International social work: Silent testimonies of the coloniality of power

Abstract

This article draws on the author’s personal experiences of engaging in ethically driven research and development in the Caribbean and Central America. Specifically, it explores how issues of transnational identity and belonging are constantly being renegotiated within the colonial matrix, and the position the author was accorded by the actors involved. These complex and nuanced processes led the author to reposition herself in relation to the various discourses shaping the encounters, with positive and negative results. It provides insights on how coloniality of power shapes such processes, creating conditions that bring about tensions and struggles.

Keywords

Caribbean Central America colonial difference coloniality of power Global North-South relations

Introduction

In this article, I examine how ‘coloniality’ affects the process of community consultations as well as partnership development between the Global South and the Global North, particularly in the context of international social work (ISW). The purpose of this article is not to define or engage in a theoretical or political debate about what constitutes ISW. This article understands ISW as the practice of global engagement with those committed to searching for solutions to social problems that transcend geographic boundaries, and come about due to historical global inequalities and/or contemporary oppressions, impacting the wellbeing of individuals, families and communities at large, while at the same time seizing opportunities to further knowledge particularly regarding local/Indigenous social work theory and practice.

Postcolonial and postmodern discourses which originated in Europe and North America have instigated zealous debates about the applicability of these discourses within Latin America: some researchers argue that Latin American countries are still subjected to domination via colonial and imperialist forces (Objío, 2009). Because the term ‘postcolonial’ is not considered applicable in this context, researchers have proposed using the term ‘coloniality’ to describe the Latin American experience. Moraña et al. (2008) defined ‘coloniality’ as a ‘trans historical expansion of colonial domination and its effect in contemporary times’ (p. 2). Quijano (2008) described ‘coloniality’ using a global model of power involving relationships among race, class and gender within the Latin American context. These types of power appear in various forms of discourses and institutional organisations and allow the ongoing domination of Latin America from external colonial power/forces such as Spain, England, the United States and now Canada.

According to Mignolo (2008), colonialism and coloniality must be distinguished: colonialism took place in several waves, while coloniality still exists in the current form of globalisation. Quijano (2000) argued that the eradication of colonialism resulted in racial relations and a global pattern on which modernity has emerged. Castro-Klaren (2008) expanded on this, arguing that coloniality constitutes the ‘underside’ of modernity, the limits of which are still expanding. Castro-Klaren (2008) went on to argue that the ‘coloniality of power’ is enacted within this space through the following stages: (1) classification and reclassification of people who are not colonisers (i.e. Europe and North America); (2) creation of institutions to control and manage colonised populations (e.g. national institutions, international organisations and courts of law); (3) definition of spaces in which regional (developmental) goals are applied (e.g. Latin America); and (4) use of an epistemological perspective that legitimises this form of power and control by the centre of power (pp. 132–4).

ISW is also affected by discourses of coloniality. Globalisation has created challenges and opportunities for social work theory and practice (Dominelli, 2011). Opportunities include contemporary theorising about ISW (Razack, 2005), social work gaining much credence within the global realm (Gray and Fook, 2004), increasing student preparedness in engaging service users (Magnus, 2009; Rebolloso Pacheco et al., 2003), improved cross-cultural communication (Puig and Glynn, 2003) and active engagement in curriculum development about models of international field education (Nuttman-Shwartz and Berger, 2011). Challenges include the ethics of engagement (Parada and Carranza, 2010), North-South relations (Razack, 2000), the need to examine student motivation in relation to international placements to prevent practices that might reinforce oppressive North-South relations (Wehbi, 2009) and the need to revise social work standards to consider the effects of globalisation in developing countries (Alphonse et al., 2009). According to critical scholars from the Global South, globalisation can be understood as the capitalist system’s reconfiguration of power held by the Global North (Objío, 2009). Escobar (2004) argued that in contemporary times, a military-economic-ideological form of imperial globalisation, headed by the United States (and Canada), has the hidden purpose of enforcing the global coloniality that dominates and further marginalises the knowledge and culture of subordinated groups. De Souza Silva and Vega (2004) referred to this as ‘an imperialism without colonies’ (p. 53), adding that the most powerful countries have institutionalised uneven relations, creating an artificial type of ‘legitimate symmetry with the intent to dominate the other’ (p. 54) and that

