Designers: Let's Create Abolitionist and Black Liberatory Futures! with Terresa Hardaway
- ed5759
- 6 days ago
- 15 min read
Why do we so often underestimate the power of design as a tool for social justice? In this episode, Eleanor Drage and Kerry McInerney speak with Terresa Hardaway about how design can actively challenge systems of oppression and help build more equitable futures.
Their conversation traces Hardaway’s journey into design practices rooted in racial justice and abolitionist thinking. She shares how approaches such as protest typography, community-centered design, and visual storytelling can reshape activism and public discourse. From reimagining the role of the designer to questioning the myth of neutrality in visual culture, Hardaway demonstrates how design operates as both a cultural and political force. The discussion highlights how accessible, community-driven design strategies can empower marginalized voices and create spaces for collective action and care.
Hardaway also reflects on the broader implications of embedding justice into design education and practice. By centering lived experience, collaboration, and accountability, she points toward more inclusive ways of making and thinking. This episode ultimately reveals how design—far from being purely aesthetic—can serve as a powerful framework for liberation, resistance, and systemic transformation.
Terresa Hardaway is a graphic design professor, researcher, and advocate whose work focuses on racialized design, abolitionist frameworks, and community engagement. Through her teaching and practice, she explores how design can confront systemic inequities, amplify underrepresented perspectives, and contribute to building more just and inclusive social systems.
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Transcript:
Kerry McInerney (00:53)
In this episode, we talk to Terresa Hardaway, an associate professor at the University of Minnesota's College of Design and the creative director of Blackbird Revolt, a social justice-based design studio. We explore what racialized design is and how to identify it, why positionality matters for designers, why curiosity is the foundation of love and connection, and what running an abolitionist design studio looks like in practice. We hope you enjoy the show.
Well, brilliant. Thank you so much for joining us here today. It's really a delight to have you on the podcast. So, just to kick us off, could you tell us a little bit about who you are, what you do, and what brings you to the topics of race, feminism, gender, and technology, and specifically design?
Terresa Hardaway (01:38)
Absolutely. Thank you so much for having me. I am an associate professor of graphic design at the University of Minnesota. I also own an abolitionist design studio called Blackbird Revolt. We do everything from print to web to video, audio production, and fabrication, all of that with a lens on social justice. I am also the owner of Black Garnet Books, which is really about uplifting narratives for people of color.
I would say that my work brings me to the intersection of design and technology, specifically around the intersections of race, gender, and sexuality. At the beginning, this was really just because of my own identities and how they showed up in my work and my own design outcomes. Being able to create spaces where people can comfortably design for identities that have been marginalized by systems of oppression has been really important to me. That is the intersection I find in all of the work that I do.
Eleanor Drage (02:41)
So, what is good design? Is it even possible? And how can feminism help us work towards it?
Terresa Hardaway (02:47)
That's a really good question. I think if I'm thinking about intersectional feminism and working towards creating a design outcome that supports all of our communities, I think that's absolutely possible. Folks have to be comfortable talking about the issues that affect women, femmes, non-binary folks, and folks who have been oppressed by these systems to be able to then create outcomes for them.
I always talk about the example of the TV remote; when that was first created, it was because someone had a disability. I can't remember the last time I ever went up to the TV to turn the channel on something. I think that is really indicative of the fact that when you are designing for people who have marginalized identities, when you're designing for folks who are affected by these systems in the worst ways, it benefits all of us. That's the lens I take on when I'm thinking about creating design outcomes for women and for femmes: to think about that specific identity and how it is marginalized, and then apply that in a way that obviously will affect all of our communities in very positive ways.
Kerry McInerney (03:59)
Absolutely. And I love the way you emphasize that these kinds of changes in design or these initiatives really do benefit everyone, even as they're specifically directed towards the needs of a community that has perhaps been marginalized in the design process or hasn't been recognized as having different kinds of needs.
I wanted to ask you specifically about race and design, because I think this is a conversation that has really been growing over the past few years regarding how our racial and ethnic backgrounds and experiences can shape the way we interact with products in the world. To give an example, something that was always a conversation in my family on my Chinese side, if you wear glasses as I do, a lot of glasses really don't fit people with different kinds of broadly speaking "East Asian" facial profiles. They might have a lower nose bridge or higher cheekbones. Of course, you can have those features if you're not East Asian, but it tends to be a bit more common if you are.
