Author: Can Yang

When design students in London, Hong Kong, or Taipei type “modern graphic design history” into a search bar, the results rarely summon the vibrant typographic experiments of Beijing’s underground zines or the speculative futurisms emerging in Kuala Lumpur’s independent studios. Instead, the first pages are populated by well-worn Western touchstones: Bauhaus grids, Swiss typography, Helvetica canonised. This is not accidental. It is the culmination of centuries of epistemic power building around Western institutions, now encoded into algorithmic infrastructures that mediate how we find knowledge.

The problem is structural. As Mabuye (2024) demonstrates in her critique of systemic racism within design, the discipline does more than teach styles; it enculturates students into certain ways of knowing. In similar fashion, algorithmic tools that generate curricula and reading lists (search engines, academic aggregators, AI text generators) reproduce long-standing hierarchies. These systems operate on datasets dominated by Western language and Western publishing standards, prioritising sources that have historically accrued cultural capital.

Search Engines and the Politics of Visibility

Safiya Noble’s influential work Algorithms of Oppression foregrounds how search engines, far from neutral, reflect and amplify societal inequalities (Noble, 2018). In her analysis, biased retrieval patterns emerge not because of technical accident but because the underlying webs of hyperlinks, citation networks, and commercially prioritised content are themselves products of unequal histories. In the context of graphic design education, this means that when an instructor or student uses a platform to generate a reading list or design canon, what appears to be “automated recommendation” is actually the foregrounding of a small subset of design histories — predominantly Euro-American.

Quantitative work confirms this tendency. An audit of major digitised visual heritage platforms found that over 90 % of all indexed images came from just five Western countries, leaving entire regions including large parts of Asia, Africa, and Latin America effectively absent from the searchable visual record. For a generation of students taught to search first, ask questions later, the absence of Sinophone, South Asian, or Southeast Asian design movements in these datasets shapes what is even conceivable as “design heritage” (Digital Humanities Abstracts, 2022).

Language Bias and the Limits of Translation

The dominance of English is not just cultural but infrastructural. Luo et al. (2023) show that when the same conceptual query is entered in different languages across platforms such as Google and generative AI tools, the perspective, sources, and framing differ drastically, privileging English-language and by extension Western narratives. This matters deeply for Sinophone graphic design, where much of the most exciting work circulates in Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese, Korean, and hybrid code-switched forms. When algorithmic tools fail to surface this work, they are not merely omitting a few designers; they are erasing entire epistemic traditions.

Consider the recent surge in Sinofuturism — a speculative visual language that reimagines Chinese urban futures, tech aesthetics, and post-digital mythologies. Writers like Chen Yun (2025) have documented how Sinofuturist designers blend vernacular calligraphy with glitch aesthetics, creating visually and conceptually distinct literacies (“Sinofuturism: Beyond Western Futures,” Design Asia Journal, 2025). Yet such scholarship, often published in bilingual journals or online platforms, rarely ranks in top search results when students consult algorithmic tools to define contemporary design discourse.

Image Search Bias and Visual Canons

Algorithmic image retrieval also reproduces cultural hierarchies. Papakyriakopoulos and Mboya (2021) show that image search algorithms disproportionately return visuals aligned with established Western aesthetics when presented with broad creative queries. For example, a search for “innovative typography” more frequently yields European sans-serif posters than East Asian typographic experiments, even when the query is entered in Mandarin or tagged with regional filters.

This bias reinforces a self-fulfilling curriculum loop: instructors assign iconic Western visuals because they dominate search results, and students cite Western precedents because they are easiest to find. What remains absent is not just alternative content but alternative epistemologies — ways of seeing and making that depart from Eurocentric typographic canons and value systems.

Toward a Pluriversal Design Pedagogy

Recognising these limitations invites a reimagining of pedagogy. If a curriculum is only as rich as the methods used to compile it, then reliance on algorithmic tools without critical reflection is untenable. As Azoulay (2019) reminds us, unlearning imperial epistemologies requires deliberate refusal of the assumption that existing structures of knowledge are comprehensive.

Graphic designers and educators must deliberately curate beyond algorithmic defaults. This can include integrating non-English scholarship, archived community works from Sinophone zine cultures, and visual anthologies from independent Asian design festivals. For instance, the biennial Beijing Independent Graphic Arts Fair and Taipei Illustration Festival offer archives that expand curricular horizons in ways algorithmic indexing often overlooks.

