By Joe Arney
Photos by Jack Moody (StratComm’24)

The study of communication, as José G. Izaguirre III knows, is more than just interpreting the words. It’s also about how those words are heard—in a speech or an article, or in a post or on a poster.

It’s why he leans so heavily on showing communication in its original form, whether in the classes he teaches at CMCI or in a new book examining the formation of the Chicano movement.

“As I was analyzing these different texts, I was just struck by the intentionality to make things look a certain way, which really enriched the communication I was studying,” said Izaguirre, assistant professor of communication at the college, who goes by Joe. “It was clear that those aesthetics were part of the story, too—the degree to which photography, illustrations and designs played a significant role in movements.”

"It is possible for different people to come together around similar concerns, articulate different visions, but still try to work together to accomplish something good.
José G. Izaguirre III
Assistant Professor
Communication

Izaguirre’s book, , traces the beginning of the movement—which originated among striking farm workers in California—through its early years. His research examines the communications that organized Latin American voices into a global political power.

“The book highlights how race is always implicated in different political circumstances—while demonstrating that however much we try to get away from the language of race, it’s always there,” he said. “I tried to show the inescapability of race as a part of communication through a story about how Mexican Americans navigated racial dynamics and promoted a racial identity.”

A good example: “Chicano,” once a pejorative label, was itself reclaimed by the organization as it rejected assimilation and sought to assert its Indigenous roots. But while the movement united under one banner, it was never a singular voice. Izaguirre’s book shows how activists created a political power against the backdrop of the Cold War.

“I think the book highlights the importance of everyday activist movements, or even politically interested individuals who have concerns that are part of a broader community or communal concern,” he said. “It takes seriously these moments of everyday communication and spotlights them in ways that are maybe not typical.”

“Everyday communication” in the 1960s was, of course, very different than today, when demonstrations largely exist and are communicated in ephemeral digital spaces—what’s trending today is tomorrow’s relic. Much of Izaguirre’s source material was donated documents—leaflets, photos, newspapers and so on—that made this project possible. 

It’s how he was able to present so many period pieces in his book, alongside close readings of iconic artifacts like the National Farm Worker Association’s El Plan de Delano, or the poem “I Am Joaquin.” And there is value, he said, in seeing how those pieces are designed, even if it’s text-based, like the Delano document, co-written by Cesar Chavez, to guide their march through California. It contains a list of demands and concerns that, Izaguirre said, are valuable to see in their original context—and language. 

Another level of engagement

“When I show these materials in classes, I want to show that communication as close as possible to what it would have been like to encounter it at the time,” whether that’s a picture, a pamphlet or a speech, he said. “I wouldn’t call it an epiphany, but there’s some level of understanding that happens when I show them the whole document. Because it’s not just text pulled out of somewhere—it’s communication they can see for themselves.” 

That also means students encounter the original communication in its original language. For much of La Raza, of course, that’s Spanish. 

“I do show them an English version, so they understand the meaning of the words, but seeing it in its native language, they get almost the emotion of the words,” Izaguirre said. “Seeing the original document puts it in that cultural or historical context.”  

It’s something he hopes readers and students consider in the context of modern political movements, from the iconography at campaign rallies to how people find one another and organize digitally. But he also hopes those readers will be challenged to rethink the narrative that movements—or communities—can be viewed singularly. The Chicano movement is a prime example. 

“It can be harmful, to see communities being labeled in such a way that they’re cast as the opposition,” he said. “It’s easy to consolidate groups and label them as friend or foe. What’s harder is politics—which is really about building partnerships and opportunities for equal engagement.

“What I hope the book shows is that it is possible for different people to come together around similar concerns, articulate different visions, but still try to work together to accomplish something good.”

Off

By Joe Arney
Photos by Kimberly Coffin (CritMedia, StratComm’18)

There’s a brick paver walkway that crosses 18th Street on the ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Boulder campus by the ATLAS Institute. Thousands of pedestrians use it each day, crossing the brick path while cyclists, e-scooters, buses, emergency vehicles and the occasional car wend their way down the street. 

 “Design is a powerful tool to make an impact, because then we’re not telling certain people they’re functionally not correct. Instead, we’re saying, how do we create an environment that actually matches the needs of the user? 
Elena Sabinson
Director
Neuro D Lab

Is it a crosswalk?

From the description above, you might assume so. But there’s no signage warning drivers of pedestrian activity, or telling them to stop or yield. And you’ll find none of the striping associated with crosswalks. 

“When the students describe it, they’re like, ‘It’s basically Frogger out there,’” said Elena Sabinson, an assistant professor of environmental design at CMCI and director of the Neuro D Lab, which explores the intersection of design, neurodiversity, equity and innovation. “That space of ambiguity becomes a place where conflict or confusion happens. The lab looks at how that affects everyone, but especially neurodivergent folks who might rely on clarity and clear signage to understand how to navigate things.” 

Neurodivergence has become a global point of conversation as a movement builds to both recognize that each brain functions differently and to better understand how to design products, services, buildings and so on that serve everyone, instead of asking people to conform to the built environment.

“Design is a powerful tool to make an impact, because then we’re not telling certain people they’re functionally not correct,” Sabinson said. “Instead, we’re saying, how do we create an environment that actually matches the needs of the user?” 

A new direction for her work

Sabinson is uniquely suited to such challenges. As a PhD student at Cornell University, she was studying self-soothing technologies—especially in the area of soft robotics, like breathing wall panels that help people regulate their biorhythms during stressful experiences—when she received a diagnosis of autism and ADHD.

“That changed the trajectory of my research,” she said. “I’m still focusing on emotional well-being, but with this environmental lens of how to create inclusive, accessible products that are centered around self determination, agency and empowerment. 

