Has it really been a year? With nary a word from me? I promise I'll do better! The problem is, I get so passionately engaged in what I do that I forget(or am too tired) to write about what I'm doing and where it's taking me.
It's not that I don't write - I make lists, prepare mission statements, jot down quotes, make more lists, journal, and more, but none of it has ended up here - and I've done some pretty exciting things! For starters, I have the job that I wanted, a job that a quit another job to try and get, with no guarantee that things would work out. I made a pit stop along the way, but here I am, working as a museum educator at a museum of African American history and culture. Huzzah!
Thing is, I'm never satisfied. I'm here, so now what? How can I be my absolute personal best in this position? How can I merge theory and practice to help shape a dynamic, creative, innovative, diverse, admired, well-attended, and best-practice based education and public programming program? How can I continue to build my knowledge and my skill set so that I am an asset, a constructive and productive member of the team, and perhaps a future leader in the field? And how can I do this while maintaining a healthy balance in my life (my singledom grows tiresome...)?
This is what's on my mind as I tackle this new(ish) position (this is month 3). I'll share some of my thoughts as I take on new projects at work, as I read new things about black studies and museum studies, as I visit exhibits or experience other cultural activities, and you may even get a recipe or two or an anecdote from the side of my life that takes place on the other side of the museum doors.
Maybe you'll share a few thoughts with me as well?
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Monday, December 27, 2010
Opportunities and Thankfulness
Five months ago, I quit my job, and didn't have another one lined up.I spent this Christmas Eve speaking with Sister Sonia Sanchez in her home - and will get paid for it.
While that doesn't necessarily make me cool by association - or invincible - it does validate my belief that fear keeps us stagnated and leaps of faith rejuvenate. Naysayers and fear-mongers be darned!
Happy Holidays and May the New Year Be Fulfilling!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
What Can't We Do? Part 2
You'd be surprised how many people ask you where a degree in African American Studies can take you. Actually, no, you wouldn't. And to be honest, I don't blame the people who ask that question. Major in English? Maybe you plan on being an author or a publisher. Major in journalism? You're probably on your way to being a reporter, maybe a news anchor. Economics or marketing? Wall Street, here you come! But, African American Studies (or Chicano Studies, or Women's Studies, or...) - maybe a professor, possibly?
But here's the thing: Just like any other social science or liberal arts major, African American Studies teaches you how to think and how to express yourself clearly. Not only did I study history, I studied anthropology, sociology, religion and psychology, among other things. I was exposed to many ideas, and I had to write about, debate, explore, examine, and argue many different viewpoints.
And let's not minimize the value of learning about the history of Africans in Africa and Africans in America, both on a personal level and as a member of society. Personally, I appreciate knowing how my experience as an African American girl/woman/person fits into the larger story of blacks in this country. I appreciate the deeper understanding I have of my family's journey, of the paths - personal and communal - that brought me into existence and shaped my childhood.
On a societal level, I wish that more people could understand the realities that African Americans and Africans in America have faced since we arrived on these shores. If more people understood:
- the lingering effects of families that were ripped apart for generations and the effects of the systematic (and legal) deprivation of learning opportunities on entire generations of potential learners and potential teachers (children and parents),
- if more people understood the ways that the government at every level has betrayed the trust and ignored the best interests of an entire racial/ethnic group in documented ways,
- and if more people understood how betrayal, hurt, lack of education, mistrust, deteriorated institutions and the effects of institutionalized racism can create a cycle of coping mechanisms that can hurt more than they help
...perhaps our society would be a better place, one that actively supported self-improvement rather than both seeking first to punish and also avoiding productive conversations about race.
But back to my main point: What can you do with a degree in African American Studies?
You can become:
- A lawyer
- A doctor
- A diplomat
- A journalist
- An artist
- An educator
- A politician
- A musician
- An architect
- A business owner
- A curator
And, really, anything else! Some of these require additional training, but the same would be true if you were pursuing a degree in MANY other areas of study.
A degree in African American Studies does not lead to a dead end or a life of wandering. It leads to open doors and exciting possibilities.
What Can't We Do? Part 1
I wanted to include the following in my 5th Anniversary Class Notes personal statement, but didn't have the space. Here, then, for your viewing pleasure:
"Yeah, but what can you do with a degree in African American Studies?"
