Dr. Joceline Anderson, Twyla Exner
As I look back on this course, I’m struck by how much it reshaped the way I think about feminist movements, artistic practice, and the power of media. I came in with a general sense of how activism works, but working through such a wide range of case studies made me realize just how layered, strategic, and creative feminist social movements really are.
One of the most meaningful parts of the class was learning to see art and media not as “extras” to activism, but as central tools that shape how movements communicate, resist, and imagine new possibilities. Whether we were analyzing protest posters, digital campaigns, performance art, or community‑based projects, I began to understand how representation itself becomes a battleground. The conversations we had about bodies, autonomy, sexual violence, environmental justice, and access to public and digital space pushed me to think more critically about the world I live in and the systems that structure it.
The discussions, both in small groups and as a full class, were often the heart of the learning. People brought in different experiences, different disciplinary backgrounds, and different political commitments, and that mix made the conversations richer. Even when we disagreed, there was a shared commitment to listening carefully and engaging respectfully. That sense of community made it easier to sit with difficult material and to ask harder questions of ourselves and each other.
Working through the course topics – intersectionality, global feminisms, ecofeminist practices, digital activism – helped me see how interconnected these struggles are. The international artists we studied expanded my understanding of what feminist resistance can look like, and how creativity becomes a form of agency, especially for those whose voices are often marginalized or erased.
Another profoundly impactful aspect of this course was witnessing art‑as‑activism emerge not only from the professional case studies we examined, but from the work created by my own classmates. Seeing people I learned alongside take risks, experiment with form, and translate their lived experiences into creative art pieces made the idea of activist art feel immediate and alive.
This course also became unexpectedly foundational to my own practice as a humanitarian photographer. The deeper we went into questions of representation, power, and the ethics of visibility, the more I found myself re‑examining the way I approach the camera. Studying feminist media strategies and the ways marginalized communities use art to assert agency pushed me to think more critically about whose stories I am drawn to, how I frame them, and what responsibilities I carry when I translate lived experience into images. It reminded me that photography is never neutral; it can reproduce harm or it can open space for dignity, complexity, and resistance. The frameworks we explored in class now sit behind the lens with me, shaping how I listen, how I build relationships, and how I strive to create images that honour the people and movements I hope to stand alongside.
By the end of the course, I felt more confident analyzing media strategies, critiquing representation, and understanding the ethical frameworks that guide feminist activism. I also found myself thinking more concretely about action: how to respond to real‑world gender inequities, how to imagine creative interventions, and how to contribute to social justice work in ways that are thoughtful, accountable, and grounded in community.
More than anything, this course reminded me that dissent is not just a reaction, but a practice. It’s something shaped by art, by storytelling, by networks, by bodies in public space, and by the courage to speak when silence feels easier.
globalindigenousvoice.org 