“I make a choice to say I’m an autistic-led lab, and I invite this type of conversation in by making that choice, rather than just being an autistic person doing research.”

Bringing students into her lab and giving them opportunities to engage these challenges will, she said, push her to question some of her own assumptions developed after years of working in the field. But it’s also creating opportunities to potentially reshape the campus, such as the wayfinding project examining features like the ambiguous campus crosswalk. 

That work is partially funded by an undergraduate research opportunities program grant issued by the university. Earlier this month, Sabinson’s work was accepted by EDRA56, the influential conference of the Environmental Design Research Association. She’s looking forward to presenting it this May, in addition to helping drive conversations around making the campus easier to navigate. 

“One thing we have as a research lab is access to students who are really engaged and passionate about this work, and who want to take on projects that can’t always happen in industry, due to timeline and budgetary constraints,” she said. 

Industry feedback

Another thing she wants through both the lab and her classes is the chance for ideas from industry to influence her students’ innovation. In a course she teaches on fidgets and stims, one student created the Cacti Clicker, a plastic cactus with moveable segments. When you twist it, it makes a clicking sound, which isn’t always acceptable in a work or school setting. 

“So the student redesigned it so some of the spins make noise and some don’t, so you can still get the sensation if you’re in a crowded space,” Sabinson said. “That’s an example of how we field test these products with people, get feedback—and learn to take feedback—to make their products better.”

It also doesn’t look like a traditional fidget toy. That’s also by design—it just looks like a cactus statue on a desk in Sabinson’s office. 

“A lot of what I consider in my work, and that we talk about in class, is the social stigma around using a fidget—that a lot of people might want to, but they’re considered to be toys,” she said. 

The bigger goal is to eliminate that stigma altogether—but in the meantime, she said, this product is an option for people who need it, while “just living on your desk and looking like a decoration.”

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By Hannah Stewart (Comm’19)

As a kid, Joel Thurman decided that while he didn’t have the wit or wealth of Batman, he could still train and shoot a bow like the Green Arrow. 

Now, as a comic book scholar, Thurman is more interested in the character’s role as a foster father.

As a long-time Arrow fan—and a high school history teacher of 10 years—Thurman thought he’d research history through comics for his PhD program in media studies. But that focus shifted when he and his wife became foster parents.

“I was walking with my wife when I had an epiphany: study foster care and superheroes, find those connections and do a history of both,” he said. “I absolutely adore the Green Arrow, which since the early 2000s really depicts him as a foster father. I have a completely different appreciation for Green Arrow now than I did, say, five years ago.”

Through his research, Thurman found that the success of superheroes—especially orphaned ones—reflect the myth that no matter how bad one’s situation is, it’s possible to overcome it. In reality, the myth is just that: Orphans are the least likely to graduate high school and maintain full-time jobs. 

“I want to raise awareness of kids in foster care, and superheroes are a way to break the ice and have those difficult conversations with people who largely don’t know what the system is like,” he said.

Students in the media studies department at CMCI learn that pop culture is a place where people both tell their own stories while considering and challenging the expectations for how society is supposed to work.

Given how current events and societal shifts—not to mention changing perspectives, as new writers shape the voices of iconic characters—influence comic book writing, the medium itself becomes a unique way to examine the attitudes and norms of a given era.

“We train our students to think about other people and to consider positions of power, networks and social structure. Any of our students should be able to tell the stories of others,” said Rick Stevens, associate professor of media studies and Thurman’s mentor. 

Stevens said that together, they focused Thurman’s interest in how foster children are represented in comics on how those stories can help people learn about their world.

“He has passion around some of the characters and stories in this space, but I’m really glad to see his interests expand beyond just what his desires and likes are,” said Stevens, who also is associate dean of undergraduate education. “And that’s the sign of a good media studies scholar.”

That growing interest now encompasses family dynamics and, even more broadly, industry trends such as readership changes, creator rights and consumer tastes.

“My research is so unique that, at the moment, I’m the only one who can write that particular narrative,” he said.

These other branches of research have taken him to conferences beyond Boulder, which he said were incredible opportunities—not only to present his work at places like Venice and San Diego Comic-Con, but to meet writers and actors who’ve worked on series such as Batman, Spiderman, Daredevil and, yes, Green Arrow. 

His favorite interview, though, was with actor Jon Cryer, who played Lex Luthor in the CW television series Supergirl. Not only did Thurman discover that Cryer is a massive comic book fan himself—he has a collection of original Marvel comic art that he showed Thurman during their interview—the pair also bonded over being foster dads.

“I didn’t realize we would connect the way that we did, and it was just absolutely fantastic,” he said. “I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunities the university has allowed.”

 I love teaching and fostering students’ ideas. The comic book writing is for me—it’s a story I wanted to tell. The academic work is to make a difference."
Joel Thurman
PhD candidate, Media Studies

One such opportunity was meeting CMCI advisory board member (and “legend,” in Thurman’s words) Steven T. Seagle, partner at Man of Action Entertainment. Over dinner, he learned Seagle (Advert’88) got his start from writing comic books while in college.

“I was like, ‘That’s a dream of mine.’ And he said, ‘If you really want to do it, do what I did: Hire an artist and get it done,’” Thurman said.

He now has independently published a horror comic, Disinter, and is working on a sci-fi comic set to come out in April.

“I’m having so much fun writing comics, but I’ll probably dabble in both academia and comic writing, because I love teaching and fostering students’ ideas,” he said. “The comic book writing is for me—it’s a story I wanted to tell. The academic work is to make a difference.”

Whether in the panels of a comic book or the classroom, Thurman hopes to challenge creators and the community to reconsider how they think about children portrayed in and beyond comic book stories.

