About Lisa M. Corrigan, Ph.D.: Lisa M. Corrigan is a Professor of Communication and Director of the Gender Studies Program at the University of Arkansas. She a prominent scholar of the rhetoric of civil rights and social movements, and is the author of several celebrated publications on racial justice, communication, and political advocacy. Her first book, Prison Power: How Prison Influenced the Movement for Black Liberation (University Press of Mississippi, 2016), was the recipient of the 2017 Diamond Anniversary Book Award and the 2017 African American Communication and Culture Division Outstanding Book Award, both from the National Communication Association. Her second book, Black Feelings: Race and Affect in the Long Sixties (University Press of Mississippi, 2020) was just released.
In addition, Dr. Corrigan has edited the forthcoming collection, #MeToo: A Rhetorical Zeitgeist (Routledge, 2021) and is currently working on a book about political and racial intimacies. Finally, she co-hosts a popular podcast with Laura Weiderhaft called Lean Back: Critical Feminist Conversations. Dr. Corrigan received her Bachelor of Arts in Communication and English Literature from the University of Pittsburgh, her Master of Arts in Rhetoric and Political Communication from the University of Maryland, and her Ph.D. in Rhetoric and Political Communication (as well as a certificate in Women’s Studies) from the University of Maryland.
[MastersinCommunications.com] How did you first become interested in gender studies, social movement communication, and Black Power and civil rights movement studies? What inspired the writing of your award-winning book Prison Power: How Prison Influenced the Movement for Black Liberation?
[Dr. Lisa Corrigan] My interest in these fields started in third grade: I was in an all-white classroom with a white teacher, and we had to do our first book report on an autobiography. I chose one by Martin Luther King, Jr., and after we turned in our book reports the teacher said that we had to dress up as the person we chose. I was the only person in class who chose to write their report on a person of color, and I got an F on my dress up because my mother (thankfully) did not send me to school in Blackface. I pretty much went to war with that teacher for the rest of the school year, because her perspectives were so racist, ableist, and problematic. It created a sense of urgency within me from an early age and informed what I studied in undergraduate and beyond.
By the time I got to graduate school, there were unfortunately no graduate courses in my program specifically on race. My social movements course was about Hillary Clinton and healthcare and the anti-WTO protests in Seattle in 1999. That class ignored the history of race in social movement theory and communication, so really I had to do most of my own research on civil rights and Black Power, outside of the institutions of communication studies available to me.
I completed a graduate certificate in women’s studies while at Maryland at the same time that I was earning my Ph.D., and I was interested in thinking about how differences are represented as more significant than they are. A lot of the feminist social movement history and theory I studied was in the oldest women’s study program in the country, so I was lucky to have many mentors outside of communication to help me conduct race and gender research in the 2000s, because it was not readily available like it is now.
I would say that my best education about social movements, race, and gender has come from community work, community organizing, and political work, more so than what I learned as a graduate student. I joke that I moonlight as a professor because I also have a whole other career as a political strategist. I’ve worked in politics for 25 years on campaigns, and now in Arkansas I write legislation, do oppositional research, train caucuses, and advise candidates. I help develop and enact strategy inside of the legislature and build coalitions outside of normal policy routes to pressure lawmakers to change policy. I think my hands-on political work outside of higher education has been extremely formative in the way that I think about the relationship between rhetoric and formal political organizing and political action.
The beginnings of my book Prison Power actually came about during my time as a graduate student. When I was young, I loved hip-hop and rap music. Some of the very first papers I wrote in graduate school concerned hip-hop culture and how, in particular, hard-core rap music took up some of Malcolm X’s ideas, as well as ideals integral to the Nation of Islam. I was also interested in what kind of space women had found and made for themselves in rap music, because they were not necessarily riffing off of the organizational politics of the civil rights and Black Power movements, but rather were producing new forms of representational art and politics that were very different from some of the work from artists who were explicitly proactive about invoking Malcolm X and the Nation of Islam.
[MastersinCommunications.com] What were some of the principal findings in Prison Power?
[Dr. Lisa Corrigan] Though many see mass incarceration as dating back to Reagan, it starts much earlier, during the Johnson administration, with his massive support for the Law Enforcement Assistance Act that diverted tons of money into municipal police forces to purchase decommissioned military goods from the war in Vietnam to tool up and oppress civil rights activists. Big cities like Chicago and LA got money from the federal government to buy equipment and personnel to create what we now call SWAT teams. That’s when this kind of anti-riot, defensive architecture in the cities was born to undermine civil rights activism and to put massive numbers of Black people in prison.
