Readers familiar with current intellectual debates in Latin America, as well as among Latin Americanists and Latino and Latina scholars in the United States, are also familiar with the concept of "modernity/coloniality." Readers in other disciplines, especially those in Europe, may not be so familiar with these concepts. With this in mind, I will start by spelling out what is at stake here; and why it matters to the understanding of the spirit of this collection, as Sara Castro-Klaren explains in her Introduction.In the many books and essays on "modernity" published since the late 1970s in Europe and in the United States, the word "coloniality" never appears. Modernity seems to be a totality ("what you see is what it is"), with its good and bad aspects, which is at the same time the inevitability of the unfolding of history. Confronted with the illusion of such a totality, scholars and intellectuals trying to fi nd their way have coined terms such as "peripheral modernities," "subaltern modernities," "alternative modernities," "postcolonial modernities," and so forth. Fredric Jameson responded to this diversifi ed scenario with a clear-cut "singular modernity" (Jameson, 2002). If we have a singular modernity, those who dwell in the periphery (intellectually and linguistically, not just physically), who do not belong to the Euro-American singular modernity, have to fi ght for the rights of people and events that have been forgotten, silenced, ignored, and neglected, to argue that, for example, Zara Yacob (a seventeenth-century Ethiopian philosopher) has to be legitimized as a philosopher of modernity (Teodros Kiros, 2005). One could argue (as did Fischer, 2004 and Chapter 15 in this volume) that the Haitian Revolution was disavowed as modernity. Such disavowal had enormous historical, ethical, political, and epistemic (or gnoseological, or whatever word one would like to use to keep to the fore the principles of knowledge that are always implied in any and every conception of the world) consequences.