“Foster care is completely not discussed in comics, and I think that should change,” he said.

If Thurman is able to change that conversation, it will be at least in part due to his CMCI experiences. Stevens said when it comes to being a voice for the vulnerable, he wants his students “to be allies where we can, and to research more than just who we are and what we directly know.”

“Joel is really good at thinking outside himself, asking good questions, and interacting with people who create pop culture and their thought processes,” he said. “But he’s also really good at stepping back and looking at the effects, the structure, the consequences.”

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By Joe Arney

Deepfakes. Distrust. Data manipulation. Is it any wonder American democracy feels like it has reached such a dangerous tipping point?  

As our public squares have emptied of reasoned discussion, and our social media feeds have filled with vitriol, viciousness and villainy, we’ve found ourselves increasingly isolated and unable to escape our echo chambers. And while it’s easy to blame social media, adtech platforms or the news, it’s the way these forces overlap and feed off each other that’s put us in this mess.

It’s an important problem to confront as we close in on a consequential election, but the issue is bigger than just what happens this November, or whether you identify with one party or another. Fortunately, the College of Media, Communication and Information was designed for just these kinds of challenges, where a multidisciplinary approach is needed to frame, address and solve increasingly complex problems. 

“Democracy is not just about what happens in this election,” said Nathan Schneider, an assistant professor of media studies and an expert in the design and governance of the internet. “It’s a much longer story, and through all the threats we’ve seen, I’ve taken hope from focusing my attention on advancing democracy, rather than just defending it.”

We spoke to Schneider and other CMCI experts in journalism, information science, media studies, advertising and communication to understand the scope of the challenges. And we asked one big question of each in order to help us make sense of this moment in history, understand how we got here and—maybe—find some faith in the future.  

*** 

Newsrooms have been decimated. The younger generation doesn’t closely follow the news. Attention spans have withered in the TikTok age. Can we count on journalism to serve its Fourth Estate function and deliver fair, accurate coverage of the election?

Mike McDevitt, a former editorial writer and reporter, isn’t convinced the press has learned its lessons from the 2016 cycle, when outlets chased ratings and the appearance of impartiality over a commitment to craft that might have painted more accurate portraits of both candidates. High-quality reporting, he said, may mean less focus on finding scoops and more time sharing resources to chase impactful stories.

How can journalism be better?

“A lot of journalists might disagree with me, but I think news media should be less competitive among each other and find ways to collaborate, especially with the industry gutted. And the news can’t lose sight of what’s important by chasing clickable stories. Covering chaos and conflict is tempting, but journalism’s interests in this respect do not always align with the security of democracy. While threats to democracy are real, amplifying chaos is not how news media should operate during an era of democratic backsliding.”  

***

After the 2016 election, Brian C. Keegan was searching for ways to use his interests in the computer and social sciences in service of democracy. That’s driven his expertise in public-interest data science—how to make closed data more accessible to voters, journalists, activists and researchers. He looks at how campaigns can more effectively engage voters, understand important issues and form policies that address community needs. 

 The U.S. news media has blood on its hands from 2016. It will go down as one of the worst moments in the history of American journalism.”

 Mike McDevitt
 Professor, journalism

You’ve called the 2012 election an “end of history” moment. Can you explain that in the context of what’s happening in 2024?

“In 2012, we were coming out of the Arab Spring, and everyone was optimistic about social media. The idea that it could be a tool for bots and state information operations to influence elections would have seemed like science fiction. Twelve years later, we’ve finally learned these platforms are not neutral, have real risk and can be manipulated. And now, two years into the large language model moment, people are saying these are just neutral tools that can only be a force for good. That argument is already falling apart.

 I think 2024 will be the first, and last, 
A.I. election.”

Brian C. Keegan
Assistant professor, information science

“You could actually roll the clock back even further, to the 1960s and ’70s, when people were thinking about Silent Spring and Unsafe at Any Speed, and recognizing there are all these environmental, regulatory, economic and social things all connected through this lens of the environment. Like any computing system, when it comes to data, if you have garbage in, you get garbage out. The bias and misinformation we put into these A.I. systems are polluting our information ecosystem in ways that journalists, activists, researchers and others aren’t equipped to handle.”  

***

One of Angie Chuang’s last news jobs was covering race and ethnicity for The Oregonian. In the early 2000s, it wasn’t always easy to find answers to questions about race in a mostly white newsroom. Conferences like those put on by the Asian American Journalists Association “were times of revitalization for me,” she said.

When this year’s conference of the National Association of Black Journalists was disrupted by racist attacks against Kamala Harris, Chuang’s first thoughts were for the attendees who lost the opportunity to learn from one another and find the support she did as a cub reporter.

“What’s lost in this discussion is the entire event shifted to this focus on Donald Trump and the internal conflict in the organization, and I’m certain that as a result, journalists and students who went lost out on some of that solidarity,” she said. And it fits a larger pattern of outspoken newsmakers inserting themselves into the news to claim the spotlight. 

How can journalism avoid being hijacked by the people it covers?

“It comes down to context. We need to train reporters to take a breath and not just focus on being the first out there. And I know that’s really hard, because the rewards for being first and getting those clicks ahead of the crowd are well established.”  

“I can’t blame the reporters who feel these moments are worth covering, because I feel as conflicted as they do.   
Angie Chuang
Associate professor, journalism

***

Agenda setting—the concept that we take our cues of what’s important from the news—is as old an idea as mass media itself, but Chris Vargo is drawing interesting conclusions from studying the practice in the digital age. Worth watching, he and other CMCI researchers said, are countermedia entities, which undermine the depictions of reality found in the mainstream press through hyper-partisan content and the use of mis- and disinformation.