Our [Latin American] existence develops within a range of discourses and meta-discourses that co-exist within a hierarchical relation. Some are hegemonic discourses – as the power of the discourse is not the same as the discourse of power. The discourse of power is centered in the relevance of the application and implications of its contents … It is [also] centered in particular interests – a hidden agenda of its representatives, but never the interests of the majority. That is the interest of an elite powerful group … Its intent is to justify the injustice of domination. (p. 55)¹

Within this context, ISW is attempting to reposition itself as a profession within the global arena. The Global Agenda for Social Work and Social Development (International Federation of Social Workers, 2010) was developed in response to the globalised context in which the profession is currently practised. Practitioners have worked to align the profession with human rights (Healey, 2009), social justice issues (Jones and Truell, 2012) and resistance (Ferguson and Lavalette, 2009). Much research has been devoted to documenting the learning processes of those from the Global North, particularly with regard to awareness-raising, and critical thinking about issues such as class, race and gender (Wehbi, 2009). These issues are important in a global context because scholars/practitioners bring their acquired knowledge and awareness into their classroom pedagogy, helping students prepare for critical praxis with diverse groups, for example, immigrants and refugees arriving in Canada. However, much of this literature concerns the learning of White-identified people originating in the Global North. On the other hand, this article focuses on the specific complexities and/or constructions of scholars/practitioners with multiple transnational identities working in the Global South.

This article intends to contribute to this body of research through an exploration of my work as someone who embodies multiple identities and ethnicities – including identities that represent the historic North–South encounter. To carry out this intention, I utilise the experiences gained in various projects in the Global South, specifically in Nicaragua (Carranza et al., 2008, 2009, 2010), Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras (Carranza, 2012), the Caribbean, specifically Jamaica (Davis et al., 2011) and Dominican Republic (DR; Parada et al., 2012). These projects involved research and development to address violence, sometimes in communities that have been historically excluded and marginalised, such as Black and Amerindian. Each project involved assessing non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and government institutions charged with the protection of women and children exposed to violence, particularly those from impoverished groups. This was followed by consultations with community leaders and/or community groups in each country. During this process, it was vital for myself and other researcher team members, both from the Global North and the Global South, to rely on the expertise of their local partners with regard to the local socio-political terrain.

Although other team members from the Global South/North were involved in these research/development projects at various times, the next section presents the author’s methods of inquiry utilised in the gathering of field notes – as these pertain only to her own interactions with members of the Global South. The article continues with the narratives on international community engagement and Global North-South tensions. Finally, a discussion about the implications for ISW follows.

Method of inquiry

In this article, I present a critical examination of the intersection of power structures and my own identity and social location, particularly with regard to collective knowledge and how it influences relationship-building within the context of international community engagement and colonial difference.² I did this by analysing ethnographic field notes that I collected between 2005 and 2013, during meetings with managers and front-line staff from NGOs and government institutions in the research sites noted earlier, as well as during meetings with leaders from Indigenous and Black communities. With respect to NGOs and government institutions, each was charged with the development of policy, programmes and services for women and children in their respective countries.

In their seminal work, Emerson et al. (1995) noted that ethnographers tend to jot down regularly and systematically nonverbal cues (e.g. eye gaze, gestures and postures), so they observe and learn while simultaneously participating in daily activities. By accumulating a written record of their observations and experiences, their immersion involves being present with people: experiencing how they respond to events as they happen, as well as experiencing for themselves these events and the circumstances that give rise to them. In other words, researchers are not passive observers: they share everyday life as it happens, thereby entering the ‘matrix of meanings of the people being researched’ (Emerson et al., 1995: 2). This allows them to learn not only what is required to be a member of that world, but also about how they are themselves seen, perceived and treated within such contexts. Field notes include data about social life and social discourse, including sensitivities, meaning and understandings that researchers gather while they observe and participate in the events being described. As such, the field notes presented here pertain to those specifically related to how each context permeated the processes, thus setting the dynamics of each encounter.

To conduct this analysis, I drew upon the concept of ‘standpoint’, defined by Wylie (2003) as ‘critical consciousness about the nature of our social location and the difference it makes epistemically’ (p. 31). Finally, Intemann (2010) conceptualised standpoint as a type of knowledge that is first and foremost attained collectively and that helps reveal how social location shapes and limits scientific inquiry. Stryker and Burke (2000) argued that social-structural contexts affect cognition and behaviours, and that individuals can develop multiple identities by occupying multiple positions in relation to specific contexts, such as ethnic identity. In their seminal work, Quijano and Wallerstein (1992) argued that ethnic identity is fundamentally informed by the coloniality of power:

