To what extent does white supremacy affect intersectionality in the Visual Arts?
This essay explores the various debates concerning white supremacy within the visual arts and the discussion of white supremacy as a white person within the creative industry. The term ‘intersectionality’, coined in 1989 by Kimberlé Crenshaw, addresses the intersection between marginalised communities such as queer, disabled, women and BAME (Black, Asian or Minority Ethnic) groups. As part of my exploration of intersectionality, I have focused mostly on black women and the stereotypes surrounding them. I have also touched on the lack of representation in the visual arts.
White supremacy in the design world has had a vast range of effects on the kind of creative work we see every day, from a lack of emerging young black designers to a lack of representation in galleries and exhibitions. White artists continuously fail to acknowledge their privilege as creatives in a majority white world, which not only directly harms the lives of people of colour, but also indirectly through refusing accountability for their privilege. This is specifically relevant within white feminist activist art (Keller, 2017) which often fails to note the experiences of black, queer, and disabled women, leaving a substantial portion of further marginalised people out of the conversation. In exploring this topic, I concluded that the best way for me to discuss racism in art, without speaking over people about the black experience (something I have no first-hand knowledge or experience of), is to ask the following questions.
Do ‘white allies’ want to change the art industry, or do they want to alleviate the guilt of pre-existing white privilege? White allyship is something I will examine in further detail, specifically concerning white feminists becoming defensive at the accusation of exclusionary activism1. In my title, I chose the term “white supremacy” deliberately. White supremacy is the belief that white people are superior to those of other races. I believe the media have normalised the phrase “white privilege,” giving it more positive-leaning connotations. I want to strike an uncomfortable feeling with my white readers to emulate the sense of violence and oppression experienced by a non-white artist.
This essay is an exploration of my research on the issue of white supremacy in the visual arts, rather than a solution to it. The importance of exploration for me is to learn, and to compile notes that others can use, while helping others realise that there is no single, perfect resolution to systemic discrimination in the arts, or indeed the world. The research has taught me more about how to listen to the experiences of the oppressed than try to ‘solve’ issues that have been embedded in history.
Research from black and minority ethnic group designers and activists has taught me that everybody has a different view on how to discuss race, especially as a white person approaching the topic from a unique perspective. Hence, I aim to practice quiet activism from now on through the presentation of information and thoughts, drawn from people of colour, who have first-hand knowledge.
My goal for this essay is to present readers with a thought-provoking question: what is the importance of intersectionality in art, and what are we doing to inhibit it? I do not intend to blame or chastise anyone, because I have also made mistakes, said the wrong thing, and misunderstood. However, introspection is the first step to better understanding; everybody has room to learn.
The Harm of White Feminism
The book that sparked this entire exploration for me was Mikki Kendall’s Hood Feminism (Kendall, 2021). Reading this was a real ‘oh no’ moment for me, considering I have often taken a feminist approach to my art practices. However, I realised I had ignored an entire category of people. Black women face two forms of discrimination: that of being black, and of being women. For queer black women, this includes another category: that of being queer. While the feminist movement makes many adequate points about discrimination against white women, it fails to include disabled, queer, and black women. As Audre Lorde (queer, female, black activist, and poet) said: “The absence of these considerations weakens any feminist discussion of the personal and the political.” (Lorde, 1984). These sections of society are often kept separate when discussing discrimination, leaving a gap between black and minority ethnic groups and women. Black Women are marginalised by multiple communities for their gender, race, and sexual orientation. They are placed as ‘other.’ Othering is the action of viewing or treating an individual as different from oneself. It often results in division, discrimination, and ignorance. Actor Thandiwe Newton OBE explains otherness as her ‘self’ not fitting in or being welcome. This caused “anxiety and stress” as she grew up in a white supremacist world where oneness and living together is a mass disconnect between “Selves.” (Newton, 2011). She explains how the self is created and destroyed multiple times as you discover how society labels your identity in the world, when ideally, the self should be defined by your internal feelings. We are placed in boxes and categories throughout our life which fail to acknowledge crossovers and subjective experiences.