You end up with that sad "sliding glasses effect" where your glasses never stay properly on your nose. I feel it's been really encouraging in the last few years to see more of a conversation about this, with designers saying, "Actually, we're going to start trying to design glasses that fit people's faces better." Until I saw those designers making these different kinds of glasses, I never even thought there could be a solution. I just thought we were doomed to the sliding glass effect. This is such a tiny thing in the big scheme of things, but it can cause all these little frictions and inconveniences in your everyday life.
When Eleanor and I saw the incredible work you were doing on recognizing how race shapes design, while also trying to do anti-racist design, we were just really inspired and thought it was fantastic work. So, I want to start with this bigger question: what exactly is racialized design? How do you define it, and how can people identify it when they're moving through the world?
Terresa Hardaway (05:43)
Yeah, you said a mouthful! I think when you're trying to identify racialized design, we first have to understand what the concept of race is and how that perpetuates into a system called racism. We then have to understand that racialized design is just a product of the environment. We're always designing in the community where we exist. We are either trying to change what that outcome is, or we are just perpetuating the system that already exists. Oftentimes, that means we are perpetuating racism, sexism, and all kinds of "isms." When I think about trying to identify racialized design, I go all the way into a very theoretical understanding about it because of racism, you know, the foundation of that is anti-Blackness. It is capitalism. It is using folks' bodies, talents, personas, and experiences for commodification. When we think about race in that way as this very toxic, soul-sucking, even, stealing from our communities, we can then begin to see how racism affects what we design and what we put out there into the world.
I would say design, in general, is about artifacts, systems, and experiences, which is how my colleague, Lisa Mercer, and I define it in our book, Racism Untaught. If you think about those three areas of design, it is very easy to point out how our artifacts are racialized. For example, if I am walking into a grocery store and I see packaging that perpetuates an anti-Black phenotype, how is that then influencing my understanding of what that product is, and where does that come from? I can almost point everything back to slavery.
That is an example of an artifact. Or consider the example you just gave regarding glasses. The example I always pull out when thinking about artifacts is: who is designing the sensors for when you are trying to get paper towels or soap? Oftentimes, those aren't read properly when you have high melanin in your skin tone. When you are darker-skinned, you are often not "read" by the sensor when trying to get paper towels. It is not that people were intentionally thinking, "We don't want Black people to use paper towels," but it is quite literally the effect of the system being created in the way that it is.
College is more accessible for folks who have generational wealth, and statistically, that is less likely to be Black folks. Consequently, they are less likely to have the specific education required to get that type of design job. It is a multi-layered, multifaceted, racialized system that perpetuates racialized artifacts because they exist within that system. We all have the agency to shift and change some of those things, but I would definitely say that racialized design is a product of the racist system in which we live. It is a product of capital and a product of the exploitation of Black and Brown people.
Eleanor Drage (08:51)
I'm glad you talked about capitalism explicitly, because it is often detached from these conversations. It’s a great reminder of the basis of where many of these problems originate. There is some really cool work in design, trying to get designers to think about their positionality and how it relates to their work. I know you do some awesome stuff on this, so how do you encourage designers to engage with their position within society, history, and culture?
Terresa Hardaway (09:19)
I love talking about positionality. It is the first step, but it’s one of those steps that, if you look at a chart, just continues, because you should constantly be trying to learn about yourself. I love doing self-assessments and all of those things. There are ones that are more social justice-leaning as well, but I’ll do all of them. I’m going to learn about my birth chart; I’m going to learn about how I show up.
We know that when you are designing, you are creating based on your lens and your experience. If you are not constantly opening that up and questioning, "How am I showing up in this space?" then you lose perspective. For instance, if I’m a researcher, how am I coming into the community? How am I building trust? How am I coming off as an academic? Am I insisting that people call me "Dr. So-and-so," or am I really relating and building at the "speed of trust"? If you are not constantly dissecting who you are, you are not self-aware enough to build community in the ways we need to create design that helps all of us.
For me, positionality is the first step in understanding who we are and how that affects our design outcomes. Once you begin to find out who you are, you can begin to shift how you show up in a community: what your values are, what you are passionate about, and what is at the forefront of your mind.
As someone who lives with anxiety and depression but does not have a physical disability, doing this work keeps accessibility at the forefront of my mind. I think, "How is so-and-so getting across here?" We get little hints of this when we’re carrying groceries and have no free hands, or we’re pulling a wagon and suddenly realize we need accessible doors. In those moments, I might be annoyed, but I think: Can you imagine someone who has to navigate their whole life that way?
