Tag Archives: MYFest2024

Imagination by Benjamin, Part 3

stacks of books in boxes with a sign above them that says "Libros Libres" (free books).

Libros Libres by Alan Levine on Flickr, licensed CC0.

 

In the last two posts I have been talking about Ruha Benjamin’s book Imagination: A Manifesto, which I’m reading as part of a book club for MYFest 2024. Here is part 1 on chapters 1 and 2, and here is part 2 on chapters 3 and 4. In this last post I’ll discuss chapters 5 and 6.

Among other things, chapter 5 focuses on how art and stories are crucial for changing imaginations and providing new visions. Benjamin quotes Angela Y. Davis:

… if we believe that revolutions are possible, then we have to be able to imagine different modes of being, different ways of existing in society, different social relations. In this sense art is crucial. Art is at the forefront of social change. Art often allows us to grasp what we cannot yet understand. (98-99)

For example, Benjamin points to artistic and imaginative dreams of what border areas between nations could be, rather than policed, surveilled, violent structures. One idea is a “binational library on the Mexico-US border” that would make the border “nothing more than a bookshelf allowing for ‘transnational exchanges of books, ideas, and knowledge'” (quoting Ronald Rael; 95). In a twist, Benjamin points out that such a library existed between the US and Canada in the early 20th century, and while that may not seem so far-fetched, if the former does then what does that tell us about the differences? About ourselves? Instead of the harsh break between ourselves and others, us and them, Benjamin states, “We must populate our imaginations with images and stories of our shared humanity of our interconnectedness, of our solidarity as people. A poetics of welcome, not walls” (p. 102).

Chapter 5 includes multiple examples of organizations dedicated to imagining the future, telling new stories about interconnection, collaboration, and interdependence, and working towards implementing them. Benjamin also dedicates space to discussing Afrofuturism and Indigenous futurism, as imaginations that counter a prevailing trend in which “Indigenous and racialized peoples, who know all too well what it means to live in a dystopian present, get suspended in time, never imagined among those peopling the future” (112).

I had heard these terms before but Benjamin’s short discussion helped me grasp them better. I have experienced that it is fairly common to think about Indigenous communities and cultures in terms of their past traditions, whereas Indigenous futurism, according to Grace Dillon, folds the past into the present, “which is folded into the future–a philosophical wormhole that renders the very definitions of time and space fluid in the imagination” (113). Benjamin points to the Initiative for Indigenous Futures at Concordia University here in Canada that, among other activities, teaches Indigenous youth how to “adapt stories from their community into experimental digital media,” to “envision themselves in the future while drawing from their heritage” (114). This is another form of breaking down walls, those between times as well as spaces, weaving the past into the present into the future and back.

My own visions of the future will of course draw from my past and present experiences, which will be limited (as any individual’s would be) and based in my privileged position. One thing I’m taking from these chapters is that imagining new worlds should be a collaborative activity with people involved who bring many different epistemologies, experiences, and identities.

This is a good segue into chapter 6, which is a short, practical chapter that provides sample activities to expand and strengthen imaginations. While Benjamin notes these can be done through individual reflections, she encourages readers to engage in these activities with others, through collective imagination: “Like mushrooms, the kind of imagination that can potentially transform toxic environments into habitable ones relies on a vast network of underground connections–with people, organizations, and histories” (p. 122). The appendix includes discussion- and activity-based prompts for individuals or groups that are short, but no less inviting and open-ended.

I am very grateful for the opportunity in MYFest to join a reading circle about this book, and not only reflect on imagination through reading the book, but also practice it in our group meetings. One activity I found particularly engaging (among many!) during the group meetings I was able to attend was a collaborative story-building activity. We started with a scenario, and then one person would have to brainstorm a challenge or obstacle, and another person would come up with an idea for how to address that, and then there would be another challenge, and so on, until we brought the story to a conclusion. These were short exercises, just a few back-and-forths of a challenge plus addressing that, but it was incredibly powerful to have the chance to imagine both how things can go well and also the reality that there will be complexity and obstacles, and then be nudged to really think hard about how to address those. This was a very hopeful exercise, in that we didn’t get stuck with the obstacles, but moved through and beyond them to something new.