Some people believe that oneness is close to being achieved in today’s society, therefore they may feel attacked when accused of othering. Rachel Cargle, black feminist activist and author, states that “Many liberal white women have an immediate reaction of defence when someone challenges their intentions.” (Cargle, 2018). White women have been known to take criticism from black women as a personal attack, claiming that we have done so much for the Black Lives Matter movement and proceeding to defend ourselves as if we are the oppressed. Cargle says “If there is not the intentional and action-based inclusion of women of colour, then feminism is simply white supremacy in heels.” (2018). The activism of gender equality is lost without the inclusion of other under-represented people who are also affected by gender biases and discrimination, as discussed previously by Thandiwe Newton (2011). White women end up doing the same thing to black women that they have been fighting against from men for years. Defensiveness toward black women’s criticism is tantamount to saying, “not all men,” despite our connection to a long history of oppressors. There is a tendency for white women to center the conversation on us; to talk about how we find the discussion of race difficult, and how black women should be less loud and aggressive to be heard and taken seriously. I like to imagine how annoying it is when men tell us to stop being crazy, smile more, and calm down. Then imagine that experience from the perspective of women and men of all backgrounds.
Alexandra McKinney, recent graduate from the Camberwell Graphic Design course, discusses how white men, the main beneficiaries of the patriarchal structure, have laid down the framework for themselves to be absolved of experiencing emotion. This has created harmful stereotypes among diverse cultures, which are especially apparent in situations of micro-conflict (McKinney, 2023). Black women are described as ‘aggressive’ and ‘overbearing’ by white women and the wider world until they have fame or power. The ‘Sasha Fierce’ (Crumpton, 2020) archetype becomes a romanticised trope when describing ‘feisty’ black women who are widely known and commonly liked. This of course does not apply to most black women. This stereotype is portrayed in television and film, fictional writing, and the media. At what point does an aggressive and confrontational black woman transition to being a fierce and powerful one in peoples’ perceptions? Or, at what point does a stereotype transition from being marginalising to empowering?
There is a valid reason for the criticism and historical frustration that comes with being part of an oppressed community, yet the emotions of people of colour are still considered unacceptable. Throughout history people of colour have been considered ‘other.’ Their emotions are therefore similarly considered to be other than valid. White women feel attacked when a black woman speaks up about her feelings, yet we feel more than welcome to discuss how a black woman speaking up about race made us feel. The ‘whiteness’ of mainstream feminism is ingrained, with fewer black female role models, activists, and protest artists it becomes more of a search for intersectional feminist materials. For example, it took me a long time to realise just how white-centric feminism is because most well-known feminist designers and activists are themselves, white.
White saviourism is a concept that dates to when many white Westerners believed they inherently had the knowledge, ingenuity, and skills to solve other people’s problems worldwide (Mélina, 2019). White saviours tend to address the needs of marginalised people in crises such as war and politically charged riots, yet not at any other time or on any scale. A prime example of this phenomenon in our day and age is the #blackouttuesday trend on Instagram, which consists of the posting of a black square, following BLM protests brought on by George Floyd’s murder. In mass protest, people who may agree with the intention of a cause yet do not continually fight for it join in on a trend to show ‘solidarity’ and take no further action. They are ignorant of the deeper work that needs to go into striving for equity. It is like putting a plaster on a gaping wound and saying, “I’ve done my part.” According to Nolan, white saviorism “perpetuates white supremacy as the system by which we organize our society” (Murphy, 2023). This is reflected in many aspects of society, such as healthcare and politics. Yet in the world of design, it is crucial to notice. Mainstream museums and galleries have a tendency to host a single show with a few marginalised creatives and then receive widespread praise for their inclusivity (Chalabi, 2019). This is simply not enough. Black creatives should be in main collections, frequent solo shows, and exhibitions. In a 2020 Vogue article, Yosola Olorunshola, writer and editorial strategist, wrote about a time when she visited the British Museum, where she discovered a small room dedicated to the history of the Haitian revolution. She writes “I wandered into the neighbouring room, desperate to find out more. I found myself surrounded by portraits of white men. The juxtaposition was jarring. I realised the exhibition had already come to an end. That was it – a single room on an entire revolution. Instead, I had entered the museum’s vast Enlightenment Gallery, brazenly labelled ‘Collecting the World’.” (Olorunshola, 2020). She describes this as a brutal reminder of where she was – a space built on white supremacy. A report by the UK government between 2018-19 showed that 51.1 per cent of white people had visited a museum or gallery, compared with 43.7 per cent of Asian people, and just 33.5 per cent of black people. This is unsurprising when British museums are filled with white faces and a version of history that people of colour do not feel compelled or comfortable with. . Sandra Shakespeare, an independent museum consultant, recently founded the Black British Museum Project - an online platform curating black British history, which she plans to eventually make physical (Shakespeare, 2022). She claims that among an estimated 2,500 British museums – some of which are for marbles, dog collars, and lawnmowers – there is not a single dedicated black British museum. This ties to a later discussion in my writing about ‘marked ness’ and how the ‘norm’ of a museum is to be majority white, therefore we are forced to create dedicated, black-labelled museums to achieve a better level of representation. This lack of representation is one of the reasons none of my friends can name more than a handful of black designers or artists, or even important historical figures.
