Borderless South

Newsletter of The South Design Research Studio
​Sharing stories of The South, reimagined by community

Hi there —

It’s been a little while since I’ve written. Thank you for being here! I’ve been reflecting on what I want to bring to this virtual space and to this moment in time. I continue to be in that phase, but I wanted to start to share some things on my mind lately!

🌍 What’s shifting around us

If you're reading this around the time that I first send it, you're witnessing alongside me a shift in how public institutions, resources, and diplomatic relationships function across the Americas.

When I first dreamed up The South last year, it was out of a place of excitement, pride, and curiosity; I was eager to explore connections and principles that I believed in, and I saw opportunity and support for this exploration popping up throughout the regions I live and create community within.

Now, a few short months later, my excitement, pride, and curiosity have been come up against disappointment and frustration. The rhetoric and institutional support that made me feel like the ground was ripe to do this kind of work is being erased.

And yet, I remain hopeful. Not because of blind optimism, but because I know that even when hostile systems are in place, people create spaces of beauty, justice, and belonging.

I’m reminding myself that even as things are torn down, there is opportunity for new creations and collaboration.

Recently, in light of that truth, I’ve been looking deeper into examples of community-led projects that use design as a way to name what's valuable before it disappears, and to imagine what could come next. Sharing one of those projects below 👇🏾

🧭Looking back to move forward

This past month, I came across a book from the Community Design Resource Center (CDRC), part of the University of Houston’s School of Art and College of Architecture and Design, that, have collaborated with Houston community organizations for the past 20 years to use "design as a strategy for change”. One project, in particular, caught my eye.

In 2016, students and faculty partnered with community leaders in Houston’s historic Third Ward on a public art project called Animating History. Together, they designed and installed 22 large, teardrop-shaped map pins along the main lifeline of Third Ward, Emancipation Avenue. Each marked a once-thriving local business that no longer existed.

It wasn’t just an art installation. It was a form of collective memory-making, a refusal to forget, and a call out of both what had been lost because of unfair design decisions made beyond the community and what community members held precious as memories and hopes for what it looks like to thrive.

What struck me even more was the contradiction behind the institutional support itself. Imagine, just decades earlier, the same university had barred Black students from attending, despite the fact that Black Houstonians made up a quarter of the population. Residents of Third Ward were redlined, excluded from federal wealth-building programs, and pushed to the margins of city development plans.

And yet, here we are: years later, the University is partnering with the neighborhood to document its history. One generation was locked out of the school; the next is invited to teach their stories.

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​💡 What Third Ward teaches us

Here’s what the story of Third Ward reminds me:

• Two things can be true at once. Systems can harm, and still be held accountable to make change. Neighborhoods can be stripped of resources and still refuse to be erased. One version of the history of Third Ward starts with slavery and ends with gentrification. Another starts with entrepreneurial individuals facing oppression who continuously carve out community spaces for themselves again and again for over 150+ years.
• Design can create an opportunity to dignify. Even something as simple as a physical marker on a vacant lot can say: Despite what you may see today and the history that will be told moving forward by developers, new Houstonians, and even limited public archives, we were here, we mattered, and we still do.
• There’s always room to counterdesign. Even in places shaped by exclusion, people make space for themselves through art, memory, business, and organizing.
• Change happens with time and motion. ​
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📨 What’s next

That’s it for now! In the next letter, I’ll share a story from Limón, Costa Rica, where communities are using participatory methods to protect local history. Until then, I hope the power of remembering helps give you fuel for whatever comes next.

💌 Let’s stay in touch

Want to connect, collaborate, or share something I should feature?
​Reply to this email, I’d love to hear from you.

With much love from the bottom of my little Southern heart,
​Keara 🧡

Keara Cormier-Hill

Founder, The South Design Research Studio
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