The set of communal boundaries, into which in part we are put by others, in part we impose upon ourselves, serving to locate our identity and our rank within the state. [These] are always contemporary constructs, and thus always changing. All the major categories, however, we ethnically divide today in the Americas and the world (Native Americans or Indians, Blacks or Negroes, Whites or Creoles/Europeans, Mestizos or other names given to a so called mixed category) – all these categories did not exist prior to the modern world-system … They have become the staples of the entire world-system. (p. 550)

This applies to my own identity and social position, in that I have lived in Canada for more than 28 years; I am a member of the Central America diaspora, a social worker, a registered couple and family therapist, a researcher, an advocate and an educator. I enjoy the privilege of a middle-class income, being heterosexual and being able bodied. In the current North American context, I have been assigned labels such as professor, immigrant and/or refugee, and more often than not a cleaning lady, a nanny or a pupusa-maker.³ I also embody multiple ethnicities and identities, adding complexities beyond the oppressor/oppressed binary. On my paternal side, my grandparents and my great-grandmother were Indigenous (Nahua-Pipil – Mayan descent) and my great-grandfather was a Spaniard. This meant that my abuela (grandmother) was a Mestiza (person of mixed race), and she married a Black man. On my maternal side, my great-grandfather was a Spanish Jew, born and raised in Palestine. He migrated to Central America and married my great-grandmother – also a Mestiza. My abuelo (grandfather) married my abuela, who also embodied mixed ethnicities: Indigenous, Spanish and Black. Needless to say, I grew up surrounded by myriad skin tones and ethnic features. However, due to historical persecution, my Blackness and Jewishness occupied a subordinated position and were closely guarded secrets. My mixed identity, rooted in my indigeneity, was less closely guarded: my Mestizaje appeared to be more welcomed within the social arena. It allowed me access to more resources compared with my relatives who looked more Black or Indigenous, but provided me less access and privileges compared with my White, blue-eyed, blonde cousins, even within my own family. These multiple ethnicities and identities were integral to my international work: each could ‘make it or break it’ – meaning the community engagement needed for successful ethical and responsible ISW.

This article draws on my own Indigenous knowledge: as a Mestiza, I embody the bondage of Indigenous people by colonisers. Some researchers have argued that Indigenous knowledge has been used to resist modern colonial invasions (Dei et al., 2000) and globalisation (or coloniality of power). According to Mazama (2002), Indigenous knowledge is embodied not only physically but also metaphysically as it resides in the spiritual realms of people’s lives. Castellano (2000) noted that Indigenous knowledge encompasses various ways of knowing beyond the cognitive, including intuition and feelings. It is within these various ways of knowing that I myself engage in partnership building and community consultations in the Global South.

Community engagement: Enacting coloniality of power within the colonial difference

The intersection of globalisation and the histories embedded in specific local realities – glocality – appeared to permeate the day-to-day enactment of coloniality of power; as such, the local authors involved positioned themselves differently.

Silent testimonies

Part of my practice, in whatever region I find myself at the time, is to visit the local market (e.g. Masaya⁴ in Nicaragua; el Mercado Modelo⁵ in DR). The purposes of such are various: to stimulate the local economy, to purchase clothing resembling the vestment of the local people, but also to briefly bear witness to people’s day-to-day living outside researcher/participant, academic and formal/business-like settings.

In the community consultations in Nicaragua, local team members⁶ would first introduce the project to get a ‘feel’ for the reactions of the persons we were meeting with. These would vary according to the region. Depending on how the conversation unfolded, local team members would sometimes introduce me as Salvadorian and other times as Canadian. As I began to observe their choice of discourse and become tuned in with what unfolded, I prepared to speak accordingly. On the Atlantic coast, in particular, the people’s perception of my position of Whiteness pervaded our day-to-day interactions.

Resisting the hidden agenda ‘She is Paña’ (White)

The Nicaraguan Atlantic coast is considered an isolated region. It is the home to several Indigenous groups, including the Garifuna and the Mizkitos. Several Indigenous languages are spoken in the area, as well as Spanish and English. Historically, ruling governments have neglected this region, which suffers from extreme poverty; high levels of maternal, neo-natal and infant mortality; and high levels of violence against women and children.