How did we get into these silos, and how do we get out?

“The absence of traditional gatekeepers has helped people create identities around the issues they choose to believe in. Real-world cues do tell us a little about what we find important—a lot of people had to get COVID to know it was bad—but we now choose media in order to form a community. The ability to self-select what you want to listen to and believe in is a terrifying story, because selecting media based on what makes us feel most comfortable, that tells us what we want to hear, flies in the face of actual news reporting and journalistic integrity.”  

“I do worry about our institutions. I don’t like that a majority of Americans don’t trust CNN. 
 

Chris Vargo
Associate professor, advertising, 
public relations and media design

***

Her research into deepfakes has validated what Sandra Ristovska has known for a long time: For as long as we’ve had visual technologies, we’ve had the ability to manipulate them.

Seeing pornographic images of Taylor Swift on social media or getting robocalls from Joe Biden telling voters to stay home—content created by generative artificial intelligence—is a reminder that the scale of the problem is unprecedented. But Ristovska’s work has found examples of fake photos from the dawn of the 20th century supposedly showing, for example, damage from catastrophic tornadoes that never happened. 

Ristovska grew up amid the Yugoslav Wars; her interest in becoming a documentary filmmaker was in part shaped by seeing how photos and videos from the brutal fighting and genocide were manipulated for political and legal means. It taught her to be a skeptic when it comes to what she sees shared online. 

“So, you see the Taylor Swift video—it seems out of character for her public persona. Or the president—why would he say something like that?” she said. “Instead of just hitting the share button, we should train ourselves to go online and fact check it—to be more engaged.”  

Even when we believe something is fake, if it aligns with our worldview, we are likely to accept it as reality. Knowing that, how do we combat deepfakes?

“We need to go old school. We’ve lost sight of the collective good, and you solve that by building opportunities to come together as communities and have discussions. We’re gentler and more tolerant of each other when we’re face-to-face. This has always been true, but it’s becoming even more true today, because we have more incentives to be isolated than ever.”   

***

Early scholarly works waxed poetic on the internet’s potential, through its ability to connect people and share information, to defeat autocracy. But, Nathan Schneider has argued, the internet is actually organized as a series of little autocracies—where users are subject to the whims of moderators and whoever owns the servers—effectively meaning you must work against the defaults to be truly democratic. He suggests living with these systems is contributing to the global rise of authoritarianism. In a new book, Governable Spaces, Schneider calls for redesigning social media with everyday democracy in mind.

If the internet enables autocracy, what can we do to fix it?

“We could design our networks for collective ownership, rather than the assumption that every service is a top-down fiefdom. And we could think about democracy as a tool for solving problems, like conflict among users. Polarizing outcomes, like so-called cancel culture, emerge because people don’t have better options for addressing harm. A democratic society needs public squares designed for democratic processes and practices.”  

***

It may be derided as dull, but the public meeting is a bedrock of American democracy. It has also changed drastically as fringe groups have seized these spaces to give misinformation a megaphone, ban books and take up other undemocratic causes. Leah Sprain researches how specific communication practices facilitate and inhibit democratic action. She works as a facilitator with several groups, including the League of Women Voters and Restore the Balance, to ensure events like candidate forums embrace difficult issues while remaining nonpartisan.

What’s a story we’re not telling about voters ahead of the election?

“We should be looking more at college towns, because town-gown divides are real and long-standing. There’s a politics of resentment even in a place like Boulder, where you have people who say, ‘We know so much about these issues, we shouldn’t let students vote on them’—to the point where providing pizza to encourage voter turnout becomes this major controversy. Giving young people access to be involved, making them feel empowered to make a difference and be heard—these are good things.”   

***

Toby Hopp studies the news media and digital content providers with an eye to how our interactions with media shape conversations in the public sphere. Much of that is changing as trust and engagement with mainstream news sources declines. He’s studied whether showing critical-thinking prompts alongside shared posts—requiring users to consider the messages as well as the structure of the platform itself—may be better than relying on top-down content moderation from tech companies.   

Ultimately, the existing business model of the big social media companies—packaging users to be sold to advertisers—may be the most limiting feature when it comes to reform. Hopp said he doubts a business the size of Meta can pivot from its model.

How does social media rehabilitate itself to become more trusted? Can it?

“Social media platforms are driven by monopolistic impulses, and there’s not a lot of effort put into changing established strategies when you’re the only business in town. The development of new platforms might offer a wider breadth of platform choice—which might limit the spread of misinformation on a Facebook or Twitter due to the diminished reach of any single platform.”   

***

 Images have always required us to be more engaged. Now, with the speed of disinformation, we need to do a little more work.”
 

Sandra Ristovska
Assistant professor, media studies

ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ News Corps was created to simulate a real-world newsroom that allows journalism students to do the kind of long-form, investigative pieces that are in such short supply at a time of social media hot takes and pundits trading talking points.  

“I thought we should design the course you’d most want to take if you were a journalism major,” said Chuck Plunkett, director of the capstone course and an experienced reporter. Having a mandate to do investigative journalism “means we can challenge our students to dig in and do meaningful work, to expose them to other kinds of people or ideas that aren’t on their radar.” 

Over the course of a semester, the students work under the guidance of reporters and editors at partner media companies to produce long-form multimedia stories that are shared on the News Corps website and, often, are picked up by those same publications, giving the students invaluable clips for their job searches while supporting resource-strapped newsrooms. 

With the news business facing such a challenging future, both economically and politically, why should students study journalism?

