How Artists Circumvent Silencing & What We Can Learn From It
11 min read
Artists have long used creativity as a tool for resistance, innovating ways to bypass censorship and critique authority. Whether through subtext and metaphor, as seen in Billie Holiday’s Strange Fruit or Kendrick Lamar’s albums, or through ownership battles, like Prince’s fight for his music rights and Beyoncé’s control over Lemonade, artists assert their agency against systemic forces. Many challenge institutions rather than individuals, using their work to expose broader injustices, as Fela Kuti and James Baldwin did. However, visibility isn’t always a marker of success – figures like Assata Shakur and Zanele Muholi show that survival and community impact matter just as much. Yet, resistance can also be co-opted, with radical messages stripped of their power for profit, as seen with Banksy and Basquiat. To navigate these challenges, artists employ strategic tactics: using subtext, controlling distribution, owning their narratives, broadening their message, adapting to outsmart the system, resisting co-optation, and prioritising impact over fame.
Art can often be dismissed as mere entertainment, but history repeatedly proves that it is one of the most potent weapons against control. When systems attempt to suppress, artists innovate – dodging censorship, confronting power, and ensuring their voices reverberate through generations. From strategic storytelling to fights for ownership, the playbook of artistic defiance is as layered as the art itself.
The Power of Subtext: Saying Everything Without Saying It
Artists across different mediums have long used subtext and coded language to critique power while evading outright censorship. Whether through music, literature, film, visual art, or design, they have found ways to embed resistance within their work.
Some striking examples are:
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, a Kenyan writer who was imprisoned for his play I Will Marry When I Want, which criticized neocolonial exploitation. After his release, he actually changed languages – choosing to write in Gikuyu instead of English as an act of cultural defiance. His decision to abandon English and write in his native language was not just about storytelling – it was a political act against cultural erasure.
Mahmoud Darwish, a Palestinian poet who used poetry as the literary form to document displacement, exile, and resistance – ensuring that Palestinian narratives persisted despite efforts to silence them. His poetry meant that Palestinian history, loss, and resistance remained alive in the global consciousness.
Both these writers remind us that language itself is a battleground; and choosing how and where to tell a story is an act of resistance.
Alternatively, when you can’t say it outright, say it with subtext. Metaphor, allegory, and coded language have long been tools for artists looking to critique oppressive forces without facing immediate retaliation.
Billie Holiday’s song Strange Fruit used haunting, poetic lyricism to expose the horrors of lynching in America, forcing listeners to confront a brutal reality that was otherwise suppressed.
Marvin Gaye’s song What’s Going On took on war, poverty, and police brutality in a way that was both commercially successful and politically charged.
Childish Gambino recently layered surreal visuals and dance with harrowing social commentary on gun violence and systemic oppression in his song This Is America – proving that sharp messages can be woven into unexpected and widely consumed formats.
Kendrick Lamar’s albums To Pimp a Butterfly and the Pulitzer-winning DAMN. use historical and cultural references to critique racism, police brutality, and systemic inequality while still thriving in mainstream spaces.
Likewise, Adele and Taylor Swift have mastered the art of personal storytelling that blurs the line between individual callouts and larger industry critique. By embedding their grievances in the deeply relatable medium of heartbreak and redemption, they ensure that personal vendettas become universal anthems.
Fighting for Ownership: Controlling Distribution & Narrative
Artists are also acutely aware that control over distribution is key.
Prince fought Warner Bros. for the rights to the original recordings he made that were owned and controlled by his record label, which could dictate how and when his music could be used. In changing his name to an unpronounceable symbol, he was able to evade contractual restrictions – which is why he is referred to as The Artist Formerly Known as Prince.
Frank Ocean outmanoeuvred Def Jam by releasing Endless – a throwaway visual album featuring full-length music with continuous video content that blends music and storytelling – in order to fulfil his contractual obligations. The very next day he independently released the much-anticipated Blonde – ensuring that he retained full control and profits.
