100 Books Like The Revolution Starts at Home

Are any of the books I’ve selected International Studies texts? Let’s debate that later! This one was published in a Feminist Media Studies list. 

This book illuminates and humanizes the connections between activists working for LGBTQ rights and activists working for immigrant rights. Chávez foregrounds insights from women of color. It was one of the first academic books I read during my doctoral work that helped me understand how to bridge movement insights with political theory while staying committed to the activists I write about.

Chávez takes care in her work, always taking the continuing urgency of the coalitional queer and migrant politics seriously.

While I was getting my PhD at the University of Massachusetts – Boston, Chávez came to our campus and gave a talk. I was inspired by how connected her work is to the movements she writes about, and I aim to do the same.

You get exactly what’s on the tin with this one, and from an insider’s vantage point.

Thoreson uses an ethnographic approach to look at how Outright (formerly the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission) works in both the United States, where the group is headquartered, and through regional offices.

Thoreson shows us how movements behave, and with a critical eye to the role of Global North actors in these relationships. I was especially interested to hear about this idea that certain actors can behave as "brokers" to promote and translate certain human rights ideas. I see this practice among those who queer peace and security by building coalitions across gender justice movements.

Working for human rights of any kind is messy work. Long-term activism depends on very specific people and personalities to make meaningful change. This book's ethnographic research illuminates these transnational relationships.

What a gift of a book.

This book is a foundational text in Black women’s studies and includes the statement by the Black lesbian feminist Combahee River Collective, which just celebrated 50 years. In the statement, they write, "We believe that sexual politics under patriarchy is as pervasive in Black women's lives as are the politics of class and race."

I appreciate the book because it shows the rich history of Black women’s writing and movement building, including the important role of Black lesbian feminist sisterhood. It was so exciting to read the letter written by Lorraine Hansberry to the lesbian periodical The Ladder in 1957, in which she links homophobia to the sexual oppression experienced by all women. I can’t help but scribble in the margins: see, lesbians have always been here! 

Although queer organizing is so often presented as something that is new or emerging, this book challenges… show more.

This book, perhaps the most straightforwardly peace and conflict book on my list, looks at the global queer Palestinian solidarity movement.

Atshan writes, "if we pay close attention to them, it becomes clear that the activists sustaining the queer Palestinian movement along with other queer Palestinians attempting to lead their everyday lives have been engaged in compelling epistemological work to make sense of their experiences and to communicate those insights to one another and to the world."

I value this book because it considers the complexity of how queer Palestinian activists engage in boycotts and education campaigns about sexuality while also confronting campaigns of Pinkwashing from Israel. Atshan shows how queer Palestinians are refusing Zionism on their own terms, in the face of empire.

"No faces, no eyes. Not if you want to survive."

Riley lives in a lonely world where a single look drives people into frenzied violence. Stay alive by staying away from people. This state of affairs has become routine to her: "It's horrifying. Then it's weird. Then it's just inconvenient."

But she considers risking it all when a new neighbor moves in down the street. Your Shadow Half Remains is a beautifully written meditation on love, isolation, paranoia, and so much more. I couldn't put this one down.

Florida-based historian David Courtwright is best known for his analyses of the history of drug addiction and the drug business in the United States, but this volume is a fact-filled page-turner on America's lethal violence problem. Courtwright describes a frontier culture in which a reputation for violent capability was an essential social asset and persuasively explicates its similarities with the situation that faces single young men in America's underserved inner cities to this day. The interdisciplinary scope of Courtwright's scholarship guarantees that any reader will learn a great deal from his book. I found it unputdownable.   

This book technically isn’t about the Iraq war but instead, about violence more broadly and it's super nerdy but super important.

As a soldier and sociologist, I’ve always been fascinated by the ways academia deals with questions of violence. In particular, since the popularity of moral psychology theories like Jonathan Haidt’s moral foundations theory (popularized in his book The Righteous Mind), the running assumption in a lot of academic circles is that harm = bad. But Fisk and Rai show that violence serves social purpose such as bonding people together or teaching them group boundaries.

It’s a difficult read because it challenges people’s assumptions about violence and harm but that makes it all the more important in understanding how people come home from war and the ways in which they wrestle with actions they’ve done. 

I’m keenly drawn to this novel because it navigates the specter between myth and violence, the grandeur of folkloric myth, and the raw side of violence, which are so descriptive of the Mexican past and present. Melchor blurs the lines between a world of quasi-fantastical superstition and hyper-realism, delving at times into the territory of mystery and crime fiction, all of it contained by the paradigm of the Mexican drug war, accurately rendering the reach and expanse of drug consumption and distribution as much as the ravages they bring about.

Centered around the figure of a murdered witch and alleged healer in the depths of the state of Veracruz, this narrative unmasks the mythical traditions of a locality to uncover the violence that lies at the depths of Mexican communities affected by the war on drugs. Melchor masterfully demystifies and rids exoticism from the Mexican imaginary to denounce the marginalization… show more.

The Brides of Dracula are a classic overlooked group. Most adaptations treat them like a sexy slideshow of danger, not allowed to do anything other than lust and hunger. They’re a flattened idea of feminine desire, put on Dracula’s leash.

S.T. Gibson breathes them to life (or undeath) by imagining what their long existence is like, constantly under a temperamental abuser’s thumb. Yes, they are angry and hungry, and they yearn, but it’s a deeply human yearning for more than companionship. You root for them to be the ones to plunge knives into the count’s heart.

This book revealed a threat new to me and to many readers in a culture where mothers had to hide their daughters in shallow graves in Guerrero, Mexico, adjacent to the drug cartels in order to avoid their abduction. They often masqueraded their daughters as boys or tried to make them ugly by chopping off their hair and blackening their teeth.

I was riveted by the story of Ladydi and her friends as they sought a larger world and future they instinctively knew existed. They supported each other but were constantly at risk and challenged by the dangerous drug culture and misogynistic environment they were born into.

Prayers for the Stolen is filled with vignettes and images that stayed with me, written in Jennifer’s poetic prose—she is also a poet. With imagination, narrative drive, and suspense, it explores the struggle and limited triumph of some of the women and reflects… show more.