“Even before the great contraction of news, the figure I had in my mind was five years after students graduate, maybe 25 percent of them were still in professional newsrooms. But journalism is a tremendous major because you learn to think critically, research deeply and efficiently, interact with other people, process enormous amounts of information, and have excellent communication skills. Every profession needs people with those skills.”

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By Joe Arney
Photos by Kimberly Coffin (CritMedia, StratComm’18)

Back when Bryan Semaan’s mom had a Facebook account, doomscrolling wasn’t part of her vernacular.

The Iraqi culture she was raised in compels celebration of accomplishments and milestones, “so any time someone posted something, she felt she had to interact with it,” Semaan said. “That personal engagement runs very deeply through our culture.”

But it became exhausting for her to keep up as her network swelled into the hundreds, so she deactivated her account. For Semaan, it’s a fitting metaphor for his research—which challenges the assumptions tech developers make about the users of their products and services. And it’s the kind of problem he wants to study through the Center for Race, Media and Technology, which the University of ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Boulder unveiled in the spring.

“The people developing these technologies are in Silicon Valley—so, mostly male, mostly white,” said Semaan, director of the center and an associate professor of information science at CMCI. “A lot of the values we bake into these technologies are being forced onto people in different cultures, often creating problems.”

As a first-generation American, Semaan said he identifies with the liminal moments faced by others living between worlds—immigrants, veterans, refugees, people of color or Indigenous people—and the challenges of adopting to Western societal structures. Technology plays a big part, and the discipline’s blind spots are a key focus of Semaan’s research, which asks how these tools can create resilience for people in those liminal moments, such as a climate refugee fleeing disaster or a queer teenager anxious about coming out.

To kick off the center, in March, CMCI welcomed Ruha Benjamin, a professor at Princeton who’s developed her scholarship around what she calls the “New Jim Code”—a nod to both the Jim Crow laws that enforced segregation and the biases encoded into technology. Benjamin, he said, “focuses on how people consider technology to be a benign thing, when in fact it isn’t—tech nology takes on the values of those who create it.”

Fortunately, Semaan said, we’re at a moment when society is recognizing the importance of equity and justice, while seeing technology as a problem, a solution and a thread tying together the great challenges facing humanity—political polarization, disinformation, climate change and so on.

"These bigger challenges are going to require people thinking together at a much grander scale, which means changing how we work. 

Bryan Semaan

He’s optimistic that the Center for Race, Media and Technology will collect the broad perspectives needed to make, as he put it, “the intractable problems tractable.”

“What I imagine for the center is encouraging collaborations among the experts we bring together,” he said. “And I’m really hoping my research direction changes as a result of getting to work with the amazing people I’ll meet.”

If it’s collaboration he wants to get out of the center, Semaan’s successes to date have been more about tenacity. Early in his career, he said, some of his colleagues tried to steer him from migrants and veterans, dismissing his interest in making technology equitable as “a diversity ghetto.”

That didn’t deter him—and, with the benefit of hindsight, those rejections made him a better scholar.

“In my research, the people you work with are incredibly vulnerable, or are so busy surviving that they can’t talk to you,” he said. “You have to be passionate about that work, and prepared for long-tail effort before you make progress.”

The work of the center will be a long game, but if successful, Semaan said, it will put ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Boulder at the center of the conversation around purposefully designed technology.

“It dovetails with the university’s broader mission around diversity,” he said. “It’s not just saying we’re going to increase diversity—it’s the issues we are approaching and the support we are building for different scholars across the university. Because these bigger challenges are going to require people thinking together at a much grander scale, which means changing how we work.”

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By Joe Arney
Photos by Kimberly Coffin (CritMedia, StratComm’18)

Her experience in advertising and public relations means Saima Kazmi knows the power of a good story to change minds and hearts. 

Now, as she completes her doctoral studies at the University of ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Boulder, she’s trying to understand a story with the potential to shape the future of the planet. 

Kazmi (PhDStratComm’24) studies green advertising campaigns that prompt people to make choices that support sustainability and environmental well-being—effectively using the advertising playbook, which is so good at urging people to buy things, to encourage less consumption. 

Specifically, her research examines why consumers tend to reject such prompts. 

“People see an environmental message, and they immediately shut down,” she said. “There is always pushback when you’re asking people to change their behavior, but I really want to understand what it is about sustainability that causes those cognitive barriers to raise.” 

She’s studying different messaging strategies that can overcome that resistance to change—work that will continue now that she’s accepted a role as an assistant professor at the University of Oregon for the fall. 

“I’m so grateful, happy and honored to work at a place where they have so many sustainability initiatives,” Kazmi said. “They have a whole communication department working on climate science, which is exactly the type of people I want to work with to move my research forward.”

You have three minutes

Academic research sometimes gets a reputation for being too theoretical or esoteric to effect meaningful change. Kazmi said she knows that isn’t an option for her work, which is part of why she competed in ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Boulder’s Three-Minute Thesis—a competition in which graduate students are challenged to describe their research to a general audience in no more than three minutes. She was one of two students from the College of Media, Communication and Information to advance to the final round of the competition, which concluded in February. 

“I thought it would be a lot like my job search, where you’re giving research presentations—but I had all this jargon and messaging that was tailored for faculty and search committees,” she said. “You have to think—if my grandmother was in the audience, how would I be able to get her to understand this?” 

A voracious reader and seasoned advertising expert—as a consultant, she did work for brands like Unilever and Nestle—Kazmi found a way to make her pitch a relatable story, which helped her search for jobs and defend her dissertation.

“I was talking about this whole phenomenon of water being drained from the ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ River for agriculture, and I shaped it almost like a dystopian novel, where we knew what was happening but people ignored all the messages,” she said. “Learning how to get my point across to a general audience was so valuable to me.

