Academic literature on the topic 'American Lutheran Church (1930-1960)'

The medical work carried out by Dr. Anna Sarah Kugler in the town of Guntur (1880–1930), which was a part of the Telugu speaking region of the erstwhile Madras Presidency, as a foreign medical missionary associated with the mission field of the then General Synod of the Lutheran Church in America, constitutes a significant phase in the history of medicine and gender in South India. Despite bringing about visible changes in gender perceptions of medical professions, strangely, she or her work finds no mention in the social science literature on history of medicine in modern South India in general and coastal Andhra Pradesh in particular. This paper explores the nature and patterns of definitive changes that gender roles and patriarchal structures among the Telugus residing in coastal Andhra Pradesh have undergone after coming under the influence of a mission hospital in Guntur established by Dr. Anna Sarah Kugler. By doing so, it also brings out an analysis on how this medical institution transformed the firmly-held traditional perceptions and stereotypes on the sources of illness, disease, and treatments, and in turn laid the foundation for modern medicine to establish itself in South India.

LANGER, Susanne Katherina. The Lord of Creation. Fortune Magazine, v. 30. P. 127-154. 1994.2 O senhor da Criação Resumo: Neste artigo, publicado pela revista Fortune em 1944, a filósofa estadunidense Susanne K. Langer retoma temas fundamentais de sua obra mais célebre, Filosofia em nova chave, cuja primeira edição data de 1942. Em linguagem acessível destinada a público não especializado, a autora sintetiza sua concepção antropológica, visitando questões como a especificidade de nossa mentalidade; a distinção entre os signos e os símbolos, assim como entre as esferas do real e do possível; a transformação simbólica; a essência da linguagem; a relevância de formas articuladas não discursivas para a expressão e a cognição humanas; a conexão entre a razão e a loucura. Para além de uma mera síntese, Langer relaciona, de modo sagaz e oportuno, tais aspectos ao período de guerra no qual escreveu este artigo, ao observar, como sintoma da crise cultural de então, a perda de referências simbólicas e a substituição dos antigos símbolos (míticos e religiosos) por aquele do nacionalismo. Palavras-chave: expressão; signo; símbolo; linguagem; crise da cultura The Lord of Creation Abstract: The American philosopher Susanne K. Langer reviews, in this article, published by Fortune Magazine in 1944, some fundamental themes of her most renowned work, Philosophy in a New Key, firstly edited in 1942. The author sums up her anthropological conception, through an accessible language intended to a general public, examining topics such as the specific trait of our mentality; the distinction between signs and symbols, as well as between the domains of the real and the possible; symbolic transformation; the essence of language; the importance of non-discursive articulate forms for human expression and cognition; the relationship between reason and lunacy. In addition to that synthesis, Langer relates those aspects, in an insightful and opportune way, to the war period when this article was written, observing, as a symptom of the cultural crisis of that time, the loss of symbolic references and the substitution of the old symbols (mythical and religious) for the one of nationalism. Keywords: expression; sign; symbol; language; crisis of culture El Señor de la Creación Resumen: En este artículo, publicado por la revista Fortune en 1944, la filósofa estadounidense Susanne K. Langer reanuda temas fundamentales de su más célebre obra, Nueva clave de la filosofía, cuya primera edición data de 1942. Por medio de un lenguaje accesible destinado a un público no especializado, la autora sintetiza su concepción antropológica, examinando cuestiones como la especificidad de nuestra mentalidad; la distinción entre los signos y los símbolos, así como entre los campos de lo real y de lo posible; la transformación simbólica; la esencia del lenguaje; el importante rol de las formas articuladas no discursivas para la expresión y la cognición humanas; la conexión entre razón y locura. Más que una mera síntesis, Langer relaciona esos aspectos de modo agudo y oportuno, al período de guerra en el cual escribió este artículo, al