, LUNDU had to tackle rapidly growing rates of sexual tourism and prostitution amongst   110  other issues affecting Afro-Peruvian women and young males in particular, such as HIV/ Aids, vandalism, and theft/ assaults.   Through the myriad of their education-based projects, LUNDU leaders witnessed the widespread negative impacts which experiencing racism had on youth’s overall development. Thus LUNDU began to strive for decolonizing and anti-oppressive curricular change in schools which included promoting the necessary inclusion of the historical and contemporary achievements of Afro-Peruvians. Fostering a social justice oriented mind at an early age became of vital importance so LUNDU worked to develop anti-racist kindergarten curricula in conjunction with officials of the Ministry of Education. Their intense involvement with youth engaging critical topics of race and sexuality led LUNDU to develop a firm activist stance on racist media content. LUNDU leaders saw how Afro-Peruvian youth (especially women) are beraded every day with images of Afro-Peruvians as whores, thieves, and ignorant peoples and the drastically negative effects this has on their self-esteem. It also became clearer as time passed that despite pardons and the creation of institutions meant to support Afro-Peruvians and curb racism, development in Peru was not democratic development, because it was still marginalizing Afro-Peruvians by disregarding the critical need to directly address racism and sidestepping their initiatives. Thus the Apúntate Contra el Racismo became LUNDU’S politically public step in the fight against racism for a more participatory democratic Peru.  Apúntate Contra el Racismo: Unpacking the Impact of Activist Pedagogy The Afro-Peruvian struggle against oppression and for participation within national development discourses has been growing in clarity and strength alongside the turbulent machinations of state governance. The campaign is a clear expression of the latter. Throughout the periods of Fujimori, Toledo, and Garcia, LUNDU steadily mastered the rhetoric and real   111  meaning of radical participatory democratic citizenship. LUNDU has been taking stringent notice of the state’s claims of participatory initiatives, engaging new or restructured institutional bodies and checking the efficacy of the both of the aforementioned while growing evermore political in voicing their own communities’ needs.    I now begin analysis of the campaign to answer the research questions outlined in Chapter 3. Data findings are organized according to the questions and the facets I believe best inform them. As I discuss elements, alliances, actions, attitudes, and experiences of, and surrounding the campaign, it is important to understand the sequence of events of which the campaign consisted of. Organized from an in-depth blog review and confirmed by Mónica Carrillo, I created a Chronological Chart of the Campaign Action included in this thesis as appendix A which will help in navigating the various stages of the campaign and its overall impact.  The Development of ‘Militant Consciousness’ and the Articulation of Oppositional Ideologies and Discourses  In the first section I seek to answer: how did LUNDU leaders came to conceive of themselves as activists and how they began to challenge totalizing discourses of education, development and participatory politics within the context of Peruvian society? The aim of this question is to understand the forms of political and militant consciousness that facilitated the emergence of the campaign as a viable strategy of civic engagement.   As a point of departure for the overall analysis of data on the campaign, I began by reviewing my interview with LUNDU’s Executive President, Mónica Carrillo and LUNDU’s Chief Communication’s Consultant, Gloria Castro Alvarez. I understood that the study of the marginalization of Afro-Peruvians was a chief concern of LUNDU’s along with the use of   112  feminist perspectives to address issues. However, I wanted to understand the elements that led to the precise birth of the campaign and their campaign related activism.    As the months and years went by leading up to the precise creation of the campaign, Carrillo underwent a hyper personal process of conscientization along feminist, political and revolutionary lines. This process was interrelated with a series of events that began to unfold between 2001 and 2009 both in Peru and internationally which directly and indirectly impacted Afro-Peruvians. The campaign and other related projects that were to be initiated by LUNDU were therefore going to be inevitably injected with Carrillo’s experiential feminist and anti-neoliberal standpoint. Carrillo shares that she “acquired the feminist perspective from being in the trenches” (Carrillo in Jones, 2011, p. 322).   If there are extremely limited numbers of Afro-Peruvians that hold social capital sufficient enough with which to acquire positions of authority in politics or academia, there are even less women. Carrillo is therefore in many ways an anomaly for Peruvian society and a bullseye for those to whose benefit it is to stigmatize women taking action. Carrillo was only twenty-one when she created LUNDU (Falcon, 2008). She was also one of only three Afro-Peruvian women to attend the UN World Conference Against Racism, Xenophobia, Racial Discrimination and Related Intolerance in Durban, 2001 (WCAR 2001) (Falcon, 2008). Carrillo herself draws the picture, “To create an organization when you’re Afro-Peruvian is very difficult because you’re young and because you’re young and because you’re a Black woman (Jones, 2011, p. 323)”. Falcon (2008) highlights Monica’s post-WCAR 2001 experiences of developing a critical ‘conciencia de mujer’ similar to that of a ‘mestiza consciousness’ as theorized by Anzaldúa (1989) which clarified the raw intersectionality of oppression. Carrillo shared with Falcon, that she had also reached the conclusion that Afro-descendant organizations and anti-  113  racist initiatives have to adopt a “non-negotiable principle” of “anti-capitalist politics” (Carrillo in Falcon, 2008). Carrillo came to understand what she identified as a “failure to recognize the detrimental effects of capitalism in the lives of Afro-Peruvians” (Carrillo in Falcon, 2008) through its influence on ‘development’ perspectives, government initiatives, and media production.   The Development Reports: Afro-Peruvians, the Elephant in the Room  June 30th, 2004 saw the conclusion of a massive project led by the World Bank project which was launched on February 10th, 2000. Titled Proyecto de Desarrollo de los Pueblos Indígenas y Afroperuanos61 (PDPI), its total cost stood at 6.7 million dollars of which 5 million had to be paid back to the Peruvian government in monthly quotas between July 2005 and July 2017 (World Bank, 2004). This project brought to the forefront for Afro-Peruvians the raw reality of their official exclusion from state, development, and education planning. Although during the course of the project, World Bank representatives worked to establish greater institutional support for Afro-Peruvian and Indigenous proposals, they failed to branch out into the cultural and constitutional claims of the Afro-Peruvian people.   PDPI was intended to contribute to the reduction of poverty through the strengthening of participatory institutional processes. The objective and plan was the following: “reducing an extreme poverty, by building the capacity of communities, and organizations to foster their own development” (World Bank, 2000). Despite applying emerging post-structuralist vocabulary such as “participatory” and “community rights” to the project, World Bank project leaders failed to take an in-depth approach to understanding the historical and systemic obstacles of oppression, mainly racism, still operating violently in Peru. PDPI components included: institutional development, the development of Indigenous and Afro-Peruvian project building                                                  61 Indigenous and Afro-Peruvian Peoples Development Project.   114  capacities (planning, preparation, administrative and financial skills, cultural patrimony an organizational formats), societal information and conscientization campaign of Indigenous and Afro-Peruvian demands, technical and legal assistance, the development of independent communal sub-projects developed via models of action learning, and monitoring and evaluation of the project (World Bank, 2004). The World Bank intended for the latter to be carried through a participatory development framework.  The project team deemed the final outcome ‘unsatisfactory.’ The following were deemed as the key project failures: lack of a focus on institutional inadequacies, inability to restructure administrative planning across government departments, inability to secure public participation, and deterioration in the relationship between Indigenous and Afro-Peruvian groups and the Comisión Nacional de los Pueblos Indígenas del Peru62 (CONAPA). The slow execution of the project by Peruvian governmental representatives, led to disintegration in talks between NGO leaders and the government (World Bank, 2004, p.7). Overall, the project’s failure highlighted at a very pivotal point in Peru’s timeline regarding economic development and human rights atrocities, the missing presence of Afro-Peruvian initiatives in the realm of development planning not because they do not exist, but because they are overlooked both by national and international leading development bodies. The only notable success of the project was that it established to bring to the national and international discussion table, the need for institutional support of Indigenous and Afro-Peruvian development claims (World Bank, 2004, p.10).  Toledo’s presidency created CONAPA in order to highlight to Peruvian bureaucrats and society the importance of the Indigenous agenda. However, the latter left Afro-Peruvians with limited institutional representation. After reading the Results Report (World Bank, 2004) it is shocking to realize that although “Afro-Peruvians” were included in the project title, the project                                                  62 National Commission of the Indigenous Peoples of Peru.   115  itself had very little to do with and shed relatively no light on the societal conditions of the Afro-Peruvian population having in the end only succeeded in supporting the development of a participatory project of the Asheninka Indigenous group. During the project and afterwards, CONAPA was fraught with counter claims of funds mismanagement and neglect of Afro-Peruvian needs by Afro-Peruvian activists (Greene, 2012). In fact, CONAPA did not even include Afro-Peruvians at all in their name until February 13th, 2003 when supreme decree 012-2003-PCM was passed including the title of ‘Pueblo Afroperuano’ into the name (LUNDU, 2010). Most Afro-Peruvians referred to CONAPA as more of Toledo’s ‘participatory antics’ stating that they had never even been invited to the creation of the first commission, despite what World Bank reports cited. CONAPA hit a major stumbling block in 2003 when Peru’s First Lady was accused of mismanaging the PDPI funds to selectively benefit Indigenous groups she supported and stepped down from her leadership role appointing a Shipibo-Conibo activist to replace her (Green, 2007). In an interview with Rowell, Jones, Carrillo and Martinez (2011), former LUNDU Executive Director Muñoz explains that at that time CONAPA’s documents, supposedly drawn up with Indigenous and Afro-Peruvian participation, looked as if they had been “drawn up by elementary school children” and there was “no technical” nor “political skill” (p. 370). Muñoz also cites that all of a sudden over forty organizations that worked on the subject of Afro-Peruvians sprung up without actually outlining what their work specifically concerned, “It was a shocking process for those of us who at least have political, ideological convictions. We would say, “How is it possible that things can degenerate to this magnitude?”” (p. 370). Therefore, in 2004, Toledo recommenced the first constitutionally supported ‘multicultural initiative’ under Ley NO. 28495 and the new name, the Instituto Nacional de Desarrollo de Pueblos Andinos, Amazonicos y Afroperuanos63 (INDEPA). The law was ratified by congress in                                                  63 National Institute for the Development of Andean, Amazonian and Afro-Peruvian Peoples.    116  2005 (Greene, 2007). Thomas (2011) highlights that although INDEPA includes ‘Afro-Peruvians’ in their institutional name and promotional materials, their website does not indicate any support of current Afro-Peruvian projects or initiatives. He questions INDEPA’s actual commitment to Afro-Peruvian issues and support for their projects, indicating that most of INDEPA’s resources continue to be aimed towards Amazonian and Indigenous development/ cultural projects. Brought to the forefront is the shared concern of Afro-Peruvian activists that INDEPA’s institutionalization under the State Ministry of Culture may be another step back from the creation of public politics and the growth of a critical civic sphere of action. Greene (2007) highlights that what INDEPA continues to accomplish best is affording those Andean organizations accredited by INDEPA, the “opportunity to redeploy their own Incaic rhetoric” but with a more multicultural slant. According to LUNDU, INDEPA forms part of the ‘generic’ or ‘superficial’ regulation of racism against Afro-Peruvians in the country (LUNDU, 2010). Institutions such as INDEPA created to monitor, penalize, and prevent racism through the creation, support, and promotion of inclusive initiatives, only regulate racism in a ‘general’ manner. Proof of INDEPA’s inefficiency was its failure to address the need for amendments to anti-discrimination/ racism laws (despite the specific needs being forwarded by longstanding Afro-Peruvian organizations such as LUNDU), and total lack of attention to establishing a census that would gather reliable data on Afro-descendants. In LUNDU’s opinion ministry branches or official ‘development’ initiatives meant to support Afro-Peruvians and defend them against racism, only do so in conjunction with defending other groups, always avoiding addressing independently the issue of racism against Afro-Peruvians. The next big gesture of ‘multiculturalism’ on behalf of the government that was experienced by LUNDU leaders and   117  other Afro-Peruvians alike, was the state declaration of the Día Nacional de la Cultura Afroperuana64, on June 19th, 2006.  Despite its sweeping multicultural gestures between 2000 and 2007, the state took until April of 2009 to submit (ten years late) its’ periodic report on racial discrimination to the United Nation’s Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CERD) (UN CERD, 2009a). Analysis of this report with a focus on the Afro-Peruvian population of the state proves that although the nation highlighted its general recognition of the need to focus on human rights development, it seemed unable to fully take responsibility for the systemic racism that is bred in its institutions and societal climate. It also left a lot to question in regards to particular strategy implementation. Sec. IA. 2 states that Peru has been working since 29 September 1971 to end discriminatory practices in the country and formally promote equality and justice for all of the people under its jurisdiction through the adoption of “diversas tecnicas” [diverse techniques] (p. 5). This initial sweeping statement begs the question that shadows the entire document: How (what specific measures) has the government been working on an efficient and participatory manner to end racial discrimination? To achieve an end to discriminatory practices which the state recognizes as  uno de los retos más grandes que tiene la gobernabilidad democrática en el Perú: demostrar con hechos que el sistema democrático tiene un efecto positivo en la vida de cada uno de sus ciudadanos; que en el sistema democrático no solo hay una vigencia mayor de las libertades fundamentales- un logro inestimable en sí mismo- sino que se consagran cada vez mas todos los derechos humanos. (pp. 5-6) [one of the biggest challenges facing democratic governance in Peru: demonstrating with doings that the democratic system has a positive effect on the lives of each of its citizens; that within the democratic system there isn’t just rigorous enforcement of all fundamental liberties- an invaluable achievement it itself- but an increasing devotion to all human rights.] the report reiterates and implementation of “diversos programas al nivel nacional” [diverse programs at the national level] towards which in 2007 “3.200 millones de soles” [3.2 million soles] and in 2008 “4.500 millones de soles” [4.5 million soles] were directed. However, it once                                                  64 National Day of Afro-Peruvian Culture.   