Community-Driven Projects, Intersectional Feminist Praxis, and the Undergraduate DH Classroom

Course Design

Technologies of Reading is a course I designed in 2017 and have taught approximately once a year since. It serves as both the gateway course to York’s digital studies (DS) minor and a general education, writing-intensive course.10 The students engage in conversations about the historical evolution of technology and new media, particularly considering the role of digital technologies within the study of the humanities. Toward that goal, I assign two small projects on distant reading (“Distant-Reading Whitney”) and mapping (“Mapping Whitney”), and the course culminates in a final project of the students’ own design. Our readings privilege scholarship by women and projects designed for or by people of color, queer folks, and women. Through discussions of the history of technology (from manuscript and print cultures through the internet, algorithms, and AI), website reviews, and presentations, I invite students to consider how digital technologies can help us disrupt structures of power both in academia more broadly and in our own classroom. As the introductory and only required course in our DS minor, this course bears the burden of not simply providing an overview of digital humanities but, most crucially, showing students how (and why) they may join and contribute to the field as budding scholars and critics.

One of the ways I tackle these rather ambitious outcomes is by conceptualizing digital humanities as an endlessly iterative, collaborative academic field. I explain to students that we are focusing on discovery and experimentation, rather than project completion or even public-facing outcomes. To help students get a glimpse of the DH “big tent,” I assign weekly presentations where students research and teach the class about a subfield that I did not include on our syllabus.11 When they sign up for a topic, I offer a curated list of projects that eschew canonical authors or topics, and encourage students to find similar work as they prepare their presentation. Intersectional feminist praxis guides this assignment both in orienting my and the students’ choice of projects worth reviewing and in the way these presentations set the tone for each class. We begin each meeting with one or more students lecturing about their topic and reviewing sample projects, which not only centers student expertise but helps create our bank of shared knowledge and interests. Aiming to teach a DH that is grounded in inclusivity, openness, and democratic values, I focus exclusively on free-to-use tools and sites that privilege collaboration, documentation, and the transparent assigning of credit to contributors.12 Throughout the term, students spend time visiting and reviewing digital scholarship that represents the experiences of marginalized groups, such as Queering the Map and Visualizing Emancipation, coupled with readings that address how technology intersects with race, class, and gender.13 For instance, Safiya Umoja Noble’s Algorithms of Oppression helps ground conversations about how new technologies like facial recognition and social media “discovery” algorithms can reinforce discriminatory practices.14 We also discuss how systemic bias affects even well-meaning projects like Digital Harlem.15 At the same time, our explorations of sites like Project Diaspora demonstrate the potential that digital spaces have to disrupt hegemonic portrayals of history.16

Each project is also accompanied by a short reflective paper, in which students have to answer, among other questions, “Does this work count as digital humanities?” with the intent of generating a collaborative definition of the field that relies on students’ own principles. Students’ reflections consistently showcase the careful ways they interrogate digital and physical spaces. Rather than seeking to simply master a tool, students question the role of technology in their own lived experiences. In my 2017 iteration of the class, for instance, students used Noble’s work as a jumping-off point to reflect on how digital technologies can marginalize and write out entire communities: self-service digital kiosks will soon erase the need for already-low-paid cashiers; and social media algorithms mine our posts and categorize us in reductionist and sometimes damaging ways, such as labeling someone as male or female despite their profile identifying them as nonbinary, all for the sake of selling ads.

The intersection of feminism, social justice, and decolonization allows for us to “engage directly both the concern for interrogating biases in curricula that reinscribe systems of domination (such as racism and sexism) while simultaneously providing new ways to teach diverse groups of students.”17 I invite students to question not only the kinds of texts, ideas, and audiences digital projects or tools seem likely to privilege but also the kinds of choices I make in putting our syllabus together. For instance, one student questioned my choice of Google Maps for our mapping project as taught in the 2017 iteration of the course. Google Maps, he argued, was a tool most students know how to use, and simply adding locations to a modern map did not challenge their understanding of historical spaces or their knowledge of mapping platforms as academic tools. I found his argument persuasive and ended up changing the assignment to try more challenging mapping tools the next time I taught the course (2018). By being flexible and responsive in my course design, I model for students an academic praxis based on collaboration and generosity. This kind of iterative cocreation is what led me to reevaluate the course when I taught it for a second time, as I realized the importance of inviting students to actually participate in our decolonizing work by exploring their own local histories.

