This article examines questions pertaining to Indigenous people’s citizenship status, the problematic definition of orphanhood, rule of law, and structural racism in Brazilian society. The definition of orphanhood was articulated in a way that allowed for the extralegal abuse and racialized exploitation of labor to continue long past the legal end of Indigenous slavery (1755). Indigenous persons’ legal status, the definition of orphanhood, and guardianship laws worked together to legitimate the permanence of child separation as a means for wealthier Brazilians to get free child labor. The article uncovers the ambiguities in defining Indigenous people’s legal status, making citizenship status a subjective determination contested on a case-by-case basis. With this foreground understanding, the article presents the practice of child separation and the created discourse to legitimize Indigenous, Black, and mixed-race children as unpaid criadas de casa (housemaids).

In this article, I discuss São Paulo's legal apparatus in respect of environmental noise. I begin by situating my analysis within broader citizenship issues. I then focus on three debates on noise control in the city. The first two debates involve noise ordinances created in the 1990s and enforced by São Paulo's Programa de Silêncio Urbano (Urban Silence Programme, PSIU). The first revolves around the evangelical lawmakers’ attempts to exclude, minimize or hinder the impact of a noise ordinance on religious services. The second debate focuses on an ordinance that required bars without acoustic insulation to close at 1 am – a demand that faced strong opposition from businesses involved in the night-time economy. The third debate describes the recent attempt of a group of acoustic engineers to lobby the city administration for the systematic mapping of traffic noise. I contend that environmental noise is a fruitful point of entry to investigate how the state mediates universal equality and individual freedom, welfare principles and economic gain.

Abandonment has become a performative idiom in Andean Peru, where it retains its purchase despite the investments of the state. Local development is tied to the desire to be governed. In spite of prolonged state presence, the villages’ relationship to authorities is continuously and persistently figured as one of abandonment: villages are abandoned because someone is deliberately holding them in such unfortunate conditions. To figure abandonment in village politics is to draw on this idiom as an effective means of both communicating the historical experience of governance and putting forward morally grounded claims to local authorities. The idiom of abandonment is therefore both effective and affective as a critique of governance and a claim to citizenship.

This article examines the rhetoric and practice of a large social movement organised around low-income housing in the city of São Paulo, Brazil. Making explicit the relationship between housing and citizenship, the União de Movimentos de Moradia (Alliance of Housing Movements) articulates a ‘politics of rights’ with which it calls on the state to uphold the constitutional right to housing, and legitimates its high-profile occupations of abandoned buildings in the centre of the city. The article engages with James Holston's historical examination of homeowners’ struggles on the peripheries of São Paulo to assert themselves as rights-holders and to mobilise against threats of eviction. While Holston names these groups of residents ‘insurgent’ citizens for the way they have unsettled entrenched social inequalities, this article presents the concept of ‘transgressive’ citizenship to reflect the challenge the housing movement makes to the state as it uses text-based law to justify building occupations.

Against the backdrop of ethnic political mobilisation in Latin America, this article examines how, as Quetzaltenango's first Mayan mayor, Rigoberto Quemé Chay transformed two interrelated dimensions of citizenship: political culture and the politics of belonging. It analyses the way in which citizenship is constituted at three levels. The first is within Xel-jú as an indigenous political organisation whose practices contrast with ladino ways of doing politics. The second is in relation to internal divisions between the militant indigenous line and the intercultural group. The third is within Xel-jú as a city-centred, middle-class-oriented indigenous organisation rather than a rural, indigenous community organisation. This article argues that transformations in citizenship are limited by the political, economic and ethnic context, and that overlapping systems of repression still prevent the participation of marginalised groups in Quetzaltenango.

Beyond competitive elections, democratisation should include a transformation of the institutions of state and civil society into spaces that recognise the rights of citizens and allow for their participation. This study explores the question of how Mexican labour unions are transformed into institutions with a commitment to the rights and participation of women workers. Drawing on evidence from five unions, the paper shows that compared to their corporatist counterparts, unions with a ‘democratic ethos’ provide a context within which gender equity rights are more readily recognised. However, recognition of gender equity is primarily dependent on feminist activism and union leadership. The paper argues that women's efforts to transform their unions into spaces that reflect and advocate for gender equity rights are critical to strengthening democratic citizenship in Mexico.