Platforms like Design Enquiry, C-RAD (Centre for Research in Art and Design), and Asia-Pacific design journals provide counterpoints to mainstream aggregators, giving voice to hybrid methodologies that emerge from postcolonial urban realities. These repositories, along with translation networks and bilingual critical theory, enrich curricula and counteract algorithmic homogeneity.

Acknowledging Agency and Accountability

Algorithmic tools will not disappear, nor should they. They are indispensable for navigating the ever-expanding information landscape. Yet educators and students must exercise critical agency when using them. This involves interrogating why certain sources are prominent, whose work is missing, and how cultural power shapes the datasets behind the interface.

Recognising the Eurocentric tendencies of algorithmic curriculum tools is a necessary step toward more inclusive design pedagogy. It calls for critical engagement with the infrastructures that mediate knowledge, and for pedagogical strategies that move beyond automated retrieval toward situated, relational, and plural forms of research. Without such interventions, the increasing reliance on algorithmic systems risks further entrenching the very epistemic inequalities that design education seeks to challenge.

Bibliography

Azoulay, A.A. (2019) Potential History: Unlearning Imperialism. London: Verso.
Chen, Y. (2025) ‘Sinofuturism: Beyond Western Futures’, Design Asia Journal, 7(1), pp. 45–62.
Digital Humanities Abstracts (2022) ‘Visual Heritage Aggregation Audit’, DH Abstracts. Available at: https://dh-abstracts.library.virginia.edu/works/9915. (Accessed: 1 Jan 2026).
Julien, H., Barker, S. & O’Mara, R. (2018) ‘Student information seeking behaviour in higher education: Understanding the role of Google and other search engines’, Information Research, 23(2), pp. 1–15. Available at: https://www.informationr.net/ir/23-2/paper788.html (Accessed: 2 Jan 2026).
Luo, Q. et al. (2023) ‘A perspectival mirror of the elephant: investigating language bias on Google, ChatGPT, YouTube, and Wikipedia’, arXiv. Available at: https://scispace.com/pdf/a-perspectival-mirror-of-the-elephant-investigating-language-ry59nkcm.pdf
Mabuye, S. (2024) ‘Exploring Racism Within Design’, Design Enquiry. Available at: https://www.designenquiry.org/exploring-racism-within-design/. (Accessed: 2 Jan 2026).
Noble, S.U. (2018) Algorithms of Oppression: How Search Engines Reinforce Racism. New York: NYU Press. Available at: https://files.commons.gc.cuny.edu/wp-content/blogs.dir/6105/files/2019/01/SAFIYA-NOBLE.pdf (Accessed: 2 Jan 2026).
Salehi, S., Du, J.T. & Ashman, H. (2018). Use of Web search engines and personalisation in information searching for educational purposes. Information Research, 23(2), paper 788. Retrieved from http://InformationR.net/ir/23-2/paper788.html (Archived by WebCite® at http://www.webcitation.org/6zzbbBlN3)
van Dijck, J. (2010) ‘Search engines and the production of academic knowledge’, International Journal of Cultural Studies, 13(6), pp. 574–592. doi: 10.1177/1367877910376582. Available at:
https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/08944393211073169 (Accessed: 2 Jan 2026).
Zhao, Z. and Liu, Y. (2025) “Visual Orientalism in the AI Era: From West-East Binaries to English-Language Centrism” Available at: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/398135466_Visual_Orientalism_in_the_AI_Era_From_West-East_Binaries_to_English-Language_Centrism (Accessed: 2 Jan 2026).

Aspect	Strategy
Consent	Written and verbal consent obtained in advance; withdrawal possible anytime
Anonymity	All student data anonymised; pseudonyms used if needed
Data Security	Stored on password-protected OneDrive; deleted after 12 months
Accessibility	Guided by UAL Disability Inclusion Toolkit; adjustments provided
Reciprocity	Students’ insights inform future practice; collaborative reflection encouraged
Risk Management	Site information, debriefing, and adherence to UAL safety procedures

1. Ethical Overview

This project adopts a reflexive and participatory ethical framework informed by decolonial and feminist research ethics. It recognises that research is not a neutral act but one shaped by power, positionality, and institutional structures. Ethical practice therefore extends beyond procedural compliance, encompassing relational accountability, respect, and care throughout the research process.