Final Project: From Remixes to Local Communities

The work of sixteenth-century poet Isabella Whitney (fl. 1566–1600) anchors two of the three major assignments in the course. The first assignment, “Distant-Reading Whitney,” asks students to use the open-access text analysis tool Voyant to make an argument about Whitney’s poetry collection A Sweet Nosegay, while “Mapping Whitney” requires students to document locations in Whitney’s poem “Last Will and Testament.”18 Since the first unit focuses on the advent of print as a technological development, I aim to disrupt students’ expectations that only men were writing and publishing in the early years of print culture. As the first woman author to publish secular poetry under her own name in early modern England and as a working-class poet largely focused on subjects such as labor, familial relationships, and community engagement, Whitney mirrors many of my students’ personal experiences balancing their academic life with their family and work demands. In particular, her “Will and Testament”—in which the poet imagines herself writing a will bequeathing London streets and shops to the working- and lower-class individuals who frequent those spaces—speaks to the kind of turn toward communal relationships that I hoped we could model in our critical work.19

In the first iteration of the course (2017), the final project asked students to design and publish a remix of the poetic miscellany Songes and Sonettes, otherwise known as Tottel’s Miscellany, using any media, genre, and style of their choice.20 Edited by a publisher named Richard Tottel, the Miscellany collects the works of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, and Sir Thomas Wyatt as well as that of other, unattributed authors. Tottel took it upon himself to give titles to untitled sonnets and took some sonnets out of context in order to frame the collection around the theme of love and romantic pursuit. In his epistle to the reader, Tottel explicitly claims that the collection was designed to democratize an exclusively aristocratic genre. I therefore felt that this text would provide us with an opportunity to discuss issues of social class, authority, and remediation, and to consider the predigital origins of remix culture. Although these reading selections were informed by my background in early modern studies, I also hoped they could productively encourage students to push back against primary sources and reconsider them from a postcolonial angle. As Roopika Risam argues, “Having students remix primary sources also reinforce[s] how the act of making can be used to decolonize knowledge, subverting these sources through playful engagement.”21 The results were by and large very encouraging, as the students helped elevate the sonnets to a global, cross-temporal context and destabilize the text as representative of old, white, male, British readers and writers. One student created a playlist designed to accompany a number of sonnets; another wrote a series of personal letters addressed to the poets, imagining, for instance, a West African worker struggling to connect with the notion (expressed in poem #134) that immediate rewards always follow hard work.22 After reading Wyatt’s sonnets written from prison, one student, Sadad Mohammad, used time-lapse photography to illustrate his reading of a poem from the collection that reflects on freedom and struggle.23

Although I design my schedule and syllabus with certain questions and outcomes in mind, feminist praxis demands space and flexibility for the students and me to cocreate assignments where possible so that decolonizing the curriculum translates to work that actively reflects the values of all of us in the room. When I taught this class in 2017, students’ reflections for the mapping assignment demonstrated that they still felt disconnected from the white, European subjects we were studying. They longed to celebrate their own community much like Whitney had chosen to do for working-class London in her “Last Will and Testament.” In response, I designed an extra-credit assignment that invited students to map a space that meant something personal to them. This project produced exciting results: one student, for instance, chose to trace the nuances of the South Asian immigrant community in Jackson Heights (Queens), which includes Little India, Little Bangladesh, and Little Nepal. As he explained, these distinct communities can help newcomers who might still struggle with English and do not communicate in the same language as someone from a different part of South Asia. This student’s project challenged me to think about what kinds of work I was curtailing in our class by requiring that students focus on a single white European text (even if they were to put their own spin on it). I felt that the course should more carefully center students not just as critics but as producers of knowledge. After a semester interrogating exclusionary practices embedded in new technological developments and examining a range of DH projects that successfully decolonize digital spaces, the final project needed to invite students to consider what they wanted their own projects to say and do. As reconceptualized for the 2018 iteration of the course, our final project turned the notion of social justice inward: rather than try to remix old texts, the students would instead focus on deeply personal subjects and study their own communities.