White Supremacy in the Creative Industry
I asked my peers, via an interactive poster, how many marginalised artists or designers they could name. The results were shockingly few and consisted of mainstream, famous creatives such as Andy Warhol and Frida Kahlo. This begs the question of why? Why, at a university that prides itself on diversity and inclusion, can hardly anybody on the graphic design course name more than one or two marginalised designers or artists? The blame here cannot solely be placed on the University, considering I have received references and lectures discussing black, queer, and disabled artists throughout my studies. However, as a white person I have never focused on the identity of the designer because most design examples have been relatable to me because of the culture of white supremacy within the visual arts. Unfortunately, I and many others can rely on systemic racism to represent people of my race and ensure that I have role models who look like me.
The PEC (Policy and Evidence Centre), released a 2021 study on the topic of diversity and socio-economic inequality within the creative industries, which highlights exactly the kind of discrimination I have referred to, specifically, prejudice through class and race. They found that there would be 250,000 more working class people employed in the sector if the UK’s creative industries were as socio-economically diverse as the rest of the economy (PEC, 2022). This is particularly shocking considering the rest of the economy is not socio-economically diverse. Class-related inequality is intimately linked to disparities around race, gender, and disability. In London, the odds of working in the creative industry as a white, privileged person are one in five, which is double that of people from working class and ethnic minority backgrounds. This may be one of the causes of the lower numbers of black designers within the visual arts, which are due to several reasons such as being encouraged to take higher paying jobs which are perceived as more stable. As well as this, if there are no role models, young black artists may not be as likely to choose to work in the creative industry. According to the 2019 AIGA Consensus, 3% of designers are black (WATBD, 2020). This is one reason so few people can name marginalised designers, because there are so few represented by the industry. However, this does not excuse the lack of immediate knowledge. It is imperative to make minor changes (which in turn can create major changes), so that marginalised artists and designers are named at every opportunity. Exposure to something unusual over time alleviates misunderstanding of, shock, and negative reactions toward it. Therefore, exposure to minority-designed visual art is a steppingstone towards further diversity within the art world.
Audre Lorde tells us in her writing: “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House” in reference to a time when she was asked to speak at a humanities conference (Lorde, 2007). She spoke at the end of the conference on the only panel that discussed race, class, sexuality, and gender. She asked the questions: “Why weren’t other women of Colour found to participate in this conference? and “Why were two phone calls to me considered a consultation? Am I the only possible source of names of Black feminists?”. To which she says most answers include: “We do not know who to ask.” This is a clear exit for white women to excuse themselves from being called out. It is an excuse for black women to not be represented in panels, galleries, and educational talks. Not knowing who to ask or who to research is not a good enough excuse for the exclusion of a community, within any industry. This is exactly why, when asked who our favourite artists and designers are, we must be able to name marginalised designers. We must be able to say why, and what, we have learned from their work. Accepting the mainstream in media and design is not enough to move towards intersectionality, and algorithms do not work in favour of marginalised designers. The effort lies in digging deeper within your own research to diversify your references.
Another cause for the lack of intersectional representation within the visual arts could be the people in power making decisions about who they employ. Power is a dangerous thing when abused, as seen in America’s police brutality and gun violence and the UK’s peaceful protests - turned violent and patrolled.
