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Animation allows for the creation of mediatic spaces that strengthen prevailing ideologies of masculinity and femininity. Manhood seems to operate as a key point of reference in the creation of televised animation across Latin America, especially by elevating certain heroic cultural narratives. Through a review of 21 television series, produced between 2008 and 2018, this chapter examines the portrayals of femininity and masculinity in some of the most widely broadcast animated series from the region. As a norm, Latin American illustrators adhere to the tradition of depicting female figures as secondary characters, as leading characters with a certain degree of autonomy, or as subaltern, considerate, and supportive figures. By contrast, male figures are portrayed as strong, daring, independent, and primary characters, often destined to lead their families and communities, and save their weaker friends that are typically female characters.

This chapter historicises and contextualises the evolution, production, and development of key Mexican screen melodramas over fifty-two years to understand and mediate Mexico’s ambivalence around socioeconomic background, ranother. Perhaps if Televisa had allowed its various ace and religion, gender and worth, family and duty. The chapter demonstrates the importance of localised scholarly inquiry into Mexican audiovisual media that considers not only narrative discourses, content and textual analyses, but also industrial records and practices, marketing campaigns and press releases, archival research and interviews, multimedia synergy, and comparative analysis. For some time, research on Mexican melodrama has had a strong social focus, with several writings about audience engagement, but it is imperative to have more close readings of the texts themselves to understand their cultural context and industrial histories. This research exposes societal changes within Mexico by utilising one of its most omnipresent forms of popular culture and provides a deeper understanding of Mexico’s primary media productions through the use of genre and remake theory. The representations of young women yield a multitude of tensions and ambiguities placed upon Mexican women, which reveal volumes about wider sociocultural expectations.

In 2017, the American game designer Momo Pixel released the single-player, browser-based game Hair Nah. In this game, you play as Aeva, a Black woman taking trips to locations that include Osaka, Havana, and the Santa Monica Pier. As you move through levels on your journey—taking a taxi ride, traversing airport security, sitting on an airplane—you must slap away increasingly aggressive white hands that reach into the frame to touch your hair. Though Hair Nah taps into the genre of a casual button-mashing game, this interactive experience also explores the topic of microaggressions via unwanted hair touching. If you slap away enough hands on your travels, you reach a screen welcoming you to your destination with the message “YOU WIN!” but the caveat, “The game is over, but this experience isn’t. This is an issue that black women face daily. So a note to those who do it STOP THAT SHIT.”

This article considers the cultural politics of frustrated potential for diverse representation in games by examining developer comments on the 1995 digital game I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream, adapted from Harlan Ellison’s 1967 science fiction story of the same name. While Ellison’s story featured a gay man named Benny among the protagonists, the game developers adapted Benny without his original sexual identity. In a 2012 Game Informer magazine article, however, the developers reflected on their version of Benny as a “lost opportunity” for exploring gay identity. Rooted in discussion of this frustrated potential for a gay in-game Benny, this article interrogates a logic of lost opportunity for diverse representation present in game-development discourse, which manifests in a longing for more diverse characters that could have been but never came to be. This logic suggests particular ways that developers might conceive of diverse representation as simply a design issue under neoliberal logics of economic opportunity, commercial risk, and fetishized innovation—without meaningful consideration of political significance. Opposing this instrumentalization of frustrated diverse representation, this article draws on queer game studies and speculative design and literature to explore the possible contours and implications of diverse characters that never were more seriously than such comments typically do. Doing so demands more than romanticized longings for lost opportunities for diverse representation that treat this longing as the end in itself.