Well, whatever the heck I want, as it turns out. Especially when I decide that what I want to do is teach and work in museums. Some people will say that when you yourself are African American, majoring in the topic is really just a deeper study of yourself – and why limit yourself to just that, they say? I appreciate what I learned about my history in that major, but through that field and its related disciplines, doors have opened and opportunities have arisen that have taken me far beyond the narrow scope that people associate with such a degree.
* The image is one I took while visiting an art gallery in NYC several years ago. I don't remember the artist, and have no idea why I didn't take a better photo, but I do know what it says:"A brown girl is always underestimated...but that isn't necessarily a bad thing."
Amen.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Of Museums and Reunions
Greetings Internet!
This has been a good summer for connecting with my history. In the past two months, I've traveled to two family reunions - one on each side of the family - and at each, had the opportunity to visit a museum that touched upon black experiences in the U.S.
First stop: Harrisburg, PA, where Coopers and Cooper-Cummings (and their various branches) from all over the nation came together for the 4th of July weekend. In between a trip to Hershey Park - where I rode all the rides guaranteed to seriously injure a person - and a family luncheon, I met cousins I had never met before and heard (dubious) tales of my grandfather and great-uncles as gangsters who may or may not have done work with/for Al Capone. But, I also learned a bit more about how my mother's mother's family came from working the fields of Georgia to owning two homes on Capitol Hill (which, tragically, are not in the family any more).
On top of this, I also got to visit the National Civil War Museum, where, from the top of a hill in Reservoir Park, it seems one can look all the way across the City of Harrisburg. While the view made me want to stay outside, what was inside the museum was worth coming in for.
When you think of the Civil War, what do you think of? Slavery? States' rights? Gettysburg? Fort Sumter? Of course you do, and you should. But, have you ever wondered what daily life was like for the men involved in this staggering conflict? Have you ever asked yourself how the soldiers kept themselves clean and fed, or whether (and with what) they wrote home to loved ones? What did they carry with them as they traveled? What hung from their hips, what did they hold in their hands and carry on their backs? My favorite parts of the museum - the second floor galleries on Camp Curtin, the Making of Armies, and Weapons and Equipment - answered just these sorts of questions and really helped put what is often discussed as a political and military experience into a light where we could see the players as human beings. I appreciated that. These were men (and women) who were bored, lonely, hungry, tired, mischievous, playful and real - they didn't live on ideals alone and they were more than just the faded images we sometimes see on paper.
I only wish there had been more time to really see the rest of the galleries - most of my time was spent in those three.
Second stop: Cincinnati, Ohio, for the Harris Johnson West Family Reunion. This was my first trip to Cincinnati and, I have to say, I liked it, at least enough to want to visit again. The downtown area had restaurants (shout out to half-price sushi after 10:30 pm at Mr. Sushi!) and clubs and seemed to be going through a good moment. And while the outer areas that we drove through seem a little run-down and economically depressed, that made for some amazing architecture, in that "look, all these homes on these hills have been here since the turn of the century and they show it - I wonder who built them and who lived there and did they earn their livings on the river" kind of a way.
The river loomed large in my trip out to Cincinnati - while my travel companions and I stayed in downtown Cincinnati, the rest of our family was across the river in Kentucky, meaning we crossed the river several times, both on foot and in a car, during our stay. The Geotta Festival was also taking place on the other side of the river, so we walked along the banks there for a while. (What is Goetta? Ground meat with oats in it. I can't judge - I'm from Philly and I eat scrapple. What's scrapple? Don't ask.) Our family dinner was held at a restaurant on the waterfront, when we hung out later that night with the family, we could see the river less than a mile from the motel, and when we visited our museum of the trip, it was on the river, too.
This time, it was the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center. There were many good things about this museum as well - reenactors in the galleries who told compelling stories (though one of the actors I saw was a little less than believable), free audio guides with interesting things to hear, interactive gallery activities, and a BEAUTIFUL collection of quilts celebrating the jazz tradition - what I loved the most was a two-part movie exploring freedom fighters on the Underground Railroad who helped move runaways from one side of the Ohio River - the line between free Oho and slave Kentucky - to the other.
The movie, called Brothers of the Borderland, is narrated by Oprah Winfrey and takes viewers through a night of intrigue and action as two runaway slaves reach the river with slave catchers right on their heels and are subsequently helped by black and white abolitionists stationed immediately across the river. I was disappointed when the short movie ended - I wanted to know more about Alice and her friend, the Rankin Family and John Parker! The production value was good, the story compelling, and the fact that you pass through a dark passage with crickets chirping and cicadas rattling to get to the foliage-lined second theater makes the experience even richer. Definite thumbs up.