118  again excludes any direct mention of successful programs. Sec. B.11 established that the Constitutional Tribunal has been successful in establishing certain jurisprudential precedents for the protection of human rights: 1.) equality should be fought for and protected by the democratic state 2.) Equality is a fundamental right of the person. However, it leaves for questioning what political action the state takes to promote a human rights focus within the state.  The report was extremely vague in describing what intercultural education in Peru looks like. It cites the “Plan Nacional de Educación Para Todos 2005-2015”, which aims to establish new education policies premised upon the concept of equity and outlines its objectives as “garantizar la equidad en la educación orientada a superar las brechas que devienen de la inequidad de género y de la discriminación sociocultural, étnica y lingüística” [guarantee equitable education with the purpose of bridging societal divides of gender inequity and sociocultural, ethnic, and linguistic discrimination] (UN CERD, 2009, Sec. IIIB. 2. 114, p. 30). However, it does not state the details of this plan, nor what the steps for ‘recognizing cultural patrimony and community initiatives’ will be.  Finally and most importantly, the section specifically on Afro-Peruvians and their experience of discriminatory practices is one of the shortest in the report. Although it cites a study conducted in 2002 by INEI on the Afro-Peruvian population, it glaringly fails to discuss any of the research results (UN CERD, 2009, IIB.60-62, p. 19). The section on Afro- Peruvians does a disservice to Afro-Peruvians as it states that 13.2% of the Afro-Peruvian population signalled having experienced some type of discrimination, and one out of four Afro-Peruvians has not completed primary schooling, as if there were no correlation between experienced oppression and low levels of education acquisition (UN CERD, 2009, IIB. 62, p. 19). This illustrates the lack of concise and collaborative investigations about the Afro-Peruvian   119  contemporary condition. Lastly, it is extremely crucial to note that despite sharing current state intentions to incorporate Afro-Peruvian history and culture into the educational curriculum, the report delineates no action towards the execution of such a plan, nor does it cite any of the existing development proposals forwarded by Afro-Peruvians (UN CERD, 2009, VIA.196-201, p. 46).  A World Bank study (Cotlear, 2006) and the UN CERD (2009b) consideration of the Peruvian report on racial discrimination both concluded that Peruvian ministers and policy-makers needed to provide more concise information on the conditions faced by Afro-Peruvians and Indigenous peoples, take more measurable steps to establish an anti-racist curricula and educational policies, and collaborate more effectively and pro-actively with civic organizations. The UN CERD (2009b) response to the Peruvian report recommended began by recommending that INDEPA should “assert the rights of the Andean, Amazonian, and Afro-Peruvian peoples” equally and their “development with identity” (p. 2). It also called for the Peruvian state to draw a “comprehensive national policy against racism and racial discrimination” and collect “indicators on the enjoyment by the various Indigenous peoples and Afro-Peruvian communities of the rights guaranteed in the draft Constitution, disaggregated by urban or rural population, age and sex” (p. 3). It also poignantly stated its concern for Indigenous peoples and Afro-Peruvians who are not yet established as campesino or native communities and thus suggested the adoption of a framework law harmonizing terminology to better protect the rights of diverse groups. Most importantly this ‘official’ rights body highlighted that its concern with appalling “racial discrimination directed against Indigenous peoples and Afro-Peruvian communities in the media, including stereotyped and demeaning portrayals of those peoples and communities in television programmes and the press” (p. 5). It proceeds to emphasize concern at the “evidence of racial   120  discrimination in everyday life and at information it has received of racial discrimination committed by government officials” calling for the state to “take appropriate steps to combat the racial prejudice, that leads to racial discrimination in the media” through the possible “adoption of a media code of ethics” (p. 6).  In 2009, under the presidency of Alan Garcia, the Ministerio de la Mujer y Desarrollo Social (MIMDES) published a supreme resolution expressing a historical pardon to Afro-Peruvian peoples for the abuse and exclusion that they were made to suffer during the colonial era, whilst acknowledging their identity and participation in Peruvian society. According to LUNDU (2010) this historical pardon represented a few pivotal shifts, such as that the state recognized that the products of colonial slavery continue to pose barriers to the social, economic, labour, and educational development of the country, but especially Afro-Peruvians and that MIMDES, was now accountable to establishing and carrying public politics that would support the sustainable development for Afro-Peruvians. However, following this public pardon, many Afro-Peruvian organizations and leaders began to focus in more critically on the impact of such a historical pardon.  Scepticism quickly grew in regards to the pardon as it followed the Bagua Massacre, a massive scandal for the Garcia regime. The massacre that was led by government military troops in conjunction with a civil liberties suspension was to put an end to Indigenous Amazonian protests against aggressive oil development in the Peruvian Amazon. This event which resulted in the deaths of thirty Indigenous peoples and over 150 injured, became known as the ‘Baguazo’, and pitted Garcia as a violent capitalist capable of human rights atrocities. LUNDU expressed that it would not allow for Afro-Peruvians to be used as tools of a stale democracy to cover up human rights disasters. Although Garcia’s grand gesture made Peru the first Latin American country to apologize to its Afro-descendants, his government failed to   121  acknowledge racism as a barrier to development and outline steps to reduce its systemic societal condition. LUNDU highlights a frustration against the government for not doing more sooner to address racism directly and include Afro-Peruvians in formal political spaces and development planning. Carrillo summed up LUNDU’s perspective on the pardon by sharing that although the historical pardon was an advance, its potential to have any transformative effects was only seen by herself and fellow Afro-Peruvian leaders as plausible if it was immediately translated into public policies related to health, education, work and mechanisms, focused on inclusivity for Afro-Peruvians, for greater civic participation in formal politics. Otherwise it was just another political performance. Carrillo took front and centre action to begin combating racism publicly and politically. It was clear that hundreds of more reports could be created by both the state and international organizations charting Peru’s development and democratic direction. However, the ‘realities’ experienced by Afro-Peruvians were going to continue either being conveniently ignored, diffused, or misrepresented. Neoliberal democratic rhetoric would live on, with civil liberties being cut and colonial examples of citizenship being instituted unless public action was taken.   Striving to make sense of how such a public and political campaign was born, I asked Carrillo for some clarifications. How did LUNDU’s actions shift into the production of the campaign itself? LUNDU was dedicating itself to improving Afro-Peruvian children’s lives through weekly Saturday educational empowerment workshops focused on ethnicity and identity and providing them with extra learning assistance with the help of teachers specialized in critical pedagogy and knowledgeable of Afro-Peruvian perspectives. However, it became increasingly clear that the challenge would be to reach both Afro-Peruvian youth and non-Afro-Peruvian youth in the struggle for greater conscientization. The 2001-2009 period was a time of growing   122  awareness for Carrillo where there was a shift from the personal to the political, to a point where she grasped the immense importance of breaking out of her Afro world to publicize not just her experiences of racism, but also those experienced by others to create cross-ethnic understandings and alliances for change. Carrillo explains LUNDU’s programming struggle, “… lo otro que es más amplio y difícil y es la educación o concientización para chicos afros y no-afros con relación a tener acceso a nuevas paradigmas” [the most challenging became fostering a conscientization for Afro and non-Afro youth through the creation of a means for them to be able to access new paradigms]. I related the latter as well to Carrillo’s growing understanding that Peru needs a public and political education that fosters critical awareness, ethical responsibility and solidarity. The latter were elements missing amongst Indigenous Andean, Amazonian, and Afro-Peruvians during the 2000-2009 multicultural and development planning talks initiated by the state administrations, INDEPA and Indigenous group leaders.  Carrillo explained her holistic view of development and citizenship prior to relating how the campaign slowly took shape as a sustainable response to the re-articulation of democracy and development. Development for Carrillo,  … es aquello estado de la sociedad, aquel estado de realización del ser humano donde uno puede tener la posibilidad de acceder a una educación, un empleo, la salud… libres sin la presión de siempre estar defendiéndonos y respondiendo al racismo…  tener espacio para el sentido ludico como seres humanos verdaderamente libres. […it is that state of society, that state of realization that to reach one’s potential one needs the opportunity to access education, a job, health, while being free of constantly needing to defend oneself or respond to racism, and to have space for creativity as truly free human beings should.] Connected to the latter is Carrillo’s understanding of citizenship as a right and ability to belong to society and inhibit spaces freely and without concern of suffering aggression. She therefore illustrates violations of citizenship as they play out in daily life for women, especially Afro-Peruvian women on the streets, a reality of quotidian systemic societal violence that development initiatives fail to take into consideration:   123  Con respeto a la ciudadania, ese derecho al transito libre es una cosa super basica pero eso tambien es… esa libertad a transito es una cosa muy marcada hacia las mujeres Afroperuanas… en el Peru esa manera de agresión y de cercanía de tocamiento y de abuso es muy común y es una de las maneras mas populares de vulnerar a la ciudadanía… [In relation to citizenship, the right to free transit is something super basic but it’s also that… the freedom to travel safely is something restricted for Afro-Peruvian women… in Peru that form of aggression, violent approach and abuse is very common and is one of the ways with which the right to equal citizenship is violated.] Carrillo elaborates that citizenship is “el derecho de la identidad propia” [the right to a personal identity] and “el derecho a un nombre” [the right to a name]. Hence every time Afro-descendants in Peru are referred to in racial terms such as ‘morena’ [dark skinned girl] or ‘negrita’ [Blackie], the prevalence of systemically reproduced racist barriers which limit freedoms of existence and citizen participation are exposed. Carrillo spoke to the lack of state against quotidian aggressive and racist acts. For her, real rights to citizenship go much further than voting rights and highlighting the way that limitations on citizenship are enacted: Cuando hay un trato diferente de algun funcionario hacia ti por ser afrodescendiente. Uno se ha cuenta como tratan a una persona blanca, con respeto, los tratan de usted y no de tu, tu sabes que en el Espanol hay una diferencia de respeto, y no los hacen esperar demás tiempo para ser servidos… y luego como te tratan a ti como Afro… es una diferencia, algo que puede ser muy evidente. [When a functionary treats you differently because you are Afro-descendant. You realize how they treat a white person, with respect, with the proper nouns, yet they make us wait to be served… and later how they treat you as an Afro… its different, something that can be very evident.] Thus Carrillo expressed demanding “respeto” [respect], referring to the sentiment that Afro-Peruvians have done their fair share of work towards ‘belonging’ in Peruvian democracy. Carrillo shared her belief held prior to, during and after the campaign that if Afro-Peruvians have ‘achieved development’ it is because of personal and familial efforts and work on behalf of Afro-Peruvian activists and community organizations, not because of large state development schemes, nor INDEPA’s existence.  Mira creo yo que hay un avanze de los Afroperuanos especialmente en estas dos ultimas generaciones. Sin embargo yo creo que eso no ha sido porque el estado ha hecho algo para reducir las brechas sino mas bien ha sido un esfuerzo personal y familiar de los afroperuanos. [Look I think that there has been progress for Afro-Peruvians especially in these last two generations. Nonetheless, I don’t think that this has been because the state has done anything to reduce the obstacles, but rather because of personal and familial efforts on behalf of Afro-Peruvians themselves.]   124  Carrillo further explained that the campaign was born and run out of a “democracia limitada” [limited democracy]. Peru is a democracy that on paper fulfills the required elements of what a democracy should have i.e. a constitution and a voting system, but that in actuality does not defend its citizens from marginalizing practices nor support the civil society organizations that attempt to step into this role. Carrillo illustrated Peruvian democracy as one that punishes women, especially Black or Indigenous women for speaking out, and hence is an elite mestizo-criollo democracy: Permite votar y postular a una puesto de trabajo como todos… pero no es un sistema de democracia que me permite tener las mismas oportunidades. Yo puedo postular a un puesto pero vamos a ver si el resultado del examen o del los contratadores no es racista o equilibrado. … es una democracia limitada porque… porque todo el mundo puede hablar mucho de las razas y de los credos… pero cuando una mujer afro con trenzas habla y levanta la voz es absolutamente objeto de burla y de humillación y de violencia porque para esta democracia ,nosotras, una mujer como yo no deber de tener voz, … además no con mucha edad… y eso tu lo puedes ver también si haces un análisis de toda la visibilidad publica o los ciudadanos que opinan de otros ciudadanos… que opinan que una mujer afro este dando una declaración que no este en concordancia con lo que los demás piensan… la manera de atacarla es una manera violenta, sexista, y racista.] [Allows voting and applying for jobs like everyone else… but it is not a democratic system that permits us have the same opportunities. I can apply for a job but we shall see if the exam or hiring results are not racist or unequitable. … it is a limited democracy because you know that here in this country… because the whole world can talk about races and credos… but when an Afro woman with braids speaks and raises her voice she is absolutely  object of laughter and humiliation and violence because for this democracy, we, a woman like me should not have a voice… and also being so young… and you can see this also if you do an analysis of public forums… or what citizens’ opinions are of other citizens… what their opinions are of an Afro woman who is declaring something that is not aligned with what the rest think… the form of attacking her is violent, sexist and racist.]  