Tatlin’s Whisper, by Tania Bruguera is a performance that took place at Tate Modern, in which two mounted police officers in uniform patrolled crowds on horses within the exhibition space, using a minimum of six crowd control techniques (Tate, 1970). The artist says she remains aware of the difference in experience determined by the context of the patrol. As seen in the British news, police control of a rowdy football game has a vastly different atmosphere to the control of a BLM protest. How this kind of power and control is portrayed in politics, news channels, and creative industries depends on who is at the top, making final decisions on what is shared with the wider world. Bruguera’s piece was prominent in my memory when I watched the 2019 film Queen and Slim, in which Daniel Kaluuya (who plays Slim) quotes: “He told me nothing scares a white man more than seeing a black man on a horse [...] ’cause they have to look up at him” (Matsoukas, 2020). Hearing the quote put a lot of things into perspective for me surrounding power and race. Does it frustrate white people to look up to see black representation on gallery walls? I know it would have done throughout history, but have we profoundly moved on from that or does the prejudice remain?
I have heard many people comment on the wider diversity in on-screen casting. How TV is becoming ‘woke’ (woke meaning alertness to racial, gender, LGBTQ+ prejudice and discrimination) and that it is unnecessary to see so many people of colour and queer people playing originally white characters such as Halle Bailey’s recent appearance as Ariel in The Little Mermaid. White people have had the privilege of years upon years of white representation throughout the media, seeing characters they can relate to. Why is it so offensive that people of colour are beginning to see the same for themselves? Woke has developed negative connotations among those with more right-wing views and used as an insult, like the phrase Social Justice Warrior.
Characters who were originally written as white often would have been written by white authors in a white supremacist world, prior to the world becoming more woke. It is as though we do not want people of colour to enjoy the same stories as we do. We want to exclude them from being able to relate to some on-screen entertainment because the fiction was originally made for white audiences. Diversifying TV and film are not going to end racism, and some may argue that in historically based fiction shows, writers should be sticking to fact rather than inclusion for the sake of inclusion. For example, there has been controversy around the Netflix show Bridgerton, directed by Shonda Rhimes, for choosing a diversified cast to play historically white roles (Quinn, 2020). In an interview with black British author and historian Steven I Martin, he describes the show as “an absurd take on history.” He says “It is set at a time when Britain was the largest trader in human lives on the planet (Rose, 2023). Slavery was central to the British economy.” Martin accuses Bridgerton of “overlooking the realities of that period.” The show may be a refreshing watch for people of colour to see them being representated through wealth rather than poverty, yet some argue that it is a throw-away attempt to brush over history and alleviate white guilt. Colour-blind casting is another way in which the media has gone about addressing inclusivity today, in which casting directors choose the best suited actor for the role regardless of background. Alternatively, shows could be made detailing the correct history of people of colour such as Amma Asante’s 2013 film Belle, which tells the story of Dido Belle born into slavery in the year of George and Charlotte’s marriage and raised in the 1800s as an aristocrat (Asante et al.).
Bridgerton has been called insensitive and woke, opposing views surrounding the show’s colour-filled finery which has been a common theme within my research. Finding the correct way to go about the race conversation is impossible. There is inevitable, constant disagreement about how we move forward today, which makes it particularly difficult to act upon. Black inclusion is becoming more mainstream yet there are still issues with how people of colour are portrayed. On the topic of mainstream representation, I am reminded that this has not been so ‘normal’ until recent years. Segregation has been a huge ordeal throughout history, which has resulted in specific labelling of black-targeted products, experiences, and communities. Deena Hayes-Green mentions in an REI (Racial Equity Institute) workshop that ‘marked-ness’ has dominated history (Scene On, 2017). Historically, black churches are named as such because white churches are considered the ‘norm’ and accepted predominantly white attendees. The same goes for black-owned businesses, BAME events, and black-centered products. This can also be seen with gender inequity in sport: The Euros (for men) hold a standard title while The Women’s Euros are labelled specifically to separate the two, yet it implies The Women’s Euros are of less importance due to the labelling choices. While segregation due to the white supremacist norm is harmful and discriminatory, the importance of black-owned businesses lies in the sense of a safe community. Black churches create a safe and free place for people of colour to gather in solitude and worship without discrimination from white people. Black-owned businesses are important to creating equity. Though marked-ness is segregational, it is necessary to support black-owned businesses to achieve equity because they are not ‘the norm,’ we must make more of an effort to shop, communicate, and work with black-owned businesses to elevate intersectionality. This also applies to black design collectives, designers, and artists within the creative industry. A Vibe called Tech is a proudly named “black-owned” design collective, which has worked with well-known brands to push intersectionality into the mainstream. A particular project I find interesting is their collaboration with Art Fund (AVCT, 2021).