observar, como síntoma de la crisis cultural de entonces, la pérdida de referencias simbólicas y la sustitución de los antiguos símbolos (míticos y religiosos) por aquel del nacionalismo. Palabras clave: expresión; signo; símbolo; lenguaje; crisis de la cultura Data de registro: 28/10/2022 Data de aceite: 01/02/2023 2 Susanne Katherina Knauth nasceu em 20 de dezembro de 1895, na cidade de Nova Iorque, de pais imigrantes alemães, que cultivavam forte apreço pela música e pela literatura. Tal herança familiar se fez notar, desde cedo, em Susanne, que, em sua infância e adolescência, interessou-se pelo estudo do piano, assim como pela escrita e pela ilustração de poemas e contos. Também revelou seu genuíno interesse pela filosofia ainda menina, quando leu, aos doze anos de idade, a Crítica da razão pura, de Kant, no original alemão. Em 1916, ingressou, como aluna de Filosofia, no Radcliffe College, instituição de ensino superior destinada a moças da elite, cujo corpo docente era constituído por professores da Universidade de Harvard, numa época em que essa universidade atendia exclusivamente estudantes do gênero masculino. Paralelamente aos estudos acadêmicos, teve aulas de violoncelo, teoria e composição musical. Graduou-se em Filosofia em 1920, tendo como orientador o lógico Henry Sheffer, que exerceria importante sobre suas concepções de lógica e de forma. Casou-se, em 1921, com o historiador William L. Langer, cujo sobrenome adotou e conservou, mesmo após seu divórcio, em 1942. Seguiu seus estudos de pós-graduação no Radcliffe College, com a dissertação de mestrado Eduard von Hartmann’s Notion of Unconscious Mind and its Metaphysical Implication (1924) e a tese de doutorado A Logical Analysis of Meaning (1926), esta sob a orientação de Alfred Whitehead. Tornou-se tutora de Filosofia no Radcliffe College, em 1927, e fundou, juntamente com C. I. Lewis, Alonzo Church, W. V. Quine, a Associação para Lógica Simbólica, em meados de 1930. Atuou, a partir de 1943, em cargos temporários como docente em diversas instituições de ensino nos EUA, até assumir o primeiro posto permanente num departamento de Filosofia (Connecticut College), em 1954. Recebeu o título de doutora honoris causa de diversas escolas e universidades, incluindo a Columbia University, e foi eleita, em 1960, para a Academia Americana de Artes e Ciências. Foi agraciada com dois fundos de pesquisa: o primeiro, da Fundação Rockefeller (1946-1950), que viabilizou a escrita de Sentimento e forma (1953), e o segundo, da Fundação Kaufmann (1957-1982), que, em sua terceira idade, permitiu-lhe desligar-se de modo definitivo da docência e dedicar-se com exclusividade à pesquisa e à preparação da trilogia Mind: an Essay on Human Feeling (1967, 1971 e 1982). Sua produção filosófica pode ser dividida em três fases: a primeira, que cobre as décadas de 1920 e 1930, focalizada na lógica e na epistemologia [The Practice of Philosophy (1930) e An Introduction to Symbolic Logic (1937)]; a segunda, que cobre as décadas de 1940 e 1950, focalizada na filosofia da ciência, da cultura e da arte, marcada por forte influência de Ernst Cassirer [Filosofia em nova chave: um estudo do simbolismo da razão, rito e arte (1942); Sentimento e forma e Problems of Art (1957)]; e a terceira, que abrange do início da década de 1960 ao início da década de 1980, dirigida à filosofia da mente, à questão do sentimento e à cognição incorporada, numa abordagem em rico diálogo com as ciências empíricas [Ensaios filosóficos (1961) e os três volumes de Mind]. Embora tenha se voltado a diferentes áreas de estudo, a autora destacou-se, sobretudo, por sua filosofia da arte, que despertou o interesse não só de teóricos, mas também de artistas. Seu livro mais conhecido, Filosofia em nova chave, no qual intuiu, a partir da música, uma possível significação para a arte em geral, obteve incomum sucesso para um título filosófico: estima-se que, somando todas as suas edições e traduções em dez idiomas, ele tenha vendido 560.000 exemplares. Fontes: CHAPLIN, Adrienne Dengerink. The Philosophy of Susanne Langer: Embodied Meaning in Logic, Art and Feeling. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2020; DRYDEN, Donald. “Susanne K. Langer”. In: DEMATTEIS, Philip B. (ed.); McHENRY, Leemon B. (ed.). Dictionary of Literary Biography, v. 270: American Philosophers before 1950. Farmington Hills (Michigan): Gale Research, 2002. p. 189-199.