The Action Research Project (ARP) involves a single, structured archive visit undertaken with a small group of graphic design students. The visit will serve as both a pedagogical intervention and a site for data collection through anonymised student reflections and researcher field notes. The focus will be on understanding how engaging with a counter-archive can expand students’ critical awareness of knowledge systems in design.

2. Ethical Principles

The project will be guided by the following ethical principles:

• Informed Consent: Participants will receive clear written and verbal information outlining the purpose, scope, and voluntary nature of the research. Consent will be obtained prior to participation, with opportunities to withdraw at any stage without penalty.
• Anonymity and Confidentiality: All student reflections will be anonymised at the point of collection. No identifying details (e.g. names, student numbers) will appear in transcripts, reports, or final submissions. Pseudonyms may be used where necessary.
• Non-Extractive and Reciprocal Practice: The research aims to benefit participants through shared learning rather than extractive data collection. Findings will be discussed collectively, and students’ insights will inform future iterations of the project.
• Cultural Sensitivity and Positionality: The archive will be approached as a living cultural site rather than a neutral repository. Care will be taken to acknowledge the social, political, and historical contexts of materials encountered, avoiding appropriation or misrepresentation.
• Accessibility and Inclusion: The activity will be planned in accordance with the UAL Disability Inclusion Toolkit (Planning Academic Visits) to ensure equitable participation. Accessibility requirements (physical, sensory, or otherwise) will be discussed in advance, and reasonable adjustments made where needed.

3. Data Collection Method

The primary data collection method will be student reflections, written or verbal, collected shortly after the archive visit. These reflections will be guided by open prompts that invite students to describe:

• their experience of engaging with the archive,
• how it influenced their understanding of design knowledge,
• any challenges or insights that emerged.

The reflections will be submitted via a secure online platform or in anonymised handwritten form, depending on accessibility preferences. The researcher will also maintain field notes to capture contextual observations, group discussions, and emergent themes during the visit.

4. Data Protection and Storage

All collected data will be stored securely in accordance with UAL’s Research Ethics and Data Protection Policy and the UK GDPR.

• Digital files (student reflections, field notes, consent forms) will be stored on password-protected UAL OneDrive folders accessible only to the researcher.
• Physical materials (e.g. handwritten notes) will be kept in a locked cabinet and digitised where appropriate.
• Data will be retained for the duration of the PgCert programme and securely deleted within 12 months of project completion.
• No data will be shared with third parties or used for publication without explicit consent.

5. Risk and Mitigation

A brief risk assessment will be conducted prior to the archive visit, in consultation with the Programme Lead and institutional guidelines. Anticipated risks include accessibility barriers, emotional discomfort when engaging with sensitive archival content, or logistical challenges related to travel and participation. Mitigation measures will include:

• Providing detailed information about the archive’s environment and content in advance.
• Ensuring a supportive group dynamic, with space for debriefing and reflection.
• Adhering to institutional health and safety protocols for off-site visits.
• Offering alternative participation options (e.g. remote or asynchronous engagement) for students unable to attend in person.

6. Researcher Reflexivity

The researcher will maintain a reflective journal to document ethical decision-making, emotional responses, and emergent questions during the process. This reflexivity is central to the project’s decolonial orientation, ensuring ongoing awareness of power relations and positionality. Reflexive insights will inform both the analysis and the articulation of “next steps” in subsequent cycles of research.

The following section presents a refined version of the Ethical Action Plan, reformatted in accordance with the PgCert ethics form structure while maintaining the original project’s conceptual and methodological integrity.

1. What is the working title of your project? Also write a few sentences about the focus of your project.

Expanding Knowledge Systems in Graphic Design Pedagogy through Counter-Archival Encounters

This project investigates how engaging students with a single counter-archive can challenge the Eurocentric structures that dominate graphic design education. It explores how a visit to one local community or independent archive can introduce decolonial perspectives, expand students’ understanding of research, and prompt critical reflection on what counts as design knowledge. The research uses an Action Research framework to observe how direct engagement with non-institutional archives can reshape research habits and knowledge systems in design pedagogy.