Art Fund (1903); a national charity for art, reached out for help in researching why they are mostly reaching white audiences and how this can be changed to be more intersectional. This struck a chord with me because I remember Art Fund doing a few outreach projects with my art class in school which helped me to expand my knowledge and network. This kind of early outreach work with younger people can play a crucial role in encouraging them to explore art and design, and to help them find opportunities they may not have been exposed to otherwise.
AVCT state “As a team, we evaluated past campaigns to understand the performance of historic brand strategies and creative as well as conducted training and workshops across departments on team best practices for diversity and inclusion.” (AVCT, 2021). From which they have produced a final report including “recommendations for processes, team structure, external partners and reference materials.” This kind of internal effort from well-known companies to reach out to black-owned design collectives asking for aid in being more inclusive, is an excellent example of putting the work in to reach intersectionality. This is a key difference between designing for and designing with. Designing with the audience you are aiming to attract, and support makes a positive impact on the kind of work that comes from it.
Another incredible resource for young black creatives is Where are the Black Designers? (WATBD, 2020). This is a black-owned collective who hold free conferences and talks. They offer resources to emerging creatives who are struggling to find work due to racial inequity and help them navigate the white-centered design world as a black person. These examples are the sort of work we all need to promote and support to raise the effort with intersectionality. It is important for equity that black creatives are shouted about and their voices are heard. In one of their published Zoom discussions about navigating a white design world, a few design phrases that I had not considered as being harmful were described as such. These include ‘white space’ and ‘white noise’ (Miller, 2021). The latter of the two - white noise - was praised as a phrase that accurately described the design world (and general society) drowning in the noise of white people and their overbearing volume. “White space” is what I found particularly interesting. When describing a gallery wall as ‘white space’ it connotes purity and cleanliness, unmarked by an ‘other,’ remaining perfectly pristine and normal. Phrases like these hold racist leaning undertones, which feed into the idea that white is pure and anything ‘other’ simply dirties it. A better alternative could be empty space which implies a lack of decoration.
Intersectionality
Kimberle Crenshaw, black author, and activist, speaks on the importance of intersectionality today because of how often black women are left out of the feminist conversation (Crenshaw, 2016). She states that Black women have two aspects of marginalisation behind them, yet they are continually ignored. In my search for writing and reports about black women in creative spaces I have been faced with titles separating the two such as “women in art” and “people of colour in art.” Feminism is a topic that often sits apart from racism and class, when in reality, they should be spoken about together, since they are not mutually exclusive. My question, sparked by Crenshaw’s talk, is: how can we achieve intersectionality within the visual arts? As suggested before, the people in power often have the final say regarding who is employed for design roles, which in turn affects what kind of design is produced. However, on a smaller scale, who should be making activist art and who should not, If anybody?
This was a huge consideration throughout the exploration of my question. There were many times that I felt out of my depth, or that I should not be the person to discuss race, when I have no experience of oppression because of my skin colour. Angela Pelster-Weibe, teacher and blogger, explores the authority to discuss white supremacy as a white person and how we should navigate the conversation without furthering the trauma of marginalised people (Pelster-Weibe, 2019). She mentions a few ‘epic disasters’ such as Sam Durant’s Scaffold (Dickinson, 2019), among others. One that comes to mind for me is the Kendall Jenner Pepsi advert of 2017, which insensitively suggested that protesters and police would get along better if protesters could approach with peace and kindness, using the Black Lives Matter movement as its subject (Pepsi, 2017). Inconsiderate activist media such as this contributes to harmful stereotypes about violence from people of colour, placing them as the aggressor rather than the victim. These lapses in judgement and consideration from white people are a clear example of the privilege they hold in not feeling the need to thoroughly research their intentions or when they employ marginalised designers to give real-life insight.