This paper argues that video games expose the presumptions separating “Asian America” and “Asia” in the traditional senses of isolation, origination, and presumed distance. It does so by focusing on the most “Asiatic” genre of video games today, the North American visual novel, which offers a counterdiscourse to normative modes of play and attempts to offer utopic spaces to reflect upon the “real” genres of race and neo–Cold War geopolitics. Using theories of performance from Dorinne Kondo and others, the author shows how queer indie visual novels are primarily aspirational, in that they build queer, utopic, and seemingly anti-racist worlds through the Asiatic space of the visual novel form. In so doing, they also allow players to explore the Asiatic as a means of repairing the traumas and distances of American imperial cultures. The article analyzes four visual novels to make this argument: three by non-racially-identifying North American designers—Doki Doki Literature Club! (2017) by Dan Salvato, Analogue: A Hate Story (2012) by Christine Love, and Heaven Will Be Mine (2018) by Aevee Bee—and Butterfly Soup (2017), a game by the queer Asian/American designer Brianna Lei. If games make the boundaries of Asia and America irrelevant, visual novels explore this irrelevance through Asiatic irreverence.

This article addresses the seeming absence of the HIV/AIDS pandemic in video games from the 1980s and 1990s, the height of the US AIDS crisis. As Adrienne Shaw and Christopher Persaud have noted, stories about HIV/AIDS were pervasive across American popular media during this period, which also represented a boom in video game development. However, documentation remains of only a handful of early video games that mention HIV/AIDS. This article argues that, far from being absent from video game history, HIV/AIDS and the US AIDS crisis were actually influential in shaping a number of the design elements and narrative genres that have become important to contemporary video games. Scholars like Cait McKinney have demonstrated how people living with HIV/AIDS in America played a crucial part in the evolution of internet technologies that now form the backbone of video games. Through a comparative reading of two games by C. M. Ralph, Caper in the Castro (1989) and Murder on Main Street (1989), this article demonstrates how HIV/AIDS has also manifested in the content and form of video games, even (and perhaps especially) when it seems absent. Derritt Mason has explained how Caper in the Castro, widely celebrated as the first LGBTQ video game, contains clear echoes of the AIDS crisis. Yet, as this article demonstrates, HIV/AIDS remains a powerful presence even in Murder on Main Street, Ralph’s “straight version” of the game. Together, these games offer a microcosm through which to explore larger tensions between HIV/AIDS and video games, with the AIDS crisis representing a key element of what Cody Mejeur has termed the “present absence of queerness in video games.”

Michelle Browder’s “The Mothers of Gynecology” remembers Black women who endured surgeries without anesthesia, or consent.

The proliferation of critical and creative post-porn movements, which vindicate the representation of dissident sexualities under a new feminist, queer and transgender perspective, provide tools of analysis to rethink past literary and audiovisual pornographic productions, as well as to reformulate current ones. In this line of intermediate research, between cinema and literature, an approach to the work of Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño is proposed that will allow us to discern whether he can be considered a post-porn author related to the Golden Age of pornographic cinema in the 1970s and 1980s. Two of his stories and a novel will be studied: “Joanna Silvestri”, from which a gender reading will be made that problematizes the role of women within an eminently heteronormative industry, obsessed with representing male ejaculation; “Prefiguración de Lalo Cura”, analyzed under a postcolonial perspective of appropriation of subaltern bodies conceived as geographical territories, and Una novelita lumpen, in the field of porn pedagogy. The resulting findings make it possible to establish that Roberto Bolaño can indeed be considered a post-porn author by translating the narrative proposals of the Golden Age porn films into his own literary project, with a feminist and post-colonial critical intention.

Independent Videogames investigates the social and cultural implications of contemporary forms of independent video game development. Through a series of case studies and theoretical investigations, it evaluates the significance of such a multi-faceted phenomenon within video game and digital cultures. A diverse team of scholars highlight the specificities of independence within the industry and the culture of digital gaming through case studies and theoretical questions. The chapters focus on labor, gender, distribution models and technologies of production to map the current state of research on independent game development. The authors also identify how the boundaries of independence are becoming opaque in the contemporary game industry – often at the cost of the claims of autonomy, freedom and emancipation that underlie the indie scene. The book ultimately imagines new and better narratives for a less exploitative and more inclusive videogame industry. Systematically mapping the current directions of a phenomenon that is becoming increasingly difficult to define and limit, this book will be a crucial resource for scholars and students of game studies, media history, media industries and independent gaming.

Gender and the contemporary audio-visual landscape of Mexico.