This massively changed the way that civil rights activism continued, because imprisonment was such a central strategy for civil rights activists. In fact, it was about more than activism. The state did not want Black people to gather en masse and agitate for formal political rights. Today, there is a response to over incarceration, and to racial disparities in sentencing, and recently we have had a response to police violence. These have been consistent issues throughout the 20th century; almost all of the riots in the sixties started with either the police killing an unarmed Black civilian or the rumor that the police killed or shot an unarmed Black civilian. The circumstances that produced the activism in the sixties are the same as those that have been producing Black Lives Matter activism. But now, it has been exacerbated because of the massive stratification of wealth from the bottom to the top.
In short, there are several factors that have converged to make U.S. prisons and the U.S. justice system major sites of political and racial oppression for African Americans in particular. You have a massive consolidation of political power among white elites in the eighties during the Reagan administration. And then you have another one that’s happened certainly in the last ten years, both during the Bush administration and post-Bush as well.
Prison Power also discusses the way in which mass incarceration was shaped around the voices of Black activists who either spent their lives in prison or who were in and out of prison as a result of the anti-Black public policy that specifically targeted poor Black people or Black activists. The rationale for expanding the prison system has always hinged on the myth of the “Black criminal,” a myth that the Trump Administration has fed into and in fact uses interchangeably with Mexican-ness. There is a way in which Black and brown people are derided in Trump’s White House’s discourse on criminality, that is, in many ways, much worse now than it was in the 1960’s.
[MastersinCommunications.com] Prison Power discusses the origins and impact of Black Power vernacular. Could you elaborate on the concept of Black Power vernacular and its role in civil rights, as well as the Black arts movement?
[Dr. Corrigan] Well, there is no Black Power movement without the Black arts movement. What happened, especially after the federal government decided to fund the FBI’s counter-intelligence programs to disrupt, discredit, and destroy Black civil rights activists, was that activists had to make a choice about how they were going to produce representation and work within the new political economy. Said another way, there was a split that happened as a result of federal disinterest in civil rights and also federal undermining of civil rights efforts that created the possibilities to produce Black art in different ways.
Part of that also came from the fact that the sixties saw a Black middle class emerge for the first time in the United States. At the end of the sixties, a lot of African Americans had fought in World War II and Korea, and had gotten the opportunity to attend university because of the GI Bill. As a result, there were more Black families and individuals who had disposable incomes, so they could buy Black books and autobiographies, and go see Black actors on the screen and listen to Black music and buy albums of Black comedians and go see shows and plays about Black people by Black people. There was a space for Black art in especially the early seventies that hadn’t existed in the same way, although the Harlem Renaissance would certainly be a precursor. The art scene really informed Black Power organizing and vice versa, with the political side then feeding into artistic expression.
The Black Power vernacular was a new way of talking about Blackness and political Power that emerged from two things: the failure of civil rights activists to continue to push for formal political rights and to get reparations or some sort of change in the socioeconomic mobility of Black people and the necessity to find new ways to describe what we now call new conservatism.
I think it was easier in many ways to look to higher education and to the arts to see representational politics as a culmination of Black Power. However, ideas about sovereignty and guerilla warfare and Black pride circulated pretty widely in both spaces–the cultural spaces and the political spaces; in fact, they looked to each other for inspiration and were integral to each other’s development. The artists, poets, essayists, and screenwriters went to the Black Power rallies and then the activists read the autobiographies and the plays and the poetry and listened to the music. So they were different rhetorical forms with similar political goals.
[MastersinCommunications.com] As a scholar of civil rights and racial justice rhetoric and its impact on social and cultural movements, what thoughts do you have about the recent Black Lives Matters protests and the continued push for police accountability?
[Dr. Lisa Corrigan] For decades, white liberals have been interested in civil rights movements, but there were not a lot of models for radical white agency. White liberals would get upset watching Martin Luther King get beaten on TV or watching Black kids being attacked by German shepherds in Birmingham. But they did not have models that would help them sustain critical engagement or to do the emotional labor to understand how white supremacy was so central to their happiness, well-being, class status and community cohesion.