What we wear signals our membership within groups, be theyorganised by gender, class, ethnicity or religion. Simultaneously our clothing signifies hierarchies and power relations that sustain dominant power structures. How we dress is an expression of our identity. For Veblen, how we dress expresses wealth and social stratification. In imitating the fashion of the wealthy, claims Simmel, we seek social equality. For Barthes, clothing is embedded with systems of meaning. For Hebdige, clothing has modalities of meaning depending on the wearer, as do clothes for gender (Davis) and for the body (Entwistle). For Maynard, “dress is a significant material practice we use to signal our cultural boundaries, social separations, continuities and, for the present purposes, political dissidences” (103). Clothing has played a central role in historical and contemporary forms of political dissent. During the French Revolution dress signified political allegiance. The “mandated costumes, the gold-braided coat, white silk stockings, lace stock, plumed hat and sword of the nobility and the sober black suit and stockings” were rejected as part of the revolutionary struggle (Fairchilds 423). After the storming of the Bastille the government of Paris introduced the wearing of the tricolour cockade, a round emblem made of red, blue and white ribbons, which was a potent icon of the revolution, and a central motif in building France’s “revolutionary community”. But in the aftermath of the revolution divided loyalties sparked power struggles in the new Republic (Heuer 29). In 1793 for example anyone not wearing the cockade was arrested. Specific laws were introduced for women not wearing the cockade or for wearing it in a profane manner, resulting in six years in jail. This triggered a major struggle over women’s abilities to exercise their political rights (Heuer 31).Clothing was also central to women’s political struggles in America. In the mid-nineteenth century, women began wearing the “reform dress”—pants with shortened, lightweight skirts in place of burdensome and restrictive dresses (Mas 35). The wearing of pants, or bloomers, challenged gender norms and demonstrated women’s agency. Women’s clothes of the period were an "identity kit" (Ladd Nelson 22), which reinforced “society's distinctions between men and women by symbolizing their natures, roles, and responsibilities” (Ladd Nelson 22, Roberts 555). Men were positioned in society as “serious, active, strong and aggressive”. They wore dark clothing that “allowed movement, emphasized broad chests and shoulders and presented sharp, definite lines” (Ladd Nelson 22). Conversely, women, regarded as “frivolous, inactive, delicate and submissive, dressed in decorative, light pastel coloured clothing which inhibited movement, accentuated tiny waists and sloping shoulders and presented an indefinite silhouette” (Ladd Nelson 22, Roberts 555). Women who challenged these dress codes by wearing pants were “unnatural, and a perversion of the “true” woman” (Ladd Nelson 22). For Crane, the adoption of men’s clothing by women challenged dominant values and norms, changing how women were seen in public and how they saw themselves. The wearing of pants came to “symbolize the movement for women's rights” (Ladd Nelson 24) and as with women in France, Victorian society was forced to consider “women's rights, including their right to choose their own style of dress” (Ladd Nelson 23). As Yangzom (623) puts it, clothing allows groups to negotiate boundaries. How the “embodiment of dress itself alters political space and civic discourse is imperative to understanding how resistance is performed in creating social change” (Yangzom 623). Fig. 1: 1850s fashion bloomersIn a different turn is presented in Mahatma Gandhi’s Khadi movement. Khadi is a term used for fabrics made on a spinning wheel (or charkha) or hand-spun and handwoven, usually from cotton fibre. Khadi is considered the “fabric of Indian independence” (Jain). Gandhi recognised the potential of the fabric to a self-reliant, independent India. Gandhi made the struggle for independence synonymous with khadi. He promoted the materials “simplicity as a social equalizer and made it the nation’s fabric” (Sinha). As Jain notes, clothing and in this case fabric, is a “potent sign of resistance and change”. The material also reflects consciousness and agency. Khadi was Gandhi’s “own sartorial choices of transformation from that of an Englishman to that of one representing India” (Jain). For Jain the “key to Khadi becoming a successful tool for the freedom struggle” was that it was a “material embodiment of an ideal” that “represented freedom from colonialism on the one hand and a feeling of self-reliance and economic self-sufficiency on the other”. Fig. 2: Gandhi on charkha The reappropriating of Khadi as a fabric of political