The Latinx Research Center's Revista N'oj hosted a round table discussion on Decolonial Aesthetics titled, "Decolonizing Art & Praxis in the Time of Covid-19." The talk included Jesus Barraza, Dr. Guisela Latorre, Dr. Mauricio Barros de Castro, and Dr. Laura E. Pérez. The panel was moderated by Revista N'oj editor, Abraham Ramirez.

In the last decade or so, cinema has revealed itself to be an ideal medium for the transfer and/or remediation of the spoken word as well as stories coming from oral tradition and Indigenous culture. Indeed, cinema is a place of expression which favours cyclical creativity and contributes to the decolonization of stereotyped images propagated by external voices that do not understand the subtleties of languages (real and symbolic) that are anchored in indigenous peoples’ cultural memory. By exploring indigenous cinema as practised by women of diverse nations, this piece demonstrates how cinema can induce the compression and dilation of time, to bring to the audience the fluidity of a story that has been reconfigured according to a new time and carried by spoken words that have chosen to either emancipate themselves from the image or to materialize themselves in it. Furthermore, this article illustrates how a new generation of Indigenous women use cinema to retrace and/or rewrite their personal narrative with the help of autobiographical or collective stories that travel back in time to fill in the blanks left by a fragile memory and to express their will to make peace with a difficult colonial past. Finally, the writings of Lee Maracle (I Am Woman, 1988) and Natasha Kanapé Fontaine (Manifeste Assi, 2014) are being brought forth to show how films such as Suckerfish (Lisa Jackson, 2004) Bithos (Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers, 2015) and Four Faces of the Moon (Amanda Strong, 2016) contribute to the individual and community healing of Indigenous peoples of Canada, through an aesthetic of reconciliation. The exploration of these works, therefore allows us to shed light on and better understand the roles/internal mechanisms of visual autobiographies in the larger context of reconciliation with individual and collective stories/memories.

Résumé livre : "L’intersectionnalité, telle qu’élaborée par les féministes noires dans les années 1980, permet de réfléchir aux rapports de pouvoir dans leur complexe enchevêtrement. Au-delà d’un certain effet de mode, cette éthique est plus que jamais nécessaire pour comprendre le monde, à l’aube d’une décennie marquée par un virus ayant partout exacerbé la violence et les inégalités, et mis en évidence les systèmes de privilèges. Et qu’arrive-t-il lorsque l’on porte ce regard attentif sur les médias ? Les textes rassemblés dans cet ouvrage explorent avec aplomb les questions de l’inclusion et de l’exclusion médiatiques. Que décoder du traitement média réservé au port du hijab dans le sport, aux agressions sexuelles à l’endroit des femmes noires et autochtones, ou encore, de la place de la sourditude et des transidentités dans l’espace public? Un recueil qui amène son lot de réponses éclairantes et douloureuses, une rareté dans le paysage des études culturelles et médiatiques francophones."--Page 4 de la couverture

Quand les conditions requises pour le dialogue ne sont pas réunies, il est difficile d’expliquer à une femme blanche : " écoute, nous ne voulons pas qu’on nous impose des de critères féministes hégémoniques " . Cela étant, je reconnais et j’apprécie tout ce que j’ai appris sur les différents courants féministes. Car grâce à eux, je me reconnais comme sujette épistémique et je peux me penser à partir du corps et de l’espace où je vis. Ou encore tisser des idées féministes. C’est ainsi que la construction consciente de mon identité féministe communautaire se renforce et en même temps, nous contribuons au mouvement féministe dans le monde. Par exemple, l’une des étapes que nous devons franchir passe par la langue : nommer dans nos propres langues, qui auront été libérées, les catégories et les concepts que nous élaborons pour analyser l’oppression subie par notre peuple dans l’histoire et notre libération en tant que femmes indigènes, autochtones, paysannes, rurales, ou villageoises. Francesca Gargallo est une écrivaine et féministe autonome italo-mexicaine. Licenciée en philosophie de la Sapienza de Rome et docteure en Études Latinoaméricaines de l’UNAM mexicaine, cette spécialiste de l’histoire des idées féministes, prenant acte de l’échec de l’utopie socialiste, propose de chercher des alternatives à partir d’un féminisme clairement antiraciste, qui fasse la critique de l’ eurocentrisme. Elle s’intéresse au concept de colonialisme interne de Pablo González Casanova, ou de Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui. Le livre dont nous traduisons deux extraits, Feminismos desde Abya Yala. Ideas y proposiciones de las mujeres de 607 pueblos en NuestraAmérica, a été publié en 2012 aux éditions Desde abajo.