I do think today’s more recent BLM protests and the call for change in police accountability are different, in that there has been a gradual development of cultural production that can help white people sustain their investments in anti-racist work and can help them facilitate divestment in white supremacy in a way that actually did not exist in the sixties, but which has been building since then. I think we are lucky in this moment that there has been enough time to produce loads of communication that white people can hear differently.
Now, whether or not that’s going to create sustainable change remains to be seen. I believe it is certainly more optimistic (though that might not be the correct word) now than it was then. I drive around the white suburbs and college towns and I see BLM flags and posters and yard signs everywhere in white neighborhoods, and that never would have happened in the sixties. There is a sense that white people who are identifying with anti-racism want to be visible about it, and in ways that I feel are substantial. Whether it leads to social change, obviously that rests on us over the long-term. But there seem to be signals that more white people are moving in the right direction.
However, it is also a backlash cycle, in that we are also seeing a major surge in right-wing, alt-right, neo-Nazi, white supremacist discourse in the United States, which is and was always here but now is more visible. It’s not helpful to hold up white people who ally themselves with BLM without also acknowledging the corresponding surge in neo-Nazi, alt-right organizing. They are part of the same coin, and something social justice advocates need to be aware of.
And it’s also important to understand that, in some parts of America, neo-Nazi and alt-right thinking isn’t so much something that surges as it is a permanent pre-condition for public life in America, certainly down here in the South. Circling back to the criminal justice system and its historical intertwinement with racial prejudice, local police were actually the largest recruiting ground for Klanners and white citizen’s councils in the south in the sixties, and all the way back to the thirties. In many places, it is still the case that the police are the largest recruiting grounds for alt-right, KKK, white supremacist organizations. When you authorize mostly white people to use lethal force, you’re going to bring out the folks who want to use it without any kind of punishment. And the police unions have shielded bad cops for the entire existence of their organizations.
I think that it shouldn’t surprise anybody that today police unions harbor folks who want to use lethal force against people of color to undermine the political participation of communities of color. And that is certainly consistent between the entire twentieth century and early twenty-first century. There has been no change in that. It’s not like prisons have become bastions of education and care and concern and access to social services. And the same thing can be said about the police. It’s not like they’re doing more community outreach or community education or de-escalation training. Police departments are not taking that up actively as the charge to create a more peaceful police culture.
I think the pressure is there to change some of those norms, certainly from outside, but it’s not coming from within–from within either prisons or the police unions. And in the case of prisons, they have gotten much worse. Prisons have proliferated and incarceration has increased substantially, and obviously there are disparities in sentencing. The privatizations of prisons mean that there’s no accountability or transparency for what happens inside of them. The abuse is manifold. Educational opportunities have declined precipitously, as has access to social services, especially mental health services. I think that the situation in prisons is much worse than it was in the 1960’s, even as we see more productive and widespread communication about racial injustice and why we need to address it.
[MastersinCommunications.com] What will it take to address these inequalities and injustices that African Americans continue to face?
[Dr. Lisa Corrigan] I mean, Black people need resources. Full stop. And white people need to de-center their feelings about success, vulnerability, and authenticity. White people will put a BLM sign in their yard and that’s helpful, because they want to identify with BLM. But at some point it’s either virtue signaling or it’s a sign that they are divesting cash money into organizations that are struggling to produce a more just culture. When the rubber meets the road, did the white liberal just put up the sign or selfie at the protest or do they devote a substantial portion of their income to organizations struggling to redefine the entire political order without reasserting white privilege as the dominant terrain of what the future should look like? Are they going to divest their resources into organizations that see racial justice as the primary right and central preoccupation of public life in America? Or are they going to keep just voting for white politicians to maintain the status quo?
Historically, the white liberal has had a hard time truly showing up. They will show up for a selfie but they won’t show up to divest the money and support the organizations that are doing the hard core social change. We need to look at ourselves and do the work of reflecting on our failures and managing them, in order to understand and work towards a world where white needs are not centered. People are going to have to lose stuff for progress to happen insofar as progress means real equality and justice. White people will have to give up things, period.