Carrillo explained that Apúntate Contra el Racismo was born out of a campaign that was launched by LUNDU in 2005 called, Racismo Nunca Mas. She described the latter as the unorganized precursor to the strategic Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign which began to take shape in 2007, planned in 2008-2009, and formally launched in 2009. During a period when LUNDU was fervently embracing its more politicized stance on neoliberal, gendered and racist oppression, Carrillo stated there was a need to, “articular a toda la gente interesada en la propuesta de LUNDU,” [articulate to everyone interested LUNDU’s proposal]. Carrillo recounted,    125  … cada salida publica que podíamos tener, decíamos, “estamos en una campaña y esta campaña es Racismo Nunca Mas, súmense a esto, participen, den su opinión, etc.”… Pero nos dimos cuenta de que tenía que tener una estructura , algo mas solido y que podamos medir y utilizar como una herramienta política… … entonces, por eso fue que de Racismo Nunca Mas ya diseñamos la campaña Apúntate Contra el Racismo  que tenía como objetivo la movilización.] [… during every outing, we would say that we were campaigning, and that this campaign was called Racismo Nunca Mas, sign up, participate, give your opinion, etc.”… But we realized that the ‘campaign’ had to have a structure, something more solid that we could measure and use as a political tool… … therefore, this was why from Racismo Nunca Mas we designed the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign which had as an objective mobilization.] Castro, LUNDU’s Chief Communication’s Consultant, shared that the campaign sought to create mobilization around racism, a massive point of contention amongst all Peruvians and Afro-Peruvians, “Racismo- es un punto de mucha contencion entre los Peruanos y Afroperuanos tambien. El atentar a difinirlo, explicar sus raíces, y para muchos hasta determinar si existe hoy en dia (porque hay esos que lo niegan)… causa conflicto” [Racism- is a point of much contention amongst Peruvians and Afro-Peruvians as well. Attempting to define it, explaining its roots, and for many even trying to establish whether or not it really exists nowadays (because there are those who deny it does)… causes conflict]. Yet, despite its conflictual nature, there was an awareness in LUNDU that racism and all of it promoters had to be confronted publicly and politically. Castro’s opinion was that Peruvian society and Afro-Peruvians had reached a critical juncture where action needed to be taken, “un punto donde no podemos seguir perdiendo tiempo solo reflejando y discutiendo sobre las definiciones del racismo- por eso LUNDU decidió tomar acción” [a point where we can’t keep wasting time just reflecting and arguing about the definitions of racism- this is why LUNDU decided to take action]. A review of reports and Carrillo and Castro’s recollection of the period leading up to when Apúntate Contra el Racismo  was formally launched, reveals that LUNDU as an Afro-Peruvian organization concerned with the rights of Afro-Peruvians, the empowerment of women (especially Afro-Peruvian women), and sustainable development, could not sit idly by anymore while ‘participatory’ projects and   126  state planning were conducted that rendered Afro-Peruvians invisible and denied them the right to be authors of their own futures.  Embodied Learning and Learning from Tensions between Professional/ Academic and Activist Discourses  In this second section I attempt to clarify, how LUNDU leaders came to articulate the public pedagogy that frames the raison d’ être of the campaign. The aim of this second question captures the learning experiences of LUNDU leaders in relation to how they created, implemented and advocated for the campaign focusing in on embodied forms of learning and learning from tensions between professional/ academic and activist discourses. Creating and Articulating Apúntate Contra el Racismo   Carrillo recounted a moment of clarity in mid 2009, when LUNDU staff realized the importance of confronting racism directly, politically and with specific actions. Thus they began to research how a campaign would be pieced together, delineating the tasks at hand such as articulating their objectives clearly, focusing on specific audiences and developing the strategies to best reach these targeted groups. These tasks formed an integral part of the campaign implementation and pedagogical process both for those involved in the production of the campaign and groups that engaged it. In this section I illustrate the organization stages leading to the implementation of the campaign and the implementation process.  Once the shift to a focused campaign format received consensus support from LUNDU staff, Carrillo consulted extensively in informal settings with diverse media, legal, and political experts such as lawyers, journalists, and politicians, sharing with them the campaign idea and discussing the pros and cons that would be encountered through the launch of a public political campaign. Carrillo shared wanting the unrestricted and direct opinions of these professionals.   127  This continued research and visioning period lasted nearly another year. It was explicitly understood by the LUNDU team that the campaign objectives were political. Therefore, they  had to exercise a lot of critical democratic thinking. They focused in on the historical purpose and contextually related social justice efficacy of campaigns within democracies to devise strategies that were inclusive and equality oriented. In developing the campaign objectives it was clear that violence, oppression, and marginalization as a result of racism would be at the core, “la propuesta… que esta manera de insulta que es  tan agresivo y común en el Peru hacia los afro, especialmente las mujeres, sea penado, que vayan a la carcel los racistas”[The proposal… that this form of insult that is so aggressive and commonplace in Peru against Afro-Peruvians, especially women, be penalized, that racists be sent to prison]. The question then became, how could they accomplish the penalization of racism? Carrillo explained that they realized that they had to accomplish a law that sanctioned effectively against racism, and specifically racist insult, Teniamos que lograr que haya una ley que sancione eso de manera efectiva como lo hacen en otros países. Para que la ley se aprueba… ahhh… esa era una cosa, pero también queríamos lograr que de los medios de comunicación esta injuria racista también salga. La injuria racista fue principal objetivo realmente. Entonces vuelvo a decir, nuestro objetivo fue hacer que los medios de comunicación dejen de ser racistas y de colocar esos adjetivos tan obyectos a los afros y que en la calle la gente pueda ser sancionada por insultarte racistamente.  [We have to accomplish that a law be passed that sanctioned racism effectively as it is done in other countries. However for that law to be passed… ahhh… that was one thing, but we also wanted for racist content to be banned from communication and media channels. That racist actions be punisheable by law was our main objective. I reiterate, our objective was putting an end to racist media content and making racist actions out on the street punisheable by law.]  Entonces sabíamos que teníamos que hacer una campaña y esta campaña pública tenía que tener esas dos acciones como objetivo. [So we knew we had to make a campaign and that this public campaign had to have two action objectives.] These two action oriented objectives were later broken down into the following points that were publicized on 6 August, 2009, on the Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog:   1.) Recognition that racism is rampant in Peruvian society and that the majority of Peruvians manifest racist expressions in their daily encounters; 2.) their needs to be greater acceptance of “the Other,” or those outside of the norm;   128  3.) recognition that racist and overall all oppressive practices have a negative impact on society as a whole and create limitations to stable national progress; 4.) the regulation and elimination of racist media content; 5.) and a more conscientious Peruvian society that premises anti-oppressive modes of communication (6 August, 2009).  Although at first the overall goal in mind was to promote public awareness of the campaign’s objectives, it became important that the strategic elements of the campaign were pedagogical in themselves educating diverse Peruvian audiences on racism. The campaign and what would later become its pedagogical strategies and tools began with a very basic yet strategic question. How would LUNDU gain support for the fight against racism if ‘fighting against’ something or activist action, was a notion heavily stigmatized in Peru? A campaign creative team was assembled by Carrillo to discuss implementation. After a series of these meetings where Carrillo explains that they discussed and realized that what they needed was to create a positive way for people to engage the struggle against racism without having them be paralyzed with a fear rooted in possible persecution for signing onto the campaign, she suggested the action verb of “Apúntate” for the campaign name, meaning to sign on in favor of positive change, against racism, and in support of diversity, because according to Carrillo, “… discutimos mucho sobre si la campaña debería decir ‘contar’ algo o ‘al favor de’ algo positivo, ósea equilibrar ideológicamente hablando lo de la suma con algo que sea confrontaciones” [… discussed at length that that campaign should ‘inform’ something or ‘be in favor of’ something positive, therefore balancing out ideologically signing on to something with that of confrontation]. For Carrillo, the campaign name represented actions of informed unity and allyship,   129  … ese concepto del nombre tuvo mucha discusión. … necesitamos que el pueblo afro sea informado, se sume, porque necesitamos tener una validez dentro de nuestra propia comunidad. … no nos vamos a centrar solo en el tema Afro sin no en el tema del racismo que afecta a todos los ciudadanos y con eso vamos a tener un pueblo Peruano que se sume a una acción de LUNDU mas allá de las razas. [… that concept of the name involved much discussion. … we need for the Afro-Peruvian people to be informed, to join, because we need to have a validity within our own community… we won’t concentrate just on the theme of Afro but on racism which affects all citizens and with this we will have the Afro-Peruvian people that is joining an action of LUNDU that goes beyond races.] Castro elaborated that along with fostering a sense of positivity and solidarity against racism, it was also important for the name of the campaign to clearly portray the anti-racist objectives thus enhancing a level of confidence in the struggle that LUNDU was leading and an overall less ‘radical’ and more comprehensible message from the onset,  El nombre ‘Racismo Nunca Más’, era un poco demasiado radical, muy ‘político’ para el comienzo- no mucha gente se estaba identificando con el nombre… ‘Apúntate’ era más directo, la meta era específica, el público entendía el punto mejor de la campaña [The name ‘Racismo Nunca Más’, was a little too radical, too political for the beginning- not many people were identifying with the name… ‘Apúntate’ was more direct, the goal was specific, the public understood the point of the campaign a lot better.] For Castro and Carrillo the name change was also a strategic move to position Afro-Peruvians as a non-threatening group in relation to the state, emphasizing the democratic features of a project that would strengthen conceptions of citizenship and contribute to sustainable development. As Carrillo highlighted, tenemos que hacer que el pueblo afro sea el líder de un movimiento de justicia social amplio, y de un movimiento que convoque diversas razas, porque eso es lo que hace que tengas una fuerza política. [We have to ensure that Afro-Peruvians are leaders within the broader social justice movement, within a movement that draws together diverse races, because this is what ensures political strength.]  Y para eso, obviamente, se necesitaban hacer herramientas para diversos públicos.  [And for this you need diverse tools for diverse publics.]  Thus the campaign name, Apúntate Contra el Racismo summed up: una campaña que pretende decir con fuerza  y voz alta, que el racismo existe y es una de las principales causas de subdesarrollo, pobreza, violencia y exclusión. Apúntate Contra el Racismo, es una propuesta positiva, creativa y necesita de ti, de tu voz, tu historia, tu sonrisa, tu compromiso, tu deseo de un país inclusivo y diverso… estamos en campaña y solo faltas tú!  [a campaign that aims to proclaim with a loud voice, that racism exists and that it is one of the principal barriers to development, poverty, violence and exclusion. Apúntate Contra el Racismo is a positive and creative proposal that needs you, your voice, your history, your smile, your commitment, your desire for an inclusive and diverse nation… we are campaigning and we’re only missing you!] (LUNDU, Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog, August 6, 2009)   130   The campaign’s objectives targeted four audiences within Peruvian society: Afro-Peruvians, non-Afro-Peruvians, influential public opinion figures, and political decision-makers. The campaign would not succeed without significant reach to all of the audiences and without in some way becoming a vehicle with which different civil society groups and Peruvians from the wider public could come together for social justice, even if personal objectives were not precisely aligned.   Campaign tools were then created around the notion of instituting societal and political social justice change with ‘wide ranging effects’. Carrillo also considered it a validation if the campaign could rally in people who either were not considered natural allies of the campaign, disagreed with its objectives or who denied the existence of racism, Si hacemos toda la movilización para que después no haiga ningún cambio de ley o no se discuta el tema por los decisores políticos entonces… para qué? No queríamos que nuestra campaña sea una campaña que este marginalizada a la esquina donde estén solamente los convencidos.  [If we do all this mobilization so that afterwards there is no discussion on behalf political decision-makers… for what? We did want our campaign to be a campaign that was marginalized to the corner where only its supporters stood.] LUNDU leaders wanted the campaign to withstand and survive adversity. It had to be about more than preaching to the choir. However, Carrillo explained that despite extensive strategic planning, the LUNDU team was realistic from that beginning that in a country such as Peru with so little social and political stability, there was only so much pre-planning that they could do and they would have to figure things out throughout the duration of the campaign. The central and baseline campaign strategies that were firmly outlined were: mobilization of supporters in various public sectors, learning and teaching allyship, establishing widespread public visual presence, public discussion of the campaign goals, critical monitoring of public racist actions and political gestures, strategic logistic planning for conferences to establish physical and ideological presence in highly public and official political spaces such as within central parks, universities, and congress buildings, developing both academic-professional and streetwise skills, and the   131  overall public education of how racism unfolds every day in Peru, the effects of racism on development and citizenship, and what citizens can do to play a role in the sustainable development of their country.   Of course the aforementioned strategies required precise tools. The tools that emerged from extensive planning and participatory discussions amongst LUNDU members were:  1.) the pen; 2.) the Apúntate Contra el Racismo logo itself; 3.) additional publicity materials: the t-shirts, the Stickers, the keychains, and the Posters; 4.) the large notebooks; 5.) the blog; 6.) the ‘accion publica’ i.e public marches/ peaceful protests; 7.) published materials i.e. the booklet Politicas Publicas y Afrodescendientes en el Peru; 8.) the ‘Observatorio Afroperuano’65; 9.) the academic/ professional conferences; 10.) and the Essay Competition.  