Like I said, it's been a good summer for family reunions and museums. May I see more family and more museums in the coming year!
This has been a good summer for connecting with my history. In the past two months, I've traveled to two family reunions - one on each side of the family - and at each, had the opportunity to visit a museum that touched upon black experiences in the U.S.
First stop: Harrisburg, PA, where Coopers and Cooper-Cummings (and their various branches) from all over the nation came together for the 4th of July weekend. In between a trip to Hershey Park - where I rode all the rides guaranteed to seriously injure a person - and a family luncheon, I met cousins I had never met before and heard (dubious) tales of my grandfather and great-uncles as gangsters who may or may not have done work with/for Al Capone. But, I also learned a bit more about how my mother's mother's family came from working the fields of Georgia to owning two homes on Capitol Hill (which, tragically, are not in the family any more).
On top of this, I also got to visit the National Civil War Museum, where, from the top of a hill in Reservoir Park, it seems one can look all the way across the City of Harrisburg. While the view made me want to stay outside, what was inside the museum was worth coming in for.
When you think of the Civil War, what do you think of? Slavery? States' rights? Gettysburg? Fort Sumter? Of course you do, and you should. But, have you ever wondered what daily life was like for the men involved in this staggering conflict? Have you ever asked yourself how the soldiers kept themselves clean and fed, or whether (and with what) they wrote home to loved ones? What did they carry with them as they traveled? What hung from their hips, what did they hold in their hands and carry on their backs? My favorite parts of the museum - the second floor galleries on Camp Curtin, the Making of Armies, and Weapons and Equipment - answered just these sorts of questions and really helped put what is often discussed as a political and military experience into a light where we could see the players as human beings. I appreciated that. These were men (and women) who were bored, lonely, hungry, tired, mischievous, playful and real - they didn't live on ideals alone and they were more than just the faded images we sometimes see on paper.
I only wish there had been more time to really see the rest of the galleries - most of my time was spent in those three.
Second stop: Cincinnati, Ohio, for the Harris Johnson West Family Reunion. This was my first trip to Cincinnati and, I have to say, I liked it, at least enough to want to visit again. The downtown area had restaurants (shout out to half-price sushi after 10:30 pm at Mr. Sushi!) and clubs and seemed to be going through a good moment. And while the outer areas that we drove through seem a little run-down and economically depressed, that made for some amazing architecture, in that "look, all these homes on these hills have been here since the turn of the century and they show it - I wonder who built them and who lived there and did they earn their livings on the river" kind of a way.
The river loomed large in my trip out to Cincinnati - while my travel companions and I stayed in downtown Cincinnati, the rest of our family was across the river in Kentucky, meaning we crossed the river several times, both on foot and in a car, during our stay. The Geotta Festival was also taking place on the other side of the river, so we walked along the banks there for a while. (What is Goetta? Ground meat with oats in it. I can't judge - I'm from Philly and I eat scrapple. What's scrapple? Don't ask.) Our family dinner was held at a restaurant on the waterfront, when we hung out later that night with the family, we could see the river less than a mile from the motel, and when we visited our museum of the trip, it was on the river, too.
This time, it was the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center. There were many good things about this museum as well - reenactors in the galleries who told compelling stories (though one of the actors I saw was a little less than believable), free audio guides with interesting things to hear, interactive gallery activities, and a BEAUTIFUL collection of quilts celebrating the jazz tradition - what I loved the most was a two-part movie exploring freedom fighters on the Underground Railroad who helped move runaways from one side of the Ohio River - the line between free Oho and slave Kentucky - to the other.
The movie, called Brothers of the Borderland, is narrated by Oprah Winfrey and takes viewers through a night of intrigue and action as two runaway slaves reach the river with slave catchers right on their heels and are subsequently helped by black and white abolitionists stationed immediately across the river. I was disappointed when the short movie ended - I wanted to know more about Alice and her friend, the Rankin Family and John Parker! The production value was good, the story compelling, and the fact that you pass through a dark passage with crickets chirping and cicadas rattling to get to the foliage-lined second theater makes the experience even richer. Definite thumbs up.
Like I said, it's been a good summer for family reunions and museums. May I see more family and more museums in the coming year!
Sunday, July 18, 2010
A Statement of Intent
Dear Internet,
Courage is taking action despite fear, being willing to step into the unknown, or into the known, when we know that life may be difficult ahead. It is the willingness to take risks that might not pay off, or at least not in the foreseeable future. It is veering off the established path, choosing to take the road not taken, hoping that your intended destination does indeed lay ahead.