White people want the hope and the ideals without the change. And that’s what they got with Obama. They got the hope but they didn’t have any of the change. It wasn’t necessary to them at the time. They were happy to say, “I voted for the Black guy,” and that’s really what they wanted to be able to say. “Well look at me. I’m not racist. I voted for the Black guy twice, right?” They wanted the hope without the change. And the change is much harder and it takes blood and sweat and tears. It takes cash money and it takes attention and it takes care and it takes generosity. White people are terrible at those things as they pertain to Black people. And so they don’t have the emotional fortitude to navigate situations where they are not centering the conversation around their own needs.
Given all of that, I’m not particularly optimistic. I wrote a book about pessimism because I think pessimism is the most productive space to think about the failures of liberalism, even though I think you can be pessimistic and also be kind and caring and generous and thoughtful and present and gentle. But I don’t think that there is a lot happening right now in the political moment to warrant full-throated optimism. I think white people would rather have optimism about electoral politics because it’s easier to bet on a horse than to be that workhorse for change.
Seeing the presidency as the Super Bowl of politics–the idea of, “We just need this person to win, then I’ll be fine. I’ll feel much better after this presidential election is over”–is a problem. It is without a doubt a problem that the focus is on the horse race and the winners and losers and not the fundamental system that only allows certain people to be potential winners or losers. It’s bad politics. The field of communication quite frankly suffers from this hyperfetishizing of the presidency. Many think that politics of the presidency is the most important political arena in American public life, and it’s part of the reason why social movement scholarship has been de-prioritized and actively sabotaged for fifty years.
I think political communication scholars are particularly ill-suited to discuss social movements because they’re so hyper-invested in electoral politics, and white electoral politics at that. So it makes them terrible interlocutors about racial signs and symbols, especially ones that come from non-dominant groups and especially those that are articulated through vernacular forms. Communication scholars are not good at that. They don’t talk about it. They don’t discuss it. It’s frustrating but it’s not surprising. It’s frustrating because it’s persistent, but it was not a surprise when I built this career. My identity is primarily grounded in external things outside of higher education, and that is because of the insularity of the academic sphere. The academics are only going to read what they’re going to read, so that’s on them. But organizing still happens around them, and that should be part of scholarly discussion.
I think for me, the saddest part is that communication scholars as a whole, given what they study and how they study it, are so woefully inadequate in terms of their own political participation. I think that’s a travesty, and it’s unethical. It’s not so much that I wish their interests aligned with mine. I don’t necessarily need more kids in the sand box to play with, although that would be nice. I think it’s more the question of, “What is their ethical commitment to education at all?” It should be a mission of political communication scholars to teach people about things beyond how to be better consumers of presidential politics. Academics today are loathe to get away from their computers and to talk to real people. They are terrible at communicating to popular audiences. They don’t speak well in public outside of their conferences. They don’t play well with the general public. And so they wonder why their budgets get cut and they are constantly part of a culture war. They’re not even participating in it. That needs to change.
[MastersinCommunications.com] How can political communication scholars–and members of the community–engage more with social justice education and also help address the inequities in the criminal justice system?
[Dr. Lisa Corrigan] I think to turn this ship around, we need massive investment in Pre-K and K-12 education, as well as in the higher education sphere and even our prison systems. It just seems to me that democracy is only as strong as its weakest member. And in a country that is infamous for neglecting child education and not guaranteeing health insurance to its citizens, I see dangerous forms of weakness being perpetuated within the structure of American life. Education and ethical care need to replace retribution in our criminal justice system, and in our society at large. The language around imprisonment is very much, “If you do the crime, you have to do the time.” Instead, we should be thinking, “How do we create communities where crime doesn’t happen?” A preventative model that creates restorative justice for the community either prior to a crime or afterwards is definitely better than locking up people and breaking up families and destroying the economic potential of communities to build more healthy and safe solidarity.
We also need to devote more money to police education. In America, cops in the South just have to do a 12-16 week course to be a police officer, and in other democracies they have to do a four-year college degree. More education in general helps to create larger vocabularies and deeper ties to communities and more opportunities to understand different people and their different perspectives. I think police officers on the whole suffer from a total lack of education about others as an intentional result of the way that they are not trained. We would also just have to kill private prisons. They’re absolutely horrific sites of abuse and torture. I don’t see how anybody in good conscience can think that it’s okay for the state to disappear folks who are living within its borders, whether they are citizens or non-citizens.
[MastersinCommunications.com] As a scholar of racial and social justice, as well as political and police accountability, are you hopeful about the progress the United States has made in these areas?