This reimagined final project, titled “New York: A Social Knowledge Experiment,” asked students to propose and create a proof-of-concept prototype that documented, in whatever ways they found valuable, some element of New York culture that resonated with them. Noble has cautioned that “we are living in a moment where Black people’s lives can be documented and digitalized but cannot be empowered or respected in our society.”24 With this in mind, we worked on an intentionally broad, collaborative definition of “community,” which invited students to see themselves as subject experts and work on whatever they felt connected them most to the spaces they inhabited—whether that meant areas populated by individuals who shared their nationality or ethnicity or whether it meant spaces where they felt their personal interests were most valued. The only requirement was that they should envision something that was meaningful to them. The project’s rubric evaluated students at the proposal, design, and prototype stages. I wanted to avoid exposing students and their communities to public scrutiny, so we opted to only share projects with the other students in the class.25 Such an approach also attended to feminist calls for process over product and to interrogate what counts as research and evidence in academic work—especially when it comes to work that involves historically gendered lenses like affect and care. As Catherine D’Ignazio and Lauren Klein argue, turning a feminist lens to data requires that we reorient our approach to data and research by privileging “multiple forms of knowledge, including the knowledge that comes from people as living, feeling bodies in the world,” as well as data that results in “experiential ways of knowing.”26

On the whole, the project was open-ended, provided that (a) the work included a digital component; (b) the project focused on New York City (including any of its boroughs); and (c) at least five sample entries were included in the final prototype. Alongside their digital projects, students were asked to submit a three-to-four-page reflection. To ensure that projects attended to these requirements and that students were being adequately realistic given our short time frame of roughly six weeks, I also asked for a written proposal and work plan, which we discussed in one-on-one conferences. During conference meetings, students had the opportunity to hone their reasons for undertaking their project as I raised questions about how they might handle issues such as privacy and ethics. As it happened, many students wanted to better understand and connect to people where they worked and lived. During peer review and in conferences, we therefore considered the reasons for building digital projects around small and sometimes private communities and brainstormed scripts for approaching individuals for anonymous interviews and other pertinent information.

Although this work was only done for the purpose of the class project and not published anywhere outside our class, we had conversations about privacy, human subject engagement, and what counts as sensitive information. All projects were published temporarily (our class being its limited audience) as a proof of concept and taken down at the end of the course. We kept screenshots as mementos of the completed work, which I added to a StoryMap documenting their work. Since the students by and large documented spaces they already inhabited or patronized, I supported their own decisions regarding how or when to interact with their own communities. After the data-collection activities in their initial workplan were completed, we scheduled follow-up meetings to unpack how their interactions had gone, to reflect on what the people with whom they talked wanted to see out of the project and how those individuals would choose to participate (or not), and to revise their project proposal accordingly.