All of these tools were planned prior to the commencement of the campaign and revised throughout its duration. Implementing Apúntate Contra el Racismo    The word ‘Apúntate’ best summed up the purpose and objective of the campaign so Carrillo began to design a draft logo sketch around this theme. After several iterations of the logo design, playing around with fonts and the placement of a pen which would become the  main symbol of the campaign, designer Angie Saravia created the final version which the entire LUNDU team agreed upon.  The logo included the words, “Apúntate” highlighted in red, and the                                                  65 Afro-Peruvian Observatory.   132  words “contra el racismo” in Black block print. A black pen, was positioned to the right of the campaign name with a stream of vibrant colors flowing from its tip in a downwards and widening rainbow wave (dark red, red, orange, yellow, black, light green, darker green, dark turquoise green, light purple, fuchsia, and indigo). The rainbow steam of colors was added to represent respect for diversity. It is important to note that after this period, Castro took over the creative design lead and hiring over Carrillo.  Figure 4.1: Apúntate Contra el Racismo Campaign Logo  Reproduced with permission. © All rights reserved LUNDU.  Before knowing about the campaign and when I first saw the logo on the blog, I was immediately drawn in with curiosity to click on the rest of the links which provided me with in-depth information. The logo permeated energy and dynamism. Although the words, “contra el racismo” were placed upper middle-centre-right of the entire logo and conveyed a sense of stark certainty, the word “Apúntate” and the rainbow wave of colors were what focused my attention drawing a sense of positivity, lightness and determination from somewhere within me. My eyes next shifted towards the imaging of the solid black pen which seemed to ground the positively   133  invasive spew of colors inspiring the feeling that anything is possible. I even felt like the illustration was beckoning me to go and write out my identity. Carrillo and Gloria emphasized that the logo was one that drew the public in and that several people that came across the logo and eventually engaged the campaign voiced feeling encouraged to write out their own stories and experiences as a part of the anti-racist collective.  The pen, a basic and rudimentary tool, but nonetheless essential for expressing one’s opinions and building democratic societies, represented  LUNDU’s desire to cross out racism, educate the public about racism as a barrier to sustainable development and re-articulate participatory democratic practices. LUNDU made a call to the public on the Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog, for people to use the pen to, “Escribe tu compromiso, Afirma tu identidad nacional, Tacha toda forma de discriminación, Subraya la equidad y el respeto, Remarca la vida unidos en la diferencia” [Write out their commitment, Affirm their national identity, Cross out all forms of discrimination, Underline equality and diversity, Inscribe/ make note of the importance of living united across differences] (6 August, 2009). LUNDU included the figure of the pen with the campaign name on all of its materials. It also ordered actual pens to be made with the campaign name to be handed out to people throughout the city as LUNDU’s volunteers canvassed for signatures.  The logo became a leading expression of LUNDU’s creative mission to introduce new Afro-Peruvian aesthetics. The logo strategically led to additional publicity tools such as the stickers, the t-shirts, and the posters. The stickers were distributed to the public widely at the campaign’s public action sites. Thus both during the campaign, and still today, some of the stickers appear on peoples’ bumpers or around the city of Lima. Keychains were also designed with the campaign logo to be handed out to those who stopped to listen to information and ask   134  questions. T-shirts with the campaign logo and LUNDU name were also made and provided to staff, volunteers, researchers, politicians, students, and anyone else who engaged the campaign. Posters were made in several sizes and splattered with the logo and anti-racist pro-solidarity slogans such as “El racismo mata/ también es violencia” [Racism kills/ it’s also violence] and “Apúntate” [sign up] (Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog, August 27th, 2009). Enlarged versions of these posters were carried by LUNDU staff and volunteers at every public event.    Along with the publicity tools and the pen, LUNDU volunteers and campaign staff carried along to all public events the oversized accordion shaped notebooks. These notebooks were described by Carrillo as one of the key tools of “movilización” [mobilization] with which the people not only signed their name but also shared and amplified their stories of how racism had affected their lives and the positive aspects of true diversity. Castro and Carrillo pointed out that to this day these books are still carried around to conferences and events as a tangible indicator of people’s engagement with the campaign.   Another vital and remaining visible tool of the campaign is the official Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog66, which until the end of October 2013 was featured on the main home page or ‘Inicio’ of LUNDU’s official website67. Since then it has been replaced with LUNDU’s latest campaign. The blog was planned from the 2007 to 2009 early planning stages of the campaign. It was finally launched on August 6th, 2009, the same day that the campaign was publicly launched. The blog publicized the campaigns purpose, objectives, racism monitoring strategies, and information for any public and academic activities. It also informed the public of any news related to or impacting Afro-Peruvians and other marginalized groups. The blog was active both                                                  66 The blog can now be accessed at,  Apúntate Contra el Racismo, http://apuntatecontraelracismo.blogspot.ca/ 67  The homepage for the official centre website can be accessed at, LUNDU (Centro de Estudios y Promoción Afroperuanos), http://lundu.org.pe/http://lundu.org.pe/   135  with postings by LUNDU staff and comments by the public between 2009 and December 2012, a year after the campaign was officially declared closed.   Although Apúntate’s blog was LUNDU’s first campaign blogging initiative, it garnered a lot of public attention for its constant and up to date monitoring of racist incidents, people leading the campaign, people who signed up in direct support of the campaign, interviews with Afro-Peruvian and media leaders, newsprint and radio news updates on stories involving LUNDU and Afro-Peruvians, updates on the initiative to remove El Negro Mama from television, alliances with other social justice oriented civil society groups, and accomplishments related to reforms in policies and laws.   Aesthetically and interactively, the blog was a new tool of public engagement used by an Afro-Peruvian organization. Other Afro-Peruvian organizations had previously developed their own websites where they posted information about their initiatives and published articles, however none had sought as aggressively to draw in the public through the use of frequent posting, colorful and easy to access content and images, polls, questionnaires and public submission forms. The blog still remains open for commenting on past posts. For Peruvian people and others from around the world it publicizes different perspectives on the blog’s content, campaign initiatives and LUNDU through the ‘Comentarios’ section at the bottom of each blog page. The blog therefore became in itself a space for civic participation opening up the anti-racist conversation twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week to anyone wanting to engage. The blog also included polls about television personality El Negro Mama and racism. The blog (August 2009) questions and response rates included the following: Considera usted que el personaje del Negro Mama es racista? [Do you consider that the El Negro Mama character is racist?] Si [Yes]: 19 (67%) No: 10 (34%) Considera usted que  los peruanos somos racistas? [Do you think that we Peruvians are racists?]   136  Si [Yes]: 15 (93%) No: (6%) The blog also provided throughout the duration of the campaign the opportunity for people to sign up or denounce racism with a section, “Apúntate, Participa, Denuncia”68 [Sign up, Participate, Denounce].  Along with submitting through the blog information on racist acts and experiences, the public also had the opportunity to access the campaign’s Observatorio Afroperuano. Conceptual planning for the Observatorio Afroperuano, also began during the 2007 to 2009 early planning stages of the campaign as it was intended to be a monitoring tool racist media content and public politics. The public could use the link previously available on the blog and currently it is available through LUNDU’s website. The Observatorio was also a way to create a public archive of racist content to use as evidence in the struggle to obtain official acknowledgement for LUNDU’s re-articulation of development, proof of racism to push for the establishment of laws against racist actions. In 2010 the online Observatorio was published into the Observatorio booklet.69 Publishing of the high image content booklet was funded by the International Women’s Health Coalition (IWHC). It was circulated at all public and academic events, as well as at presentations held by government bodies. The Observatorio included the following sections: a introduction on how racism has unfolded in Peru and examples of how other democratic countries monitor racism, the purposes and reasons for the Observatorio, how its information is gathered and the methodology for analyzing racist media contents (heavy concentration on racist and gender discriminatory newsprint), principal results from the first year of analysis, an explanation of the case against the El Negro Mama character, the perspectives of                                                  68 This interactive submission section was still available for the public when I analyzed the blog on June 21st, 2013, however it is no longer appearing on the blog site.  69 Publishing of the booklet was led by Mónica Carrillo and Sergio Molina (coordination), Carmen Olle (visual style editing), Gloria Castro (supervision), Martin Alvarado (photography and selection of LUNDU’s Photographic Archive), and Bonnie Ramirez and Henry Gutierrez (design and diagram creation); see LUNDU: Centro de Estudios y Promocion Afroperuanos. (2010). Observatorio afroperuano.    137  media associations, and what has happened since the historical pardon to Afro-Peruvians by the Peruvian state. The Observatorio became a clear pedagogical tool for the Peruvian public and ministry officials on how racism unfolds in Peruvian society and how it can be combated. It’s easy to read large font and print format filled with visuals and illustrative diagrams. Although other Afro-Peruvian organizations and Afro and non-Afro academics had published critical and informative books on racism and ethnic stereotypes in the media, none had compiled such an accessible for all ‘guide’ on racism and gendered marginalization in Peru. The Observatorio was deposited in the National Library of Peru to be widely accessed by the public. Olle best sums up the Observatorio’s direct purpose and message to ministry officials with the conclusion to her introductory note,  El Observatorio Afroperuano es una medida urgente y necesaria para inducir al Estado y a otros organismos competentes a observar el comportamiento de los medios, pero sobre todo, para despertar en el ciudadano y ciudadana de a pie la sensibilidad por estos temas, generalmente presentados de manera burlona e irresponsable. (LUNDU, p. 7) [The Afro-Peruvian Observatory is an urgent and necessary tool to force the state and other relevant agencies to observe the behaviour of the media, but above all to awaken citizens’ sensitivity to these subjects, which are generally presented in mocking and irresponsible ways.] The first Observatorio made some critical conclusions. It highlighted that there were nearly 350 racist news stories printed across six of Peru’s major newspapers, the frequent use of illustrations and adjectives to ‘animalize’ both female and male Afro-descendants, the intense hyper-sexualization of Afro-descendant women and objectification of Afro-descendant men, the overall ‘anti-esthetic’ of Afro-descendants which promotes false cultural values, principals and trends in relation to Afros, the ‘shocking’ factor of interracial relationships and progeny, the positioning into and acceptance of Afro-descendants in dehumanizing and marginalizing social roles, and the misuse of comedy and comics to entrench the systemic norm of racist ideas. Thus a second edition, Observatorio Afroperuano 270, was published in December of 2012 after the campaign                                                  70 Publishing of the second observatory was led by: Mónica Carrillo, Gloria Castro , Julissa Andrade, and Carlos Reyes (content coordination), Gloria Castro (chief coordinator and graphics supervisor), Elid R. Brindis (visual   138  had been formally closed, with funding assistance from the American Jewish World Service (AJWS).   Aside from the Observatorios, LUNDU published in 2010 a comprehensive handbook on history and contemporary public politics and policies impacting Afro-Peruvians. Titled Políticas públicas y afrodescendientes en el Perú,71 the handbook was funded by the Urgent Action Fund, the IWHC and AJWS. The handbook resulted from a LUNDU research project that was undertaken as part of the campaign. It compiled critical information on the lack of national policies that directly support Afro-Peruvian people and defend their rights, and outlined the broad spectrum of historical and contemporary events and policies that have somehow impacted them. It also included analyses and proposals on the relation between the Peruvian state and the Afro-Peruvian people, underscoring the understanding that their relationships should be governed by the international conventions that Peru has signed (LUNDU, 2010). Thus the handbook indicates that the lack of systemized information on Afro-Peruvians, one of the barriers to writing the handbook is linked to the lack of public politics and participatory spaces for Afro-Peruvians to engage in official politics and that gender, an aspect emphasized by the handbook, has been excluded from the principle policy decisions involving Afro-Peruvians undertaken by the national, regional and local state levels. The handbook provided LUNDU with the opportunity to publicize after a year of campaign work some of its most concrete, research                                                                                                                                                              design and style), Claudia Rospigliosi (design and diagram creation); with writing collaboration from Alberto Goachet, Elejalder Godos, Gisella Ocampo, Jorge Bruce, Karen Juanita Carrillo, Leonor Perez-Durand, Rodolfo Leon, and Sofia Carrillo; see LUNDU: Centro de Estudios y Promocion Afroperuanos. (2012). Observatorio afroperuano 2. Lima: R&F Publicaciones y Servicios S. A. C.  71 Publishing of this policy handbook was led by: Cecilia Reynoso Rendon, Gustavo Ore Aguilar, and Mónica Carrillo (authors), Gloria Castro Alvarez (general coordination and graphics supervision), Raul Behr Vargas (style editing), Joan Jimenez Suero (cover design and illustrations), Henry Gutierrez Rendon (design and diagram creation); see LUNDU: Centro de Estudios y Promocion Afroperuanos. (2012). Politicas publicas y Afrodescendientes en el Peru. Lima: R&F Publicaciones y Servicios S. A. C.   139  and action based perspectives on public politics and participatory democracy as they affect Afro-Peruvians. In the Prologue, Gamarra (2010) states,  No se trata de acumular citas de normas internacionales, o de emplear las herramientas jurídicas solamente como