How can one begin to process the pain caused by unimaginable injustices that shatter our very conceptions of humanity? First, we must seek to understand our pain, and art can become a vessel through which this understanding can take form. Art thereby is able to serve as a catalyst for collective healing and action by allowing suppressed individuals to express their emotions. Art can mark the moment communities break free from the grip of immediate oppression, revealing their newfound ability to openly express themselves. Alternatively, art can arise as a powerful response to ongoing injustice, acting as a form of resistance. Art has the ability to heal — both in creation and reflection.
“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable,” activist César A. Cruz said. It is easy to look away from the horrors of society, turn off the TV, and hide behind our privileges. But art forces us to look. Artwork such as “Echo of a Scream” by David Alfaro Siqueiros or “American People Series #20: Die” by Faith Ringgold are disturbing in nature. Both of these artists tackle difficult and harrowing topics — Siqueiros addressing the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War and Ringgold exploring racial tensions in the U.S. Their depictions of distorted images and suffering bodies evoke a deep discomfort in some viewers, while for others, these powerful visuals offer validation of the pain they have endured.
Just as those in power have historically used art to shape dominant narratives — such as John Gast’s 1872 painting “American Progress,” which glorifies the violent colonization of the U.S. — it can also enable marginalized groups to reclaim their voices. Brian D. Tripp, a renowned artist from the Karuk Tribe, is a prime example of an artist reshaping the narrative around racist perceptions of Indigenous identities. His piece “In America Sometimes I Don’t Exist” speaks to the continued erasure of Indigenous people from both history and contemporary society. Through vibrant colors and bold traditional designs, coupled with powerful phrases in his harsh handwriting, Tripp demands that viewers recognize his existence and the enduring resilience of Indigenous communities — despite the U.S.’s historical attempts to erase them through genocide and policies like “Kill the Indian, Save the Man.”
Similarly, Betye Saar’s “The Liberation of Aunt Jemima” reclaims and redefines a historically racist image. Originally created in the 19th century, the Aunt Jemima figure symbolized the subservient role assigned to Black women post-slavery to keep them in a place of suppression. Saar’s powerful reimagining places a gun in Aunt Jemima’s hands, surrounded by symbols of resistance and strength — turning a tool of disempowerment into one of empowerment. Through their work, both Tripp and Saar challenge historical narratives, using art as a vehicle for resistance and the reclamation of identity.
Building on the idea of redefinition, female artists have challenged patriarchal standards of beauty by creating paintings that depict women who defy conventional ideals of beauty. The dominance of white male artists has limited portraits of women to conventional norms, often depicting them in domestic roles and with idealized bodies that reinforce restrictive societal expectations. Frida Kahlo’s self-portraits, often depicting herself in vibrant traditional clothing and highlighting her signature thick unibrow, boldly defied societal expectations of women during her time, particularly in the context of Spanish colonization's lingering influence. As one of the very few female Mestiza artists at the time, Kahlo expressed an unapologetic range of emotions from pain to love, broadening the understanding of female identity and resilience.
Much like Kahlo, contemporary artist Lindsey Guile’s “Unruly Bodies” series features striking charcoal and pencil nude portraits of “fat” women, as described by Guile. By depicting women who are traditionally marginalized by societal beauty standards, Guile challenges norms by normalizing fat women’s presence in art and public spaces. Guile herself is a self-described “fat” woman and sees her role as an artist to work collaboratively with other fat women to “redefine the relationship with their bodies.” The decision to draw real women and build a relationship with them through her artistic process inspires a collective movement that speaks to the role of art as a tool for organizing.
Escaping the restrictive space of the museum, murals have brought art to marginalized communities, often as a sign of protest. After George Floyd’s murder by police officers in Minneapolis, murals honoring his life emerged worldwide, transforming public spaces into powerful tributes. These works of art not only memorialized Floyd, but also served as expressions of collective grief, resilience, and calls for justice, bringing a sense of solidarity to communities most impacted by systemic racism.
Similarly, the murals that adorn the streets of Berlin serve as a powerful testament to the rebellious spirit of self-expression after political division during the Cold War. The tradition of graffiti may have begun as a way for residents of Berlin to show their opposition to the government, but now many of the murals across Berlin convey messages of hope and joy, showcasing the transformative power of art to bring beauty into a place deeply marked by a painful history. This vibrant mix of remembrance and celebration captures the city’s complex history and its ongoing journey toward healing.
While art has the potential to heal wounds from historical injustices, its transformative power is limited as long as marginalized communities continue to face oppression. Systemic barriers in the art world not only silence their voices, but also perpetuate a cycle in which their experiences remain underrepresented in broader cultural discourse. This can have devastating effects considering that art, in its most powerful form, serves as a means to understand and communicate pain, as well as foster empathy. However, it should be viewed as part of a larger process — one that contributes to reconciliation but does not mark its conclusion. True healing begins when marginalized communities are not just given a platform to share their stories, but are also empowered to shape the cultural narratives that influence their lives. Art is the means for inspiring this powerful shift that puts us on path to creating a more just society.
