Luis Urrieta
Professor of Cultural Studies in Education, with faculty affiliations in Mexican American Studies and Latinx Studies, Native American & Indigenous Studies, and Latin American Studies. My interdisciplinary scholarly interests center around 1) cultural and racial identities, 2) agency as social and cultural practice, and 3) movements related to education. I am specifically interested in Chicanx, Latinx education, Indigenous identities and knowledge systems, im/migrations and diasporic community knowledge, Indigenous diasporas, teaching and learning pedagogy in out-of-school contexts, and in oral and narrative relational knowing in qualitative research.
Address: The University of Texas at Austin
Curriculum & Instruction
1 University Station D5700
Austin, TX 78712-0379
USA
Address: The University of Texas at Austin
Curriculum & Instruction
1 University Station D5700
Austin, TX 78712-0379
USA
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in 1968 in a context of both local and global social justice move-
ments. The AESA’s mission and ongoing commitment to the analysis
of education and society with underlying liberal activist aims has
been ongoing since. Although AESA and its membership have been
critiqued and questioned for their larger impact in the field, especially
in its disconnect between university academics and pk-12 teachers,
the original charge and purpose has largely remained. This address
seeks to put a spotlight on the foundations of the social foundations
of education and by extension AESA by using settler colonial and
structural racism frames to examine the enduring problematics of
how academia and academic enterprises are, as Quechua scholar
Sandy Grande would say, “an arm of the settler state” (p. 47). Namely,
I ask, how does AESA and the field of social foundations of education
advance settler futurity? However, most importantly, I will also engage,
how can AESA, the field and its membership engage in anti-colonial
and anti-racist self-reflection and work toward decolonizing the orga-
nization and the work that we do as faculty members in this field? To
engage in this process of reflexive praxis, I will use Grande’s concept
of academic survivance, which includes operating beyond the bound-
aries set up for us by the institution and toward “an active presence
in society and the academy” (p. 12). I slightly modify survivance with
Chicana feminist scholar, Ruth Trinidad-Galvan’s concept of superviven-
cia, which also emphasizes beyond mere survival but from the per-
spective of Mexican campesinas “left behind” in a context of neoliberal
extractivist dislocation. Finally, I draw from my P’urhépecha commu-
nity ancestry a concept also common throughout many Indigenous
communities, Sesi Irekani, el buen vivir, or “the good life.” I will argue
that by centering a reflexive praxis based on these saberes-haceres we
can refuse, reimagine, and rearticulate a relational comunalidad that
unsettles the settler within and recon/figures an alter/Native charge
and decolonial practice.
that lobbied for a new Indigenous bilingual intercultural school in Nocutzepo to respond to the decline of subsistence agriculture. Our findings caution that while not all Indigenous struggles result in collective victories, everyday practices of resistance form an essential basis of survival.
in 1968 in a context of both local and global social justice move-
ments. The AESA’s mission and ongoing commitment to the analysis
of education and society with underlying liberal activist aims has
been ongoing since. Although AESA and its membership have been
critiqued and questioned for their larger impact in the field, especially
in its disconnect between university academics and pk-12 teachers,
the original charge and purpose has largely remained. This address
seeks to put a spotlight on the foundations of the social foundations
of education and by extension AESA by using settler colonial and
structural racism frames to examine the enduring problematics of
how academia and academic enterprises are, as Quechua scholar
Sandy Grande would say, “an arm of the settler state” (p. 47). Namely,
I ask, how does AESA and the field of social foundations of education
advance settler futurity? However, most importantly, I will also engage,
how can AESA, the field and its membership engage in anti-colonial
and anti-racist self-reflection and work toward decolonizing the orga-
nization and the work that we do as faculty members in this field? To
engage in this process of reflexive praxis, I will use Grande’s concept
of academic survivance, which includes operating beyond the bound-
aries set up for us by the institution and toward “an active presence
in society and the academy” (p. 12). I slightly modify survivance with
Chicana feminist scholar, Ruth Trinidad-Galvan’s concept of superviven-
cia, which also emphasizes beyond mere survival but from the per-
spective of Mexican campesinas “left behind” in a context of neoliberal
extractivist dislocation. Finally, I draw from my P’urhépecha commu-
nity ancestry a concept also common throughout many Indigenous
communities, Sesi Irekani, el buen vivir, or “the good life.” I will argue
that by centering a reflexive praxis based on these saberes-haceres we
can refuse, reimagine, and rearticulate a relational comunalidad that
unsettles the settler within and recon/figures an alter/Native charge
and decolonial practice.
that lobbied for a new Indigenous bilingual intercultural school in Nocutzepo to respond to the decline of subsistence agriculture. Our findings caution that while not all Indigenous struggles result in collective victories, everyday practices of resistance form an essential basis of survival.
read about education as it happens to Chicanas/Latinas. We are telling and retelling how schooling and education has impacted us as Chicanas, Latinas, a Mestizo, and
an indígena. Schooling and education are not the same phenomenon just as education and educación are false cognates of the other (see Urrieta and Villanes 2013;
Bernal et al. 2006; Valenzuela 1999). We come from a tradition of educación that speaks to loving, healing and critical pedagogies that honor the voice of our sisters,
mothers, tías, abuelas, partners, daughters, and activists who pave the way for us to continue this legacy (Delgado Bernal et al. 2006). Educación has impacted how we
have come to understand family, friends, communities, aspirations, and understandings of the world (Urrieta 2010; Valenzuela 1999). We have acquired language and tools that have helped name and understand the manifestations of oppression. Our schools are known to “fail” and to have children who are failed by a system, so why are we here?