There have been a few sessions in MYFest on imagination and speculative futures, including one that happened today on Imagination as a Liberatory Practice with Jasmine Roberts-Crews. During this session participants were encouraged to reflect on their practices of dreaming and play, and if those were challenging, to then reflect on why and what the obstacles are. I found myself thinking that I don’t have much of a dreaming practice, partly because I’ve been so influenced by the idea that such things aren’t “productive,” and it’s better to spend one’s time doing work that is more traditionally considered so. Of course, if I were someone involved in more creative pursuits I might feel differently!

Through reading Benjamin’s book and discussing it in the reading circle meetings, as well as attending Jasmine’s session (and others noted below), I’m realizing the deep importance of dreaming, daydreaming, imagination, and play to ideating and working towards necessary social change. Otherwise it’s too easy to get caught in how things are, adhering to existing practices and values and their notion of what counts as important and “productive.”

There have been several sessions so far (and more to come!) on imagination and speculative ideation, and I haven’t been able to attend them all. Thankfully, many have been recorded. You can find recordings of MYFest sessions on the MYFest website. For example, I attended the first session of by Dani Dilkes on Speculative Futures for Education, and am looking forward to reviewing the recording for the second (Session 1 and Session 2). Though I will not be in town and not able to attend, there is one coming up July 31 on Future Dreaming Part 2: Storytelling for Liberatory Education. The Wisdom of Fools Storytelling Activities and Readers Theatre are also wonderful examples of tending to our imaginations.

I am so grateful for the MYFest facilitators and the community generally for many things we’re learning together, including focusing on the importance of imagination, dreaming, and play in our lives and in our work as educators!

Imagination by Benjamin, Part 2

A wooden bench in a park, with arm rests placed along the length of it so that you can't lie down.

Image by Nhung Tran from Pixabay

In the last post, I wrote down notes on chapters 1 and 2 in the book Imagination: A Manifesto by Ruha Benjamin. In this post I continue with chapters 3 and 4.

In these chapters, Benjamin talks about multiple imaginaries that support and perpetuate inequalities, and ways to imagine otherwise. Chapter 3 begins with a point that particularly struck me: in discussing how some who are working on virtual reality (VR) technologies note that they can help people to experience better living spaces that they don’t have in reality, Benjamin asks:

But how about a reality where everyone has sufficient resources? Instead of imagining a world where gross extremes between the wealthy and poor are ended, a growing industry fueled by the imagination of the uber-rich is working overtime to create virtual escapes from inequality and sell us on their dreams. (47)

While escape can be very important sometimes, I found her point very important that the effort and expense going into some applications of VR could be instead spent on imagining a world where VR isn’t needed to accommodate for vast differences in wealth.

And yet, VR and AR (augmented reality) can be very important as learning tools too; I can think of some applications at my institution that help students better learn about the brain, that support nurse practitioners to practice their skills with virtual patients, and that provide opportunities for students to practice new language skills with a virtual avatar (to name a few).

Benjamin herself points to a valuable use of augmented reality in Chapter 4, where she discusses an app called Breonna’s Garden, dedicated to celebrating the life of Breonna Taylor. So it’s not the technology that’s the problem, it’s the story, the imagination, that the technology is used to support.

Chapter 3 focuses on a “eugenics imagination,” in which “some lives are deemed desirable and others disposable” (49). Benjamin discusses some topics that many may more easily associate with eugenics, such as forced sterilization programs in women’s prisons, but also prisons themselves as “eugenic institution[s], snatching up and discarding those society deems human detritus” (58). She also points to structures that make play either difficult or downright dangerous for Black and Brown children as supporting an imaginary where some people’s lives are more disposable than others’. This is due to issues such as “under-resourced or understaffed daycare centers,” design decisions in cities and in marginalized neighbourhoods that “make it hard to play freely,” and police “disrupt[ing] Black leisure with stop-and-frisk, targeted harassment, and violence” such as being killed while at play (e.g., Tamir Rice and Raymond Chaluisant) (61-62).

