Meet the 2024 MacArthur 'Genius Grant' winners

Meet the 2024 MacArthur 'Genius Grant' winners


America has 22 new talents, including a famous author of books for young readers, a co-creator of an acclaimed TV series and a biologist who studies lizards.

Officially, they are John D. and Catherine T. 2024 recipient of MacArthur Foundation fellowships, better known as “talent grants.”

This year's winners, announced Tuesday, range in age from 39 to 75, and their professions include poet (Jericho Brown), violinist (Johnny Gandelsman), lawyer (Dorothy Roberts), cabaret performer (Justine Vivian Bond) and disability activist (Alice Wang) 2024 -'s class lives in 15 different states and the nation's capital: Washington-based Jason Reynolds is one of only a handful of children's and young adult writers honored by the foundation.

Martha Munoz is one of two evolutionary biologists on this year's list. His specialty is the study of forest lizards, which is recognized for its greater importance in understanding how behavior influences evolution. He called MacArthur “such a validation and a vote of confidence in what one is doing and the belief that the best is likely yet to come.”

Filmmaker Starlin Harzo was selected for his funny, affectionate look at contemporary Native Americans, including the Emmy-nominated Hulu series “Reservation Dogs” on FX. “As a Native person, there's always a sense of not belonging,” Harzo says. “We were displaced and moved from our homeland to Oklahoma. And so it's literally like, 'Where am I?'” He sees MacArthur as a way of saying, “You're here, you've made a difference, and you've helped change the world through your work.”

The $800,000 award goes to a diverse group of people recognized for their past work and the belief that they will do great work in the future. It's one of those random, unpleasant blue winds that turn academics and creatives into national figures.

The lore of the MacArthur Fellowship stems from the fact that winners have no idea they're receiving it—one late summer day—a stranger calls with the news. No one can apply; They must be nominated in a process that demands confidentiality from all involved.

There are only a few rules: Fellows must be American citizens or residents, and no elected officials or senior government officials are eligible. Other than that, the possibilities are endless.

The selection process has not changed significantly since the Foundation first awarded the award in 1981. First, activists assemble a group of 2,000 to 2,500 leaders in various fields who are asked to nominate one or more candidates. Each nomination is reviewed and shortlisted, followed by a call to professional peers to get their thoughts.

“I've been blessed with some very smart colleagues who take the task of understanding new areas of practice very seriously,” says Marlize Carruth, director of the Fellows Program. “And over the decades we've been engaged in this, we have a database of people we can reach out to who work with us.” Part of the process includes experiencing candidates' work, reading what they've written, watching performances, getting to know their work. “So it's not an arm's length process by any means,” she says

A list of finalists — what Carruth calls “an emphasis on creativity and a thirst to make a difference” — goes to the foundation board, which selects fellows in early summer.

Some of the calls are straightforward: Munoz, 39, was in his office at Yale and thought he was being called to respond to a candidate under consideration.

Harzo, 44, was originally approached to appear on a panel. This was a problem; He doesn't like being on the panel so skips the call. Finally he got to know the real reason. “I was quite surprised,” she says. “I'm a native kid from rural Oklahoma and to be honored on such a stage and such a prestigious award, it was never on my radar.”

And Reynolds, 40, continued to ignore the strange number in Chicago until one day the phone rang again. “I thought, 'Let me answer this so I can tell them I don't want anything. Take me off your list. I'm going to block you.' And then I answer and they tell me it's the MacArthur Foundation and this award is being given to me.

Only one person was allowed to speak before the public announcement of the winners; Reynolds told her mom: “She has no idea what that means but she's like, 'Good job, baby. I'm proud of you.'

Reynolds is excited by the announcement each year, mostly to see if any of his peers make the list. “I have a lot of friends who got it and friends and mentors who I think are brilliant people,” he says. And, if he was honest, he imagined it might happen to him one day.

Diversity is what intrigues Reynolds the most. “For me, there is something very attractive about being recognized among the pool of 'luminaries' in all these different categories. I think the beauty of the MacArthur, unlike the National Book Award or the Peabody, is that it's open to all disciplines.” The idea of ​​literature and storytelling alongside science and history is a nod, he says, to its larger global significance.

For Muñoz, it's about bringing evolutionary biology to a wider audience. “I've always been comfortable with the idea that I can communicate my science very well to other scientists,” she says. “I wasn't sure if what I was doing could be translated to other realms and if people outside of science could see the broader value of what I was doing. And it tells me very clearly that the answer is 'yes'.

And the money? Really cool – but not often life changing. Most fellows are well-established beyond their starving artist days and in their respective fields, so no-strings-attached award money is usually more about doing something special than paying rent. And it doesn't come all at once in some giant cardboard check: it comes in quarterly payments over five years and is taxed as ordinary income.

Muñoz plans to take some time to learn how other fellows have used their grants and to look at all the long-term options available for conservation, science and research: “It gives you the freedom to dream a little bigger.” “The gift of being on the other side of any kind of financial struggle gives me the opportunity to use it to help someone else,” says Reynolds.

And Harzo says it will give him something hard to value: time.

“The film industry is such a hustle and bustle that I'd rather take time off to do the writing that I need to do,” he says. “It means less time with me on the road trying to make a living.”

Added bonus? “I guess I can drive people crazy, too,” he says. “You know, 'I'm a genius. You there is to listen to me.'

2024 MacArthur Fellow

Luca Ashwood, 39, sociologist

Ruha Benjamin, 46, writer

Justin Vivian Bond, 61, performer

Tony Cokes, 68, media artist

Nicola Dale, 42, computer scientist

Johnny Gandelsman, 46, violinist

Starlin Harzo, 44, filmmaker

Juan Felipe Herrera, 75, writer

Jennifer Morgan, 58, historian

Martha Munoz, 39, evolutionary biologist

Shailaja Paik, 50, historian

Joseph Parker, 44, evolutionary biologist

Ebony Patterson, 43, multimedia artist

Shamell Pitts, 39, dancer and choreographer

Wendy Red Star, 43, artist

Jason Reynolds, 40, writer

Dorothy Roberts, 68, lawyer

Keivan Stassun, 52, astronomer

Benjamin van Mooy, 52, oceanographer


About The Author

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *