{Imago DEIsign Essay}

Soft Hierarchy

Art and Design are disciplines deeply rooted in hierarchical structures, both in the creative work itself, and within the socio-political landscape our work is produced.

In Graphic Design, we teach students that hierarchy is a tool to bring compositional order to the messages we shape. For example, a book cover uses hierarchy to guide the audience, ensuring they read the title first, followed by the author’s name, and finally secondary information like the publisher’s name or marketing details. Hierarchy can also be used intentionally to slow down and disrupt the viewer’s experience with the message and engage with them in an alternate yet still intentional manner.

I teach my Typography students that when we are critiquing the hierarchical system in a piece of design we cannot simply reduce our critique to a set of rigid rules of right or wrong. In design, every rule is breakable if it supports and elevates the concept or message. Instead, we use terms like "appropriate" or "inappropriate." We focus on the “sense-making” behind design decisions rather than simply checking off whether we’re following a prescribed list of do's and don'ts. I encourage my students to build a design hierarchy with intention while emphasizing that even when design decisions are unintentional or hierarchy is neglected, some form of hierarchy will still manifest for the viewer based on factors like size, color, contrast, and placement. Hierarchy is always present, and understanding it allows designers to effectively guide how their message is received and integrated. Ultimately, what must be considered is the thoughtful use of hierarchy—not hierarchy itself.

This approach to hierarchy in design extends beyond the technical aspects of our discipline into the broader socio-political landscape of creating and consuming visual culture. We must critically examine how visual culture intersects with systems of hierarchical power and consider the impact these systems have on the world we design for. In doing so, we need to be intentional about our choices—deciding whether to reinforce existing power dynamics or challenge them.

Here’s where it gets complicated: personal bias influences this decision-making process. Our perspectives and experiences shape how we engage with these structures. If a power structure offers you privilege and safety but not others, what motivation do you have to challenge it?

The New Conversation Initiative is a non-profit organization that has scientifically proven success in doing exactly that—in elections—through door-to-door canvassing that focuses on making personal connections with voters through vulnerable conversations (see also: talk story*) that emphasize listening and reflection. What they found was that appealing to voters with reason and data didn’t change election outcomes in the same way as Co-Founder Steve Dieline states “That’s not where people make their decisions, people make their decisions at a gut level.”

IllumiNative and USC Norman Lear Center also released a groundbreaking report on the power of storytelling and Native representation in media. The study examined how Native representation across 51 television series influenced audience perceptions, knowledge, and support for social issues affecting Native communities. The findings revealed a stark difference in audience behavior when comparing Native-led productions, such as Reservation Dogs, with non-Native productions like Yellowstone. Viewers of Reservation Dogs were more likely to agree that the U.S. must honor its treaty obligations, while viewers of Yellowstone were less inclined to support this stance.

These case studies illustrate the importance of having "skin in the game" when challenging power hierarchies and generating empathy is a required element. Storytelling is the vehicle with the greatest potential to bring empathy into the design process. By witnessing the lived experiences of others from their perspective, we foster genuine connections and shared responsibility. This moves us beyond passive awareness, transforming us into allies and stakeholders in shaping the world that, in turn, shapes us.

This is why it’s crucial for those of us who have the privilege of creating and influencing visual culture—and future generations of culture-makers—to recognize our positions within these hierarchical structures, starting with the classroom. No matter how “cool” you think you are, there’s no such thing as a hierarchy-free classroom. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with being at the top of that hierarchy. What matters is how we apply our power within that structure—whether it aligns with our values, promotes justice, and fosters liberation.

Motherhood has taught me that sitting at the top of a power hierarchy is a privilege and a gift and what I do with it determines how my children will value themselves, how they will experience the world, and especially how deep our bonds go and how much joy we experience together. And still, I don’t have a perfect parenting record. I’ve had some moments when I am tired and not mindful, or my behavior is a maladaptation inherited from how I was parented (hooray therapy, apologizing, and grace). I sometimes fall short.

It is with this parenting-informed spirit that I approach my place in the inherent hierarchical power dynamic of the teaching and learning spaces I am responsible for leading. I call it Soft Hierarchy—and if the word “soft” puts you off, I encourage you to explore that discomfort and see what happens when you treat yourself to a little softness. ❤️

1. Ego Check: Redefine Power.
To build a soft hierarchy, you must let go of the need for validation through your students’ “excellence.” You can appreciate their potential and support their success, but their achievements are their own. Your worth isn’t tied to their performance, and their definition of success may differ from yours. I remind myself, “You can’t want it more than they do,” which helps me stay invested in their growth without slipping into the problematic role of “savior.”

2. Integrate Your Values into the Hierarchy.
Gratitude is central to my values, and I regularly thank my students for the opportunity to teach and learn alongside them.

3. Model Vulnerability with Boundaries.
We have the opportunity to model the kind of designer we hope to see in the world. I choose to model vulnerability while maintaining boundaries, and I create space for my students to do the same—with their consent. I’m transparent about the values that shape my practice, which is grounded in cultural competency and social responsibility. I encourage students to explore how their own values intersect with their design practice.

4. Avoid the Harmful Practices You Experienced as a Student.
I call this generation pedagogical trauma! I remember the toxicity of studio instructors who believed artists needed to be torn down before they could be built up again. I’ve made it my mission to break that cycle of harm. In my classroom, we collaboratively draft a community care agreement before our first critique, ensuring that the rules of engagement reflect collective respect and support.

5. Allow Personal Experiences to Shape Classroom Policies.
As a student, I dealt with food and housing insecurity, yet never lacked ganas*. I understand how resource insecurity can affect students’ performance, so I prioritize flexibility with deadlines, in exchange for communication. This practice serves multiple purposes: it reminds me that when a student misses a class or deadline, it’s not a personal reflection on my performance. As a first point of contact on campus, it also enables me to direct struggling students to the resources they may overlook in times of crisis. Ultimately, this approach helps me avoid becoming an unnecessary obstacle in their path to success.

6. Grace, Reflection, and Continuous Improvement.
Grace plays a critical role in soft hierarchy—both toward myself and toward my students. Mistakes will be made, but what matters is the commitment to learn, improve, and make compassionate adjustments. I invite feedback from students through anonymous surveys and one-on-one conversations, expressing gratitude for their honesty. Like them, I want to improve every semester.

If the concept of soft hierarchy resonates with you, I invite you to thoughtfully reflect on the six elements outlined above. Consider your own experiences and how these principles might be adapted to suit your teaching spaces. By using your lived experiences and intuition, you can shape these ideas into something bespoke—yet something that still fosters empathy, inclusivity, and growth in your classroom community.

*“Talk story” is a Hawaiian expression that means to chat informally or to share ideas, stories, and opinions with others. It's a way to foster relationships, cultivate community, and preserve traditions.

“Ganas” is Spanish slang for desire, drive, will

• Potential harms - really makes me think about how to address hierarchies in this inclusive setting. It makes me think of the trappings behind “color-blind” thinking towards race, but not as extreme. How can there be an acknowledgement of hierarchy in order to open more respect towards others? Maybe there’s a typography exercise in there? Maybe a physical in-class exercise?

• If humans are subjective by default - then let’s create subjective exposure to lived experiences in the classroom as a means of improving visual narratives at large. Dominant narrative vs multiple truths. (This American Life - abortion vote change example)