2. What sources will you read or reference? Share 5 to 10.

• Derrida, Jacques. Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression. Translated by Eric Prenowitz, University of Chicago Press, 1995. 
• Didi-Huberman, Georges. Images in Spite of All: Four Photographs from Auschwitz. University of Chicago Press, 2012. 
• Rose, Gillian. Visual Methodologies: An Introduction to Researching with Visual Materials. 4th ed., Sage, 2016. 
• Gubrium, Aline, and Krista Harper. “Participatory Digital Research Ethics.” Participatory Visual and Digital Methods. Left Coast Press, 2013, pp. 45–69. 
• On the Notion of Counter Archive.” ICI Berlin Repository, ICI Berlin, 29 Apr. 2021, oa.ici-berlin.org/repository/doi/10.25620/e210429_07. Accessed 28 Sept. 2025. 
• Caswell, Michelle, and Marika Cifor. “From Human Rights to Feminist Ethics: Radical Empathy in the Archives.” Archivaria, vol. 81, 2016, pp. 23–43. 
• Ludovico, Alessandro. “Chapter 3: Activist Post-Truth Publishing.” Using Senses, Software, and Archives in the Twenty-First Century, Tactical Publishing, 2024, pp. 93–128. 
• Abdulla, Danah. Design Otherwise: A Decolonial Design Research PhD. 2019, www.dabdulla.com/Design-Otherwise-PhD-research. Accessed 28 Sept. 2025. 
• Escobar, Arturo. Designs for the Pluriverse: Radical Interdependence, Autonomy, and the Making of Worlds. Duke UP, 2018.

3. What action(s) are you planning to take, and are they realistic in the time you have (Sept–Dec)?

The project will focus on a single, structured archive visit day with students, supported by guided reflection and analysis.
Planned actions include:

• Conducting a focused literature review on counter-archives and decolonial design pedagogy.
• Coordinating one field visit to a selected archive (the Living Refugee Archive and Asymmetry Art Foundation).
• Facilitating reflective exercises immediately following the visit, where students record their thoughts and responses to the materials encountered.
• Collecting anonymised student reflections and researcher field notes as the primary data set.
• Analysing this data to identify how the experience shaped students’ understanding of knowledge systems in design.

This narrower scope is achievable within the given timeframe (September–December 2025) while allowing depth of engagement and ethical clarity.

4. Who will be involved, and in what way?

(Note: if any participants are under 18, seek further advice from your tutor.)

• Graduate Diploma and MA Design Students (18+) – Primary participants who will take part in the archive visit and submit anonymised written or verbal reflections about their learning experience.
• Course Leader and Colleagues – Provide pedagogical guidance, support ethics procedures, and contribute to reflective discussions.
• Archivist or Community Partner – Offers contextual insight into the archive and its history; their contributions will be acknowledged respectfully and with consent.

All participants will be adults. The research will be participatory and non-extractive, ensuring that community partners’ intellectual and cultural labour is properly recognised.

5. What are the health & safety concerns, and how will you prepare for them?

Potential risks:

• Travel and navigation during the off-site visit.
• Accessibility barriers (physical access, environmental conditions).
• Emotional discomfort when engaging with sensitive or traumatic archival material (e.g. relating to migration, displacement, or colonial histories).

Preparation and mitigation:

• A risk assessment will be completed in line with UAL’s Health and Safety guidance before the visit.
• Accessibility needs will be reviewed in advance, following the UAL Disability Inclusion Toolkit (Planning Academic Visits) to ensure equitable participation.
• Students will receive a pre-visit briefing about site conditions, content sensitivity, and support resources.
• Debrief and group reflection sessions will follow the visit to support emotional wellbeing.

6. How will you manage and protect any physical and/or digital data you collect, including the data of people involved

BERA Guidelines 2024: Consent
BERA Guidelines 2024: Privacy & Data Storage

Data collected:

• Anonymised student reflections (written or audio).
• Researcher field notes from the archive visit.

Data protection measures:

• Informed consent obtained from all participants before data collection.
• All data anonymised at the point of transcription; pseudonyms used if needed.
• Digital data stored on password-protected UAL OneDrive folders accessible only to the researcher.
• Physical notes stored securely and destroyed after digitisation.
• Data retained for the duration of the PgCert and deleted within 12 months of project completion.
• Sensitive or personal information will not be shared outside the project without explicit permission.

7. How will you take ethics into account in your project for participants and/or yourself

BERA Guidelines 2024: Responsibilities to Participants
BERA Guidelines 2024: Responsibilities to Sponsors
BERA Guidelines 2024: Responsibilities for Wellbeing
(See also: “Emotionally Demanding Research” PDF on Moodle.)