The conversations I had with students as they designed and began working on their projects led them to reflect more deeply on all the human elements involved in building digital projects. Crucially, we agreed that the researcher could not be the only person at the center of these undertakings: if the project was to be representative of their community, the members of said community could not be reduced to research objects but must play an active and informed role in the process. For instance, one student who lived and worked in Jackson Heights aimed to document South Asian bridal gown shopping customs. Since she belongs to this community, she knew that brides-to-be traditionally shopped for their gowns with the groom’s family (and that family’s funds). Given her understanding of South Asian gender roles in particular and the gendered pressures of bridal rituals in general, her initial expectation was that this situation might generate anxiety on the bride’s part, given both the high costs of fabrics and the fact that many brides meet their family-in-law for the first time during these shopping excursions. She and I discussed how best to approach individual shoppers without infringing on a personal and private moment. We also considered how the store owner might feel about having photos of their gowns displayed on a project they had no control over. Indeed, after she visited the stores in her neighborhood and spent time with the owners and shoppers, neither seemed interested in being documented in any identifiable way (though the shop owners appreciated potentially having more folks interested in their particular store). Ultimately, she decided that her digital project would include generic, promotional photos of the outfits on mannequins so as to not reveal sensitive information about the brides with whom she interacted and that it would also include links to the stores’ public websites using Google Maps locations. This project, as many did, turned into an inward look at this student’s understanding of her cross-cultural positionalities as an American-born New Yorker with South Asian heritage—something akin to a digital autoethnography and an experiment in micro-storytelling. As this student learned in this case, thinking about the needs of the local community might also lead to a change in perspective:

In the beginning of the project, I wanted to take a critical approach and find out how a bride feels about the groom’s family calling the shots, and in particular choosing the dress. As I researched, spoke to two brides, and saw how the families bonded, my conclusion of the meaning behind shopping for the dresses changed. I initially thought the brides would feel angered and left out from the process of choosing their dream dress, but I realized it was so much more than that. The five dresses were just the materialistic device used to bring two families together and the Jackson Heights community was a part of that journey.27

This reflection also shifted the research question for her project, which in the end focused on celebrating the range of South Asian wedding traditions rather than only working to expose its patriarchal underpinnings. This is not to say that all women in such conditions are elated by this process, of course, yet this student’s discovery helped her understand her own culture in more nuanced terms and conclude that patriarchal oppression, while pervasive across cultures (and especially within marriage traditions), can be subverted not just through active resistance but also through joy and care.

A similar community-driven project that required privacy considerations was “Listening for Iraqis in NYC.” Tuka Al-Sahlani was struck by a question posed by a fellow Iraqi at an academic event she had attended: “Where are the Iraqis in New York?” Anecdotally, Al-Sahlani knew there were Iraqis in Queens and across the boroughs, but she too had trouble finding community spaces, stores, or even restaurants celebrating Iraqi culture. She decided to work on StoryMap to pin down places where Iraqis worked and gathered, alongside soundbites from local residents speaking in Arabic about their experience of being Iraqi in New York City. Following some careful consideration of how best to represent these individuals without exposing their identity (especially given the political climate in 2018), Al-Sahlani decided to request anonymous recordings. As she argued in her project reflection, “The people of Iraq are diverse both in race and ethnicity, so the best way to locate or ‘spot’ an Iraqi is to listen for the Iraqi Arabic dialect.”28 Al-Sahlani also saw her goals and the project itself change by her interactions with the community. Despite posting her call for contributors to her social media contacts and reaching out to individuals she already knew, Al-Sahlani did not receive many audio files from folks aiming to share their experience. Of those who did contribute, many remarked that they too had trouble finding community in Queens—one person who had worked at the United Nations went as far as describing the Iraqis as “hidden.” Although we discussed how Islamophobia likely played a key role in why this community stays hidden, the people with whom Al-Sahlani spoke (or who submitted recordings) expressed a longing for spaces where they knew Iraqis might gather, such as a restaurant serving Iraqi cuisine. These interactions led Al-Sahlani to reflect on the many ways in which her project had to contend with absence. The very question she had asked at the start, “Where are the Iraqis in NYC?” could not be easily answered, and her project could serve to call attention as to why.

Overall, student projects varied widely in subject and objectives, including projects about underground skater cultures, local bars catering to expat soccer fans, and the evolution of Queens hip hop. The work produced in our class was deliberately local—explorations of community spaces—and designed to help students develop digital skills while remixing their personal stories for a broader audience. The research and our many conversations about process helped students consider how their own spaces are mediated, preserved, or appropriated. This is one way we can do social justice work in the classroom: by creating spaces that allow students to identify and pursue the kinds of research that reflect their voices. Small-scale personal projects ensure that students are seen as people whose lives do not begin and end at the classroom door.