Benjamin returns to design at the end of chapter 3, with another discussion that really stood out to me. She starts out talking about how park benches are often made to keep people from lying down and sleeping, including a spiked bench where the spikes would only retract if you paid money (67). She then points to a creative project called Arhcisuits by Sarah Ross, which are suits that have foam appendages that allow one to get around such architectural designs, such as putting the foam between the arm rests on benches so that you can lie down on top of the foam. This really struck me:

The bench is a great metaphor for the spikes built into our institutions, while the foam-lined suit epitomizes how individuals are made responsible for being smarter, fitter, more suitable, to avoid harm. (69)

Connecting this to education, I think of the various ways that students with disabilities are made to adjust to the spikes in our post-seconday educational institutions; it is often their responsibility get a diagnosis, advocate for themselves, sign up with the disability support centre, figure out what to do if faculty don’t provide the accommodation requested, and more. The burden of work is put onto them to find a way to continue to learn in a system that was not designed for them. Their foam suits are expensive and exhausting, and not within reach of all students who might use them, and who therefore either never go to university or drop out. How can we imagine and create instead post-secondary environments that have fewer spikes to begin with (or, dreaming big, that have no spikes at all?).

A quote from chapter 4 that also struck me is relevant to this question. Benjamin talks about a few organizations dedicated to imagining justice, more just and equitable communities, cities, and institutions, and notes in relation to some of them:

This is part of a radical tradition of people who have no interest in being “included” inside a burning house. Instead, they are sounding the alarm about the treacherous blaze while, at the same time, laying down the bricks for more habitable social structures. (87)

By asking students with disabilities to find ways to be included in existing structures, we’re putting the burden on them rather than changing the structures. This is not to criticize disability support centres, which often do very excellent work and are providing a lifeline to many, many students. Such lifelines may always be needed, as it would be very difficult for any institution to serve every individual. But perhaps we can adjust the environment so the house is more welcoming for more people and fewer foam pads, or lifelines, are needed.

Another quote that struck me from chapter 4 comes from Robin D.G. Kelly:

Without new visions we don’t know what to build, only what to knock down. We not only end up confused, rudderless, and cynical, but we forget that making a revolution is not a series of clever maneuvers and tactics but a process that can and must transform us. (86)

It is not just the house that needs transforming, but we who are changing it, who are building something better, need to be changed in the process or we will likely continue to build rickety structures.

See also part 3 of this series.

Imagination by Benjamin, Part 1

Hot air balloons going upwards into a blue sky; the one that dominates the view has a rainbow pattern with a triangular basket underneath.

Hot air balloons in Boise, Idaho, 2018 (photo by Christina Hendricks)

As part of Mid-Year Festival 2024, I’m participating in a book circle on Ruha Benjamin’s book, Imagination: A Manifesto. I am going to add a few reflections here on the Introduction and chapters 1 and 2, in preparation for our meeting about those chapters.

I wanted to join this book circle because I have a strained relationship with imagination sometimes. In some ways I feel I have a great deal of imagination (I love drawing even though I’m not great at it, for example, and doing very short, 6-10 word stories), but in other ways I feel like I tend to just continue with things as they are because I struggle with understanding how they might change. This is especially the case with systemic issues that would require very complex work in many ways to even start to approach.

Back in MYFest 2022 I wrote a blog post about imagining higher education futures, and how much difficulty I found with that task because of the interlocking structures that all need to change in order to make bigger changes. I felt somewhat stuck, because while trying to change one thing it bumped up against so many others that made it difficult to move. I’m hoping that while reading and discussing this book I feel even more unstuck.

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