dissent echoes the wearing of blue denim by the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) at the 1963 National Mall Washington march where 250,000 people gather to hear Martin Luther King speak. The SNCC formed in 1960 and from then until the 1963 March on Washington they developed a “style aesthetic that celebrated the clothing of African American sharecroppers” (Ford 626). A critical aspect civil rights activism by African America women who were members of the SNCC was the “performance of respectability”. With the moral character of African American women under attack (as a way of delegitimising their political activities), the female activists “emphasized the outward display of their respectability in order to withstand attacks against their characters”. Their modest, neat “as if you were going to church” (Chappell 96) clothing choices helped them perform respectability and this “played an important performative role in the black freedom struggle” (Ford 626). By 1963 however African American female civil rights activists “abandoned their respectable clothes and processed hairstyles in order to adopt jeans, denim skirts, bib-and-brace overalls”. The adoption of bib-and-brace overalls reflected the sharecropper's blue denim overalls of America’s slave past.For Komar the blue denim overalls “dramatize[d] how little had been accomplished since Reconstruction” and the overalls were practical to fix from attack dog tears and high-pressure police hoses. The blue denim overalls, according to Komar, were also considered to be ‘Negro clothes’ purchased by “slave owners bought denim for their enslaved workers, partly because the material was sturdy, and partly because it helped contrast them against the linen suits and lace parasols of plantation families”. The clothing choice was both practical and symbolic. While the ‘sharecropper’ narrative is problematic as ‘traditional’ clothing (something not evident in the case of Ghandi’s Khandi Movement, there is an emotion associated with the clothing. As Barthes (6-7) has shown, what makes ‘traditional clothing,’ traditional is that it is part of a normative system where not only does clothing have its historical place, but it is governed by its rules and regimentation. Therefore, there is a dialectical exchange between the normative system and the act of dressing where as a link between the two, clothing becomes the conveyer of its meanings (7). Barthes calls this system, langue and the act of dressing parole (8). As Ford does, a reading of African American women wearing what she calls a “SNCC Skin” “the uniform [acts] consciously to transgress a black middle-class worldview that marginalised certain types of women and particular displays of blackness and black culture”. Hence, the SNCC women’s clothing represented an “ideological metamorphosis articulated through the embrace and projection of real and imagined southern, working-class, and African American cultures. Central to this was the wearing of the blue denim overalls. The clothing did more than protect, cover or adorn the body it was a conscious “cultural and political tool” deployed to maintain a movement and build solidarity with the aim of “inversing the hegemonic norms” via “collective representations of sartorial embodiment” (Yangzom 622).Fig. 3: Mississippi SNCC March Coordinator Joyce Ladner during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom political rally in Washington, DC, on 28 Aug. 1963Clothing in each of these historical examples performs an ideological function that can bridge, that is bring diverse members of society together for a cause, or community cohesion or clothing can act as a fence to keep identities separate (Barnard). This use of clothing is evident in two indigenous examples. For Maynard (110) the clothes worn at the 1988 Aboriginal ‘Long March of Freedom, Justice and Hope’ held in Australia signalled a “visible strength denoted by coherence in dress” (Maynard 112). Most noted was the wearing of colours – black, red and yellow, first thought to be adopted during protest marches organised by the Black Protest Committee during the 1982 Commonwealth Games in Brisbane (Watson 40). Maynard (110) describes the colour and clothing as follows:the daytime protest march was dominated by the colours of the Aboriginal people—red, yellow and black on flags, huge banners and clothing. There were logo-inscribed T-shirts, red, yellow and black hatband around black Akubra’s, as well as red headbands. Some T-shirts were yellow, with images of the Australian continent in red, others had inscriptions like 'White Australia has a Black History' and 'Our Land Our Life'. Still others were inscribed 'Mourn 88'. Participants were also in customary dress with body paint. Older Indigenous people wore head bands inscribed with the words 'Our Land', and tribal elders from the