Our local contacts stressed the importance of consulting with rural communities in the region. During initial meetings, locals behaved in a very respectful and almost subservient manner towards me: they bowed their heads, did not make eye contact and would not engage me in any sort of conversation. As these behaviours continued and my own discomfort increased, I asked politely for a break and stepped outside to talk to our local contact, who said,

They just don’t want to talk. They think you’re Paña [White Spaniard]. That is the way they behave with Paña people. You need to either talk to them and tell them that you are not [Paña] and see if it helps or stay outside. (Pearl Lagoon)

After considering the pros and cons, the team decided that I should go back inside and talk about the perceptions of the locals. I informed them that I am not Paña, and stepped outside to allow the conversation to continue without me. As the days proceeded and the team visited other rural places, I would be received with comments such as, ‘Oh you are the Paña who thinks she is not’. After my initial surprise, I decided to self-disclose my Indigeneity, but also acknowledge my Whiteness and Blackness; this became part of my introductory discourse. The interactions changed from fearful respect and mistrust to a welcoming and safe atmosphere. As the interactions continued, people began to disclose their injuries related to historical past encounters with Paña people, which helped clarify their mistrust and feelings of unsafety.

Deferential respect: For the sake of the name

In 1492, Christopher Columbus utilised the DR as the first point of entry to the Americas, beginning with slavery and extinction of the Indigenous population – Tainos. Many Spaniards settled in DR, leaving their wives as they ‘explored’ and conquered the Americas (Objío, 2009). In his seminal work, Martínez-Peláez (1982) posits that historically Spanish women became powerful guards of the established racist system in the Americas. They enforced a general rule – a great distance must be kept from the Indigenous people, due to their ‘inferiority’. Needless to say, throughout the Americas this distance was the groundwork in upholding the ‘imaginary’ of the purity of Whiteness and its civilised culture. I came face-to-face with this imaginary when I was facilitating community consultations in the southern rural areas of DR and I noticed the silent deference and authority that I was given. I could have assumed that it was due to being a professor from the Global North, but to verify my interpretation I asked one of the facilitators⁷ during a recess. He responded,

You are Spanish, right? Spaniards like to be treated with respect and deference … Usually you [Spaniards] get very angry and insulted if such deference is not given … (Villa Altagracia)⁸

I told him that I am not a Spaniard; with a confused look, he responded, ‘But, your last name though …, it’s not very common and is from the Basque region …’. For him, regardless of my efforts to convince him that I was not a Spaniard, my last name was enough evidence that I was!

One of them or one of us?

This theme illustrates the tensions and complexities of the colonial difference, particularly the Global North-South tensions.

Coloured, but not Black enough … White representative?

As a country, Jamaica has experienced a series of oppressions, from capture by the Spanish to the establishment of British Crown Colony. The annihilation of the Indigenous people is one of the most significant historical markers of the country (Charles, 2007). Nonetheless, throughout history Jamaican people have responded with determination and resilience to past and present oppressions (Ford-Smith, 2011). Although I had actively participated in consultations carried out in Kingston, this history of resistance became obvious while carrying out community consultations in Woodside, Jamaica.⁹ One particular group was mistrustful of White people and deliberated about my presence at a particular meeting which was facilitated by team members from the Global North and South – all Black. I was informed later that although I am not White, from the perspective of some of the team members from the Global South, I represented the historically oppressive North American discourse. Hence, I was not able to attend such meetings. Interestingly, at another community gathering also in Woodside, while sitting under a tree, an elderly man intensely gazing at me asked me why I was not taking part in some of the activities taking place. I replied, ‘I think I can’t because I am not Black’. He astounded me by replying, ‘What? … These people can’t see your Blackness … You might not look Black … but you’re Black … your granddaddy was Black! You’re one of us’, as he invited me to walk with him. Needless to say, I was stunned by this remark and thought to myself, ‘How that heck did he know that?’. The next day, as we gathered at another community activity, the same man greeted me and uttered softly, ‘We’re going together’. I obediently, and with no fuss, followed my elder.

A Mestiza living in the North – but worthy of our trust

Unlike the Atlantic coast, the Pacific region (i.e. Estelí, Chinandega, Guasaule – a border town with Honduras) of Nicaragua is highly populated by Mestizos/as. Spanish is the predominant language as a way of communication. The following was a recurring theme: initially, potential partners seemed to distrust me because they perceived me as representing the White oppressive discourse of the Global North. To combat this perception, Nicaraguan team members¹⁰ sought opportunities to make comments such as

Ella vive en Canadá y trabaja en una universidad Canadiense … pero ella es Salvadoreña [She lives in Canada and works in a Canadian university … but (with emphasis) she is Salvadorian. Ella es una de nosotros. Ella es solidaria con su pueblo [She is one of us. She shows solidarity with her people]. We trust her. (Estelí)¹¹

