The feminist movements sweeping across the Global South are rewriting the script of liberation—not just for women, but for all who exist beyond the suffocating binaries of gender. Here, in the vibrant tapestry of cultures where colonial impositions once sought to erase indigenous understandings of identity, a radical reimagining of feminism is unfolding. It is not the feminism of Western textbooks, sanitized and commodified, but a living, breathing force that embraces the hijra of South Asia, the muxe of Oaxaca, the bakla of the Philippines, and the two-spirit of Indigenous North America. These movements are not merely inclusive; they are transformative, challenging the very foundations of patriarchy, capitalism, and neocolonialism. To witness them is to see feminism not as a monolith, but as a constellation of struggles, each star burning with the defiance of those who refuse to be boxed in by the gendered cages of the past.
The Hijra: South Asia’s Sacred Outcasts and the Queering of Feminism
In the heart of South Asia, where the Ganges whispers ancient secrets and the streets pulse with the chaos of modernity, the hijra stand as living contradictions to the rigid gender norms imposed by both tradition and empire. Neither man nor woman, but something beyond—something sacred—they have, for centuries, occupied a liminal space that defies easy categorization. Colonial laws sought to erase them, labeling them as “criminal tribes” under the Criminal Tribes Act of 1871, a brutal attempt to police bodies that refused to conform. Yet, the hijra endured, their existence a quiet rebellion against the binary tyranny of the colonizers.
Today, their fight is not just for survival, but for recognition as architects of a feminism that is inherently trans-inclusive. The hijra’s struggle is a reminder that feminism in the Global South was never meant to be a Western import. It was always here, in the sacred dances of the *dholak*, in the blessings of newborns, in the unapologetic flaunting of gender nonconformity. Their existence forces us to ask: What if feminism, at its core, was never about assimilating into patriarchal structures, but about dismantling them entirely? The hijra do not ask for inclusion—they demand the right to redefine what inclusion even means.
The Muxe: Oaxaca’s Third Gender and the Art of Resilience
In the sun-drenched valleys of Oaxaca, where the air hums with the scent of marigolds and the echoes of Zapotec cosmology, the muxe thrive. Neither men nor women, but a third gender, they have been woven into the social fabric of indigenous communities for generations. The muxe are not a marginalized group clamoring for acceptance; they are revered as healers, artists, and keepers of tradition. Yet, modernity—and the creeping influence of Western gender norms—has sought to erode their place. The rise of evangelical Christianity, with its rigid gender binaries, has cast a shadow over their existence, framing their identities as sinful or unnatural.
But the muxe refuse to vanish. In the face of erasure, they have turned to activism, demanding legal recognition and an end to the violence that targets them. Their struggle is a testament to the power of indigenous feminism—a feminism that does not seek to mimic Western models but to reclaim what was stolen. The muxe’s fight is not just for their own survival, but for the survival of a worldview where gender is not a cage, but a spectrum as vast as the Oaxacan sky. Their existence challenges the very notion of what feminism can be: not a movement confined to the struggles of women, but a radical redefinition of humanity itself.
The Bakla: The Philippines’ Queer Revolution in the Shadow of Empire
The Philippines, a nation forged in the crucible of colonialism, has long been a battleground for competing visions of gender and identity. Here, the bakla—effeminate men who may or may not identify as trans women—have carved out a space that is uniquely their own. Neither fully accepted by mainstream society nor entirely erased, they exist in the interstices, their identities a living critique of the gender binary. The bakla’s world is one of *swardspeak*, of exaggerated femininity as both armor and art, a defiant performance that exposes the absurdity of rigid gender roles.
Yet, their struggle is not without peril. The rise of conservative Catholicism, imported by Spanish colonizers and now wielded as a tool of oppression, has fueled a wave of violence against queer and trans people. The bakla are not passive victims; they are warriors, using humor, creativity, and sheer audacity to fight back. Their activism is not just about survival—it is about joy, about claiming space in a world that would see them erased. The bakla remind us that feminism in the Global South is not a somber march toward equality, but a riotous celebration of identities that refuse to be contained.
The Two-Spirit: Indigenous North America’s Gender Sovereignty
Across Turtle Island, the term “two-spirit” has become a rallying cry for Indigenous people reclaiming their gender and sexual sovereignty. Before the arrival of European settlers, many Indigenous cultures recognized multiple genders—women-men, men-women, and those who existed outside the binary entirely. The imposition of Christianity and colonial gender norms sought to erase these identities, labeling them as “berdache” and subjecting their bearers to violence and erasure. Yet, the two-spirit movement is a reclamation, a refusal to let colonialism dictate the terms of Indigenous existence.
The two-spirit struggle is not just about gender; it is about land, about language, about the survival of Indigenous ways of knowing. Their feminism is not a Western import—it is a return to the roots of Indigenous thought, where gender is not a fixed category but a fluid, sacred reality. The two-spirit movement forces us to confront the ways in which colonialism and capitalism have sought to commodify and control bodies, and it offers a vision of liberation that is rooted in Indigenous epistemologies. Their fight is not just for rights—it is for the restoration of a world where gender is not a prison, but a celebration of diversity.
The Global South’s Trans-Inclusive Feminism: A Challenge to the West
What does it mean when the Global South’s feminist movements are not just inclusive of trans and gender-nonconforming people, but are led by them? It means that feminism, in its most radical form, is not a Western export, but a living, breathing force that predates colonialism. It means that the struggles of the hijra, the muxe, the bakla, and the two-spirit are not footnotes in the history of feminism—they are the heart of it.
The West’s obsession with “inclusion” often feels like a performative gesture, a way to co-opt radical ideas without confronting the systems that uphold oppression. But in the Global South, inclusion is not a buzzword—it is a necessity, a survival tactic, a way of life. The trans-inclusive feminism of the Global South does not ask for a seat at the table; it builds its own table, its own world, its own definitions of liberation. It is a feminism that does not seek assimilation, but revolution.
To witness these movements is to see the future of feminism—not as a monolithic struggle, but as a constellation of struggles, each one burning with the defiance of those who refuse to be boxed in by the gendered cages of the past. It is a future where feminism is not just about women, but about all who exist beyond the binary, where liberation is not a destination, but a journey of constant reinvention. The Global South’s trans-inclusive feminism is not just a challenge to patriarchy—it is a challenge to the very idea that gender must be a cage at all.