[Dr. Lisa Corrigan] My new book, Black Feelings, exactly addresses your question. It starts with a discussion of optimism and hope, and explores how hope functions within society. In 1960, Kennedy ran on hope and it was the most used word in his campaign and in his entire administration. He characterized everything, including all of the major foreign policy crises of his administration, through the lens of hope–with the exception of civil rights. I start there, and ask, “How could the sixties, which started on this note of hope, turn out to be so constrained by hopelessness?” And so I look at all of the feelings, Black feelings and white feelings that created the emotional tapestry of civil rights and Black Power to understand how feelings shape public policy and how public policy shapes racial feelings, especially around Black and anti-Blackness.
One of my arguments in the book is that hope is a white feeling, insofar as it’s political. It is almost exclusively expressed by white people–about technology, dominance, colonialism, discovery, mastery of technology, economic prowess. In the United States, hope falls into white places that white people control. Martin Luther King started writing all these op-eds about Kennedy in 1962 that were about how Kennedy had promised hope but then all he delivered was inaction on civil rights.
And so hope and hopelessness are a dialectic that runs through all of the civil rights and Black Power discourse. It then gets taken up again by Obama in his campaign and also throughout the entirety of his presidency. Hope and change were his anchors–the anchors to white liberalism and Kennedy’s coalition that helped white people vote for him twice, because that nod to hope is fundamentally a nod to color blindness and to whiteness, not to racial progress or justice. Black Feelings takes up that optimism that you just called attention to and pessimism to think about how policies make us feel and how our feelings then shape our relationship to politics.
I think the thing that’s happening right now in this era of Trump, is that white people feel hopeless, which is not a comfortable feeling for them. It’s not one that they’re used to feeling because they control all of the social institutions in the country and they benefit so substantially from white privilege. White liberals are starting to get twitchy about what space they occupy. And this novel feeling, this lack of optimism about the future, is fundamentally about them not knowing how to flex their white privilege in a way that produces the kind of hopeful, easy future that their parents told them that they would have if they just graduated from college or they just got the right job or they just married the right person.
Their hope has been disrupted, by Black grievance, which is totally legitimate, and by alt-right authoritarianism and white supremacy, which is obviously not. And so white liberals are caught in this inescapable conundrum about where to throw their time and energy and money and loyalty to. And so yeah, white people but especially white liberals feel really uncomfortable right now and I think that’s a productive discomfort. Or it has the potential to be if white people have the introspection to understand where their loyalties and expectations lie. I wrote Black Feelings really as a way to understand how the dialectic between Black feelings and white feelings produces a political landscape that locks us into racial identities and either creates the opportunities or precludes the opportunities for formal political solidarity around race.
[MastersinCommunications.com] In addition to the books you have published, you have also written numerous journal articles, such as “The #MeToo Moment: A Rhetorical Zeitgeist,” “Rhetoric, Race, and Resentment: Whiteness and the New Days of Rage,” and “The structural whiteness of academic patronage,” just to name a few. May we have more information on these and other articles that you feel reflect the scope and depth of your research interests?
[Dr. Lisa Corrigan] Yes, these articles talk about how whiteness structures power. The whiteness and resentment essay is about Killer Mike and Bernie Sanders and about how Bernie Sanders harnesses white resentment against white elites to build a kind of counter-narrative about the ninety-nine percent. It discusses how Bernie structured his argument around his otherness both as a Jewish man and as a democratic socialist, which helped to legitimize his ability to empathize with minorities, as opposed to the white establishment.
The patronage article is about how publishing in higher education is built off of white patronage, by which I mean the structure where white people control the journals, book publishing organizations, and the decision-making process around whose scholarship gets seen and heard. In this way, Anjali Vats and I argue that academic publishing mirrors mafia capitalism in the way that it reproduces structural violence around publication and racial politics.
The #MeToo issue that I curated was all about how #MeToo should not be read as a solely white, female phenomenon and how understanding white women as victims of sexual violence and rape should also drive us to understand people of color–and men of color in particular–as victims of sexualized violence. I’m very interested in how sex becomes the means through which racial violence is operationalized. There is no race panic that is not first sex panic. Historically, promoters of segregated schools leveraged white people’s panic about white girls having sex with Black boys in high school in order to stop desegregation of schools and bar Black people from having access to more educational resources and mentoring. I really see sex as a language through which racial oppression happens to build a caste system of wealth. Almost all of my work speaks to that in different micro-locations–the interplay of race, sex, and power.