Ethical practice will be embedded throughout the project, guided by decolonial, participatory, and feminist ethics frameworks:

• Informed Consent and Autonomy – Participants will receive clear information about the project aims and their right to withdraw at any time without consequence.
• Anonymity and Respect – Reflections will be anonymised; archivists and community contributors will be credited appropriately and only with consent.
• Wellbeing and Emotional Safety – The researcher will remain alert to the emotional demands of engaging with sensitive materials. Debriefing sessions, group reflections, and signposting to UAL wellbeing services will be provided as needed.
• Power Dynamics – As the researcher is also a lecturer, attention will be given to minimising power imbalance. Reflection activities will be framed as collaborative learning rather than assessment.
• Cultural Sensitivity and Reflexivity – Decolonial research requires self-awareness and care in handling cultural materials. The researcher will maintain a reflexive journal documenting positionality, ethical decisions, and emergent issues.

The project prioritises non-extractive and reciprocal research, ensuring that both students and community partners benefit from the shared learning process and that all engagements are grounded in respect and accountability.

The following Participant Information Sheet outlines the context, purpose, and ethical framework of the study, providing potential participants with a clear understanding of their involvement in the research.

The accompanying Participant Consent Form formalises voluntary participation, ensuring that contributors provide informed consent and understand how their data will be used, stored, and protected.

Situated Design: A Three-Session Workshop for Inclusive Curatorial Practice

Introduction

This reflective report critically explores the design and implementation of my teaching intervention titled Situated Design, a three-session workshop series aimed at embedding intersectional social justice through inclusive curatorial practices within the MA Graphic and Digital Communication (GDC) course at University of the Arts London (UAL). As an educator positioned at the intersection of diverse cultural backgrounds and academic disciplines, I was motivated to challenge dominant curatorial norms that often marginalize non-Western, non-dominant voices in place-making. My intention was to create a shared learning space where multiple student positionalities, including cultural, communicative, and accessibility differences, could be visibly and equitably integrated into the exhibition design process.

This intervention resonates with my academic practice in visual communication and design education, emphasizing participatory design and critical pedagogy as tools to deconstruct hegemonic narratives in design presentation. In reflecting on the intervention’s design, enactment, and outcomes, I draw on theories of intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1991), pedagogies of discomfort (Boler, 1999), and situated knowledges (Haraway, 1988) to critically assess the opportunities and challenges encountered. My overarching aim is to contribute to a more inclusive academic environment where diverse ways of knowing and presenting research are not only accepted but are central to our collective learning.

Context

The workshop was embedded within the preparatory phase for the MA GDC WIP (Work In Progress) Show, a high-stakes public exhibition where students present their research projects visually and spatially. The existing exhibition format at UAL traditionally prioritizes polished, final outcomes and often reflects dominant institutional aesthetics, which risks marginalizing students with diverse cultural backgrounds, research methodologies, or access needs. The cohort’s geographic, linguistic, and disciplinary diversity calls for a more flexible, dialogic approach to exhibition curation.

Situated in the GDC department, the intervention’s utility lies in transforming the exhibition from a static display into a dynamic, collective process of spatial and conceptual negotiation. By guiding students through infrastructural mapping, collaborative spatial prototyping, and live activation of their exhibition zones, the intervention foregrounds inclusion as a principle of spatial justice and collective authorship. It positions the exhibition as an ongoing, evolving site of intersectional engagement rather than a mere showcase.

Inclusive Learning: Theoretical Rationale

Inclusion within design education is imperative not only for social justice but also for the epistemological richness it brings to creative inquiry. Design has historically privileged Western, able-bodied, and commercial aesthetics (Flecker, 2020). This intervention aligns with inclusive pedagogies that resist homogenizing knowledge and instead cultivate plurality, autonomy, and participation (Sensoy and DiAngelo, 2017).

Intersectionality, as conceptualized by Crenshaw (1991), was a foundational lens, helping me understand how overlapping identities (cultural, linguistic, gendered, and neurodiverse) shape students’ experiences and modes of expression. Haraway’s (1988) concept of situated knowledges was pivotal in shifting away from universalist, “view-from-nowhere” curatorial narratives towards localized, relational epistemologies where knowledge is partial, contextual, and embodied.

