Nicole S Fox

Racial inequities within the U.S. criminal justice system are well-documented, yet often inadequately addressed in undergraduate criminal justice (CJ) curricula. This study contributes to the literature on racial justice education and curricular reform by reporting on a pilot project that designed, implemented, and evaluated a set of sixteen one-week modules in a large CJ program. Developed for Canvas Commons, the modules were self-contained, evidence-based, and adaptable, with a focus on foregrounding marginalized scholarship and diverse pedagogies. Our findings address a gap in the literature regarding practical implementation strategies and outcomes of cumulative, curriculum-wide integration. Evaluation based on faculty experiences and surveys of over 1,000 students revealed that the modules were accessible, effective, and supportive for instructors, while student data suggested gains in understanding racial disparities. The project highlights the feasibility and impact of this approach, while also identifying adoption challenges. We conclude with recommendations for instructors and institutions.

Conducting research in post-atrocity settings contributes to broader societal efforts to address the legacies of genocide, promote justice, and educate the public in ways that foster a more inclusive future for affected societies. At the same time, such fieldwork requires a heightened level of care for research participants, researchers, and their team. By highlighting the complex dynamics of international research in communities recovering from mass violence, this fieldwork reflection aims to demystify aspects of fieldwork in such contexts. We collectively write this piece, drawing on decades of combined experience researching and writing about post-atrocity settings in more than fifteen countries [These countries include Armenia, Burundi, Cambodia, Democratic Republic of Congo, Germany, Honduras, Israel, Japan, Poland, Nigeria, Nicaragua, Rwanda, South Africa, South Korea, and Uganda]. Focused on our personal experiences, we offer five lessons that address dynamics of marginalization in the field, interrogation of researcher positionality, secondary trauma, trust building, and navigating research-related bureaucracy.

Following the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, women took on greater responsibilities as heads of households, lobbied for women's rights, and entered political positions at unprecedented rates. This article analyses the mass nationwide movement of women into roles as gacaca court judges following the genocide, through interviews with 55 women judges. Specifically, we emphasize both the highs and lows of this experience as compared to their male counterparts. Reflecting on the positive aspects of their service, women judges underscored empowerment, personal growth, and their active participation in nation-building post genocide. Yet, judging had its drawbacks, including uncompensated work that functioned like a "third shift" in light of women's rising responsibilities in the work force and an uneven household division of labour still dominated by patriarchal norms. Furthermore, women judges reported experiencing trauma from repeated exposure to accounts of genocidal rape and other violence. Despite these costs, women served from an overwhelming sense of duty to their communities and country and expressed pride for their contributions in the rebuilding of Rwanda in the wake of genocide.

ABSTRACT This article draws upon interviews with 50 Rwandan mothers who risked their lives to save others during the 1994 genocide. We position our study within a growing body of research examining women’s engagement in resistance movements, and we theorize rescue efforts by mothers during genocide as a case of political invisibility. Specifically, our findings show how mothers were able to capitalize on their political invisibility in strategic ways that shaped the form of the rescue. We posit that political invisibility may have insulated mothers from recruitment to the genocidal movement due to their occupation of the domestic sphere, since killing group members often knew these women were taking care of the home and engaging in domestic activities. We further highlight the care work (e.g., sheltering, feeding, supporting, calming, and managing emotions) that was foundational to these women’s rescue endeavors. Taken together, this article invites readers to walk through two secret doors that sociologists rarely have access to: actions tied to clandestine resistance and the private sphere of domestic care work during genocide.

In 1979, during an anti-racism march in the city in Greensboro, North Carolina, KKK and Nazi Party members opened fire on demonstrators, killing five and wounding eight. On the cusp of the 25th anniversary of these killings, efforts by community members culminated in the convening of the first Truth and Reconciliation Commission (GTRC) in the US. Drawing on a unique collection of public testimonies and private interviews with GTRC staff, we use a novel relational approach to array and compare discursive accounts offered in these distinct settings. We find that narratives offered in private were more varied, yet also cohesive in locating blame in social actors. Public testimony, in contrast, was more consolidated and singular, placing the majority of culpability on social structures. Based on these significant distinctions, we draw out implications for future research and policy around transitional justice initiatives.

Over the past two decades, America taken part of a broader global trend of "memorial mania" in which memorials dedicated to remembering injustice have exploded into public space. Memorials that facilitate the centering of marginalized narratives of violence hold significant power for social change. This article focuses on one such space: The Survivors Memorial in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The Survivors Memorial opened in October 2020 and is the first public memorial honoring survivors of sexual violence. Despite the progress of the anti-rape and feminist movements as well as a variety of legal interventions designed to address sexual violence and empower, many survivors are left without a sense of justice or institutional or community recognition. Drawing on 21 in-depth, qualitative interviews with individuals involved in all aspects of the memorial project, this article documents how one community mobilized to create a space for survivors whose voices are often overlooked, disbelieved and silenced by the criminal justice system, practitioners, and communities. In focusing on how participants narrate the significance and meaning of the Survivors Memorial, this article uncovers how social, political, and local circumstances coalesced to make the Memorial possible. These factors include local leadership, the prevalence of sexual violence, the unique structure of the Minneapolis park structure, and the rise of the #MeToo movement. Interviews illuminate that participants worked to intentionally construct the Memorial as an accessible and visible space that centers on providing all sexual violence survivors with public acknowledgment of their experiences, while simultaneously engaging community members in dialogs about sexual violence, ultimately, laying the foundation for sexual violence prevention efforts.

In April 1994, in one of the most Christian nations in Africa, genocidal violence erupted culminating in the deaths of upwards of one million people. While thousands participated in mass killings, others choose not to, and rescued persecuted individuals instead. Relying on 45 in-depth interviews with individuals who rescued others in Rwanda, we demonstrate that religion is tied to rescue efforts in at least three ways: 1) through the creation of cognitive safety nets that enabled high-risk actions; 2) through religious practices that isolated individuals from the social networks of those committing the violence; and 3) through religious social networks where individuals encountered opportunities and accessed resources to rescue. The case of rescue in Rwanda illustrates how religiosity can support high-risk collective action, buffer individuals from recruitment to violent social movements, and can connect individuals in ways that enable them to save lives during extreme political violence.