Unfortunately, I can say I have made similar mistakes myself. During this project I believe I have acted in ways that could have been insensitive and may have furthered the trauma of the marginalised people I aim to bring awareness to. At times, I wanted to give up. However, giving up on the conversation of race is lesson number one on how to recognise your inherent white privilege. I have the privilege to step out of a conversation about race if it ever upsets me or I find it too difficult, and that is exactly why I did not do that. On the one hand, white designers should not remain silent when they are privileged to be able to speak about race without risk of hate crime and further discrimination. On the other hand, as discussed by Pelster-Weibe, white people should not speak up about race if they lack knowledge of, or have not spoken to, the people they are advocating for. We must put ourselves in the shoes of who we are, not those of the oppressed, and inherit the violent, white supremacist history that comes with being born white. Our community has created a world in which being black is wrong. It is uncomfortable, difficult, and dangerous. It is a lot easier to imagine how it must be to live as a marginalised person than face your own privilege and history as an aggressor.
This is where the issues lie when it comes to addressing white supremacy in any form. We imagine how difficult it must be for marginalised people, as if it is not us who have built the system within which discrimination occurs. Dr. Robin DiAngelo, a female white sociologist who studies critical discourse, in her book White Fragility, states that “the key to moving forward is what we do with our discomfort. We can use it as a door out—blame the messenger and disregard the message. Or we can use it as a door in by asking, why does this unsettle me? What would it mean for me if this were true?” (DiAngelo et al., 2016). If your Neighbour's house were on fire, you would not ignore the fire and discomfort, knowing your Neighbours may not survive. So why do we ignore the fire of discrimination just because it does not directly burn us? It has become too easy to walk away without a nick or scratch while we ignore the world in flames. Exposure to the kinds of racial discrimination that happen today and throughout history should be discussed much earlier and throughout the education system. When I was 18 years old I wrote a letter to 10+ MPs at the time, outlining my concerns about the lack of education surrounding race and black history. Unfortunately, my email was responded to with reassurance that the UK curriculum was in fact up-to-date, well-informed on black British history and that teachers can decide which parts of the curriculum to share with students. For me this is not enough. Considering how much of an impact this has on the day-to-day lives of people of colour I would suggest that race related modules be mandatory and of substance. We are currently still encouraging the growth of young white supremacist students who will grow to be ignorant and under-educated in such an important topic. How is this moving forward? How does it contribute to the existing inequity? These are vast open-ended questions which require further discussion.
It was only in my first year of university that I became aware of the true version of design history that included people of colour. Up until this point I had studied white artists and designers religiously. Admittedly (and I stated this in my email) I could have done my own further research to diversify my pool of references. However, a lot of young adults and growing students may have hardly been exposed to any kind of racism in their younger years. I know I was sheltered from UK micro-aggression, only seeing racially charged fatalities in America. I wrongly assumed that we are fine, and that we are not a racist nation because we don’t shoot people based on the colour of their skin. I believe that many other young people will have a similar view. This can change with a more diversified education from a younger age. On the other side, some parents may argue that this discussion of true history and systemic racism may be too much and too violent for young minds to take in. I would disagree. I wish that I had known. I wish that I would not now have to do years of research and personal learning to undo the ignorance set within me from my white-washed education. This especially relates to art and design education. It should not be a second thought to consider black designers, it should be mainstream, and more work needs to be done to make this a reality.
Saying the wrong thing is not an excuse to give up, it is a mistake to learn from
Readers may be wondering “what can I do?” From the examples I have highlighted and many more things there is plenty to choose from. Firstly, do your research! Simply reading up on marginalised artists, designers, and activists and what they have to say about their experiences and their creative work comes in handy when having conversations about difficult topics such as white supremacy and discrimination. Some examples of creatives can be found at the bottom of this essay’s references. Next, do not shy away from the topic of conversation, even if it is difficult and especially if you say the wrong thing. Saying the wrong thing is not an excuse to give up, it is a mistake to learn from. Running away from the conversation when it gets difficult or when you feel attacked is part of the problem of white supremacy. We have the privilege to walk away when it suits us. People who live their day-to-day lives in a world historically set against them, do not have that option. Use your privilege to support others. Use your voice to support their message. Informatively call out the people around you who have grown up in a white-washed world and offer them an opposing perspective. Support black-owned businesses and marginalised creatives in whatever ways you can, whether by purchasing merchandise, liking an online post, or sharing their work with friends and family. Even small actions can make a difference. Speak to the audience you are advocating for before speaking for them, or at least read extensively about their opinions and experiences of being marginalised. If possible, as a creative, work for design companies that advocate for intersectionality. Alternatively, encourage intersectionality within the workplace if you feel your company audience is narrow and ‘mainstream.’ An example of this is how Art Fund handled their lack of a black audience, reaching out and asking for help to make changes. Be aware of your privilege, check yourself when you notice that you have been able to get away with something which someone else may not have, ditch the stereotypes, and halt the racial profiling.
