If everything from paperclips to cruise ships is designed, then all design is infused with human prejudices, tastes and ideologies. Examples abound as I read the new book by professor Omari Souza, Design Against Racism: Creating Work That Transforms Communities (PA Press), which suggests that since design against racism is possible, a legacy of designing with racist motives has existed—both incidental and deliberate—for much longer. Souza’s book, which includes contributions from colleagues in the art, interaction, communication and environmental design fields, presents an enticingly optimistic view of how the design of spaces, places, images and objects continues to change the lives of those branded as marginalized.
When I began studying graphic design history, “design for good” was the modern mantra. But good for who? Rich and poor? Professional and laborer? When I co-edited the book Citizen Designer with Veronique Vienne, we quoted Milton Glaser’s dictum “Do no harm,” but only barely considered those for whom good design was not an option—people who were left out or turned away at the door(s). In recent years I’ve had a keener understanding of the design of inclusion and exclusion (in large part owing to work by certain students), and Souza’s book is an essential part of this enhanced education.
Souza’s chapter “Africatown: A Space of Liberation and Generational Transformation” documents a post-emancipation safe haven near Mobile, AL, founded by the freed slave Cudjoe Kazoola Lewis to allow his fellow survivors to escape the “white gaze.” It is an eye-opener. The small self-governed community survives today as a monument to freedom, with a vibrancy that respects its cultural past and spiritual present.
The story of Africatown is among the developments that prove the power of design and its influence on a community’s well-being. It also made me reflect on Robert Caro’s The Power Broker, about the powerful master New York planner and public works czar Robert Moses—who Caro called “the most racist human being” he ever encountered—and how the act of design in the wrong hands is a destructive force. I can also project why Donald Trump has recently aimed his anti-woke ire against the National Museum of African American History and Culture. David Adjaye’s beautiful Afro-Futurist design is not Trump-o-merican enough, and it reveals too much of the culture that Trump perhaps believes should have died long ago.
Racism is more than derision of an entire people and denial of their cultural, historical, societal, spiritual legacy—unless, of course, it is colonized and co-opted by a mainstream white enterprise. In “Hip-Hop Architecture: Transforming Spaces Through Culture and Innovation,” another of many illuminating chapters, he compares hip-hop with traditional white architecture: The latter “adheres to standardization,” while the former “disrupts norms.” He writes, “Much like a DJ remixes and manipulates sounds, hip-hop architecture remixes and uses physical forms, resulting in dynamic and engaging spaces.”
Ultimately, the handicap in doing a daily Daily Heller is that I am restricted by space and time. As I made my way through Souza and colleagues’ sharp text, I wished I had more of both. Quotes alone are so rich. So, to solve the problem of meeting my deadline and doing the book justice, suffice that it deserves a careful read, and then digest it all. Design Against Racism provides an essential awakening, perfect for course adoption.
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