Let’s begin with what the Global South is for us. “Global South” is not merely a geographic term for what was once called the Third World. It is not a synonym for “developing countries” or a polite way of saying “poor nations.” It is a political designation. It is a call for alliances.
It names communities and peoples everywhere who are living under the ongoing projects of settler colonialism, standing on the frontlines of environmental injustice, targeted by systemic racialized violence, and subjected to the rhetorical and epistemic erasures of empire. Global South is a shared positionality of resistance against interconnected systems of power: colonial, capitalist, heteropatriarchal, and imperial.
The first thoughts about Global South Solidarities came into being as an intellectual framework, a scholarly attempt to name and theorize the connective tissue between struggles across geographies that colonialism had artificially separated. It began in the academy, in a dissertation project, in graduate seminars and monograph projects, as a way of reading across Dalit archives in South Asia, Zapatista murals in Mexico, Palestinian testimony in occupied territories, and Indigenous water protector maps on Turtle Island.
It started as a method for seeing what empire tries to render invisible: that a police algorithm in one city, a border wall in another region, and a colonial ledger in an archive are all instruments of the same global architecture of power. The framework emerged from the conviction that scholarship must do more than analyze—it must trace solidarities, name connections, and offer a blueprint for thinking otherwise.
But somewhere along the way, the framework stopped being only a scholarly project. This happened not because of anything that happened in the university, but because of who the framework kept encountering.
These encounters changed everything. Global South Solidarities is no longer primarily a scholarly project. It is more accurately described as scholars learning from on-the-ground projects that were already there, already happening, already building the world otherwise. The framework now understands that Meena, Lorena, Berta are not objects of study, not research subjects, not examples to illustrate theories developed in Eurocentric traditions. They are the theorists. They are the epistemes. Their work is not raw data waiting for academic interpretation—it is already theory, already knowledge, already a blueprint for how to live on a planet under the constant threat of extraction, displacement, and erasure.
The role of the scholar within Global South Solidarities is no longer to speak about these communities, but to learn from them, to be accountable to them, to use whatever institutional resources and privileges the university provides to amplify their voices, build infrastructure for their work, and ensure that their knowledge shapes academic discourse rather than being tokenized within it.
What this means is that Global South Solidarities now understands itself as a framework that emerges from the ground up. It is not something the academy gives to communities; it is something communities have always been doing, and the academy must listen. The solidarity networks that the framework names—between Zapatista rebels in Chiapas and Palestinian activists in the West Bank, Gaza, and Occupied Palestine, between Black Lives Matter protesters in Minneapolis or Afghan women running underground schools, between trans activists in Queens or Indigenous water protectors in Honduras—were not created by scholars. They were created by people fighting for their lives and their lands, people who understood long before the academy caught up (or yet to catch up) that no one is free until everyone is free. The scholar’s work within this framework is not to lead, not to interpret, not to give voice to the voiceless—it is to show up, to listen, to be accountable, to use institutional power to build infrastructure for struggles that will continue long after any single academic career ends.
The Global South Solidarities anarchive website aims to build exactly the kind of infrastructure that the framework’s evolution demands—a platform that does not speak about communities but instead puts institutional resources at their service. It exists to ensure that the knowledge Meena, Lorena, and Berta produced, along with countless others fighting on the frontlines of empire, reaches audiences beyond their immediate contexts and outlasts any single struggle or lifetime.
The anarchive is designed to make visible the solidarity networks that have always connected movements across colonially drawn borders, providing digital space where Zapatista visual rhetoric can speak to Palestinian sumud, where Afghan women’s underground teaching can inform Indigenous water protection, where Black liberation struggles in Minneapolis can remain in conversation with resistance under occupation.
It aims to circulate these knowledges not as exotic examples for academic consumption but as living theory, as blueprints for survival and world-making that other communities facing displacement, extraction, and erasure can learn from and build upon.
The website functions as accountability infrastructure—a mechanism through which scholars doing work on and with Global South communities can ensure their research remains answerable to those communities rather than to disciplinary expectations alone.
Its ultimate purpose is to use the university’s resources to amplify voices the university has historically silenced, to build durable infrastructure for struggles that will continue long after any grant cycle ends, to fail usefully and visibly so that others can do better, and to prove that the academy can sometimes be useful to the liberation movements that have always known what the academy is only beginning to learn.
Every anti-oppressive force, every movement, every community fighting on the frontlines of empire is invited to take up this work, to build their own anarchives, to refuse the gatekeeping.
Enter the Archive →