My own intuition was confirmed; when I asked my colleagues about the particularity of the introduction, they responded with a stare, ‘That is the way things are here.’ One of them added,

We are very mistrustful of people who come from the North … We know they always have hidden agendas. Even people who are Nicaraguans or Latin American migrants themselves … we find that when they come back, they have assimilated imperialistic ideas …

In this context, perhaps to test me, participants proceeded to ask about my thoughts on current politics in the region (e.g. violence in El Salvador and Honduras), the current geo-political climate, Global North-South relations and globalisation, and my family in Canada and in El Salvador. At times, they shared their narratives about migration of family members and their struggles to remain connected: the migration narrative became a common bond. Conversations became richer and more intense as we shared our common injuries related to the unequal relations between the Global/South and the coloniality of power. We also formed a kind of solidarity with regard to the oppression that Central Americans face within Latin America and the Global North: Central Americans are considered indignos (unworthy) and inferior due to their Indigeneity, in comparison with other South Americans’ ‘imaginary’ claims of Whiteness/superiority.

An inferior Mestiza

Also during consultations on the Pacific coast of Nicaragua a recurring theme was of disdain towards the team members,¹² including myself. Hence we shifted the discourse to draw heavily on my ‘Canadianness’ such as my citizenship, scholarship and professorship at a highly prestigious Canadian university. On these occasions, I needed to act quickly and read the verbal and nonverbal cues (i.e. frowns and/or indifference), hence demonstrating my fluidity within the North American discourse of knowledge and wealth as a way to gain legitimacy and acceptance. The ensuing conversations became more formal: I watched disdain and frowns turn into welcoming smiles and respectful attitudes. During a debriefing, my intuition was confirmed when I learned that within these particular settings I was initially perceived as a local Mestiza: a subjugated being with nothing to offer. Disclosing my ‘success’ in North America signalled not only my access, but the fact that I had ‘made it’ in the ‘White man’s world’. It also denoted clearly how, in the process of repositioning and gaining legitimacy, I was co-opted into the processes of domination by replicating North-South tensions, hence implicated in maintaining the credence of the cotidianidad (day-to-day) practices of coloniality power.

A Ladina: The oppressor

According to the dominant discourse of any specific time (e.g. colonisation, modernity/progress/globalisation/coloniality of power) and as a method of keeping the social order, Indigenous people of Guatemala have experienced a constant state of structural exclusion and oppression. Some of the historical markers include slavery, labour exploitation, genocide, racialised feminicide and torture (Martínez Salazar, 2012). According to the Summary: Human Development Report (2014) by the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), two out of five people identify as Indigenous. In contemporary times, the economic disparities between Indigenous people and Ladinos (people of mixed ancestry) have significantly broadened; 51% of the total population lives in poverty and 15% lives in extreme poverty (UNDP, 2014). In fact, throughout history, Ladinos have been and continue to be implicated and co-opted in the oppression of Indigenous groups.

In the rural community of San Marcos (borders with Mexico), Guatemala, in partnership with the Panamerican University I consulted with various grassroots organisations such as cooperatives and Indigenous women’s advocates. Much like the Atlantic coast region of Nicaragua, the Indigenous women appeared nervous with my presence. They remained silent, avoided eye contact and behaved in a respectful and subservient manner. This time, I was quick to disclose my Indigeneity and my affinity to Guatemalan Indigenous people by marriage. Once again, this opened up space for participants to tell personal narratives of injuries inflicted by Ladinos in their land, including stories of labour exploitation, historical exclusion and genocide. In contrast, during conversations with government authorities about the structural exclusion Indigenous groups endured in Guatemala, particularly with regard to education, I heard comments like the following:

… [W]ell you are a Ladina. You understand. These people don’t like going to school. They don’t like the Ladinos’ education. They prefer to keep their children at home and send them to work …

Another discourse was the following:

Well you know, these people [Indigenous] are savages. They like their way of life. We [government] try and try to no avail. I myself think they should just stay in their villages. I think we are wasting our resources. They refuse to speak Spanish. You know that is our language …

In this specific local context I was perceived as a Ladina, hence the candidness of the conversations. These kinds of comments seemed to reveal an expectation of collusion with discourses of dominance and oppression. Moreover, embedded in the ‘you know’ was the expected support and common sense in ‘understanding’ the ‘savageness’ of Indigenous people as a legitimate discourse (by the country’s elite groups) for the historic and contemporaneous systemic exclusion and marginalisation they experience.