One of the challenges of helping students produce meaningful work is finding time for individualized feedback, as many of us are teaching students across levels of preparation in terms of both writing and their comfort with technology. The time and labor expenditures for individually designed projects (even small-scale ones) are not insignificant. I follow the model from my colleagues in composition and always replace some class meetings during the term with dedicated conference time. By the time I meet with the students, I am already very familiar with their writing and research interests and have read and made notes on their proposals, so our meetings can be extremely efficient. For instructors teaching multiple sections with large groups, meeting with students in small groups (three or four) can significantly reduce the time spent overall and still provide a substantial advantage to regular class meetings, where we know some students are bound to fall through the cracks and not get the support they need. Project consultations that follow the initial meeting can more easily occur through reflective homework activities, with voice-recorded instructor feedback when possible. It is also important to make all of these checkpoints (proposals, conferences, brainstorming) graded components of the final project: this not only encourages students to complete the work but aids in both scaffolding and assessment.

Having individualized projects in any class (and especially a class with technology components) is bound to be extra labor, and this may be particularly taxing on instructors who identify as women, who are likely dealing with gender imbalances in their workload already. Yet I would argue that often the time spent in student consultations is recouped during assessment: when students are working on projects that matter to them, they tend to produce stronger work, which is always easier to grade. Instructors might also want to consider a labor-based approach to contract grading, which reflects feminist praxis by rewarding the iterative process of project development, rather than putting pressure on students to deliver something “finished” or ready for public consumption.29

The work discussed here complicates the idea of “diversity” as always-Othered, as engagement in diversity issues often seems to begin with an implication of whiteness as the default center.30 Reflecting on meaningful ways to diversify digital spaces, Maha Bali argues that “if we (dominant and subaltern and intersectional) listen to the diverse voices we include, if we include them by empowering them to include themselves and speak on their own terms, we can potentially subvert the hegemonic whiteness of the digital.”31 As this essay demonstrates, there are many ways to expand on and perform iterations of digital humanities that are deliberately productive only for a small community. Students are increasingly becoming producers of digital content as part of their daily lives, and most of them will work with digital technologies in some way or another during the course of their careers, so it is important that our courses provide them with the tools to do this work thoughtfully and critically. The feminist classroom can be uncompromisingly political, but it is also compassionate: it provides spaces for students to confront systemic oppression while encouraging them to frame their own narratives and build spaces for joy and self-discovery. By prioritizing the local over the universal and working with flexibility and care, we can find meaningful ways to make work that is inclusive and reflective of ourselves and our students, in all our intersectional particularities.

Notes

I would like to thank fellow contributors Victoria Szabo, Kalle Westerling, and Claudia Zapata for their generous and insightful comments on earlier drafts of this essay and Laura Estill for helping me work through ideas for it. Thanks also to the ENG 295 students who continue to make this course a thrill to teach. In particular, I would like to thank former York student and fellow educator Tuka Al-Sahlani, whose research and thoughtful provocations never cease to inspire.

1. 1. See, for instance, Bailey, “All the Digital Humanists”; Risam, “Abolitionist Digital Pedagogies”; and chapters 7 and 23 in this volume.

2. 2. See Silva, “Course Syllabus and Schedule,” for the schedule and assignment prompts.

3. 3. As a Brazilian Latina, I recognize that my positionality in relation to institutions of power has often benefited from white privilege. While I do not in any way intend to speak for Black students and their communities, I strive to build curricula that do not simply reflect but center students’ needs and values.

4. 4. Kimberlé Crenshaw first introduced this term to describe the unique challenges Black women faced when addressing discrimination in the workforce. The term is now widely used to consider how each of our identities intersects and modifies how we are affected by (or benefit from) institutional racism and patriarchal, heteronormative oppression. See Crenshaw, On Intersectionality.