Northern Territory, in loin cloths, carried spears and clapping sticks, their bodies marked with feathers, white clay and red ochres. Without question, at this most significant event for Aboriginal peoples, their dress was a highly visible and cohesive aspect.Similar is the Tibetan Freedom Movement, a nonviolent grassroots movement in Tibet and among Tibet diaspora that emerged in 2008 to protest colonisation of Tibet. It is also known as the ‘White Wednesday Movement’. Every Wednesday, Tibetans wear traditional clothes. They pledge: “I am Tibetan, from today I will wear only Tibetan traditional dress, chuba, every Wednesday”. A chuba is a colourful warm ankle-length robe that is bound around the waist by a long sash. For the Tibetan Freedom Movement clothing “symbolically functions as a nonverbal mechanism of communication” to “materialise consciousness of the movement” and functions to shape its political aims (Yangzom 622). Yet, in both cases – Aboriginal and Tibet protests – the dress may “not speak to single cultural audience”. This is because the clothing is “decoded by those of different political persuasions, and [is] certainly further reinterpreted or reframed by the media” (Maynard 103). Nevertheless, there is “cultural work in creating a coherent narrative” (Yangzom 623). The narratives and discourse embedded in the wearing of a red, blue and white cockade, dark reform dress pants, cotton coloured Khadi fabric or blue denim overalls is likely a key feature of significant periods of political upheaval and dissent with the clothing “indispensable” even if the meaning of the clothing is “implied rather than something to be explicated” (Yangzom 623). On 21 January 2017, 250,000 women marched in Washington and more than two million protesters around the world wearing pink knitted pussy hats in response to the remarks made by President Donald Trump who bragged of grabbing women ‘by the pussy’. The knitted pink hats became the “embodiment of solidarity” (Wrenn 1). For Wrenn (2), protests such as this one in 2017 complete with “protest visuals” which build solidarity while “masking or excluding difference in the process” indicates “a tactical sophistication in the social movement space with its strategic negotiation of politics of difference. In formulating a flexible solidarity, the movement has been able to accommodate a variety of races, classes, genders, sexualities, abilities, and cultural backgrounds” (Wrenn 4). In doing so they presented a “collective bodily presence made publicly visible” to protest racist, sexist, homophobic, Islamophobic, and xenophobic white masculine power (Gokariksel & Smith 631). The 2017 Washington Pussy Hat March was more than an “embodiment tactic” it was an “image event” with its “swarms of women donning adroit posters and pink pussy hats filling the public sphere and impacting visual culture”. It both constructs social issues and forms public opinion hence it is an “argumentative practice” (Wrenn 6). Drawing on wider cultural contexts, as other acts of dissent note here do, in this protest with its social media coverage, the “master frame” of the sea of pink hats and bodies posited to audiences the enormity of the anger felt in the community over attacks on the female body – real or verbal. This reflects Goffman’s theory of framing to describe the ways in which “protestors actively seek to shape meanings such that they spark the public’s support and encourage political openings” (Wrenn 6). The hats served as “visual tropes” (Goodnow 166) to raise social consciousness and demonstrate opposition. Protest “signage” – as the pussy hats can be considered – are a visual representation and validation of shared “invisible thoughts and emotions” (Buck-Coleman 66) affirming Georg Simmel’s ideas about conflict; “it helps individuals define their differences, establish to which group(s) they belong, and determine the degrees to which groups are different from each other” (Buck-Coleman 66). The pink pussy hat helped define and determine membership and solidarity. Further embedding this was the hand-made nature of the hat. The pattern for the hat was available free online at https://www.pussyhatproject.com/knit/. The idea began as one of practicality, as it did for the reform dress movement. This is from the Pussy Hat Project website:Krista was planning to attend the Women’s March in Washington DC that January of 2017 and needed a cap to keep her head warm in the chill winter air. Jayna, due to her injury, would not be able to attend any of the marches, but wanted to find a way to have her voice heard in absentia and somehow physically “be” there. Together, a marcher and a non-marcher, they conceived the idea of creating a sea of pink hats at Women’s Marches everywhere that would make both a bold and powerful visual statement of solidarity, and also allow people