Discussion

Together, these findings demonstrate how engaging in international social work is a complex and multidimensional process, which takes place within the coloniality of power. International social workers in Latin America need to be aware of these processes of power and domination which permeate relationships across groups, and extend to those belonging to a privileged group such as scholars from the Global North. The findings described here indicate that colonialism was not only key in legitimising the superiority of White people; it also forced subordinate (colonised) people to see themselves through the eyes of the coloniser. This in turn, leads us to internalise distorted views of ourselves. People I encountered ‘located’ me in accordance with the encoded and imaginary ‘colonial grid’ that had been forced upon us. Their perceptions of me were informed by their internalised and subordinated/superior view of themselves in relation to me.

In some cases, I was shocked by the unearned privileges accorded to the writer – particularly the deference and the fear in people’s eyes. These experiences led me to intense critical reflections: I became critically aware of how each ‘ethnicity’ (e.g. White, Mestiza) either granted me unearned privileges or prevented me from accessing key people/communities and local knowledge. The term Mestizo has had negative and positive connotations since its origin. Under colonial rule, such categorisation was less derogatory than being called an India (Indian). Furthermore, Mestizos were considered lower than Criollos (Spaniards born in the colonies) but better/superior than Indigenous peoples and Blacks.

These critical reflections also led me to question discourses about coloniality of power and to reposition myself in relation to the people/group that I was encountering, as I realised we were responding in accordance with each other’s ‘colonial trans-positional cipher’ – the encrypted code forced upon us along with the colonial grid ingrained in our psyche. The colonial difference, our collective memory and trauma due to historical oppression and wounds are played out in daily life, informing our ‘common sense’, meaning-making process and people’s worth or lack thereof – due to perceived inferiority or superiority. For some community partners, the primary interest was rooted in partnering with a White North American individual: hence Whiteness would bring legitimacy to their work, as well as access to resources. Furthermore, socialising with a person from the Global North would increase their social status, both personally and professionally. For other community partners, partnering with a White individual was met with mistrust; for a few, a Mestiza was welcomed and celebrated.

Although colonialism formally ended some time ago, the inherited categorisation of people is still used to navigate human relationships, identities and sense of belonging, as well as perceptions about where particular individuals ought to belong. The themes presented here are of great importance because they help illustrate how the coloniality of power is embodied in daily life: the colonial grid and colonial difference are deeply rooted in people’s minds. In turn, we produce ‘encoded colonial transpositions’: bonded perceptions of the self and each other. These relate to the various transmuted responses (verbal and nonverbal) that I observed during consultations, for example, tone of voice and subordinate and/or passive body language, postures and reactions. I too was co-opted in this process. For example, when I felt a sense of dismissal from NGO staff members, my intuitive self informed me that they perceived me as a local Indigenous or a local Mestiza woman and therefore ‘inferior’ and of no use to them. In turn, I repositioned myself by claiming my acquired middle-class status, Canadian citizenship and privileged position as a scholar at a prestigious Canadian university. When Indigenous and Black individuals reacted to me with fear, submissiveness and silence, I positioned myself in terms of my marginality in Canada as a racialised immigrant woman, claiming my Indigeneity and historical injuries of the colonial difference. Together, we all enacted the axiological ontology of the colonial difference. That is, the coloniality of being in which we are all implicated.

My Indigenous knowledge was key in decoding the colonial transpositions in challenging the oppressive system informing the process of relation building. For scholars from the Global North, this will require an acute awareness of the silent testimonies of resistance occurring in the Global South. The coloniality of power manifests in daily life, as part of ‘common sense’ to ensure ‘normal’ and ‘respectful’ relations, hence maintaining the structures of power and avoiding further adverse consequences. Social workers engaged in international social work need to be prepared to enlist in deep critical reflexivity to investigate how colonial discourses permeate their international relationships.

Footnotes

Funding

Funding for the various research projects was obtained from the Social Science and Humanities Council (SSHRC) - Connections Grants, the Canada-Latin America and the Caribbean Research Exchanges (LACREG), Department of Foreign Affairs, Trade and Development (DFATD), McMaster University’s ARB-Major Research Initiatives Funds, and UNIFEM-Nicaragua.