5. 5. Steele, Digital Black Feminism, 13.

6. 6. McPherson, “Why Are the Digital Humanities So White”; Risam, “Beyond the Margins”; and Nieves, “DH as ‘Disruptive Innovation.’”

7. 7. Bali, “Unbearable Exclusion.”

8. 8. In this, I follow the teachings of Paulo Freire and bell hooks, seeking spaces for generosity and thoughtful “co-intentional education,” in which students and educator work together toward liberation from oppressive systems. See Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed; and hooks, Teaching to Transgress.

9. 9. Students were contacted about samples of their writing after the course was completed and all grades assigned. I emailed them a standard letter outlining the aims of the research and requesting permission to use their work either anonymously or with attribution. All the students cited here had also already graduated from York when I was compiling the materials for this essay.

10. 10. I also codesigned the structure of the DS minor, alongside my colleague Matthew Garley.

11. 11. See “DH Project Reviews” under “Prompts” in Silva, “Course Syllabus and Schedule.”

12. 12. My primary focus here was ensuring access, so the course posed as few financial barriers as possible. Unfortunately, this means we worked with a lot of proprietary tools like Google Maps, Instagram, and ArcGIS. There are serious implications to working with these tools, especially in a course with radical, liberatory aims. In the future, I hope to find time to research more ethical resources while balancing using tools that have a manageable learning curve.

13. 13. Queering the Map; Nesbit and Ayers, Visualizing Emancipation. A full list of reading assignments can be found under “Schedule” in Silva, “Course Syllabus and Schedule.”

14. 14. Noble, Algorithms of Oppression.

15. 15. White et al., Digital Harlem. For specific concerns about Digital Harlem, see Sternfeld, “Harlem Crime.”

16. 16. Diop, Project Diaspora.

17. 17. hooks, Teaching to Transgress, 10.

18. 18. Whitney, Sweet Nosegay.

19. 19. The poem subverts the notion of material accumulation and suggests that the true gift of living in London lies in its shared community spaces. Time and again, I find that Whitney is a remarkably productive object of study—students who have reservations about early modern literature being elitist and misogynist (as it often is) find her particularly refreshing.

20. 20. Tottel, Songes and Sonettes.

21. 21. Risam, New Digital Worlds, 103.

22. 22. The original lines read, “In workyng well, if travell [i.e., difficulty] you sustaine, / into the winde shall lightly passe the paine.” Tottel, Songes and Sonettes, fol. 113v.

23. 23. Mohammad, “Bridge.” Wyatt was placed in prison purportedly for his affair with King Henry VIII’s wife, Anne Boleyn. Tottel added his own titles to the sonnets to make them seem like love poetry, and the students and I unpacked this choice as we talked about voice, agency, and interpretation. It also showed them that the door was already open for them to similarly take ownership of the sonnets and give them new interpretations.

24. 24. Noble, “Toward a Critical,” 30. This was an especially difficult sentence to revisit as this essay was being revised in June 2020 following the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and so many others. Yet this difficulty further reinforces the urgency of ensuring we continue to show up and do the work of not just inclusive but actively antiracist, feminist praxis.

25. 25. In future iterations I hope to spend more time with students discussing how and why to publish work that involves collaboration and community outreach and to offer them opportunities to learn about Institutional Review Board (IRB) processes.

26. 26. D’Ignazio and Klein, Data Feminism, 18.

27. 27. Anonymous student, “Project 3 Reflection.”

28. 28. Al Sahlani, “Project 3 Reflection.”

29. 29. Inoue, Labor-Based Grading Contracts.

30. 30. I am grateful to my colleague Shereen Inayatulla for raising this issue in our panel for CUNY’s 2019 Diversity and Inclusion Conference.

31. 31. Bali, “Unbearable Exclusion,” 296–97.

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