Amy Reed-Sandoval

In this essay I explore how travel and border-crossing for abortion care constitutes a challenge to methodological nationalism, which serves to obscure such experiences from view. Drawing up field research conducted at two abortion clinics in Albuquerque, New Mexico, I also explore some implications of regarding pregnant people who travel for abortion care as a type of migrant, even if they are U.S. citizens and legal residents. Finally, I assess how this discursive shift can make important contributions to pandemic and migration ethics.

Indigenous migration from Latin America to the United States has been on the rise over the past decades. There has also been an increase in Indigenous self‐identification amongst people in the United States who previously self‐identified as Hispanic or Latina/o on census forms. Though Latin American Indigenous migration to the United States has been steadily on the rise since the 1990s, there remains a lack of resources—philosophical, political, and bureaucratic—to account for this migrant group. My goal in this article is to explore in greater depth why Latin American Indigenous migration is hermeneutically marginalised. First, I argue that we problematically fail to understand settler‐state borders—particularly the Mexico‐US border—as, in part, Indigenous spaces. Second, and relatedly, I argue that our failure to understand borders as Indigenous spaces is connected to the widespread, inaccurate presumption that Indigenous peoples ‘lose their authenticity’ (and, in turn, their very Indigenous identities) upon crossing settler‐state borders. Contrary to what I describe as the dominant view of borders as de‐Indigenised or non‐Indigenous spaces, I argue in that many settler‐state borders are spaces where Indigenous peoples, including Indigenous migrants, may experience their Indigenous identities intimately, and even publicly articulate and defend them. Importantly, this does not mean that settler‐state borders do not also harm Indigenous peoples by threating Indigenous sovereignty. I end by arguing that addressing the hermeneutical marginalisation of Latin American Indigenous migration requires a rigorous reconceptualisation of borders themselves as Indigenous spaces.

The experiences of working-class people and those from communities of color seeking abortions in the United States before and during COVID-19 call for feminist, relational pandemic ethics. Françoise Baylis and colleagues argue for public health ethics that emphasize relational personhood, relational autonomy, social justice, and solidarity. COVID-19 abortion bans in the United States require vigilance against powerful actors who abuse these values—particularly that of solidarity—to further their political, religious, and/or economic agendas in harmful ways. Thus, efforts to promote solidarity during a pandemic must attend to social injustice and systemic oppression and provide resources to vulnerable people.

In response to the Eighth Amendment to the Constitution of Ireland, which states that the fetus and the mother have equal rights to life and that nearly all abortions are therefore illegal, many Irish feminists sported luggage tags that read “HEALTHCARE NOT AIRFARE.” The expression—which recently became a popular twitter hashtag for pro‐choice citizens of Ireland leading up to the historic referendum to repeal that abortion ban—refers to the fact that pregnant women from Ireland have long been forced to travel to other European countries in order to legally terminate their pregnancies. In the United States, there is also a deep and challenging relationship between borders and reproductive health. However, that relationship is not understood as clearly as it appears to be in the Irish context. We urgently need to pay careful attention to the interconnections between U.S. border politics and reproductive health care access and to take concrete steps to address resultant injustices.

This article seeks to explore ways in which pre-college pedagogical resources – particularly Critical Race Pedagogy developed for high school students, as well as Philosophy for Children – can be helpfully employed by college level instructors who wish to dialogue with students about the nature of race and racial oppression. More specifically, we wish to explore how P4C can both learn from, and be put to the service of, CRP, and how this provides a useful framework for philosophical conversations about race at the college and pre-college levels. Our arguments are interwoven with narratives of our personal experiences utilising these pre-college pedagogical resources in conversations about race, so as to illustrate and provide context for our claims. We ultimately contend that these resources can help pedagogues in both higher and lower education work toward unmuting the voices of undervalued and underserved students in the United States.

"What does it really mean to "be undocumented," particularly in the contemporary United States? Political philosophers, policymakers and others often define the term "undocumented migrant" legalistically-that is, in terms of lacking legal authorization to live and work in one's current country of residence. Socially Undocumented: Identity and Immigration Justice challenges such a pure "legalistic understanding" by arguing that being undocumented should not always be conceptualized along such lines. To be socially undocumented, it argues, is to possess a real, visible, and embodied social identity that does not always track one's actual legal status in the United States. By integrating a descriptive/phenomenological account of socially undocumented identity with a normative/political account of how the oppression with which it is associated ought to be dealt with as a matter of social justice, this book offers a new vision of immigration ethics. It addresses concrete ethical challenges associated with immigration, such as the question of whether open borders are morally required, the militarization of the Mexico-U.S. border, the perilous journey that many Mexican and Central American migrants undertake to get to the United States, the difficult experiences of many socially undocumented women who cross U.S. borders to seek prenatal care while visibly pregnant, and more"--

In this paper, I explore how Philosophy for Children classes can contribute to decolonization efforts. I begin by describing what I mean by both “coloniality” and “decolonization.” Second, I provide a sketch of what P4C classes frequently entail and motivate the case for P4C as a “decolonizing methodology.” Third, I engage a series of decolonial critiques of P4C classes. Finally, I explore ways in which P4C can contribute to decolonization efforts if reformed in response to these critiques. Throughout this paper, I shall draw upon examples from my experiences teaching P4C at the Mexico-U.S. border and in Oaxaca.

In this essay I aim to broaden this discussion of positionality in Philosophy for Children in order to explore the ways that sociopolitical and philosophical context can impact the sorts of questions and discussions generated by children in P4C programs. In particular, I show how the context of Oaxaca City shapes the philosophical contributions of the children of the Oaxaca Philosophy for Children Initiative—in a way that often challenges western philosophical frameworks. I use the narrative of the Oaxaca Philosophy for Children Initiative to argue for a "place-based P4C" in which the instructor often learns far more philosophy than she teaches

In this paper, I argue that deportations often serve as “theaters of inequality” that reinforce the unjust, widely held perception that Latina/os and Latin Americans do not belong in the United States and can therefore be treated as inferiors. My analysis focuses on the United States but is intended to be applicable to other states and contexts. Working within a relational egalitarian framework, I argue that in those cases where deportations constitute theaters of inequality, they are unjust and prima facie impermissible.