[MastersinCommunications.com] You are the co-host of the podcast Lean Back: Critical Feminist Conversations with Laura Weiderhaft. Could you elaborate on the beginnings of this popular podcast, the themes you have covered, and recent examples of topics you and Laura Weiderhaft have discussed?
[Dr. Corrigan] We just wrapped season nine right at the beginning of the pandemic. I believe we’ve done 79 episodes in the last four years. It started because as the Director of Gender Studies, I would take a bunch of students to volunteer at the local domestic violence shelter during the holidays to wrap gifts for the clients and their children. And then I would always take them out for pizza afterwards. Laura Weiderhaft would sometimes come along as a friend of some of the students volunteering. She was a business school graduate who taught micro-economics.
And on one of these occasions, I was talking about what project I wanted to work on next and I said I wanted to do a version of “Drunk History” that was drunk feminist history because basically, if I not been an academic, I would have been a stand-up comedian. I work in comedy frames all the time. And I told her, “I just want to get in a VW van and drive around to all these feminist sites and get drunk and do the critical race/critical sex analysis of the suffragists’ movement. Like, here is how Seneca Falls was so racist.” And Laura said, “We should totally do that and I’ll drive!” When I pointed out that neither of us would have the time and that we couldn’t crowd-source the money for such a show, she said, “What about a podcast?”
I met Laura for tea the next week, and she said, “I’m serious about the podcast.” I have to confess to you I have listened to one podcast in my life. So I’m super not an expert on that media form. But I thought, “This might be fun.” Honestly? I didn’t expect it to go anywhere. But we showed up at the public library and I said, “Let’s write a manifesto first.” And so we wrote a manifesto.
I had been tagging Sheryl Sandberg, COO of Facebook, all over the Internet with #LeanBack, because I’ve always felt that Lean In is a terrible philosophy. It basically asks women to lean in harder to capitalism and work harder and pretend that this is a meritocracy and they’re going to get what they put in. Women are already working double shifts–they’re doing a full day at work before going home and working another shift for their family for no pay. Women are already leaning in, and, in my opinion, it is a trash ideology that is also super racist because especially in underprivileged communities there is little to no childcare or maternity leave. My campus doesn’t even have a maternity leave policy. So I just found Lean In to be so revolting. Every time my news feed would showcase Sheryl Sandberg talking about leaning in, I would hashtag #LeanBack and then I would post the Terror Squad song with Remy Ma.
I told Laura, “If we did a podcast, I would want to call it Lean Back.” We wrote a Lean Back manifesto that was all about leaning back as a way of understanding our engagement with the political world and with discourses, because it allows us some sense of distance from the object that we’re talking about, or the circumstances we are immersed in. In our first episode, I voiced in full the gender/race analysis that I had been lobbing at Sheryl Sandberg for months. From there, we constructed the episodes such that each one had its own one-word theme–sort of a cultural studies keyword approach to ideas. I wanted to talk about play and risk and trust and Laura wanted to talk about collaboration and growth and friendship. So we just made a master list of 100 key words and then depending on how we felt during the week we’d record one.
We have an office here in Fayetteville where we record the podcast, and during the pandemic we did it all remotely. It’s been great because we can talk about critical race/sex perspectives on objects that have traditionally concerned feminists and also critique feminist failures. The year that it debuted we were on Apple’s iTunes New and Notable list and the podcast was named the top podcast in Arkansas in Pace Magazine and one of the top 25 in the country. We’re almost at half a million downloads in 80 countries plus.
I haven’t checked in a couple of months, but it’s been interesting to interact with people all around the world. That’s the thing that academics often do not get to do is to have publics that are not academic, or to have a global space in which to express their candid views. So it’s been pretty cool, especially for a hobby. I’m more cussy in the podcast than I am in this interview, and Laura is also a stand-up comedian, so it’s a lot of laughing and it’s a lot of joy. It’s a romp while also being useful and thought-provoking. It’s being taught all across the country in all kinds of classes–rhetoric classes and communication classes and gender classes–it’s been so nice to have it be a resource that professors and students can access in and outside of the classroom. That’s incredibly gratifying.
Thank you, Dr. Corrigan, for your fascinating insight into social movement communication and its importance in racial justice and sociocultural equality!