When you investigate your own position, you start to investigate other people's positions because of how you are showing up. You begin to think about design in ways that affect more than just you. We are socialized to think in an individualistic way, to only think about ourselves. As designers with the agency to create things that affect the masses, we have an ethical duty to create things that are not just for us or for people at a certain economic or educational level. Investigating ourselves brings us to a sense of curiosity about other people’s experiences and how we can begin to dismantle, disrupt, and destroy systems of oppression.
Kerry McInerney (12:04)
I really like the way you emphasize that positionality is often wrongly or insensitively interpreted as being self-obsessive. I love how you frame it as a crucial form of self-awareness that allows you to connect with others. It isn't about foregrounding yourself and taking up space; it’s about acknowledging how the way you move through the world is vastly different from how others do. You're really blowing the myth of the "invisible designer" out of the water.
Terresa Hardaway (12:34)
Exactly. To add to that idea of positionality, because I’ve heard people say it feels self-centered, as someone who has been on a therapy journey since 2019, I’ve learned that therapy forces you to be curious about yourself. I think curiosity is one of the foundational pieces of love. When you love someone, platonically or romantically, you are constantly curious about them. If you aren't even curious about yourself, you don't even love yourself. How then can you love a community? How can you design for a community? How can you create anything if you don't love the people you are creating it for and with? The discovery of positionality is one of the most important parts of being a great citizen, but especially a designer.
Kerry McInerney (13:22)
Absolutely. In academia, there is often a value placed on a "hyper-masculine," disengaged kind of curiosity, an intellectual curiosity where one breaks boundaries, including ethical ones, to make a discovery. Yet, there is so little "relational curiosity." I like how you are pivoting that toward saying we need to be curious about ourselves and each other so we can build a better world through design. That doesn’t mean we can't enjoy intellectual curiosity, I’m sure we all love our work, but it has to be grounded in meaningful community.
I actually wanted to ask you about some of the design work you’ve been doing. You have such an amazing portfolio, and you’ve written and created many projects centered on amplifying Black voices. We would love to hear more about one project in particular: the "Stop Killing Black People" font. Could you tell us about this project and the process of designing it?
Terresa Hardaway (14:25)
Yeah. Again, in trying to discover myself and being here in Minneapolis, I was really trying to deal with the juxtaposition of creating work for Black liberation while understanding that Black people are constantly under attack. I was trying to process all of the violence that was happening in my community, toward my community.
I started jotting down phrases that I heard when I was at protests. I think my point in saying that specifically is that the most impactful community work happens when you are actually in the community. I didn't go onto Google to find the "top protest sayings." I was there. I was with people. I was yelling it out and screaming it; I had it on cardboard signs like everyone else. It was only in those moments at those community gatherings that I was able to figure out how to take some of that type and put it out into the world in a more tangible way.
I was just trying to process what was going on, so I started sketching. I really love hand-lettering, so I started writing out these phrases as a way to process. At a protest one day in Minnesota, I think it was April, there was a weather change. This might happen in other cities, too, but you can go out in the morning wearing a coat, and by the afternoon, you’re sweating. Then, just a couple of hours later, you need to put that coat back on. Oftentimes, when you have a protest that starts at five o’clock, it’s hot, and the sun is out, but by seven or eight o’clock, curfews are approaching, and it’s cold again.
People were freezing, so we were bringing out supplies. Then, of course, it would randomly start to snow or rain. The cardboard signs would melt. The media was there, which was great because we wanted to get the message out, but because of the melted signs, nobody knew what was happening in the photos.
I thought to myself: what if I take the type I created, get a ton of stuff printed, and pass it out to the community? That’s what I did. We raised about $30,000 through grassroots fundraising, literally sending out Venmos and Cash Apps. We got people to donate so we could get these things printed. We handed out thousands of hoodies that said "Stop Killing Black People" on them. For us, it wasn't just about having the type so people could see we were all together, though that unification is vital. It was so the media would know exactly what we were fighting for by taking photos of our shirts. Also, it made us less likely to be targeted by police if we all looked the same. What are they going to say? "It was a person there with a 'Stop Killing Black People' hoodie on." Well, there were hundreds of people out there with that hoodie on. It was a multi-layered way of solving the problems of safety, messaging, and unifying the community.
It was a really cool thing to see. We printed it on hoodies, T-shirts, and yard signs that were durable in all kinds of weather. I printed all kinds of things I heard while we were chanting and protesting. That’s how that project came about and how it showed up tangibly. Then, other designers started asking me how they could use the type. They needed to create their own materials for their own cities, so I ended up making a style guide for it and putting it online. Folks can now access and download that for their own abolitionist purposes.