fetiches. Se trata de una herramienta clave en la gestión pública moderna, de un principio ético por el cual los Estados deben garantizar el respeto efectivo de los derechos humanos, a través de las políticas públicas. Y esto significa: definir con claridad el titular del derecho, definir el garante del derecho, definir el modo concreto de garantizarlo (la institucionalidad y los procedimientos), definir el modo de participar del titular del derecho, definir el modo de hacer transparente la gestión, rendir cuentas, exigir cumplimientos, evaluar resultados, y evaluar los efectos e impactos diferenciados de la implementación de dichas políticas, etc. No son palabras: es gestión. (p. 11) [It’s not about accumulating quotes of international norms or to using legal tools only as fetishes. It is about a key tool in modern public governance, an ethical principle for which States must ensure the effective respect of human rights, through public policies. And this means: clearly defining who has what rights, defining the guarantor of law, defining the specific way to guarantee how the law will be upheld (the institutions and procedures), defining the mode of participation of the rights holder, and defining how to establish transparent governance, accountability, demand compliance, evaluate results, and evaluate the effects and impacts of different implimentations of these policies, etc.. More than words: it is governance.] LUNDU asserted that public political excellence is manifested through direct courses of action and communication flows of information with clear political objectives in mind defined along strong democratic terms (p. 15). Furthermore, according to LUNDU, public politics should be developed by the public sector and frequently supported by community participation and also some private sector input thus defining quality public politics as being based or drawing upon frameworks, mechanisms and institutional modifications as needed for sustainable social justice oriented development (p. 15). Hence in a simplified and easy to follow along with format, the handbook begins be reviewing the appropriate and publically effective terms with which to refer to Afro-Peruvians, the available statistics on the population numbers and habitation areas of Afro-Peruvians, and the extreme conditions of marginalization and violence that Afro-Peruvian women face. It then proceeds to set the international framework for the protection and rights of peoples of African descent, covering from 1966 to 2010, the national framework for anti-discriminatory and human rights oriented politics spanning from the constitution to consumer   140  laws and concluding with a review of national plans and public politics for sustainable development and social justice. Aligned with its perspective that public politics have to involve direct action both for their creation, establishment and fulfillment, LUNDU carried out “acciones publicas72” as an integral part of the campaign. They took the form of peaceful protests, marches, and open ‘educational’ fora that were conducted in highly centralized urban areas garnering high attention from the Peruvian and international public. It is important to highlight that public collective civic action in the form of peaceful protests is not a practice that Peruvians are accustomed to. Carrillo pointed out that LUNDU’s public campaign actions took Peruvian society, including other Afro-Peruvian organizations by surprise. However, responses to the public actions were overall positive and constructive. I interpret this as a sign that although LUNDU’s actions and anti-racism posters were jarring visuals for some citizens, LUNDU did not face major backlash until it proceeded to take direct action against popular racist media, threatening the status quo of Peruvian society. The campaign was launched in the high traffic transit area of the Ovalo de Miraflores in Parque Kennedy at noon on August 14th, 2009.73 It was here that LUNDU first demonstrated to the world with its promotional materials and supporters. Several ‘famous’ personalities such as acclaimed singer Susana Baca, former congressman Luis Delgado Aparicio, actress Ebelin Ortiz, artist Julio Perez, composer-rapper Luis Alberto Mendoza Laynes, boxer Jonathan Maicelo signed on in support of the campaign during and right after this public launching. LUNDU staff also brought forward proof of foreign diplomats such as those from the South Africa Embassy.                                                   72 “public actions”; this is the term used both on the campaign blog and by Carrillo in our interview.   73 Description of this event was taken from the August 6th, 11th and 14th, 2009 Apuntate Contra el Racismo Blog entries.    141  Figure 4.2: LUNDU's Public Launch  Reproduced with permission. © All rights reserved LUNDU. The next acción publica took place on August 27th, 2009 in the busy historical centre of Lima.74 This event included the lining of streets and four main corners of streets Avenida Paseo Colon and Wilson with over forty campaign volunteers carrying/ wearing large posters, banners and the multi-colored campaign t-shirts. The action called for heavy public interaction and volunteers were encouraged to paste campaign stickers wherever possible throughout the downtown core, hand out pens, approach people for signatures and listen to peoples stories of marginalization. This second public action garnered the interest of passerbys, tourists, drivers, and workers in the downtown core from all stratas of society. This peaceful public campaigning also counted on the physical attendance and assistance of representatives from the Coordinadora Nacional de los Derechos Humanos75 (CNDDHH), CEDET, students from the Universidad                                                  74 Description for this event was taken from the August 27th, 2009, Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog entry. 75 National Coordinator for Human Rights.   142  Nacional Mayor de San Marcos76, Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú77 (PUCP), and members from Teatro del Milenio78 and the Afro-Peruvian museum in Zaña.  On December 12th, 2009, LUNDU staff led the closing of the first year of the campaign in the Parque La Muralla of Lima which was done to draw in the public to the campaign’s achievements in the struggle against racism thus far and to motivate the public, but especially youth, to sign their “testimonios”79 against racism, with pens, spray paint, paint, markers, and other tools on large wooden panels.80 By this point in time the large campaign notebooks had gathered approximately 3000 signatures. The goal of this event which included the attendance of several ‘famous’ personalities, the Brigada Muralista81 and students from the Escuela Nacional de Bellas Artes82, was an ‘artistic intervention’ and preamble to the fair “Somos Comunidad Andina83,” organized by the Comunidad Andina84 to present the diverse initiatives of groups within Latin American working towards the integration of the various countries. LUNDU contributed to that year’s initiatives by developing and leading a project for the political training of Afro-descendant women in Peru, Colombia, Bolivia and Ecuador. The wooden panels were later carried throughout the interior and coastal provinces of Peru in an effort to garner support against racism.  After another six months of campaigning, on June 16th, 2010, the LUNDU volunteers and campaign staff were once again present in the centre of Lima for an ‘urban intervention’ demanding “Humor sin discriminación!” [Humor without discrimination!].                                                   76 National University of San Marcos. 77 The Pontificial Catholic University of Peru. 78 The Milennium Theatre Group. 79 “testimonies”. 80 Description of this event was taken from the December 10-14th, 2009 Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog entries. 81 Muralist Brigade. 82 The National School of Arts.  83 “We Are An Andean Community”. 84 Andean Community.   143  Figure 4.3: LUNDU's Urban Intervention  Reproduced with permission. © All rights reserved LUNDU. Both the blog and posters asked the following questions, “Cual es el tipo de televisión que desean? Si existe racismo, machismo y homofobia en los programas televisas?” [What type of television programming do you want? Does racism, machismo, and homophobia exist in our television programs?]. Citizens were encouraged to be even more vocal about racism in the Peruvian media. This protest was in direct opposition to Frecuencia Latina’s programming and the television characters of El Negro Mama and Paisana Jacinta. Despite the controversy surrounding the particular case around Frecuencia Latina and the topic of racist comedy in the media, LUNDU was able to count on widespread support during the protest action from parties such as CEDET, the CNDDHH, the Movimiento Homosexual de Lima85 (MHOL), the Centro de la Mujer Peruana Flora Tristan86, the Programa de Soporte a la Autoayuda de Personas Seropositivas87 (PROSA), the Instituto Peruano de Paternidad Responsable88 (INPPARES), and the Grupo Impulsor Contra el Racismo89 (GIM).                                                   85 The Homosexual Movement of Lima. 86 The Flora Tristan Centre for Peruvian Women.  87 Self-Help Program for HIV Positive Peoples. 88 The Peruvian Institute for Responsible Fatherhood. 89 The Anti-Racism Reform Group   144   In December of 2010, LUNDU began to take its biggest and most public steps to counter racism in Peru. On December 14th, Carrillo declared LUNDU’s official stance and sharpened campaign mission that racists should be penalized and thus the penal code should be amended to include laws protecting people against racist insults, slander, and other injuries, sentencing those that commit the acts to jail. Carrillo shared that when planning the campaign, television shows such as El Especial del Humor on Frecuencia Latina (Channel 2) which had extremely racist characters depicting Indigenous and Afro-Peruvians in hyper-stereotyped derogatory roles such as that of a delinquent, were an integral focus of what the campaign would be working to challenge. On March 25th, 2010 LUNDU made its public pronouncement against the El Negro Mama character for contributing to the reinforcement of racism against Afro-Peruvians through its representation of a black man as someone who made a million dollar robbery and has animalesque features and traits. LUNDU highlighted the shows aggressively racist lines with the following from an episode, “se volverá blanco para despistar a la policía. (…) Terminara preso pero al menos preso pero al menos será blanco” [he will become white to distract the police. (…) He’ll end up imprisoned but at least he’ll be white]. LUNDU defended its stance by stating that the Consejo Consultivo de Radio y Television (CONCORTV) which answers to the Ministerio de Transportes y Comunicaciones (MTC), has as part of its code of norms and ethics principles stating that communication media have to comply with their stance protecting children and adolescents and the defense of all human beings and respect for their dignity. Frecuencia Latina who also answers to the MTC, adhered to the same code of norms and ethics.  LUNDU’s battle against El Especial del Humor and its character, El Negro Mama, through the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign and constant monitoring through the Observatorio led to the suspension of the character on the television show on April 7th, 2010 by   145  Frecuencia Latina. Carrillo agreed with the suspension, but furthered that the character should ultimately be terminated along with that of Paisana Jacinta whose parody of Andean women was another form of visual Indigenous oppression. Ronald Gamarra, executive secretary of the CNDDHH, supported the campaign’s action, Es un avance importante que el Negro Mama desaparezca, Pero la “Paisana Jacinta” y otros personajes que promueven estereotipos racistas, denigrantes y que se mofen de la dignidad de las personas por su orientación sexual en los medios de comunicación, también deben ser eliminados porque constituyen una violación de los derechos humanos de los pueblos o grupos que caracterizan. (Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog, April 8th, 2010). [It is an advance that El Negro Mama disappeared, But the “Paisana Jacinta” and other characters that promote racist stereotypes, denigrating and that scoff at peoples’ dignity for their sexual orientation on media and communication channels, also should be eliminated because they constitute a violation of the human rights of the peoples or groups they characterize.] After extreme backlash on the campaign blog that published the press news releases on the legal action against Frecuencia Latina and el Especial del Humor’s characters El Negro Mama, the Centro de Culturas Indígenas del Perú90 (CHIRAPAQ) congratulated LUNDU for its campaign success in achieving the removal of the El Negro Mama character, but pronounced that they were appalled that the character of Paisana Jacinta was not. They furthered that media and communications codes of ethics should be more explicit in outlining a firm line against programming that promotes racism and violence against any culture or community. CHIRAPAQ asked for parents who sometimes deny accepting their own Andean, Amazonian, or migrant origins, and perhaps even their own intolerance for ‘Others’ to see,  con claridad el prejuicio oculto tras la broma y a reflexionar sobre el impacto que estos estereotipos, aparentemente inofensivos, pueden tener en la construccion de la identidad y los valores de nuestra niñez y juventud. (Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog, April 14th, 2010.  [with clarity the hidden prejudice in comedy and reflect on the impact which these stereotypes, apparently inoffensive ones, can have on the construction of identity and values of our childhood and youth.] LUNDU had the support of CHIRAPAQ and also that of the Centro de la Mujer Flora Tristan, who summarized their deep worry for the ways in which within Peru, comedy that promotes violence and discrimination has become commonplace and even normalized fostering the                                                  90 Centre of Indigenous Cultures of Peru.    146  internalized acceptance of jokes and images involving the physical abuse of women and homosexuals and the characterization of Afro-Peruvians and Indigenous peoples as ignorant and criminals. They along with LUNDU and Centre de la Mujer Flora Tristan called for the Asociación Nacional de Anunciantes91 (ANDA) to reinforce its ethics code and put a stop to violent comedy.   During the following months, violent verbal and physical attacks against LUNDU ensued. Nonetheless LUNDU continued its campaign, encouraging people to sign to the campaign against racism and lend their support in the fight to stop racist television programming. On May 3rd, 2010, a document with Makungu para el Desarrollo, CEDET, and Todas Las Sangres: Asociación Cultural de Promoción y Desarrollo was published denouncing racism in the media. Many NGOs added their support such as Amnesty International, the Asociación Humanidad Libre, CHIRAPAQ, Milenia Comunicaciones, Católicas por el Derecho a Decidir (CDD- Perú), and a long list of independent supporters. They demanded that the social responsibility of communication media be to not foster racism or discrimination through any means, develop explicit public politics regarding ethnic, racial, sexual and cultural diversity in Peru, and support effective legislation sanctioning against racism and all other forms of discrimination, and for all citizens to assume responsibility and inform themselves about the need to stop racism, by not consuming racist products (Apúntate Contra el Racismo  Blog, May 4th, 2010).    The case against El Negro Mama underlined the need for LUNDU to enter ‘official’ political spaces. On October 12th, 2010, during the “Día de los Pueblos Originarios y Dialogo Intercultural,” 92 LUNDU presented the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign to the Comisión                                                  91 The National Association of Broadcasters. 92 Day of the Original Peoples and Intercultural Dialogue.   