Paola Bacchetta is a Professor in the Department of Gender and Women's Studies at UC Berkeley, and the Director of Berkeley's Institute for Gender and Sexuality Research. Her latest project, “Transnational Archiving of Sexualities: Engaging Plural Pasts”, aims to create innovative forms of collective knowledge in the field of archiving. By bringing together academics and practitioners working at the intersection of LGBTQ+ studies and archival theory, the project focuses on three key areas: (1) how archives, broadly conceived, produce knowledge, (2) how dominant archival systems resist alternative narratives, and (3) how we can develop more equitable archival practices to address the needs of our times. We spoke with Professor Bacchetta to delve deeper into her research and the impact of her work, supported by the France-Berkeley Fund (FBF).
Could you introduce yourself and tell us about your academic journey?
Paola Bacchetta: I was born in the U.S., but the majority of my education took place in France. I also spent time studying in India and Italy, although all my degrees come from French institutions. My undergraduate studies were in International Relations, with an emphasis on psychology, which I deeply enjoyed. Over time, my focus shifted to sociology and law. My academic journey has also seen a transition from postcolonial to decolonial theory, with a consistent emphasis on gender and sexuality.
While my connection to France remains strong, I have been teaching at UC Berkeley for two decades, and my academic home is here. Currently, I co-direct the Decolonizing Sexualities Network with Sandeep Bakshi, which is supported by the France-Berkeley Fund. My involvement in archiving has spanned several years, and I also teach queer archiving practices.
Why did you choose to pursue your education in France, and why psychology rather than gender?
PB: When I was a student in France, there were no academic courses on gender—none at all. Today, there are several institutions where it’s taught, but back then, even feminist studies were not institutionalized. French feminism was recognized, but the academic system in France moves very slowly when it comes to institutional change. In contrast, institutions in the U.S. are far more open to faculty initiatives. For instance, if I wanted to propose a program on decolonial studies here, I would likely receive support.
Although my formal studies did not focus on gender, I explored it through art and activism. I was heavily involved in the feminist movement and worked with the Maison des Femmes, a feminist collective in Paris. Gender has been a core part of my focus from the very beginning.
Why is queer archiving such an important endeavor for you?
PB: I spent many years living outside the U.S., and for a period, I was in political exile abroad. My involvement in various movements during that time profoundly shaped my perspective. When I returned to the U.S., I was shocked to see how much of that history—people, activities, analysis, art, and activism—had been erased or misrepresented in archives.
Recognizing the gaps in representation, I approached my former collective, Tactics, and proposed creating an archive of our work. While I am not a historian, I felt it was essential to document what we could, even if it meant starting with just our group’s experiences. It took about five years to assemble the archive, which preserves our activities, reflections, and contributions.
During this process, I noticed the absence of comprehensive LGBT archives in France. The Maison des Femmes maintained a lesbian archive, but that was the only substantial resource at the time. It became clear to me how critical it is for collectives to manage their own archiving, as no one else could fully understand what to preserve. This realization led us to make queer archiving a central focus of the Decolonizing Sexualities project in Paris.
Why do narratives of People of Color often go missing in archives?
PB: People of Color are often excluded from archival narratives because they are not perceived as having anything valuable to contribute. Even when individuals interview or study collectives, they rarely seek out voices from People of Color unless they themselves belong to those communities.
In the French lesbian archives, for instance, contributions from People of Color were minimal—not necessarily due to conscious neglect but because of ingrained biases and assumptions about whose stories matter. To address this, we worked to decenter whiteness and amplify the voices of queer People of Color. This was made possible through the solidarity of queer communities in both France and the U.S. Today, the LGBT archives in France have taken significant steps to document and include the stories of queers of color.
How has the France-Berkeley Fund supported your work?
PB: The France-Berkeley Fund was instrumental in advancing our project, “Transnational Archiving of Sexualities: Engaging Plural Pasts.” It supported our efforts within the Decolonizing Sexualities Network, an academic-activist collective focused on transnational issues.
The funding allowed us to collaborate with various archiving collectives, including the LGBT Historical Archives in Paris, the Freedom Archives, and the Angela Davis Archive. Without this support, we wouldn’t have been able to undertake such a comprehensive project. The fund has truly had a transformative impact, enabling us to rethink and improve archival practices to make them more inclusive and reflective of diverse histories.
What kind of impact do you hope this research will achieve?
PB: That’s a great question. We hope our work inspires solutions to address gaps in queer and transnational archives. For instance, creating spaces for dialogue has been incredibly helpful for individuals in countries where archiving is not possible. I recall speaking with Brazilian lesbians who hadn’t previously considered the importance of documenting their histories because of restrictive laws.
Globally, the majority of the world is not like Berkeley. The stories of queer People of Color—our ancestors—are critical, yet often overlooked. Expanding the concept of “queer” itself is essential. In Ghana, for example, there is no formal written recognition of lesbian sexuality, and terms like these can sometimes function as imperialist concepts.
We also need to broaden what we consider archival material. Queer friendships, for example, can hold immense significance, often more so than traditional narratives centered on sexuality. This research challenges standardized notions of archiving, opening the door for richer and more inclusive histories.
Thank you so much for your time, Professor Bacchetta. This has been a fascinating and enlightening conversation!