This article examines how “colonial time” is called into question in two short films of the National Film Board of Canada’s series Souvenir, from 2015. The question of time lies at the heart of this series, for which the NFB commissioned contemporary Indigenous filmmakers to take up their archives of visual material on Indigenous peoples. The colonial temporal framework is at work in the vast archives of ethnographic and documentary film and photography on Indigenous peoples dating back to the early twentieth century, in which Indigenous people are often represented as part of “vanishing” cultures. Thus, in this article, I underscore the temporal interruptions that occur when ethnographic visual material of Indigenous peoples is put into the hands of contemporary Indigenous artists. I focus first on what it means to repurpose dehumanizing colonial archives and ask whether visual sovereignty is in fact possible within the archives. By analyzing the reappropriation of archival footage in the short films Mobilize by Caroline Monnet and Etlinisigu’niet (Bleed Down) by Jeff Barnaby, I elucidate how the filmmakers break with modes of colonial time through what I propose to call “reframings” that offer alternative ways of conceiving of time. By rehabilitating ethnographic images, these filmmakers refuse to project the material into the distant past and complicate the readability of Indigenous images in the archives, revealing how the reappropriation of old images can be just as powerful as the production of new ones.

Fin des années 1960 aux Etats-Unis, les Indians of All Tribes impulsent un mouvement de contestations sociales qui a pour but la reconnaissance des droits inhérents aux peuples autochtones à la souveraineté et à l'auto-détermination. L'American Indian Movement et sa branche féminine Women of All Red Nations s'emparent de ces questions sociales, politiques et culturelles. Femmes et hommes entament de concert un processus d'émancipation dont l'accomplissement ne cesse d'être repoussé par les politiques assimilatrices successives du gouvernement états-unien. Au Canada aussi, des mobilisations collectives éclatent dans les années 1980 et 1990, et culminent avec les événements de Restigouche (1984) et la Crise d'Oka (1990). Ces évènements majeurs inspirent toute une jeune génération d'artistes autochtones et de femmes en particulier, formées notamment à l'Institute of American Indian Arts à Santa Fe (Nouveau-Mexique). De formations universitaires approfondies, elles développent des démarches artistiques transdisciplinaires à mi-chemin entre l'histoire de l'art et l'ethnographie. Elles mettent en évidence la porosité et la friabilité des frontières instaurées dans tous les secteurs par la société dominante contre les groupes considérés comme minoritaires. A cette fin, le photographique - par lequel nous désignons la pratique, la technique et l'image photographiques - devient un outil stratégique majeur de réappropriation et de réaffirmation de ce qu'elles sont et tendent à incarner. Ces artistes femmes interrogent grâce à ce médium les façons dont elles ont été représentées et se représentent elles-mêmes dans le cadre de démarches critiques des stéréotypes dont elles font l'objet depuis plusieurs siècles d'appropriation culturelle. Elles repensent par ce biais leurs identités, les rapports qu'elles entretiennent à leurs corps, à leurs sexualités et à leurs genres, à l'aune de leurs propres spiritualités. Grâce à leurs images artistiques et politiques, fruits de pratiques fondées sur une analogie entre la violation de leurs droits, l'exploitation de leurs terres et territoires, et les violences sexuelles dont elles font l'objet, elles continuent à prendre part aux mouvements de résistance actuels qui s'opposent aux projets extractivistes face auxquels elles s'affirment, une nouvelle fois, en première ligne. A partir d'un corpus iconographique de près de 400 œuvres réalisées entre 1969 et 2019, et d'entretiens individuels avec des artistes et des militantes femmes et queer autochtones des Etats-Unis et du Canada, cette thèse a pour objectif de montrer en quoi ces images - en particulier photographiques configurent des épistémologies nouvelles dans une perspective intersectionnelle, décoloniale et anticapitaliste, et s'inscrivent dans la continuité d'un processus de réaffirmation des droits inhérents des peuples autochtones, garantis par la Déclaration des Nations Unies sur les Droits des Peuples Autochtones (2007)