147  de Pueblos Andinos, Amazónicos y Afroperuanos, Ambiente y Ecología del Congreso de la Republica.93  Figure 4.4: Presenting Apúntate Contra el Racismo to the Comisión de Pueblos Andinos, Amazónicos y Afroperuanos, Ambiente y Ecología del Congreso de la Republica   Reproduced with permission. © All rights reserved LUNDU. The commission unanimously agreed to ‘sign’ its support for the campaign and went on further to state that they would organize a forum against racism and accept the legislative proposal being forwarded by LUNDU for legal reform sanctioning against racism.  November 26th saw the execution of the Foro, Peru Contra El Racismo,94 which included a panel with representatives from the commission, Amnesty International, CHIRAPAQ, CEDET, and LUNDU, took place within the Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores del Perú auditorium. The event was open to members of the public who emailed LUNDU in advance to reserve their spot. The objective of the event were to discuss the racism prevalent in Peruvian society and reflect on its social impacts, bring civil society anti-racism initiatives to the state’s direct attention in an effort to formulate through participatory means laws against discrimination and support the fight and racism.                                                  93 Congress of the Republic, Commission for Andean Amazonian, Afro-Peruvian peoples, Environment and Ecology. 94 Forum, Peru Against Racism.   148   During the campaign, LUNDU was a part of several academic events on campuses all around Peru, which due to their location could be labeled ‘academic’ actions. However, Carrillo explained that the underlining message for the students, staff and faculty was still always about learning how to be active citizens and take action, become ‘politicized’ against racism and oppression. Campaigning also led LUNDU to host several panel events inviting people from diverse societal backgrounds to participate. On November 13th, 2009, LUNDU hosted, the Primer Encuentro Internacional de Estudios de Diáspora Africana en el Perú95 to discuss  1.) promoting studies on African diaspora within universities and other academic institutions and spaces;  2.) recommendations being forwarded by Afro-Peruvian and other civil society groups to the state to eliminate racism;  3.) and developing strategies for the collection of information on the health, education, employment, and rights of Afro-Peruvians.  This conference style event which was coordinated by LUNDU with some support from CEDET and it featured international researchers, Luis Rocca, historian and co founder of  the Afro-Peruvian museum in Zana; Rocío Muñoz, Programs Coordinator for LUNDU; Pastor Murillo, member of CERD of the United Nations (Colombia); Monica Carrillo, Executive President of LUNDU; Jhon Anton Sanchez, social researcher (Colombia); Milagros Carazas, professor and facilitator (Peru); M’ Bare N’gom Faye, professor for Morgan University (Senegal); miembro de CERD de la ONU (Colombia); Oswaldo Bilbao, Executive Director of the Centro de Desarrollo Étnico - CEDET (Perú); and Martin Benavides, education sociologist and Director and Principle Researcher for Grupo de Analisis para el Desarrollo96 (GRADE). Participants concluded that                                                  95 The First International Meeting on African Diaspora Studies in Peru. 96 Development Analysis Group.   149  Afro-Peruvians, their historical and contemporary initiatives do not exist within higher education and therefore are not surprisingly absent from public politics. Pastor Murillo explained that unlike Colombia, in Peru there are no public universities engaged in promoting Afro-Peruvian access into higher education and in the development of social justice oriented teaching. Carrillo highlighted that it is critical for bridges to be made between academia and universities’ research and teaching in order for higher education to truly foster citizens equipped with practical and theoretical knowledge to address critical social issues, such as racism and discrimination, through policy creation and political action. Professor N’gom Faye, concluded that the university is the trampolín from which to re-educate society. He further pointed out that as things stand in Peru, there is a lack of information that challenges barriers to sustainable development. Panelists strongly emphasized the need for higher education curricula, pedagogies, and public politics in this field.  On August 26th, 2010, LUNDU hosted “Apúntate al Dialogo Contra el Racismo: Racismo, Sexismo, y Medios de Comunicación,”97 which brought together representatives from El Comercio newspaper, CONCORTV, ANDA, Ministerio de la Mujer98, Flora Tristan, and LUNDU.                                                           97 Description of this event was taken from the August 24th, 2010, Apuntate Contra el Racismo Blog entry. 98 The Ministry of Women.    150  Figure 4.5: Poster for Apúntate al Dialogo Contra el Racismo: Racismo, Sexismo y Medios de Comunicación, Panel Discussion  Reproduced with permission. © All rights reserved LUNDU. This public event, which was entirely organized by LUNDU asked panelists to identify effective strategies to combat racism and sexism. The panel raised questions regarding the racist news stories are published monthly and the role of ANDA and of the state in regulating racism and sexism in communication media by applying the Radio and Television Law. The August dialogue on racism and the media led to a final roundtable, “El Papel de la Comunicacion Masiva en la Lucha Por La Inclusion Social y Racial”99, organized by LUNDU in collaboration with ANDA on July 20th, 2011.100 This roundtable had as it objective the creatin of a space in which to publicly debate racism and the responsibilities that communications media groups have to restrict racist content. Several publicists, psychoanalysists, sociologists, actors                                                  99 The Role of Mass Communication Media and the Fight for Social and Racial Inclusion.  100 Description of this event was taken from the July 17th, 2011, Apuntate Contra el Racismo Blog entry.   151  and comedians participated, along with institutional representatives from ANDA, the Consejo de la Prensa Peruana101, CONCORTV, the Consejo Nacional de Autoregulacion Publicitaria102 (CONAR), the Defensoria del Pueblo103, LUNDU, and the Sociedad Nacional de Radio y Television104 (SNRTV). What was interesting about this roundtable was the deep discussion that unfolded regarding the need for the communications industry to not just defend, but promote the respect and dignity so intrinsic for all peoples through the construction and reproduction of messages that cultivate equality, respect and ethnic and gender diversity within Peru. It is important to note that all events were free admission and utilized the campaign logo and terminology in promotional materials. These events drew in people from different spheres and walks of life. The process of including and drawing from the public’s perspective for the creation and implementation of anti-racist initiatives was integrated throughout the campaign. Although few of LUNDU’s campaign actions employed the terms pedagogical or educational within event titles or descriptions, within the educational sphere there were some explicitly ‘pedagogical’ activities created to mobilize children and youth to contemplate on how racism affects their everyday realities. Most noticeably on April 19th, 2011, during the final leg of the campaign, LUNDU launched a critical essay competition in honor of the International Year of Afro-descendants105. The essay competition was open to students from universities and other higher education institutions both nationally and in Bolivia, Ecuador, and Colombia to apply and encouraged to submit on the following topics: culture and identity, Racial Justice, Regional Integration, and the Afro-Peruvian Woman. On December 8th, 2011, LUNDU awarded prizes to                                                  101 Peruvian Press Council. 102 Advisory Council for Advertising Regulation. 103 Ombudsman.  104 National Society of Radio and Television.  105 Description of this event was taken from the April 18th, 2011, Apuntate Contra el Racismo Blog entry.   152  nine students from different regions. However, Carrillo noted that the topic of the Afro-Peruvian Woman received no entries.   In the Midst of Apúntate Contra el Racismo Action Ollis (2012) collapses “embodied learning” into the adult learning section in her book on “learning on the job” as a characteristic of the latter (pp. 48 & 51). Foley (1999), describes this “learning on the job” as “learning in social action” (p. 33) which I think is more relevant to the type of learning experienced by LUNDU leaders such as Castro and Carrillo, as they expressed learning through a combination of ‘formal’ and ‘informal’ processes. This merging of formal and informal processes resonates with Foley’s (1999) conception of activists’ learnings, which is “incidental to, or embedded in, the action taken by the activists” and usually “not articulated systematically at the time of the campaign or subsequently” precisely because of the highly emotion charged and political nature which “learning in the struggle” can take on (p. 39). I use “embodied learning” to describe learning experiences during the campaign because it refers to activists’ ways of knowing which include “the mind, body, emotions, and self, all of which contribute to their effective mastery of learning” (Ollis, 2012, p. 52). I feel this approach best illustrates the learning of Carrillo and Castro in relation to personal learning from highly emotive “micro-politics” (Foley, 1999; Alvarez, 1990) of gender and age relations, legal issues, and tensions between academic and activist discourses that ensured the campaign’s survival. It is also important to note that as the “whole person” (Foley, 1999, p. 40) experiences the micro-politics of activist work and spur of the moment occurrences that draw upon all of their senses and require critical thinking, a process of re-conscientization and reflexivity occurs. This prompts a personal self-reflexive ‘re-education’ of militant and de-colonizing understandings illustrative of constant motion within the self as theorized by Zambrana-Ortiz (2011).   153  As Foley (1999) explains in his case studies, the “direct action” phases of campaigns create “unforeseen difficulties” related to the “intensity and stress generated by the campaign” (p. 33). Carrillo highlighted, that LUNDU tried to plan as much as possible in relation to the campaign and foresee obstacles. Yet, considering Peru’s political and social instability, she and other LUNDU staff working on the campaign at the time, tried to prepare themselves for ‘radical’ shifts in the campaign’s vision. Yet, the quick changing nature of activist work is precisely what creates the need and organic process of “rapid” (Ollis, 2012, p. 119) embodied learning.  Carrillo organically communicated most of her personal learning in relation to gender, age and formal-informal learning processes, despite my not asking questions on the latter aside from a broad inquiry into her experiences as a female leader of an Afro-Peruvian organization. Yet her identity as a young woman holding the role of Executive President of LUNDU and leading a highly politicized campaign exacerbated elements of other micro-politics creating tension not just for herself, but also for the organization as a unit. Thus in the interviews with Castro and Carrillo, when I asked about differences between their perspectives on the campaign and those expressed by other Afro and non-Afro activists, academics and professionals, discussions of Carrillo’s gender and age factored into to their personal and pedagogical construction of the micro-politics. Carrillo’s understanding of the need for LUNDU to exist and conduct anti-racist work began from her standpoint as a racialized marked woman. The campaign process informed her knowledge of the intricate, challenging and violent reality of conducting work for anti-racist change, even at times, amongst her own ‘Afro-Peruvian’ people. Challenging Patriarchy LUNDU has always been led by women, with its original founder Mónica Carrillo, still serving as Executive President. Nonetheless, although Carrillo began leading LUNDU’s work   154  from a personal understanding of the marginalized reality of women, especially Afro-Peruvian women in Peruvian society, the campaign work allowed her to experience the assumptions, stereotypes, barriers and limits placed on women who are enacting their democratic citizen rights and working for political change within public and official arenas. For instance, the campaign received further opposition because a black woman led it. On this Castro observed that, “Empecemos con que mucha gente no quería ver a Mónica, una mujer y Afroperuana, tan visible en los foros públicos…” [Let’s begin with many people didn’t want to see a woman, and an Afro-Peruvian on top of that, so visible in public forums…].  Carrillo explained that as the campaign began to gain momentum and incite highly polarized reactions from the Peruvian public, she had to quickly learn ways with which to deal with the onslaught of stereotypes and assumptions that Peruvian society had normalized about women,  por ejemplo lo de las emociones… que por ejemplo, … ante un debate la gente espera que te… o te pongas nerviosa, o llores, o te exaltes, todas aquellas cosas que son normales y expresiones de cualquier ser humano pero están muy estereotipadas en una mujer, no? [For example, emotions… for example, … before a debate people expect that you… will get nervous… or cry, or become agitated, all of which are normal human expressions but that are stereotyped in relation to women, right?] First in developing the concept of the campaign and later during the execution of the campaign actions, Carrillo shared coming to terms with the realization that she would have to push harder, past many more barriers than for example her friend and fellow Afro-Peruvian leader Bilbao from CEDET, in order for the campaign to be taken seriously in any arena. She noted: … siempre ellos están esperando, si eres mujer además eres bruta, si eres Afro, no estás preparada, si eres joven, entonces mucho menos, son varias dimensiones que yo siento que he tenido que cumplir para que la propuesta que llevo hacia adelante haya tenido un mediano éxito político, no? [… they are always waiting, if you are a woman you are additionally stupid, if you are Afro, you are not prepared, if you are young, then even less, they are various dimensions which I feel that I have had to meet for the proposal which I carry forward to have some sort of political success, right?] As the campaign received more attention and more people came to learn about its direct and highly political anti-racist objectives, Carrillo was pushed into the role of being the ‘face’ for the   155  campaign. She explained realizing how unfathomable it was for many, including some Afro-Peruvian men, to accept a very young, Afro-Peruvian woman, decrying racism, exercising her civic rights so publicly and demanding inclusion into white male dominated spaces of politics: eso es algo muy de género… [también] de la diferencia de edades. … cuando yo comencé a viajar y a trabajar, yo tenía 21 años, entonces tienes a los patriarcas que tienen más de 50, entonces ellos no esperan dentro del propio movimiento Afro de que una mujer, joven además, con mucho que aprender, … pueda estar sentada al menos en una relación de pares con ellos. [that is something very much about gender… [also] about the difference in ages. … when I began to travel and work, I was 21 years old, you have the patriarchs which are over 50, so they don’t expect even within the Afro movement that a woman, a young one at that, with a lot to learn, … could be sitting across from them at the same table relating as peers.] Carrillo’s experience resonates with what Ahmed (2009) theorizes how bodies of color are “encountered as being negative” before any words are spoken or actions are taken (p. 48). Ahmed highlights, that “to speak out as black woman is then to confirm your position as the cause of tension” (p. 49).  Carrillo highlighted that emotional processes, internalized frustration, impacted the campaign, yet few people made the connection between the ‘personal’ and the ‘political’:  es interesante cuando en temas como estas [referring to interviews] situaciones la gente de pregunta como salió todo pero no te preguntan como estas.