Eleanor Drage (18:05)
I saw that; it's really cool. I love that it’s open-source and accessible. You can see it live, all these different lives as people take it out into the world and make incredible things from it. As you’ve said, you’re the creative director of Blackbird Revolt, which specifically defines itself as an abolitionist and social justice-based creative studio. It does beautiful and liberatory design work. Can you give us some examples of other cool products you've come up with, and how you actively realize this vision of abolition in the things you make?
Terresa Hardaway (18:45)
I’ll start by talking about our company policies. When we think about abolition, we are also very much socialist-aligned. All of our full-time employees make the same rate. We have 100% healthcare coverage. We have a four-day workweek and 20 holiday and rest days. We really try to center on who everyone is and how they show up, working with folks so they know they are valued. People who really understand the importance of those things have usually worked at really horrible places, myself included. That is the foundation for how Blackbird Revolt exists.
The next step is how we are in relationship with one another: focusing on retreats, connecting, and having monthly sessions where we just check in without talking about work. Building that community and trust is very important to us.
Outside of that, it’s about who we work with. Which jobs are we saying "yes" to? Who are we bringing into the fold? We work quite a bit with grassroots organizations, nonprofits, and government agencies that work toward the things we value. That includes work around Black liberation, Indigenous sovereignty, queer identity, women and femmes, and disability, things we find need more amplification and beautiful design. Oftentimes, we work with folks who are doing great work but are too busy doing the work to focus on design. They need us to help mold and shape their brands so they can get more funding or involvement. We are really storytellers; we tell the stories of these amazing people and connect our community across these intersections.
Kerry McInerney (20:57)
It’s wonderful to hear how you’ve integrated that abolitionist ethos into the very structure of your organization. Sadly, it’s not a given that social justice-focused organizations aren't just as exploitative or draining for their employees. Many people in this space have had the disillusioning experience of seeing everyone working toward a goal, but at a massive cost to every individual in the organization. It’s wonderful to hear how this flows from the bottom up and into your projects. Finally, I heard your company now has a sister company called Black Garnet Books, which sounds exciting. What is Black Garnet Books? What is its goal, and how does it relate to your work as a designer?
Terresa Hardaway (21:52)
Yeah, those are great questions. I’m trying to process all of them. I think with Black Garnet Books, I never set out saying, "I’m going to be a bookstore owner." That has never been a dream of mine. But I have always said that I am going to be an abolitionist. When the opportunity arose and my friend and fellow community organizer, Dion Sims, approached me with this, it just made sense.
It makes sense for it to be an abolitionist bookstore. As an educator, that’s a perfect intersection. In the store, we only sell books by Black and Brown authors and illustrators. Again, in line with Blackbird Revolt, it’s about storytelling and ensuring some spaces amplify these voices.
As a community organizer who does quite a bit of large-scale events, being able to expand the events that happen at the bookstore is really important. My team and I talk a lot about "third spaces", places where people can go, feel centered, and build community without necessarily having to pay for it. That is a huge piece of what we do, and it’s been a really exciting experience.
I acquired the store back in November of 2024, and getting through this first year has been exciting, growing the space and engaging with the community in awesome ways. It also expands our reach; while Blackbird Revolt is in Minneapolis, the bookstore is in St. Paul. Having that sister company has allowed us to extend our principles and values over to our sister city. I’m excited for it to continue to grow, to curate more, to bring authors in, and to host events where the community can find some relaxation. People can even work in that space. There are so many ways for folks to engage with us, and it’s been a really fun experience that I think will continue for quite some time.
Eleanor Drage (24:09)
Bookstores are such soothing venues. They are the ideal place for people to gather and listen. I think the books absorb the sound in a nice way, too, so the acoustics are always pleasant. I'm very envious! It’s incredible work you’re doing. Thank you so much.
Terresa Hardaway (24:12)
Exactly. It’s a really cute store. I will say, another connection with Blackbird is that when I design a product, it can go right over to the store. It’s like a "side job to my side job" where I really get to put our values out there. Something like the "Stop Killing Black People" font products can be found right there at the bookstore. It’s been pretty cool.
Eleanor Drage (24:30)
I’d love to come and visit. I’m desperate to come to the Twin Cities, and this will be my first port of call. Thank you so much for joining us on the podcast today; it was truly a pleasure talking to you.
Terresa Hardaway (24:57)
Thank you so much for having me.
Kerry McInerney (25:04)
Thank you so much.