Palestine Solidarity:A View from the Global South Elora Shehabuddin (bio) governments, organizations, and individuals throughout the Global South have objected to the injustices perpetuated in Palestine for decades. The evidence is in the massive protests now seen around the world expressing solidarity with Palestine, calling for an end to the current bombardment and genocidal killing, and calling for an end to the longstanding Israeli occupation of Palestinian land. It is evident also in the repeated UN resolutions brought forward by Global South countries to condemn the actions of the Israeli state and in the solidarity statements issued by feminist groups around the world. What most countries of the Third World (including the Global South within the Global North) share with each other and with Palestine, what allows the vast majority of the world's population to so easily recognize what's going on—and has been going on—in Palestine, is their shared history of colonialism. They see their own history reflected in that of Palestine. They see the occupation, the hypocrisy, the double standards, and the doublespeak regarding democracy and human rights of the powerful countries, most of which are themselves former colonizers. They are all too familiar with the steadfast refusal of European colonizers to recognize the humanity and legitimate grievances and aspirations of non-Europeans, of those who are at the receiving end of Western ventures, from colonialism and occupation, to democracy-promoting initiatives and devastating structural adjustment programs. And in the Palestinian resistance to occupation, the people of the Global South recognize their own anticolonial struggles, some that led to decolonization in the last century, and some that are ongoing even now. Viewing these struggles from the standpoint of the oppressed, from the perspective of the Global South, that is, the vast majority of the world's population, allows us to cut through the hegemonic narrative so long put forth by former and current colonizers and their allies. [End Page 544] Elora Shehabuddin elora shehabuddin is a professor of gender and women's studies and global studies, and director of the Subir and Malini Chowdhury Center for Bangladesh Studies at the University of California, Berkeley. Her most recent book, Sisters in the Mirror: A History of Muslim Women and the Global Politics of Feminism (University of California Press, 2021), was selected as a 2022 Choice Outstanding Academic Title by the American Library Association and awarded the 2023 Ananda Kentish Coomaraswamy Book Prize from the Association for Asian Studies. Copyright © 2023 Feminist Studies, Inc.

"Mexico is Telling You: Here's the Solution":Latin America's Green Wave Hits the US Lara Caroline Islinger (bio) the first message was often just one word: "help," a testament to the fear experienced by Americans in need of abortion care who reached out to Las Libres. During my two-month period of participatory fieldwork in Guanajuato, Mexico, I read hundreds of emails and text messages. Some gave away only the minimal information needed, their address and how many weeks pregnant they were, while others felt the need to describe their situation in detail. In some instances, continuing with an unwanted pregnancy would mean dropping out of college, losing their job, getting kicked out by their parents, or struggling to take care of existing children. Barely a day went by without a story of sexual abuse. Barely a day went by without a message that read "You saved my life." Las Libres, a Mexican organization that has been a key player in building networks of self-managed abortion accompaniment all over the Americas, is taking on the US. Its members have set up the "Red Transfronteriza," a cross-border network fulfilling dozens of requests for abortion pills and support from across the border every day—despite the legal challenges. The intricate grassroots system powered by transnational, intergenerational feminist solidarity unites experienced acompañantes from Mexico and hundreds of American volunteers, most of whom were activated by the Dobbs decision. The primary objective of this report is to analyze the process of expanding and adapting this "accompaniment" model to the US context. The network has transformed the fragmented landscape of abortion access in post-Roe America and challenges reproductive governance. However, with the effort's increasing reliance on American volunteers, the practice has been adapted to address their concerns about security, and so has moved away from the informal, peer-to-peer model of accompaniment created by Las Libres in Mexico, losing some of its political potential in the process. This report draws on participatory fieldwork in May and June 2023 with Las Libres, including twenty-four interviews with activists. It provides a preliminary overview of my findings; a comprehensive analysis of the collected data is in process. [End Page 516] The Green Wave ("La Marea Verde"), a dynamic movement advocating for the legalization of abortion across Latin America, has been credited with pushing governments to increase abortion access in Argentina, Colombia, Ecuador, and Mexico by employing a multifaceted strategy of legislative advocacy and grassroots activism.1 The practice of self-managed abortion accompaniment, a community-based model of abortion care, "has emerged as a key strategy of resistance and reproductive justice" in a region where abortion is heavily criminalized but abortion pills have become widely available.2 In response to the failure of their governments to provide safe abortion care, activists are employing autonomous and "de-medicalized approaches . . . following a shared understanding of safe abortion as not only evidence-based, but also a practice that is caring, autonomous, and free of violence, stigma, and judgment."3 Since the early 2000s, Latin American feminists have spread information about how to use Misoprostol (alone or in combination with Mifepristone) to safely induce an abortion at home, facilitated access to these medications, and provided compassionate care and support throughout the process, regardless of the legal restrictions.4 The practice of feminist self-managed [End Page 517] abortion accompaniment is more than just a safe and free "alternative to other clandestine and informal providers whose principal motivation is profit."5 It also promotes peer-to-peer learning, social destigmatization, and radical political change.6 Acompañantes have described their practice as an act of radical trust and "love between women."7 It is in their hands that abortion pills unlock their revolutionary potential to challenge reproductive governance, the mechanisms through which the state, religious, international financial institutions, and other actors seek to control reproductive behavior and population dynamics.8 By expanding their provision of alegal access to abortion to the US, Las Libres and the "Red Transfronteriza" now undermine the authority of both the US and Mexican states to control the bodies of women and pregnant people, and of their for-profit medical...