Notes

Author biography

Mirna Carranza holds a Ph.D. in Family Relations and Human Development. Her most recent work focuses on gender violence, particularly trafficking for the purpose of commercial sexual exploitation and the postwar effects of violence in El Salvador, Guatemala and Nicaragua, specifically with historically excluded groups such as women and children of Indigenous and Black heritage.

References

Alphonse

George

Moffat

(2009) ‘Redefining Social Work Standards in the Context of Globalization: Lessons from India’, International Social Work 51(2): 145–58.

Carranza

M.E.

(2012) Community Engagement in Central America. Hamilton, ON, Canada: McMaster University.

Carranza

M.E.

Parada

López Herrera

L.A.

Torres

A.I.

Jiménez

Acuña Urbina

(2008) Empowering Women against the Commercial Sexual Exploitation of Children: Developing an International Partnership for Research and Action. Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) (Unpublished, grant awarded).

Carranza

M.E.

Parada

López Herrera

L.A.

Torres

A.I.

Jiménez

Acuña Urbina

(2009) Children and Women Trafficking within the Central American Forced Migrations – Nicaragua’s Experience. Hamilton, ON, Canada: Arts Research Board (ARB), McMaster University.

Carranza

M.E.

Parada

López Herrera

L.A.

Torres

A.I.

Jiménez

Acuña Urbina

(2010) Forced Migration: Children and Women Trafficking within Central America – Nicaragua’s Experience I. Latin American Canadian Research Educational Grants (LACREG) (Unpublished, grant awarded).

Castellano

M.B.

(2000) ‘Updating Aboriginal Traditions of Knowledge’, in Dei

Hall

Rosenberg

(eds) Indigenous Knowledges in the Global Context: Multiple Readings of the World, pp. 21–36. Toronto, ON, Canada: University of Toronto Press.

Castro-Klaren

(2008) ‘Posting Letters: Writing in the Andes and the Paradox of the Colonial Debate’, in Moraña

Dussel

Jáuregui

C.A.

(eds) Coloniality at Large: Latin America and the Postcolonial Debate, pp. 130–57. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

Charles

(2007) Jamaica and the People’s Struggle for Survival, 1st edn. Kingston, Jamaica: PC Publishers Limited.

Davis

James

Carranza

M.E.

Cumming

Simmons

Cadel

Foster

Maclure

Williams

Allen

Palmer

Manley

(2011) Youth and Community Development in Canada and Jamaica: A Transnational Approach to Youth Violence. Social Science and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) (Unpublished, award granted).

10.

De Souza Silva

Vega

M. C.

(2004) ‘La farsa del “desarrollo.” Del colonialismo imperial al imperialismo sin colonias’, in Molina

M. L.

(ed.) La Cuestión Social de la Formación Profesional del Trabajo Social en el Contexto de las Nuevas Relaciones de Poder y la Diversidad Latinoamericana (XVIII Seminario Latinoamericano de Escuelas de Trabajo Social), pp. 51–92. Buenos Aires, Argentina: Espacio Editorial.

11.

Dei

G.J.S.

Hall

Rosenberg

D.G.

(2000) (eds) Indigenous Knowledges in the Global Context: Multiple Readings of the World. Toronto, ON, Canada: University of Toronto Press.

12.

Dominelli

(2011) ‘Globalization: New Challenges and Opportunities for Social Work’, International Social Work 54(1): 3–6.

13.

Emerson

R.M.

Fretz

R.I.

Shaw

(1995) Writing Ethnographic Fieldnotes. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press.

14.

Escobar

(2004) ‘Beyond the Third World: Imperial Globality, Global Coloniality and Anti-globalization Social Movements’, Third World Quarterly 25(1): 207–30.

15.

Ferguson

Lavalette

(2009) ‘Globalization and Global Justice: Towards a Social Work of Resistance’, International Social Work 49(3): 309–18.

16.

Ford-Smith

(2011) 3 Jamaican Plays: A Postcolonial Anthology (1977–1987). Kingston, Jamaica: Paul Issa Publications.

17.

Gray

Fook

(2004) ‘The Quest for a Universal Social Work: Some Issues and Implications’, Social Work Education 23(5): 625–44.

18.

Healey

L.M.

(2009) ‘Exploring the History of Social Work as a Human Rights Profession’, International Social Work 51(6): 735–48.

19.

Intemann

(2010) ‘25 Years of Feminist Empiricism and Standpoint Theory: Where Are We Now?’, Hypatia 25(4): 778–96.

20.

International Federation of Social Workers (2010) Global Agenda on Social Work and Social Development. Berne: International Federation of Social Workers.