who could not participate themselves – whether for medical, financial, or scheduling reasons — a visible way to demonstrate their support for women’s rights. (Pussy Hat Project)In the tradition of “craftivism” – the use of traditional handcrafts such as knitting, assisted by technology (in this case a website with the pattern and how to knit instructions), as a means of community building, skill-sharing and action directed towards “political and social causes” (Buszek & Robertson 197) –, the hand-knitted pink pussy hats avoided the need to purchase clothing to show solidarity resisting the corporatisation of protest clothing as cautioned by Naomi Klein (428). More so by wearing something that could be re-used sustained solidarity. The pink pussy hats provided a counter to the “incoherent montage of mass-produced clothing” often seen at other protests (Maynard 107). Everyday clothing however does have a place in political dissent. In late 2018, French working class and middle-class protestors donned yellow jackets to protest against the government of French President Emmanuel Macron. It began with a Facebook appeal launched by two fed-up truck drivers calling for a “national blockade” of France’s road network in protest against rising fuel prices was followed two weeks later with a post urging motorist to display their hi-vis yellow vests behind their windscreens in solidarity. Four million viewed the post (Henley). Weekly protests continued into 2019. The yellow his-vis vests are compulsorily carried in all motor cars in France. They are “cheap, readily available, easily identifiable and above all representing an obligation imposed by the state”. The yellow high-vis vest has “proved an inspired choice of symbol and has plainly played a big part in the movement’s rapid spread” (Henley). More so, the wearers of the yellow vests in France, with the movement spreading globally, are winning in “the war of cultural representation. Working-class and lower middle-class people are visible again” (Henley). Subcultural clothing has always played a role as heroic resistance (Evans), but the coloured dissent dressing associated with the red, blue and white ribboned cockades, the dark bloomers of early American feminists, the cotton coloured natural fabrics of Ghandi’s embodiment of resistance and independence, the blue denim sharecropper overalls worn by African American women in their struggles for civil rights, the black, red and orange of Aboriginal protestors in Australia and the White Wednesday performances of resistance undertaken by Tibetans against Chinese colonisation, the Washington Pink Pussy Hat marches for gender respect and equality and the donning of every yellow hi-vis vests by French protestors all posit the important role of fabric and colour in protest meaning making and solidarity building. It is in our rage we consciously wear the colours and fabrics of dissent dress. ReferencesBarnard, Malcolm. Fashion as Communication. New York: Routledge, 1996. Barthes, Roland. “History and Sociology of Clothing: Some Methodological Observations.” The Language of Fashion. Eds. Michael Carter and Alan Stafford. UK: Berg, 2006. 3-19. Buck-Coleman, Audra. “Anger, Profanity, and Hatred.” Contexts 17.1 (2018): 66-73.Buszek, Maria Elena, and Kirsty Robertson. “Introduction.” Utopian Studies 22.1 (2011): 197-202. Chappell, Marisa, Jenny Hutchinson, and Brian Ward. “‘Dress Modestly, Neatly ... As If You Were Going to Church’: Respectability, Class and Gender in the Montgomery Bus Boycott and the Early Civil Rights Movement.” Gender and the Civil Rights Movement. Eds. Peter J. Ling and Sharon Monteith. New Brunswick, N.J., 2004. 69-100.Crane, Diana. Fashion and Its Social Agendas. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000. Davis, Fred. Fashion, Culture, and Identity. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992.Entwistle, Joanne. The Fashioned Body: Fashion, Dress, and Modern Social Theory. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2000.Evans, Caroline. “Dreams That Only Money Can Buy ... Or the Shy Tribe in Flight from Discourse.” Fashion Theory 1.2 (1997): 169-88.Fairchilds, Cissie. “Fashion and Freedom in the French Revolution.” Continuity and Change 15.3 (2000): 419-33.Ford, Tanisha C. “SNCC Women, Denim, and the Politics of Dress.” The Journal of Southern History 79.3 (2013): 625-58.Gökarıksel, Banu, and Sara Smith. “Intersectional Feminism beyond U.S. Flag, Hijab and Pussy Hats in Trump’s America.” Gender, Place & Culture 24.5 (2017): 628-44.Goodnow, Trischa. “On Black Panthers, Blue Ribbons, & Peace Signs: The Function of Symbols in Social Campaigns.” Visual Communication Quarterly 13 (2006): 166-79.Hebdige, Dick. Subculture: The Meaning of Style. London: Routledge, 2002. Henley, Jon. “How Hi-Vis Yellow Vest Became Symbol of Protest beyond France: From Brussels to