  “Only 1 to 2% of people get to be researchers and create knowledge. And if that knowledge is not accessible, we’re missing out on an opportunity to have an impact.”

Saima Kazmi (PhDStratComm’24)

Far-ranging research implications

Gangadharbatla described Kazmi, whom he advised, as especially hardworking and dedicated, in addition to doing interesting research that has such wide-ranging implications for different industries. 

“When she takes something up, she sees it to the very end, which is admirable in and of itself,” he said. “But she’ll also do well on the tenure track because she’ll have a sustained, focused body of work with very real implications—not only to different areas, like advertising, public policy and sustainability in general, but for us all.”

Kazmi called Gangadharbatla a powerful influence on her career—particularly his love of teaching—and said faculty and peers helped smooth an academic journey that included the challenges of virtual work amid the pandemic and raising three small children while her husband worked overseas. Gangadharbatla said it was “amazing, how she cared for her family by herself while taking courses, writing a dissertation and teaching,” and joked that “my partner and I have two children, and between the two of us we’re struggling to survive.” 

For Kazmi, success was about her willingness to work hard and the community of which she was a part. 

“So many people in CMCI guided me on publications and helped prepare me for the job market,” she said. “And my classmates, too—they’re going through the same struggles that I did, and they’ve become friends as we all go on to such different next steps in our careers.” 

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By Joe Arney
Photos by Kimberly Coffin (CritMedia, StratComm’18)

When Bianca Perez called her mom in the middle of the day to tell her she’d been accepted to a prestigious doctoral program at one of the nation’s foremost universities, she expected there might be some tears.

She wasn’t wrong. But it wasn’t her mother who cried.

Perez’s mother, Leyda, was born and raised in Mexico, while her father, Ernesto, came to the United States from Peru. For almost 30 years, they have worked tirelessly at growing Perez Cleaning Services, in Steamboat Springs, in order to provide their daughter with opportunities they couldn’t imagine—and don’t always understand. When she explained that she was applying to schools to be a doctor, Perez (Comm, MediaSt’24) would clarify “a doctor of words,” since her family thought she was maybe interested in a medical career.

Now, as she explained on speakerphone that she was accepted to the PhD program at the University of Pennsylvania’s prestigious Annenberg School for Communication, in Philadelphia, “my mom wasn’t sure what to make of it,” Perez said. “I could tell she was happy because she could hear the excitement in my voice.”

But the client her mother was speaking with when Perez called couldn’t believe his ears.

 What I have is like a wish coming true. You can work very hard and that can still not be enough, and I’ve seen that happen to people around me my whole life.”
Bianca Perez (Comm, MediaSt’24)

“He was like, ‘Did I just overhear that your daughter's going to graduate school at Penn?’” she recalled. “And I could hear him start crying, and my mom said to me, ‘Oh, no, I have to go, one of the clients is upset.’ But he wasn’t—the guy went to UPenn for his undergrad, had wanted to go to grad school there but couldn’t, and he was so happy and excited for me.

“I think for my mom, seeing a random person cry like that and be so joyful, helped her understand just how exciting this was for me.”

Driven to change the world

It’s not the first time she’s had to overcome the barrier separating her lived experiences from those of her parents. But her working-class upbringing—combined with her curiosity, care and enthusiasm for working hard—has already made her a promising scholar in the realm of artificial intelligence and labor.

“It’s because of her humble background that she understands that the ability to be in college, to read books and write for a living, is a privilege,” said Sandra Ristovska, an assistant professor of media studies at the College of Media, Communication and Information at the University of ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Boulder, and Perez’s advisor. “It’s unsurprising she’s interested in questions around technology and labor because she is seeking, through her research, to improve the lives and livelihoods of working-class people, immigrants and people of color.”

Perez studies generative artificial intelligence and labor through the lens of copyright law. In the past year, artists and publishers have sued tech companies that have used copyrighted work to train generative A.I. platforms like ChatGPT, opening up a larger question of how to fairly value labor—not just of plaintiffs like J.K. Rowling, Stephen King and The New York Times, but everyday social media users, whose likes and shares train algorithms to better recommend content that keeps people online.

Because that data is disassociated from the users, the labor of whoever generated that data—those likes and shares—is obscured, meaning they can’t be compensated. And these are, of course, some of the world’s deepest-pocketed tech companies, whose forays into the development of A.I. are far ahead of gridlocked government regulators and already-alarmed ethicists.  

“We have no way to check these models, even though we’ve all been producing them through our work,” Perez said. “It’s a new and complex expansion of wage theft. They’re taking all our labor and remixing it to make something else—but it’s still our labor. How is that fair?”

Fairness focus

That question of what’s fair is central to Perez’s identity. Just the time and space to work as hard as she does, she said, is a privilege, especially when in high school she would see other smart, ambitious students fall behind because of work or family commitments.

“I always feel that there’s only a few degrees separating me being a migrant daughter who’s picking cherries, to my being here,” she said. “My parents taught me how to work very hard—I can’t underscore that enough—but what I have is like a wish coming true. You can work very hard and that can still not be enough, and I’ve seen that happen to people around me my whole life.”

Fairness also ties into her related research interest in the exploitation of Black and Latino tech labor—like DoorDash drivers during the pandemic, or Amazon warehouse workers toiling in hotter facilities in a warming climate. The combination of her interests has resulted in some unique scholarship that’s already getting noticed: This summer, Perez will present her thesis at the annual conference of the International Association for Media and Communication Research, in Christchurch, New Zealand—an honor usually reserved for PhD students and faculty.

Ristovska, her advisor, also attended a prestigious conference as an undergraduate before going on to Annenberg for her PhD, and is excited to see how sharing her work at one of the field’s most prestigious events influences Perez’s future work.

