In her study on the configuration of difference in colonial New Granada, Joanne Rappaport contends that many studies “tend to ignore how different practices of distinguishing one individual from another came into play in concrete situations,” and as a result they “end up labeling as ‘race’ something that was much more multifaceted.” Subsequently, she urges scholars to interpret colonial subjects and their identities on their own terms. This study responds to Rappaport's call by analyzing the workings of the historical concept of calidad in colonial Spanish America.

On January 13, 1803, the French notary Derieux visited the first of several estates owned by Domingo Rodríguez, recently deceased. Rodríguez's property lay in the environs of Santiago de los Caballeros, a town in the north-central valley of Santo Domingo on eastern Hispaniola (today, the Dominican Republic). Over a three-week period, Derieux traveled with a team of witnesses and assessors to properties as far away as coastal Puerto Plata in order to assess the value of Rodríguez's cloth store, home, cabins, pasture land, livestock, cane and foodstuff fields, and sugar-processing equipment. Two of the three plantations also included a different kind of asset. At the sugar estate Gourave, Derieux wrote down the names of the 35 cultivateurs, cultivatrices, and enfants, that is, male and female agricultural workers and their children.

The 1950s stand out as the “Golden Years” in the collective memory of many Brazilians. Sandwiched between the authoritarian periods of the Estado Novo dictatorship led by Getúlio Vargas (1937–45) and a military dictatorship (1964–85), the decade was a time of great optimism for the country's future. Many hoped that the country would enjoy a lasting democratic system accompanied by the ever-increasing trappings of modernity. Indeed, a surge of economic growth and industrial development during Vargas's return as a democratically elected president (1951–54), followed by a massive industrialization program crowned by the construction of the ultramodern capital of Brasília under Juscelino Kubitschek (1956–61), gave true believers reason for optimism.

“B. D. Q. C.,” as he signed his letter, must have felt pretty special that New Year's Eve of 1973. Some time that evening, the 15-year-old Communist boy from Santiago de Chile kissed a 17-year-old Communist girl admired for her beauty by all the young Communists from the local headquarters of the Juventudes Comunistas de Chile (JJCC), or Jota, as the youth wing of the Partido Comunista de Chile (PCCH) was nicknamed. He had never dated an older woman before, and though he bragged about having kissed thousands of other girls, he had never truly fallen in love until then. “I dated her for only 13 days. We broke up, but every day that goes by I love her more and more,” he confessed in a letter to the editor of the young Communists’ magazine a few days later. To make matters worse for our lovelorn teenager, the object of his affection did not stay single for long. “She is now dating another guy from the Jota. Every day that goes by I grow more jealous of him and of everyone who talks to her, because even though I'm not with her any more, I dream we are still together, and I have hopes to be with her again.” The existence of a place like the JJCC local headquarters, which all the people involved in this romantic affair visited regularly, was the cause of both solace and affliction for this young man: “I waste the whole afternoon in the headquarters waiting for her to arrive and greet her, so my eyes can take her in. I think about her every minute, while she has thousands of things to think about, and I have only one.”

In his 1611 Treasury of the Castilian or Spanish Language, Sebastián de Covarrubias began his definition of the word duende as follows: “It is one of the spirits of those who fell with Lucifer, of which some fell to the depths, others remained in the airy region, and some [landed] upon the surface of the Earth, as it is commonly held. These tend to be found inside houses and among mountains and in caves, frightening with their occasional apparitions, taking on fantastic shapes.” Over a century later, the 1732 Diccionario de autoridades was more concise; a duende was simply “a species of hobgoblin or demon that, as the name suggests, ordinarily infests houses.” Had Enlightenment reduced one of Lucifer's minions to a household sprite?