Further, the intervention drew on participatory design principles, notably “designing with, not for” (Muller, 2003), to ensure students were co-authors rather than passive recipients of curatorial decisions. This approach also incorporates the idea of pedagogies of discomfort (Boler, 1999), recognizing that confronting inequities in authorship and representation can be challenging but necessary for transformative learning.

Reflection on the Intervention Design and Challenges

My thinking was shaped initially by student feedback from previous years, where many expressed feeling distanced from curatorial decisions and constrained by normative exhibition formats. Peer discussions within the department and informal consultations with technical staff helped refine the practical aspects, such as timelines and resource availability.

Key decisions included the three-part structure: mapping to foreground relational contexts, spatial prototyping to negotiate shared territories, and activation to embody dynamic participation. The emphasis on “living zones” aimed to subvert static displays and offer ways for ongoing visitor engagement.

However, challenges emerged in balancing structure and openness. There was a risk that too rigid a format could stifle individual creativity or enforce tokenistic inclusion. Conversely, too little structure might lead to fragmented or incoherent exhibitions. This tension mirrors wider debates in inclusive pedagogy around scaffolding versus autonomy (Florian and Black-Hawkins, 2011).

Further, there were potential risks around uneven participation, where dominant voices could overshadow others during group spatial negotiations. I anticipated that students with less confidence or different communication styles might struggle to assert their perspectives. Accessibility considerations, such as physical access to workshop spaces and alternative communication formats, were addressed but required ongoing attention.

Action and Implementation

The intervention was implemented over three sessions:

Session 1: Ground Work – Infrastructure and Mapping
Students collaboratively mapped their projects’ social, spatial, and relational contexts, building a visual diagram that made visible the situatedness of each research inquiry. Groups nominated coordinators to ensure ongoing communication.

Session 2: Spatial Production and Arrangement
Students created scaled models of their exhibition zones within a shared grid, negotiating curatorial decisions such as materials and spatial relationships that reflect individual and collective identities.

Session 3: Activation and Programming
The final session involved designing interactive elements—prompts, live programming, publishing—to animate the exhibition zones, inviting visitor participation and creating a living exhibition presence.

This approach foregrounded dialogue and co-creation, challenging hierarchical authorship. For my academic practice, it meant shifting from instructor-led directives to facilitative coaching, supporting students’ agency in shaping their own representation.

Evaluation of the Process

Through this process, I learned that inclusivity in curatorial practice requires ongoing negotiation and reflexivity. Success depends not only on well-designed structures but also on responsiveness to emergent group dynamics and individual needs.

To evaluate effectiveness, I propose multiple feedback mechanisms:

• Student reflections and surveys focusing on whether they felt their voice was authentically represented and if the process enabled equitable participation.
• Observational notes from workshop facilitators tracking engagement patterns and power dynamics.
• Exhibition visitor feedback to assess if the living zones fostered meaningful interaction and conveyed diverse perspectives.

The intervention revealed that while the theory of inclusion provides a vital framework, practical enactment demands adaptability and critical self-awareness to avoid reproducing exclusion.

Conclusion

This intervention deepened my awareness of the complexities involved in enacting intersectional social justice within design education. It reaffirmed my commitment to pedagogies that embrace discomfort, partiality, and multiplicity of voices, challenging dominant narratives in curatorial practice.

My positionality as an educator with a transnational background informed my sensitivity to cultural diversity and epistemic justice, yet also necessitated humility to listen and learn continuously from students’ lived experiences.

Moving forward, I aim to embed more participatory elements in my teaching while remaining vigilant about structural inequalities that can inadvertently resurface. Situated Design has been a meaningful step towards a more inclusive academic culture, underscoring the potential of collective authorship and spatial justice in shaping equitable design education.

References

Lefebvre, H. (1991). The Production of Space (D. Nicholson-Smith, Trans.). Oxford: Blackwell. (Original work published 1974)

Campos, M. R. (2017). Queering Architecture: Appropriating Space and Process (MA thesis). University of Cincinnati.

Crenshaw, K. (1991). ‘Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence against Women of Color.’ Stanford Law Review, 43(6), pp. 1241-1299.

Florian, L. and Black-Hawkins, K. (2011). ‘Exploring Inclusive Pedagogy.’ British Educational Research Journal, 37(5), pp. 813–828.