Black artists, in particular, have historically been denied control over their own work resulting in detrimental financial implications. From early blues musicians who saw little to no royalties to modern-day streaming contracts that exploit artists with unfair revenue splits. The fight for ownership is also a fight against economic suppression. Even, Taylor Swift re-recording her albums to reclaim financial rights is an example of how artists push back. But for those without industry backing, the barriers remain high.
Still, ownership is not just about financial rights – it’s also about the right to your own narrative. Beyoncé, in this era of digital immediacy, bypassed traditional marketing with her visual album Lemonade. Rather than relying on a conventional album rollout controlled by the music industry, she partnered with HBO to debut Lemonade as a film. This strategic move allowed her to not only maintain complete creative control and ensure that her vision was presented in full before it was fragmented into singles and streaming numbers, but to own her own story.
Beyoncé bypassed industry gatekeepers and dictated how her art, which addressed themes of Black womanhood, generational trauma, infidelity, and resilience, was received on her own terms. This is poignant being as Black artists – especially Black women – have long had their stories distorted, rewritten, or erased by the media (particularly when they challenge social structures). By doing this, she ensured that audiences engaged with her personal and cultural references from her perspective – before the media and others could twist or reframe it. And in a world where institutions and industries profit from shaping and erasing marginalised voices, this form of ownership is incredibly powerful.
When Art Challenges Institutions, Not Just Individuals
Calling out an individual can be provocative, but critiquing an institution requires a more layered approach. Artists across disciplines have resisted systemic control finding ways to navigate silencing efforts while ensuring their critiques endure.
In music:
Beyoncé’s Formation caused tremors not because it targeted a single figure but because it was a cultural and political statement that challenged racism and police violence. It dismantled systemic narratives about race, femininity, and power in America. Likewise, Lemonade wasn’t just about Beyoncé because it placed her personal struggles in the context of Black womanhood and systemic injustice.
Fela Kuti used music not just to critique Nigeria’s government but to fuel a larger resistance movement. He and others embedded political resistance within their music, ensuring that their critiques outlasted the regimes they opposed – not because those regimes disappeared, but because the fight against them continues.
Bob Marley’s Redemption Song and War directly addressed themes of liberation, Pan-Africanism, and resistance to oppression, making reggae a global vessel for political consciousness.
In literature:
James Baldwin used literature to challenge racial and social injustice in America. He framed personal and racial struggles as part of a larger systemic problem, ensuring his narratives resonated across generations.
Toni Morrison’s novels wove historical and systemic critiques of race and trauma into deeply personal narratives. Her book Beloved, rooted in the generational trauma of slavery, ensured that part of history remained part of the cultural consciousness.
Octavia Butler’s speculative fiction tackled issues of power, oppression, and identity through futuristic and dystopian storytelling, making readers examine real-world injustices through allegory and metaphor.
In art:
Ai Weiwei used photography, sculpture, and installations to critique government oppression and censorship. Using his own persecution as an artist, he shone a light on broader human rights abuses.
Banksy’s politically charged street art has drawn global attention to issues like war, surveillance, and capitalism by using public spaces as his canvas.
Frida Kahlo’s work combined deeply personal pain with social and political commentary, making her art an enduring statement against oppression and misogyny. Her self-portraits were not just about her personal pain – they reflected the larger struggles of gender, colonialism, and class oppression.
In graphic design:
Emory Douglas, Minister of Culture for the Black Panther Party, used bold, striking visuals in newspapers and posters to communicate revolutionary messages. His work was direct and uncompromising, making radical ideas accessible to those who may not have engaged with traditional political writing.
Shepard Fairey, known for the Hope poster for Barack Obama and the Obey street art movement, used graphic design to challenge authority and shape public consciousness.
Barbara Kruger’s work, with its text-over-image style, critiques consumerism, power, and gender politics, forcing viewers to confront uncomfortable truths through the medium of design.