“What she does is bring the human back to the discourse around A.I. and technology,” Ristovska said. “Her work makes us think about how human creativity and human engagement are central to the development of A.I., and why it’s so important we figure out labor protections now, before the technology is even more advanced.”

‘Someone who knows how to push me’

Perez called Ristovska “an incredible influence on me—someone who knows how to push me and who has held my hand on this journey, even though we were going uphill sometimes.” Among her mentors, she also counts professors Omedi Ochieng and Danielle Hodge, of the communication department, as well as Rory Fitzgerald Bledsoe, who is pursuing a PhD in media studies; Perez called her first course with Bledsoe the foundational moment of her time at ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ.

Bledsoe recalled Perez for both her insatiable curiosity and her writing talent, which she called “refreshing and invigorating in an increasing sea of generic ChatGPT.”

“Bianca will be successful in her PhD for the normal things, like being diligent and curious, but also for her inimitable voice—both creative and critical—that I have no doubt will contribute to our field and make it better,” Bledsoe said. “People would benefit from being a little more like Bianca, by following your passion until it blooms in full force.”

“Her work makes us think about how human creativity and human engagement are central to the development of A.I., and why it’s so important we figure out labor protections now, before the technology is even more advanced. 
Sandra Ristovska, assistant professor, media studies

Perez’s focus wasn’t always so direct. She arrived at ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Boulder thinking she’d major in media production, given her interest in documentary filmmaking, but after exploring different paths, arrived at her current combination after briefly considering information science. At commencement, she was honored as the William W. White Outstanding Senior for both communication and media studies, the first time a student has been recognized by two departments. The White awards are chosen by CMCI faculty and honor students for their academic accomplishments, professional achievements and service to the college.

“My different majors helped me discover different frameworks of thinking about the topics I was interested in, which has helped me think about my research more critically,” she said. “It wasn’t always a specific lesson I was taught, but professors like Dr. Hodge showed me to think about whether what I’m working on actually speaks to the community—and you do that by speaking with that community.”

It’s a new twist on what Perez said is the most important lesson she learned at home.

“The best thing my parents taught me was to actually care about what you’re doing—to show up for others when it matters,” she said. “Maybe cleaning is trivial to some people, but their business is pretty exceptional in our town, and it’s because they care very much for their reputation and the people they serve.”

That’s why her mentor is convinced Perez will make her CMCI professors proud years after she has graduated.

“Whether she chooses an academic career or the policy realm, I really think she’ll make the world a better place, because her commitment to justice is ingrained in her,” Ristovska said. “I’m so excited for what comes next for her.”

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CMCI students from all departments develop their portfolios through classes, competitions, internships and more.

Here we have collected a variety of student work that highlights their personal and professional passions explored during their academic careers at ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Boulder.

  View the work

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By Joe Arney

Dances for hit songs. The antics of cute animals and babies. Easy dinner recipes.

A campaign to raise awareness about air and water pollution in the Denver metro area?

If you think TikTok videos are all fun and games, think again. A new generation of social-savvy activists is learning how the format can be used to draw attention to major societal challenges in hopes of creating solutions.

It’s why Bianca Perez where her attempts to de-stress by doing meditative practices are interrupted by the reality of air and water pollution.

“Breathe in the sweet Rocky Mountain air,” a narrator says as Perez attempts to deep-breathe. “Look around you, you’re in a safe space, you’re protected.”

“But not from PFAS,” the voice breaks in harshly, startling her out of her meditative routine.

“We study plenty of social media, and so a lot of students are aware that these movements happen online,” said Perez, a senior pursuing a degree in media studies. “But I don’t think many students try to create movements of their own on TikTok, and we really got to see how hard it can be to create impact on social media.”

As part of the Visual Culture and Human Rights course taught by Sandra Ristovska, Perez and her classmates worked in teams to understand a local human rights crisis, then develop a campaign with clear metrics for success and a video for TikTok. Perez’s team focused on climate and pollution, specifically the role of a Commerce City Suncor refinery in leaching “forever chemicals” through its discharge water. Other teams looked at the opioid crisis and veteran homelessness in and around Denver.

“Typically, when we talk about human rights, we’re used to thinking about places abroad affected by war,” said Ristovska, an assistant professor of media studies at the University of ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Boulder’s College of Media, Communication and Information. “We tend not to think about a place like Boulder. The beauty was in seeing how the students thought about the topics they’re passionate about and get them out of their typical frame of mind.”

Groups of students proposed topics in class, then received coaching from Ristovska about how to build a media campaign that resonates and how to consider audience needs and motivators. The campaign included both print materials and the TikTok videos.

In working on her most recent book, , Ristovska spoke with campaign officers at major human rights groups, like Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, and “many of them were saying younger generations are not engaged with human rights issues the way prior generations have,” she said. “What this class taught me is that, actually, they're really passionate and want to be involved, but we need to meet them where they are—so if they're on TikTok, then we need to be on TikTok.”

Understanding media influence

Katie Considine, who is pursuing a media studies minor from CMCI to pair with her major in international affairs, said she was excited to take the course because it was “the perfect cross section of my two academic interests.”

“When I graduate, I’d like to be in a role where I can look at how the media influences neofascist movements—the far right, violence, things like that,” Considine said. “The course gave me a really interesting perspective on how different human rights organizations or NGOs run campaigns, but also how media ends up impacting the ways people see human rights issues, and vice versa.”

The opportunity to address local issues in the course also left an impression for the students; Considine said it addressed a weakness in her international affairs courses “that sometimes are a little too broad, when there are fundamental human rights issues taking place right here that deserve our attention.”