Serving the Aging:Navigating Elder Care, Domestic Servitude, and Crisis in a Home Away from Home Marshall Azad McCollum (bio) on an evening in 2017, my grandmother and I sat together at the dining room table in her apartment in Dhaka. Between us, on a white lace tablecloth, was an assortment of bowls and plates filled with curries, pulao, homemade tamarind chutney, and neatly sliced onions, chilies, and limes. Everything was carefully prepared to her specifications by Shuli, a newly hired domestic worker. Before we started to eat, she called for some boiled water to wash her hand and give her plate a customary second rinse. After pouring it on her plate, she swirled it around and casually flung the water out an open window behind the table. As she completed her routine, she continued to give instructions to the new maid—training maids has always been my grandmother's responsibility, making the management of their labor a complicated extension of her care. Shuli is a divorced Muslim woman in her early thirties who migrated to Dhaka to look for work in order to support her two elementary-schoolaged children. She is smart and extraverted though she lacks formal education. Despite her taking on the most demanding and essential tasks, her work is undercompensated and overlooked, and she is treated as inferior by nearly everyone who comes to visit or care for my grandmother. [End Page 304] Because my grandmother and I had little communication for the first several decades of my life, meals are times I cherish and are important chances to get caught up on missed conversation. Meals are also, in some ways, deeply uncomfortable because they are times when servitude is most visible. Disentangling the discomfort of witnessing servitude from the discomfort of experiencing it has taken time. My discomfort comes from my own experience with poverty, racism, and marginalization, and the politics of solidarity and resistance I have developed as a result. At first, I was paralyzed by contradiction, and I resisted what felt like complicity by refusing to ask anything of the domestic worker. When visiting my grandmother for the first few years, I moved through the house awkwardly. I kept my door locked to keep the maid from following my grandmother's orders to clean my room. I refused to ask her to cook anything for me or help me in any way. My gut reaction was to not participate in the relationship. However, the more I have interacted with domestic workers and the more I've learned about care, the more I realize that I cannot separate myself so easily. To experience the safety of my grandmother's class status and to build a connection to an elderly family member without having burdensome care responsibilities is to be complicit. Regardless of whether or not I make demands of the maid, I am entangled in this relationship and dependent on her labor. That evening as we sat at the table, I was deeply upset and argued with my grandmother. I told her I thought the way she treated the domestic worker was unacceptable, and I mustered every Bangla word I knew to raise concerns over long hours, low pay, lack of mobility, and unequal treatment. She listened carefully, considered my concerns, and praised me for caring so deeply about those less fortunate than me, even going as far as saying that my dad was the same way and that my grandfather would be so proud. In that moment, I learned that generosity toward the destitute is a hallmark of class responsibility and maintenance, and to my dismay, my argument fit me neatly into that trope. Again and again when I confronted my grandmother about the way she interacted with Shuli, I hit a wall. From my one-man boycott to my passionate arguments, few of my initial interventions altered the relationship. Every loving grandparent makes an effort to instill a sense of selfworth in their grandchildren—to make them feel cared for and important—and my grandmother is no exception. Though she will never know the extent to which I experienced poverty in the United States, she has a [End Page 305] way of...