In theatre:
Bertolt Brecht, the German playwright, developed ‘epic theatre’ as a tool of resistance against fascism and capitalism. By breaking the fourth wall and forcing audiences to engage critically rather than passively consume, his plays became tools for political consciousness rather than mere entertainment.
Spiderwoman Theater, the first Native American women’s theatre group, pioneered a ‘storyweaving’ approach – blending Indigenous oral traditions, movement, and multimedia to address colonialism, cultural survival, and violence against Native women and girls. Their work ensured that Indigenous resistance found a powerful platform within contemporary theatre.
In film:
Ousmane Sembène, often called the 'father of African cinema,' used storytelling to critique colonialism, corruption, and social injustice in Senegal. His film Xala (1975) satirized the lingering effects of colonialism, exposing the hypocrisy of post-independence African elites.
Jafar Panahi, the Iranian filmmaker, defied outright government censorship and state bans by making guerrilla-style movies under house arrest. His film This Is Not a Film was smuggled out of Iran on a USB drive hidden inside a cake.
Ava DuVernay has used film and television (Selma, 13th, When They See Us) to expose systemic racism, the prison-industrial complex, and police violence, ensuring that these realities remain part of public discourse despite efforts to suppress them.
All of these writers, filmmakers, visual artists, and performers have been able to successfully target systems. The key to this? Make the message bigger than yourself. Artists who challenge systems rather than individuals create movements, not just headlines. The backlash may still come, but if the work is potent enough, it becomes too significant to suppress entirely.
When the System Reacts
It is, however, important to remember that resistance doesn’t always mean (global) recognition. Many artists who create vital, urgent work still struggle for visibility – not because their art isn’t good enough but because access to power and platforms is deliberately restricted.
Assata Shakur, whose writings and activism challenged systemic oppression, has remained influential despite being forced into exile and being relatively unknown.
Larissa Sansour, the Palestinian artist, has used sci-fi-inspired film and photography to critique occupation and displacement, even while facing restrictions on her work.
Zanele Muholi, a South African photographer, documents Black LGBTQ+ identities, resisting erasure in a society that often marginalises them.
These artists may not have the same level of visibility as mainstream figures, but their impact within their communities and beyond remains profound. Recognising this helps us push back against the idea that visibility is the only marker of success.
For those facing suppression, the goal isn’t always to ‘refuse to be ignored’. Sometimes, it’s about survival. Throughout history, knowledge and dissent have survived through underground networks, oral traditions, print culture, and independent archives. While modern digital platforms have allowed more voices to be heard, they are also fragile spaces for resistance. Algorithmic suppression, de-platforming, and censorship can erase work overnight, making it crucial to consider alternative ways to sustain, protect, and ensure the work endures.
If the message matters, there will likely be a way to get it across – but systemic barriers will also determine whose voices are amplified and whose are silenced. Recognizing these obstacles allows us to challenge them strategically rather than assuming that all messages have an equal chance of being heard. And as history shows, the most important thing isn’t just about being heard – it’s about enduring, resisting, and finding ways to thrive, no matter what.
Adaptability is therefore an asset – knowing when to play the system, when to challenge it, and when to stand outside of it entirely. Whether through unconventional movements, community-building, or finding alternative spaces to share, it’s important to continue to find ways to exist despite suppression.
When Resistance Gets Repurposed: The Danger of Co-optation
But silencing isn’t the only way the system reacts – sometimes, it does the opposite. Sometimes, the system embraces resistance – absorbing and repackaging it, stripping it of its radical edge until it becomes ineffective and even profitable to the very forces it was originally resisting. It is one of the system’s most insidious strategies as it makes something that was once a critique of power become another tool for power to wield.
Some examples include:
Jean-Michel Basquiat – the graffiti artist who critiqued capitalism and racism in his work, but today, his paintings are bought and sold for millions by the very elites he despised.
Banksy – His attempt to sabotage an art auction by shredding his own painting backfired when the half-shredded Girl with a Balloon became even more valuable, proving how the system can monetise even anti-establishment gestures.