… no se es una cosa quizás de Latinoamérica, uno es más expresivo, uno muestra, uno manifiesta, pero no necesariamente implica de que se genere una relación con el interés de conocer a la persona que está adentro de la persona que hace acciones afuera. [it’s interesting when in situations such as these (referring to interviews), people ask how everything turned out, but they don’t ask you how you are doing. … I don’t know maybe it’s a Latin America thing, one is more expressive, one shows, one manifests, but this doesn’t necessarily imply that a relation with interest to get to know who the person is inside the person who takes external actions.] Carrillo acknowledged being hyper aware during and after the campaign, but coming to a specific point of realization in the midst of the El Negro Mama controversy, of the precarious line she was walking throughout her activist efforts. According to Carrillo, she and other LUNDU activists ran the risk of becoming victims of their own rage,  Si la mayoría de la gente te trate de una manera despectiva, tu actitud también es a la defensiva porque tu ya estas esperando en qué momento van  decirte alguna cosa o tratarte de alguna manera ofensiva. Y te puedes volver a ser una persona muy molesta, agresiva también, es una respuesta a la violencia que primero llega hacia ti. [If the majority of the people treat you despectively, you’re attitude is also on the defensive because you are waiting for the moment when they will say something to you or treat you in an   156  offensively. And you can turn into a very angry person, as well as aggressive, it’s a response to the violence that first affects you.] Carrillo and I discussed this engagement with ones emotions. We agreed that as racialized marked bodies we are constantly faced with “points” (Ahmed, 2009) of racism, of marginalization, often times when we are not even able to properly wrap our minds around our experiences and question our own rationalities. According to Ahmed, anger and rage become consuming when black women internalize the colonialist need for them to “let go of their anger” so that men (white and of color) and white women can move on with nationbuilding projects (p. 49). She highlights that “political work becomes harder when your feelings become proximate to their fantasy” (p. 50). hooks (1995), Lorde (1984), and Ahmed (2009) are racialized marked theorists who have shared their encounters with rage and how they have been able to empower themselves so that rage will serve them. Ahmed states, “anger is creative, and it gives us room to do other things. And nor is it our duty; I am not obliged to keep hitting that wall, sometimes I will, and sometimes I won’t” (p. 51). Carrillo cited numerous examples of being criticized, stereotyped, and presented as ‘villain’ for her ‘black woman anger’. Yet, she kept on talking. LUNDU kept working through the emotional battles, taking decisions, and making society listen. Ahmed emphasizes that in confronting and using rage for transformation, choices have to be made about when and where to make points.   This led to her having to learn physical tactics with which to channel her anger, frustration and pain. Carrillo shared with me her learning of ‘coping tactics’, “aprendí que hay que tener siempre un equilibrio entre la vida política, la vida artística, y la vida personal” [I learned that we always have to have a balance between political life, artistic life, and personal life]. There is power in deciding where one should direct their rage and how. Yet, whatever decision is taken will always be critiqued. Such is the burden for racialized marked peoples; one   157  is too radical or not radical enough, one is being too personal or too politically correct, one is being too focused on ones’ own community or one is too focused on appeasing white people, etc. It is not a new thing for racialized marked people to judge each other and themselves the hardest. We can see these struggles in the works of Du Bois, Langston Hughes, Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, hooks, Lorde, Anzaldúa, Moraga, and Ahmed, for instance. However, Carrillo underlined her firm decision to create her identity as an artist in order to support her identity as a leader for socio-political change. I see this strategy grounded in personal well-being and a strong democratic political discipline. She candidly shared with me a poem in which the latter was vibrantly illustrated. However, one can also see it in some of her publicly available works. Poetry, spoken word and music affirm the continual development of solidarity and space creation between oneself and our communities, with and for ourselves and against the oppressors. For Carrillo her art is her outlet and her opportunity to focus on herself as a woman and Afro-Peruvian; an opportunity to be as radical and militant as a panther as she may be feeling is necessary for transformation. It is the counter-balance to her political work where she balances the personal with the greater need of democratic inclusion and spaces for integration versus segregation.  Carrillo and Castro shared realizing that although politics and in turn activist action, even that deriving from within the Afro-Peruvian ‘movement’, was often filled with machismo, sexism, and discrimination, that did not mean that they too could act without respecting processes and hierarchies of critical experience: “Ahora, eso no implica que no hay que respetar procesos, hasta jerarquías, y por algo hay gente que tiene muchos más años de experiencia y de lucha” [Now, that doesn’t imply that we do not have to respect processes, even hierarchies, and its for something that there are people who have many more years of experiences and struggle].   158  To teach respect, they had to learn to work from a place of respect, which did not mean accepting the status quo of oppression nor setting out to challenge other’s counter-methods, but rather addressing everyone and their experience from a vantage point of continual learning. Emotions are understood by Carrillo as highly undervalued by educators and by Latin American society. However, after focusing on the origins of her emotions and their relation to certain actions, she was able to gain greater insight into her thought and reaction processes. She was also able to use her emotions strategically to develop patience to ground herself and develop the tactical patience and focus to teach ‘coping’ and ‘survival’ mechanisms to other LUNDU members, but also to explain to politicians how social justice oriented social transformation can begin with them. She observed, “Y el éxito de la incidencia publica con los decisores políticos ha sido eso porque nosotros nos hemos reunidos con muchísimos políticos que decían “negrita linda” y no sé cuánto, entonces tener la paciencia, esta vocación de explicar…” [And the success of public incidence with the political decision-makers has been because we have met with many politicians who said, “gorgeous little Black girl”, so having the patience, this dedication to explaining...]. Finally, Carrillo and Castro observed that they lacked other campaign models and mentors within the context of Peru from which to take direction from and learn from. The arena of Afro-Peruvian organizations has seen its share of cultural leaders. However, few leaders since the time of the cimarrones have come out to publicly confront racism. It was palpable throughout my interview with Carrillo that although she was proud of all of her work with LUNDU, including the challenging moments, she did not set out to take on the ‘mentor role’. Rather, she wished she had been able to benefit from knowing other Afro-Peruvian female leaders working publicly for political aims.   159  Tensions Between Professional Academic/ Non-Academic and Activist Perspectives  As Castro and Carrillo both confided, LUNDU was an anomaly because of its female leadership and ‘public’ campaigning. These two aspects, positioned LUNDU to experience specific tensions between their perspectives and strategies to counter racism and those of other Afro-descendant and non-Afro organizational academic/ non-academic professional leaders. While in Peru I experienced several heated debates amongst Afro-descendants over the contemporary root causes of racism, and surprisingly even over the question of whether racism should be publicly countered or acknowledged.106 The tensions experienced by LUNDU and the conversations which I experienced highlight how charting activist pedagogy and learning from it, requires delving much deeper than Foley’s (1999) activist and academic/ non-Academic professional divide, into an analysis that probes into the desire and accumulation of privilege, internalized colonialism, the fear of retribution and the critical roles of intellectuals, academics, and professionals.  When I asked Carrillo what she thought of Cheche Campos’ argument that Afro-Peruvian activists should steer clear of public forums and avoid the struggle against racism in favour of a ‘pro’ multiculturalism campaign, she stated that to discuss how it may not be worth to counter racism is inconsiderate, self disrespectful, and a form of re-violating any person who was a victim of racist attitudes and actions. Carrillo discussed how there are ‘neoracist’ tendencies                                                  106 A case in point being Professor Henry Gates’ 2011 PBS documentary series, Blackin Latin America and the episode, Mexico and Peru: The BlackGrandma in the Closet106, where re-owned professor and one of the original founders of the beginning of the Afro-Peruvian movement and INAPE in Peru, Jose “Cheche” Campos. Campos (at the time he was dean of social sciences and humanities at the Universidad Nacional de Educacion Enrique Guzman y Valle, La Cantuta) shares with Gates, that in a free country the fight is not whether you are against racist television shows or not; the more attention you give to racism and the more it grows. He also shared that because Afro-Peruvians are no longer ‘invisible’ he believes it is no longer an issue about finding Africa, it is an issue about finding Peru, but its depth is about finding integration. For Campos the future of Blacks is multiculturalism and he believes, that the Blackorganizations have to worry more about other aspects than waste energy on the fight against discrimination and racism, the fight for development and culture is a bigger fight that in the long run brings better results. According to Campos, Obama would not have been able to take on the presidency if he had not been above the issues of color, because if you are obsessed with color, you are only the president of the Blackpeople.   160  which try to establish that racism does not exist, because there is no such biological thing as ‘race’, therefore anyone that publicly counters racism is promoting the ‘false’ idea that races are real and is being counter-productive to attempts at national unity. However for those like her and historian Carlos Aguirre107, race is beyond biological reasoning, it exists within people, thought processes and responses as a psychological and social construction. In regards to different ‘academic’ or ‘professional’ approaches to race and racism such as that of Cheche Campos, Carrillo stated: Cheche Campos también ha cambiado mucho. Él fue uno de los primeros fundadores de uno de los primeros movimientos Afros pero ahora él dice contextualmente que no hay racismo. Y está siendo muy criticado por mucha gente. El dice que hay que hablar de la integración y apostar por el país, pero eso se me hace una tontería que más bien perjudica procesos que nosotros estamos consiguiendo. Claro una persona con autoridad se sienta y dice cosas y eso puede ser mal-utilizado por la gente racista porque dicen, “… si él lo dice entonces ustedes no tienen validez” y eso es una cosa bastante seria. [Cheche Campos has changed a lot. He was one of the first founders of one of the first Afro movements but now he is saying that we need to talk about integration and strive for the country, but this seems like stupidity to me that actually endangers the processes which we are accomplishing. Clearly, a person with authority sits and says things and this can be negatively used by racist peoples because they can say, “… if he is saying that then what you’re saying has no validity” and that is something very serious.] Carrillo emphasized that as an Afro-Peruvian man in a respected academic position with social power, Professor Campos is putting at risk the efforts of activists seeking political change. Carrillo elaborated throughout the interview, that although there is much to admire about the initiatives of Afro-Americans in the United States, Afro-Peruvians cannot in all instances compare their case with that of Afro-Americans. Afro-Americans comprised an “African American freedom movement” that achieved affirmative action, fought back against racism (often resulting in the loss of lives) and continue to form part of campaigns that push for political reform (Joseph, p. 2). US President Obama’s ability to achieve the presidency was a result of all of these processes, not just a decision to be colorblind and nor Western multiculturalism.                                                  107 Carlos Aguirre is a social historian specializing in nineteenth- and twentieth-century Peru and Latin America.; he has written extensively about slavery, abolition, crime, and punishment, and currently holds a Professorship within the Department of History at the University of Oregon.    161  Furthermore the gains achieved by Afro-Americans in the US were actually the result of initiatives carried out by several social movement groups in the states during the late sixties and seventies including the Civil Rights Movement and the Black Power movement, whose relations were often fraught with variant conceptual and methodological perspectives. And, they were also gains established with the activism of Black Power era feminists which injected the overall freedom movement with discourses of gender, anti-sexism, and anti-racism as grounded in the experiences of women (Springer, 2006, p. 118). I am unsure of the precise trajectory Campos’ perspective shifts have taken or the reason behind them, but what is certain is that he has amassed substantial levels of socio-political respect, academic power and privilege. hooks (1995) theorizes that when undergoing progressive acquisition of such power and privilege, people of color often eventually become the “gatekeepers, mediating between the racist white power structure and the larger mass of Black folks” (p. 226) and the “primary representations of the insistence that the American dream is intact, that it can be fulfilled” (p. 178). When Carrillo speaks about Campos’ negative impact on more radical Afro-Peruvian activist efforts, she is speaking to the importance of hooks’ point that those who “speak, write, and act in other ways from privileged-class locations must self-interrogate constantly so that [they] do not unwittingly become complicit in maintaining existing exploitative and oppressive structures” (p. 183). To politically counter critiques of Black intellectuals, academics and professionals as “traitors”, hooks calls for Black critical thinkers to be “accountable” at all times (p. 236).  There are palpable possible correlations between the interruptions to patriarchy which LUNDU posed, their high public visibility as an Afro-Peruvian organization led by a Black woman, and also the tensions of differing approaches to anti-racism with Afro-Peruvian male   162  activists and academic/ non-academic professionals. Although I did not interrogate the opinions of Afro-Peruvian men towards Carrillo, and most I spoke with seemed to be very aware of the prevalent culture of sexism in Peru and expressed including anti-sexism into their agendas, it is important to highlight the constantly strenuous positions which women of color, especially Black women inhabit when speaking and acting out against the dominant status quos. hooks (1995) reminds us of how Black male academics (although this applies to men in academia more broadly as well) and intellectuals can “play lip service to a critique of sexism in their work” but not do anything to change their sexist habits, nor take action behind the leadership of a Black female (p. 64).  