Do these things with the right intentions. If you have a white saviour complex and you are only aiming to alleviate your own white guilt, reconsider your reasoning. Trying to be a ‘good’ person when your intentions are not true will just get you into further trouble. The main takeaway from my research has been that there is no perfect or correct way to be more intersectional and put the world to rights. These things take time, deliberation, conversation, and effort. There are also a million different opposing views about what we should or should not say and what we should or should not do and that is okay, that is what is so interesting about these kinds of conversations. Listen to every opinion and comment possible to form a wide perspective - this especially applies to your role as a designer. Most importantly, research enough to be able to name at least 5 marginalised creatives and continue to put in the work to support black designers and black art exhibitions.
And. Do not. Ever. Stop.
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Queen & Slim (2020). Italia: Universal studios.
Quinn, J. (2020) Bridgerton. Netflix.
Rose, S. (2023) ‘why is Bridgerton’s race twisting acceptable?’ the real problem with the show’s Black Fantasy, The Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2023/jun/12/bridgerton-queen-charlotte-race-black-fantasies-king-george (Accessed: 20 November 2023).
Jones, D., Robertson, J. and Sagay, M. (no date).
Scene On, R. (2017) ‘My White Friends (Seeing White Part 12)’, Seeing White. Spotify.
AVCT (2021) Art fund - reaching black audiences, A Vibe Called Tech. Available at: https://www.vibecalledtech.com/work/art-fund-report (Accessed: 20 November 2023).
Art fund (1903) Art Fund. Available at: https://www.artfund.org/ (Accessed: 12 November 2023).
WATBD 2021: Designing and Organizing for Black Liberation (Day 1) (2021). YouTube. 26 June. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mARUcfo4gt8&t=8778s (Accessed: 12 November 2023).
The Urgency of Intersectionality (2016). TED. 14 November. Available at: https://www.ted.com/talks/kimberle_crenshaw_the_urgency_of_intersectionality?language=en (Accessed: 28 October 2023).
29, A.P.-W.A. (2019) White artists need to start addressing white supremacy in their work, Literary Hub. Available at: https://lithub.com/white-artists-need-to-start-addressing-white-supremacy-in-their-work/ (Accessed: 30 October 2023).
Dickinson, S. (2019) ‘a seed of healing and change’: Native Americans respond to Sam Durant’s ‘scaffold’, ARTnews.com. Available at: https://www.artnews.com/art-news/artists/a-seed-of-healing-and-change-native-americans-respond-to-sam-durants-scaffold-8454/ (Accessed: 12 November 2023).
Pepsi Commercial (2017). YouTube. 6 April. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwvAgDCOdU4 (Accessed: 18 November 2023).
DiAngelo, R. and Tatusian, A. (2016) in White Fragility. New York, NY: Public Science, pp. 54–70.
McKenzie, M. (2014) Black girl dangerous: On race, queerness, class, and gender. Oakland, CA: BGD Press, Inc.
Alexander, E. (2021) Understanding white privilege: 20 everyday examples - harper’s bazaar, Harper’s Bazaar. Available at: https://www.harpersbazaar.com/uk/culture/a32752175/white-privilege-everyday-examples/ (Accessed: 20 October 2023).
Sasha Fierce: Crumpton, T. (2020) The proud tradition of alter egos in female rap, The Face. Available at: https://theface.com/music/female-rap-alter-egos-beyonce-sasha-fierce-nicki-minaj-megan-thee-stallion-rico-nasty (Accessed: 27 June 2024).
Creatives and research for a more diverse reference spectrum:
https://www.cosmopolitan.com/style-beauty/fashion/g33312113/black-fashion-designers/
https://www.hireblackfemalecreatives.com/
https://www.theslumflower.com/
https://awarewomenartists.com/en/magazine/les-femmes-du-british-black-arts-movement/
Footnotes
- Exclusionary activism is activism which excludes a community of people or specific type of person (e.g., feminism leaving out Black or Queer women).