1. Racism and Mainstream Media / Lori Kido Lopez -- 2. Image Analysis and Televisual Latinos / Mary Beltrán -- 3. Visualizing Mixed Race and Genetics / Meshell Sturgis and Ralina L. Joseph -- 4. Listening to Racial Injustice / Dolores Inés Casillas and Jennifer Lynn Stoever -- 5. Branding Athlete Activism / Jason Kido Lopez -- 6. The Burden of Representation in Asian American Television / Peter X. Feng -- 7. Indigenous Video Games / Jacqueline Land -- 8. Applying Latina/o Critical Communication Theory to Anti-Blackness / Mari Castañeda -- 9. Asian American Independent Media / Jun Okada -- 10. Remediating Trans Visuality / Amy Villarejo -- 11. Intersectional Distribution / Aymar Jean Christian -- 12. Podcasting Blackness / Sarah Florini -- 13. Black Twitter as Semi-Enclave / Raven Maragh-Lloyd -- 14. Arab Americans and Participatory Culture / Sulafa Zidani -- 15. Diaspora and Digital Media / Lia Wolock -- 16. Disrupting News Media / Meredith D. Clark -- 17. Latinx Audiences as Mosaic / Jillian M. Báez -- 18. Media Activism in the Red Power Movement / Miranda J. Brady -- 19. Black Gamers' Resistance / Kishonna L. Gray -- 20. Cosmopolitan Fan Activism / Susan Noh.

In this interview, multidisciplinary artist Caroline Monnet discusses how acts of critical self-representation open up new spaces for territorial, linguistic, and identity negotiations and affirmations for Indigenous creators. In this sense, Monnet expresses her desire to put forward exuberant, strong, and diverse representations of Indigenous women in order to counter pervasive rhetorical dynamics of victimhood conveyed by mass media and cinema. As she presents some of the visual and discursive techniques she develops through her films, installations, and photographic works, Monnet reflects on the constructive dialogues – as well as the moments of incommunicability – that emerge and fade within various spaces and contexts of creation and reception. She considers that her individual and collective creative projects fall within a pivotal period of self-determination for Indigenous artists; she thus provides a critical overview of current discourses of (re)concililation.

Straight  Skin,  Gay  Masks  and  Pretending  to  Be  Gay  on  Screen  examines cinematic depictions  of  pretending-to-be-gay,  assessing  performances  that not only reflect heteronormative and explicitly homophobic attitudes, but also  offer  depictions  of  gay  selfhood with  more  nuanced  multidirectional identifications. The case of straight protagonists pretending to be gay on screen is the ideal context in which to study unanticipated progressivity and dissidence in regard to  cultural  construction  of  human sexualities  in  the  face  of  theatricalized epistemological collapse. Teasing apart the dynamics of depictions of both sexual  stability  and  fluidity  in  cinematic  images  of  men  pretending  to  be gay offers new insights into such salient issues as sexual vulnerability and dynamics  and  long-term  queer  visibility  in  a  politically  complicated  mass culture  which  is  mostly  produced  in  a  heteronormative  and  even  hostile cultural environment. Additionally, this book initially examines queer uses of sexuality masquerade in Alternate Gay World Cinema that allegorically features a world pretending to be gay, in which straights are harassed and persecuted, in order to expose the tragic consequences of sexual intolerance. Films  and  TV  series  examined  as  part  of  the  analysis  include  The  Gay Deceivers, Victor/Victoria, Happy Texas, William Friedkin’s Cruising and many other straight and gay screens. This  is  a  fascinating  and  important  study  relevant  to  students  and researchers in Film Studies, Media Studies, Gender Studies, Queer Studies, Sexuality Studies, Communication Studies and Cultural Studies.