Perez said her experience in the course has helped her think more critically about the human rights violations she sees in the media.

“I think I’m more aware of the way atrocity is portrayed in the media, and some concepts behind how it’s shown, like power and identity,” she said.

 A lot of students are aware that these movements happen online … (but) we really got to see how hard it can be to create impact on social media.”

Bianca Perez

Learning from peers as well as professor

The course also involved opportunities for students to learn from one another. During their presentations, the students were encouraged to provide substantial feedback to help hone messages and rethink strategies.

“We knew it was going to be criticized by our peers, so going into it we were able to talk through what holes we had or where things could go wrong,” Considine said. “It helped us make the project better before we even presented.”

Additionally, as digital natives, the students were able to coach one another on the right aesthetics that resonate with audiences, Ristovska said.

“My involvement was more along the lines of—is the messaging right? Is the audience there? What do you want people to do, and how do you ensure that people do it?” she said. 

Both Perez and Considine plan to continue on to graduate school, where each hopes more courses like this one await.

“I feel media literacy is at an all-time low, and courses like this need to be more accessible to people,” Considine said.

For her part, Ristovska said the course offered a real example of when teaching helps shape research, especially since students brought new perspectives in local human rights challenges that don’t always rise to the top in scholarship.

“Being able to go in the classroom and see what things are unclear, what we as faculty take for granted that we shouldn’t, really allows us to ask better questions about human rights, no matter where they're happening, no matter what the context is,” she said. “And so that's why I’m so grateful to my students.”

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By Joe Arney

Not many computer scientists have signs reading “Rage Against the Machine Learning” in their offices.

But in Evan Peck’s case, it’s a perfect symbol of why he was so excited to join the information science department of the College of Media, Communication and Information this fall. 

“I love being here because CMCI draws students who want to use technology in service of something they already care deeply about, and not for its own sake. 

Evan Peck
Associate professor, information science

“I started to believe that some of the most pressing problems our society is wrestling with don’t require deeper technical solutions, but a reimagining of the ways we’re using technology,” he said. “I was looking for deeper connections to social sciences and community-focused work—and I think that’s what information science excels at, shifting the lens of the technical in service to the community and society.”

Peck joined the University of ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Boulder this fall from Bucknell University, meaning he’s gone from being a Bison to a Buffalo. More than that, it gave him a chance to join a college and department that is more closely aligned with his evolving research interests, which center on information visualization—especially the way data is communicated to the public.

Establishing trust around data

He already appreciates being surrounded by faculty and students who are experts in fields like media studies and communication.

“I’m fascinated by how we encourage people to trust data, understand it and respond to it,” Peck said. “While we can advance science enough to offer compelling solutions to societal problems, we continue to share those insights to the public without an understanding of people’s cultures, beliefs and background. That’s a recipe for failure.”

If you think about some of the public health messaging you saw during the pandemic, you’ll probably remember the frustration of getting information that wasn’t helpful or didn’t reflect reality. Peck, for instance, lived in central Pennsylvania during the lockdowns. In the summer of 2020, his rural county hadn’t seen a day in which more than two people tested positive, but because most COVID maps reported risk at the state level, high caseloads in Philadelphia and Pittsburgh made all of Pennsylvania look more infectious than it was.

That degrades trust in experts, he said, “and when cases spiked in my county about a month later, I believe it had eroded trust and willingness to react to that data.”

He has taken his interest in this area to some interesting new arenas, including extensive interviews with rural Pennsylvanians at construction sites and farmers markets, to better understand how they interpreted charts and what information was important to them. The resulting research received a best paper award at the premier Human-Computer Interaction conference, has been cited by the Urban Institute and others, and helped cement his interest in information science.

“I had a moment of realization,” Peck said. “I could spend my whole career as a visualization researcher and still have zero impact on my community. So how do we engage in research that has a positive impact on the people and community around the university?”

It’s not the only area he’s looking to create impact. Peck describes himself as an advocate for undergraduate research opportunities, especially for students searching for a sense of place within their degree programs.

“It’s a mechanism for helping students explore areas that aren’t strongly represented in their core academic programs,” Peck said. “I saw this as an advisor in computer science for nearly a decade—I advised students who wanted to think deeply about how their designs impacted people, but in a curriculum in which people were a side story to their technical depth.”

An eye to ethics

He also created an initiative around ethics and computing curricula at Bucknell that’s been adopted by computer science programs everywhere. If a question was presented in an ethics context, students came up with thoughtful answers—but that reasoning did not extend into other assignments or their careers. It’s a story that’s familiar for anyone thinking about the addictiveness of social media platforms or the disruptive potential of artificial intelligence

Some computer science programs offered a single ethics course, “but it was so isolated from the rest of their technical content that students wouldn’t put them together,” Peck said.

In response, he added more ethical and critical thinking components to the core technical curriculum, and developed a set of programming assignments in which students wrestle with a societal design question in order to accomplish their programming goals. He currently has a grant through Mozilla’s Responsible Computing Challenge to continue that work at ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Boulder.

“It’s about connecting the dots and building habits. Students need to understand that the system I’m programming is going to have implications beyond Silicon Valley,” he said. “How can we get you to think about the human tradeoffs beyond the aggregated rules you’re creating?”

It’s the kind of question he feels renewed vigor about pursuing in the Department of Information Science. 

“I love being here because CMCI draws students who want to use technology in service of something they already care deeply about, and not for its own sake,” Peck said.

“Computer science knows how to build marvelous systems, but not always how to make them work fairly or responsibly for diverse people and communities,” he added. “I think our department goes beyond the idea of ‘how do we build it,’ to think critically about who we’re designing for, who technology empowers, who it privileges, who it disadvantages.”

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