Flesler, G., Neidhardt, A. and Ober, M. (2025). ‘A Conversation on the Discomfort of Feminist Design Pedagogy.’ In Mareis, C., Paim, N. et al. (eds.) Design Struggles: Intersecting Histories, Pedagogies and Perspectives. Amsterdam: Valiz, pp. 205–225.

Haraway, D. J. (1988). ‘Situated Knowledges: The Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective.’ Feminist Studies, 14(3), pp. 575-599.

Muller, M. J. (2003). ‘Participatory Design: The Third Space in HCI.’ In Human-Computer Interaction Handbook. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Sensoy, O. and DiAngelo, R. (2017). Is Everyone Really Equal? An Introduction to Key Concepts in Social Justice Education. 2nd ed. New York: Teachers College Press.

Working within a global-facing art and design institution like UAL has made it clear to me that race, class, and language are not peripheral to education. They are central to how students access learning and feel valued. While institutional rhetoric often celebrates “diversity,” in practice, structures of support and recognition remain uneven. Racialised and international students are frequently left to decipher an implicit curriculum shaped by British art school norms that privilege whiteness and Eurocentric discourse.

In light of this, Garrett (2024) highlights how systemic racism shapes the academic lives of racialised scholars in the UK, from precarious contracts to the erasure of long-term career trajectories. This critique resonates with what I have observed in staff conversations at UAL, where international students, particularly those racialised as non-white, are sometimes described as “challenging” or lacking in “criticality.” These comments reflect more than bias—they reveal how certain cultural and linguistic expressions of thinking are consistently devalued.

Taking this further, Bradbury (2020) identifies how institutions often embed low expectations for bilingual learners. This is especially visible in how we assess and feedback on the work of students using English as an additional language. Rather than seeing their multilingualism as an asset, it is frequently viewed as a shortcoming. Students who articulate ideas in non-standard English or draw on unfamiliar intellectual traditions are seen as lacking clarity, rather than expanding what design education might look like.

In response to these systemic issues, I recently gave a talk at Asymmetry Art Foundation, a London-based non-profit dedicated to supporting curatorial practice and contemporary Chinese art. During this talk, I shared my ongoing research on bilingual design and the politics of local language in visual communication. More specifically, I examined how the act of typesetting Chinese and English together in design reveals tensions between narrative, translation, and meaning-making—challenging conventional typographic principles rooted in Western Eurocentric design traditions. For international students at UAL navigating similar tensions, these practices offer a compelling model of cultural and linguistic resistance that validates their lived experiences.

Connecting these insights to broader institutional dynamics, Sara Ahmed (2012) describes diversity policies as often being “non-performative”: they appear progressive but fail to change the structures that sustain exclusion. This contradiction was highlighted by the backlash against the Advance HE video, as noted by Orr (2022), where anti-racist messaging was dismissed as “wokeness.” However, the problem isn’t the language of inclusion—it is the fact that whiteness remains the unspoken standard across our marking criteria, reading lists, and even knowledge system.

Shifting toward meaningful change requires embedding anti-racism into the everyday practices of teaching. This involves asking difficult but necessary questions: Whose ways of speaking are legitimised in crits? Whose histories are deemed central to design? What types of knowledge are rewarded or penalised in assessment? To move beyond surface-level inclusion, we must create space for diverse forms of intelligence, multilingual creativity, and epistemic difference.

Finally, given UAL’s large population of international students—many of whom bring transnational and non-Western perspectives—it is not enough to simply welcome them into an existing system. Anti-racist teaching involves rethinking that system from within. We must support students in ways that are contextually relevant, intellectually generous, and critically aware. Only then can we begin to realise the inclusive values we so often claim to uphold.

References:

Ahmed, S. (2012) On Being Included: Racism and Diversity in Institutional Life. Durham: Duke University Press.
Bradbury, A. (2020) ‘A critical race theory framework for education policy analysis: The case of bilingual learners and assessment policy in England’, Race Ethnicity and Education, 23(2), pp. 241–247.
Fry, T. (2009) Design Futuring: Sustainability, Ethics and New Practice. Oxford: Berg.
Garrett, R. (2024) ‘Racism shapes careers: Career trajectories and imagined futures of racialised minority PhDs in UK higher education’, Globalisation, Societies and Education, pp. 2–11.
Orr, J. (2022) ‘Revealed: The charity turning UK universities woke’. The Telegraph [Online]. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRM6vOPTjuU (Accessed: 24 June 2025).