21.

Jones

D.N.

Truell

(2012) ‘The Global Agenda for Social Work and Social Development: A Place to Link Together and Be Effective in a Globalized World’, International Social Work 55(4): 454–72.

22.

Magnus

(2009) ‘Preparation for Social Work Students to do Cross-cultural Clinical Practice’, International Social Work 52(3): 375–85.

23.

Martínez-Peláez

(1982) La Patria del Criollo. Ensayo de interpretación de la realidad colonial Guatemalteca, 2nd edn. Puebla, México: Universidad Autónoma de Puebla.

24.

Martínez Salazar

(2012) Global Coloniality of Power in Guatemala: Racism, Genocide, Citizenship. Toronto, ON, Canada: Lexington Books.

25.

Mazama

M.A.

(2002) ‘Afrocentricity and African Spirituality’, Journal of Black Studies 32(2): 218–34.

26.

Mignolo

(2000) Local Histories/Global Designs: Essays on the Coloniality of Power, Subaltern Knowledges and Border Thinking. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

27.

Mignolo

(2008) ‘The Geopolitics of Knowledge and the Colonial Difference’, in Moraña

Dussel

Jáuregui

C.A.

(eds) Coloniality at Large: Latin America and the Postcolonial Debate, pp. 225–58. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

28.

Moraña

Dussel

Jáuregui

C.A.

(2008) Coloniality at Large: Latin America and the Postcolonial Debate. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

29.

Nuttman-Shwartz

Berger

(2011) ‘Field Education in International Social Work: Where We Are and Where Should We Go’, International Social Work 55(2): 225–43.

30.

Objío

(2009) Meollos Dominicanos: Ensayos sobre Sociedad, Historia y Cultura. Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic: Editora Universitaria – Universidad Autónoma de Santo Domingo (UASD).

31.

Parada

Carranza

M.E.

(2010) Research, Development and the Ethic of Engagement (Critical International Social Work: Brown Bag Series). Toronto, ON, Canada: Ryerson University.

32.

Parada

Carranza

M.E.

Wehbi

George

Moffatt

Silver

Zanchetta

Lee

Guta

Duval

de la Rosa

Aras

Burgos

Rodriguez

Asuad

M.E.

(2012) Children and Youth Human Rights Empowerment Project. Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) (Unpublished, award granted).

33.

Puig

M.E.

Glynn

J.B.

(2003) ‘Disaster Responders: A Cross-cultural Approach to Recovery and Relief Work’, Journal of Social Service Research 30(2): 55–66.

34.

Quijano

(2000) ‘El fantasma del desarrollo en America Latina’, in Acosta

(ed.) El Desarrollo en la Globalization: El Reto de America Latina, pp. 11–26. Quito, Ecuador: Editorial Nueva Sociedad; ILDIS.

35.

Quijano

(2008) ‘Coloniality of Power, Eurocentrism and Latin America’, in Moraña

Dussel

Jáuregui

C.A.

(eds) Coloniality at Large: Latin America and the Postcolonial Debate, pp. 181–224. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

36.

Quijano

Wallerstein

(1992) ‘“Americanity” as a Concept, or the Americas in the Modern World-system’, International Social Science Journal 29: 549–57.

37.

Razack

(2000) ‘North/South Collaborations: Affecting Transnational Perspectives for Social Work’, Journal of Progressive Human Services 11(1): 71–91.

38.

Razack

(2005) ‘Decolonizing the Pedagogy and Practices of International Social Work’, International Social Work 52(1): 9–21.

39.

Rebolloso Pacheco

Hernandez Plaza

Fernandez-Ramirez

Canton Andres

(2003) ‘The Implications of Immigration for the Training of Social Work Professionals in Spain’, British Journal of Social Work 33(1): 49–65.

40.

Stryker

Burke

P.J.

(2000) ‘The Past, the Present and the Future of an Identity Theory’, Social Psychology Quarterly 63(4): 284–97.

41.

United Nations Development Program (UNDP) (2014) Summary: Human Development Report, Sustaining Human Progress: Reducing vulnerabilities and building resilience. Washington DC, USA.

42.

Wehbi

(2009) ‘Deconstructing Motivations: Challenging International Social Work Placements’, International Social Work 52(1): 48–59.

43.

Wylie

(2003) ‘Why Standpoint Matters’, in Figueroa

Harding

(eds) Science and Other Cultures: Issues and Philosophies of Science and Technology, pp. 26–48. New York: Routledge.