Indeed, when it comes to Graffiti & Street Art what was once a criminalised, countercultural movement has been absorbed by high-end galleries, where sanitised street art is sold for millions while real street artists still face arrest for painting on walls.
Dissident music in commercials show us songs originally written as anthems of resistance like The Clash’s London Calling, John Lennon’s Imagine, and Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit being licensed for advertising campaigns – turning protest into background noise for consumerism and showing how corporations will embrace resistance only when they can commodify it.
And despite the film Black Panther (2018) being a groundbreaking moment in Black storytelling, the fact remains that it is owned and controlled by Disney.
So How Do Artists Subvert Co-optation?
Artists like Banksy, Frank Ocean, and independent filmmakers retain some level of autonomy, by keeping a foot outside the system, thereby ensuring their work isn’t completely controlled. Others, like Rage Against the Machine, limit corporate partnerships and refuse to license their work, making it harder for companies to exploit their message.
Some choose to reinforce their message. So, if their work gets absorbed, they keep making more that pushes against the boundaries – like Kendrick Lamar doubling down on racial and political themes after winning a Pulitzer. And it’s even possible to use the system against Itself by intentionally playing with the idea of commercial appeal to expose the system’s contradictions.
Co-optation is not always avoidable, but recognising it is the first step to resisting it.
Key Takeaways: Strategies for Resistance
The artists discussed in this piece didn’t just create art – they strategically navigated power structures to ensure their voices were heard. Their strategies extend beyond the academy to offer lessons to us all. Because artists are not the only ones navigating silencing tactics. With corporate censorship, NDAs, algorithmic suppression, and social stigmas affecting anyone who might speak truth to power, the strategies used by artists – coded language, independent platforms, and audience engagement – are really useful lessons in resistance.
Lesson 1: Use Subtext & Symbolism When Direct Speech is Risky
If speaking out directly puts you at risk, subtext, allegory, metaphor, humour, coded language, and creative misdirection can help convey your message. When choosing indirect expression, consider how universal symbols, cultural references, and layered messaging can help audiences (and not gatekeepers) decode the meaning.
Lesson 2: Control Distribution & Platforms When Possible
If you can control where and how your work is shared, you reduce the chances of others distorting or suppressing it. Owning distribution channels limits reliance on gatekeepers who may manipulate access. When full control isn’t possible, consider hybrid strategies, like negotiating better terms, collaborating with trusted allies, or using temporary mainstream visibility to funnel audiences toward independent spaces.
Lesson 3: Own Your Narrative Before Others Do
Narrative ownership is just as important as financial ownership. If you don’t control your story, someone else will. So, tell your story on your terms and strategically ensure that people engage with your message before outside forces dilute or distort it. When false narratives arise – challenge them. But always use mediums that give you control.
Lesson 4: Make the Message Bigger Than Yourself
Personal stories become more powerful when connected to broader struggles. Frame your message in a way that resonates beyond your own experience. Consider how your story can function as a bridge. Turn individual pain into shared awareness or transform a local issue into a recognisably global one by weaving personal narratives into systemic critique that invites collective identification and action.
Lesson 5: Adapt, Evade, and Outsmart Gatekeepers
Resistance isn’t always about direct confrontation. Sometimes, working within the system temporarily can provide the leverage needed to challenge it later. Many of these artists had to “play the system” before they could push back against it. Knowing the system’s rules can help you to work around them.
Lesson 6: Beware of Co-optation – The System May Absorb Your Resistance
Remember resistance isn’t always crushed. The system profits from co-opting radical messages, stripping them of their power, and selling them back to the public. Therefore, retain some autonomy, reinforce your message, be mindful of partnerships, and expose any contradictions.
Lesson 7: Visibility is Not the Only Marker of Success
Many artists create powerful, necessary work but never achieve widespread recognition due to systemic barriers. It is therefore important to remember the goal isn’t always mass visibility. Sometimes, surviving, creating, and maintaining autonomy is the real victory.