Basra, Gilets Jaunes Have Brought Visibility to People and Their Grievances.” The Guardian 21 Dec. 2018. <https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/dec/21/how-hi-vis-yellow-vest-became-symbol-of-protest-beyond-france-gilets-jaunes>.Heuer, Jennifer. “Hats On for the Nation! Women, Servants, Soldiers and the ‘Sign of the French’.” French History 16.1 (2002): 28-52.Jain, Ektaa. “Khadi: A Cloth and Beyond.” Bombay Sarvodaya Mandal & Gandhi Research Foundation. ND. 19 Dec. 2018 <https://www.mkgandhi.org/articles/khadi-a-cloth-and-beyond.html>. Klein, Naomi. No Logo. London: Flamingo, London, 2000. Komar, Marlen. “What the Civil Rights Movement Has to Do with Denim: The History of Blue Jeans Has Been Whitewashed.” 30 Oct. 2017. 19 Dec. 2018 <https://www.racked.com/2017/10/30/16496866/denim-civil-rights-movement-blue-jeans-history>.Ladd Nelson, Jennifer. “Dress Reform and the Bloomer.” Journal of American and Comparative Cultures 23.1 (2002): 21-25.Maynard, Margaret. “Dress for Dissent: Reading the Almost Unreadable.” Journal of Australian Studies 30.89 (2006): 103-12. Pussy Hat Project. “Design Interventions for Social Change.” 20 Dec. 2018. <https://www.pussyhatproject.com/knit/>.Roberts, Helene E. “The Exquisite Slave: The Role of Clothes in the Making of the Victorian Woman.” Signs (1977): 554-69.Simmel, Georg. “Fashion.” American Journal of Sociology 62 (1957): 541–58.Sinha, Sangita. “The Story of Khadi, India's Signature Fabric.” Culture Trip 2018. 18 Jan. 2019 <https://theculturetrip.com/asia/india/articles/the-story-of-khadi-indias-fabric/>.Yangzom, Dicky. “Clothing and Social Movements: Tibet and the Politics of Dress.” Social Movement Studies 15.6 (2016): 622-33. Veblen, Thorstein. The Theory of the Leisure Class: An Economic Study of Institutions. New York: Dover Thrift, 1899. Watson, Lilla. “The Commonwealth Games in Brisbane 1982: Analysis of Aboriginal Protests.” Social Alternatives 7.1 (1988): 1-19.Wrenn, Corey. “Pussy Grabs Back: Bestialized Sexual Politics and Intersectional Failure in Protest Posters for the 2017 Women’s March.” Feminist Media Studies (2018): 1-19.

This chapter examines Archbishop Iakovos's call for the Greek Orthodox to consider their church to be no longer an immigrant church but an American church. It talks about how Archbishop Iakovo tried to steer the transition of immigrant to an ethnic church and Americanize Greek Orthodoxy in the church's own terms. The chapter discusses how the Greek Orthodoxy was involved in confronting the challenges presented by the cultural upheavals of the 1960s. It recounts the participation of the Greek Orthodox Church on marching next to the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. at Selma, Alabama, in 1965. It also describes Archbishop Iakovos's vision that entailed an ambitious agenda, such as the outreach directed toward the other Eastern Orthodox Churches that was initiated through the establishment of the Standing Conference of Canonical Orthodox Bishops of the Americas (SCOBA) in 1960.

Abstract This chapter explores the transformations of workers’ mobilization in Latin America from the end of the nineteenth century to the twenty-first century. For that purpose, the link is observed between changing economic connections, state-society relations, and workers’ collective action. The dynamics of mobilization and demobilization are considered from the inter-relationship of three dimensions: forms of organization, repertoires of state–society interaction, and ideological frameworks. The analysis focuses on four periods: 1890–1929: the emergence of workers’ organizations; 1930–1960: the strengthening of labor unions and processes of incorporation; 1970–1990: neoliberalism, democracy, and organizational breakdown; and 1999–2017: the return of the state and the calling into question of neoliberalism, the revitalization of labor unions, and new workers’ movements. In order to provide greater insight, the more industrialized countries (Argentina, Brazil, Mexico, Chile) are compared with others less industrialized (the Andean region and Central American countries such as Bolivia, Ecuador, Venezuela, Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Panama). The chapter concludes with three findings: (1) Latin American workers’ mobilization is not reduced to labor union dynamics nor is its role limited to extending workers’ rights; (2) the complex interactions of class, ethnicity, gender, and territory have produced successive waves of politicization of the “worker question”; and (3) beyond the constraints imposed by economic structures and state control, the political subjectivation of workers has evolved in contradictory ways in the different spheres of relationship with the left, populism, the church, and political institutions, as well as a product of the historical vicissitudes of the struggles.