Castro and Carrillo both discussed extensively with me their collaborations with other organizations such as CEDET, expressing gratitude for all of the organizing support that they got for certain events during the initial phases of the campaign really strengthened the message of working together for ‘positive’ action ‘against racism’. It was pivotal to have distinct Afro-Peruvian organizations and perspectives working together to write a formal declaration denouncing racism in the communication media industry. However, Castro identified a point when other organizations expressed feeling that LUNDU was making the fight too ‘personal’. As discussed previously, many of these hesitations to engage emotions and the personal, may be that within patriarchal societies, they connote notions of womanhood and a supposed ‘inferiority’ (hooks, 1995). These often entrenched, internalized and unconsciously manifested notions are grounded in a masculinist/ machista denial of women’s intellectualness, politicization and militancy. Ahmed (2009) states that according to the latter, “The Black woman isn’t a real scholar, she is motivated by ideology. The Black woman is angry. She occupies the moral high ground” (p. 50).    163  Nonetheless, as an organization LUNDU had to reflect on this claim of making the campaign ‘too personal’. Foley (2012) highlights that critical reflection processes amongst activists tend to demonstrate that critical social justice learning in action is often and individually contextually shaped, and thus to deny the latter would be to deny the complexity of activist work. The struggle against racist media and racist insults/ actions was inevitably personal to a high degree, as it was experiential. It was the first time that emotions, specifically pain caused by racist insults, were being exposed so publicly and that there was such a public opposition to racism on behalf of Afro-Peruvians. The question of how to ‘deal’ with racism kept reappearing and in the face of mounting public criticism, several of the other organizations wanted to pause in order to discuss if going about it so publicly was the best method. CEDET voiced specific concern about LUNDU’s growing public and legal challenge to Frecuencia Latina and El Negro Mama. Castro observed that most discussions amongst Afro-Peruvian organizations were getting caught up in the attempt to define what was racism in a way that captured everyone’s political and personal perspectives- a daunting and time consuming task. Castro stated that it was during this time that LUNDU realized that the battle against Frecuencia Latina and El Negro Mama could not be abandoned. Only in taking down such a racist television behemoth, would spaces exist in the future where social justice tensions could be discussed and power re-shifted in agonistically democratic formats. If such an extremely racist character was allowed to remain, it would just indicate to the greater Peruvian public that social justice was defendable as long as it did not mean major interruptions to the status quo, agendas and practices of hegemonic groups. It would also support claims that insulting or violating people was permissible under claims of humor and entertainment. In walking away from such a battle, LUNDU would have demonstrated an internalized acceptance of the public’s categorization of Afro-Peruvian activist   164  actions as irrational, nuisance, and useless; and moreso of Black female leadership as insane and unstable. Castro and Carrillo accepted that in this way the struggle was personal, but they felt that all Afro-Peruvians had so much to lose, that they just had to push through the adversity, even if it meant losing support for the time being from other Afro-Peruvian organizations. Castro elaborated that behind closed doors and as an Afro-Peruvian organization it is necessary to reflect on racism, its meaning, origins, contemporary expressions, strategies to counter it, etc., but the system of societal oppression cannot be fought, nor can ministry representatives be convinced that change is imminent, with just ‘reflections’. Carrillo and Castro both expressed the perspective that reflection is a “continual interweaving of thinking and doing” and as reflective practitioners they have to “[reflect] on the understandings that have been implicit in [their] action, which [they] surface, [criticize, restructure, and embody] in future action (Schon, 1983; as cited in Ash in Clayton, 2009, p. 27).   Carrillo proceeded to share her appreciation for the work of other Afro-Peruvian organizations. Notwithstanding, she observed that LUNDU will continue dedicating itself publicly to the fight against racism and sexism within political and public mass foras while also engaging ‘creative artistic’ strategies. However, the focus remains on creating technical proposals: Yo creo que hay un trabajo importante que se ha hecho sobre los Afroperuanos de las organizaciones por el hecho de tratar de introducir el tema de la identidad Afroperuana… ese es un trabajo en todas las organizaciones y particularmente en las organizaciones que tienen un área de capacitación de la identidad… El problema como digo es que hay otro paso que se tiene que dar, que pregunta, “ como esta identidad me hace un herramienta, ósea como convierto mi Afro identidad en una identidad política para la inserción por ejemplo en un partió político, para acceder al poder, para cambiar una ley, para generar una nueva paradigma estética?” Esa parte es la que aun no se avanza en el Perú y que no es parte de la agenda.  Entonces, como el mundo va avanzando mucho más rápido del movimiento, entonces el movimiento Afroperuano no ha desarrollado las capacidades para poder tener por ejemplo propuestas técnicas que encajen con lo que la sociedad también necesita.  [I think that there is important work that has been done on Afro-Peruvians from organizations with the purpose of introducing the topic of Afro-Peruvian identity as such, … this is work that is going on in all of the organizations and particularly in organizations that have a specific area for fostering identity work… The problem is that there is another step that has to be taken that asks,   165  “how can this identity create a tool for me, how can I convert my Afro identity into a political identity for insertion into for example a political party, to access power, to change laws, to generate a new esthetic paradigm?” That part is what is still not advancing in Peru and is not part of the agenda. So, as the world advances much faster than the movement, so the Afro-Peruvian movement has not developed the capacities to be able to have for example the technical proposals that would fit with what the society needs.]  For Carrillo, Afro-Peruvian organizations have to move beyond the identity question to strategize how to use all of this knowledge derived from work on Afro-Peruvian culture and identity to make strategic political decisions and take action. She added that there needs to be more shifts and exchanges between the ‘informal’ arena of cultural, artistic and academic practice and that of the ‘formally’ political, vis-à-vis such examples as campaigning. The Afro-Peruvian ‘movement’ needs to be more in line with the technical and political demands of the ‘developing’ world in order to have a say in the re-conceptualization and re-articulation of this ‘development’ that impacts Afro-Peruvians on various levels often as passivated subjects.  El Negro Mama: Legal Opposition to Television Media Racism  LUNDU launched its highly publicized legal actions against the Frecuencia Latina television show, El Especial del Humor and its character El Negro Mama. It also supported the request of Indigenous organizations for the removal of the character la Paisana Jacinta. Castro shared with me, that after the 2009 close of the campaign, LUNDU paused its activities until the March 2010 public proclamation against El Negro Mama. During this time, LUNDU reflected on its campaign accomplishments, mistakes, lack of clarity, and actions they should take including any consequential risks. It was agreed that with such a campaign as Apúntate Contra el Racismo whose objective it was to oppose racism across all societal channels, a racist character like that of El Negro Mama, could not go unchallenged. LUNDU proceeded with the plea against Frecuencia Latina to remove the character from the air. Although the character was temporarily removed from the show (the character of Paisana Jacinta was not removed, it was revived within months due to massive public request according to Jorge Benavides, the comedian who   166  portrays the characters and Frecuencia Latina, the network on which his show airs. However, on November 29th, 2010, the Tribunal de Ética de la Sociedad Nacional del Radio y Televisión (SNRTV) established the resolution that Frecuencia Latina owed an apology to LUNDU and Afro-Peruvians for allowing the character El Negro Mama to portray racist content.  However, the apology was according to Carrillo dismissive. LUNDU continued its activist work against the El Negro Mama character and other such racist media after the close of the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign close with the same fervency. Slow in coming, but nonetheless precedent-setting, in 2013 the Peruvian state agreed the El Negro Mama character is racist. On August 26th, 2013, the Peruvian Ministry of Transportation and Communications agreed with LUNDU’s critiques and announced that it was fining Frecuencia Latina $27, 000 for failing to apologize to Afro-Peruvians according to the mandates of the Tribunal.108   The public legal action against El Negro Mama blasted the campaign into its most ‘visible’ phase according to Castro. Although up until this point LUNDU was striving not to be just another antagonistic activist group deploying public critiques, it could not avoid being labelled as such during the controversy surrounding El Negro Mama. The campaign hit Peruvian society where it hurt the most, its ‘normalized’ racist popular culture and clientelistic practices, undoubtedly destabilizing the everyday ‘norm’ and rhetoric of justice and multiculturalism. Apart from the character and TV show, LUNDU posed a challenge for Frecuencia Latina’s investment networks. LUNDU’s blog, along with the blogs of all national newspapers and magazines that published articles on the controversy were indicative of these violent                                                  108  This information was taken from Carrillo, K. J. (September 5, 2013). Peru’s ‘El Negro Mama’ TV station penalized. New York Amsterdam News, retrieved from http://amsterdamnews.com/news/2013/sep/05/perus-el-negro-mama-tv-station-penalized/; (August 28, 2013). Frecuencia Latin: Sancscionan por personaje del ‘Negro Mama’. LaRepublica.pe/ Ocio, retrieved from http://www.larepublica.pe/28-08-2013/sancionan-a-frecuencia-latina-por-personaje-de-el-negro-mama; NetJoven: sin limites, retrieved from http://www.netjoven.pe/espectaculos/Negro-Mama http://www.netjoven.pe/espectaculos/Negro-Mama   167  micropolitics. Scrolling back through the blog entries related to El Negro Mama on the campaign site, one can read extremely derogatory, sexist, violent, and racist comments revealing of the ‘internally colonized’ and Peruvian normative mindset. These comments targeted Carrillo personally and LUNDU’s work, often even reaching the status of ‘threats’. The following are examples of these comments:109 Deberían de entender el concepto del arte… ya que ustedes mismos están llevando “sin querer” el racismo otra vez a la labia y al ambiente social [sic]…  [You should understand the concept of art… since you are the ones stirring up “without meaning to” racism in our society once again…]  El anti-racismo es la nueva forma de racismo. [Anti-racism is the new form of racism.]  Como se les ocurre… hacer tremenda cojudes… de hacer que retiren al personaje del el Negro Mama… no saben cómo los Odios [sic]…  [How can you dare… do such a stupid thing… to force the removal of the El Negro Mama character… you don’t know how much I hate you…]  … es mas tiren sus teles y vallan a vivir al bosque para que no ofendan a nadie… Les recuerdo que su página en cierto sentido es racista también… toda la pagina habla solo de Afro-Peruanos… nada malo en ello… pero no promueven en nada la integración… solo se quejan y se quejan…, y discriminan… se comienza por casa no creen?  [… better yet throw out your televisions and go live in the forest so that you don’t offend anybody… I remind you that your website is in a way also racist… the entire page talks solely about Afro-Peruvians… nothing wrong about that… but you don’t promote integration at all… you just complain and complain…, and discrimination… it starts at home don’t you think?] Carrillo noted the threats which she and LUNDU received were unprecedented. They could not have predicted they would lead to a financial institutional crisis related to the need to pay for additional security and legal support,  … durante la campaña, vino una crisis institucional… los riegos que tuvimos con la campaña nos desbordo. Tuvimos que invertir mucho más en temas de seguridad, en cámaras de seguridad y yo misma tuve que tener guardaespaldas por dos anos… [durante ese periodo hubieron] dos procesos [legales que el estado abrió] en mi favor… tuvimos que invertir mucho en los temas legales. [… during the campaign, there came an institutional crisis… the risks which we had with the campaign threw us off track. We had to invest much more into security, in security cameras and I myself had to have security guards for two years… [during that period there were] two processes [legal, that were opened] in my favour… we had to invest a lot of money into legal issues.] Yet, these security and legal related financial challenges were utilized for self and institutional empowerment. Castro and Carrillo stated that drawing the campaign to a close in 2011 did not                                                  109 These comments were taken from public comments to the Apúntate Contra el Racismo Blog postings of April 8th, 2010 and April 14th, 2010.    168  mean that their fight against racist programming such as Especial del Humor and the character of El Negro Mama, was over. Rather, it meant that LUNDU was going to take a period to critically analyze the impact of the campaign and results from legal action, to evaluate if taking such a public stance against such a popular media production was constructive in the fight against racism, to re-strengthen organizational capacities, and to re-focus the aims of LUNDU’s pedagogical and political anti-racist work. Carrillo summarized,  [Aprovechamos] el momento para hacer una revisualización institucional y centrarnos más en el tema comunicacional [y tuvimos] que reducir  nuestro equipo para volver a crecer de otra manera y fortalecer mas el tema de humanidades digitales y el tema comunicativo. [We took advantage] of the moment to do an institutional revisualization and centre ourselves more on the communications aspect [and had] to reduce our team to be grow in a different way and strengthen more the focus on digital humanities and the communications aspect.]  Despite not having reached the specific desired outcomes during the 2009-2011 course of the campaign, the campaign drew to a close and entered it’s nearly two year period of reflection, internal re-organization and private programming before once again launching any major public initiatives in 2013.  It was during this much needed time that LUNDU received some of the ‘social justice based change results’ it had been hoping for.  The Achievement of Transformative ‘Spaces’: A Pedagogy of Activism  In this final section I attempt to illustrate the means through which LUNDU leveraged political power to conceive spaces for greater visibility, participatory politics and civic engagement. Though the trajectory of the Apúntate Contra el Racismo campaign was an often times, personally and collectively arduous one for LUNDU leaders and staff,  it created ‘social’ and ‘political’ spaces unimagined before in Peru. Discussion of what LUNDU considers direct campaign ‘accomplishments’ included an assessment of publicly spotlighting racism in Peru, direct impact on legal reform, the establishment of strategic alliances, and the construction of a platform for new critical social justice