I am exercising courage.
While I cannot go into the details just yet, I can tell you where I hope to end up and who it is I hope to become as I tread the path ahead.
As I've already said, I love history. What truly carries me away - what fascinates me - is the history of this city of my birth, Philadelphia. And specifically, it is the history of people of African descent within this city that I love to learn about. For us, Philadelphia has been a city of contradictions from the era of its founding, even before the revolutionary fervor of the 1700s. In a city meant as a place of brotherly love, African men and women were kept as involuntary servants, living lives not their own to determine. As the desire to throw off the yoke of British rule grew, still more Africans arrived in the city, torn from their homeland and yet listening to talk of freedom and liberty from the very people who now held them captive.
Yet, not all black Philadelphians were enslaved. Prior to the Civil War, Philadelphia had one of, if not the largest, population of free blacks in the nation. While in many ways their options were limited, they made inroads as businessmen, caterers, barbers, seamen, and other skilled workers. They established literary societies and social help organizations, opened schools at all levels and participated in a network of cultural organizations spanning the Northeast. And they agitated vocally and forcefully for the freedom of their enslaved brothers and sisters, working collaboratively with abolitionists of all stripes to help runaway slaves move through Pennsylvania towards freedom along the Underground Railroad.
There is so much to the stories of these men and women, from the mothers, wives, sisters and daughters who nursed wounded loved ones and strangers alike at Camp William Penn to the men who brought out the dead and tended the ill during the 1793 Yellow Fever epidemic. Not to mention those who labored in the President's House when Philadelphia was our nation's capitol.
I want to know it all. It's just so darn interesting!
I want to become an expert in the history of blacks in this city, up until at least the first World War. And not only do I want to learn it, I want to teach it.
I want to be involved in hands-on research, digging through archives, reading old journals and newspapers, handling artifacts, and the like. And then I want to write about them, plan lessons about them, teach about them, and help other people to understand the rich history our city has but that many of its inhabitants know nothing about. History inspires. It changes lives when shared correctly. And I want to help do that, both for my fellow Philadelphians (especially our city's youth) and for those who come to our city to understand the birth of the United States. I think the experiences of our city are a microcosm of this nation, and if we can tell the full story of this city including its conflicts and tensions, maybe we can better understand our nation as a whole.
But, don't you want to get paid, you ask? Don't you want the spoils that come with that Harvard degree?
Well, yes. (Stop laughing. Especially those of you who work in history and/or education.) Maybe pursuing history and education does not have to mean living in abject poverty. It certainly requires creative thinking. Maybe I won't have the big house and the fancy car, but I prefer to live small anyway. What pushes me to the brink of despair, more than almost anything else - and certainly more than the idea of not being able to afford a gym membership where I can sweat with shiny happy people - is the idea of toiling away in a job that I am not passionate about, knowing that I could have taken a risk and tried walking down the path I wanted to be on.
So, Internet, I will be doing what I can to tread this path, whatever the steps may be that I need to take. And I am looking for suggestions.
- Are there any books or articles that you would recommend?
- People that I should talk to?
- Organizations I should look into?
- Freelance or consulting opportunities?
- Research and volunteer opportunities?
I will work hard for this. And I hope that that will make a difference.
Ase.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Domestic Discord
So, Internet, I admit it - I was distracted from my mission. When I set off for the Free Library early this afternoon, my goal was to search old newspapers for some "This Day in History"-type content. But then I came across this, in the June 19th, 1840 edition of the Public Ledger, a daily Philadelphia paper:
So, what's te story here? Is dear Mr. Grauel in the process of divorcing said wife and is separating his assets from hers? Or did she do something to make him mad and now he's cut her off from the money flow? (And how did poor Mrs. Grauel feel, getting called out in public like that?) Or - and the plot thickens - is there an impostor Mrs. Grauel, a lady of mystery who is running around all willy-nilly, buying linens and tea pots and rose water for her freckles while the real Mrs. Grauel lays in bed recovering from a lingering illness? Or, better yet, is Mr. Grauel not even married!
I would have left it there and gone on with my search, but then, Internet, I came across another one:
Does two make a trend? Well, maybe not, but there's a theme developing here (cue music): Domestic Discord: Drama in the Dailies." Check this next one out, from the Public Ledger on June 19, 1860:
Now, hold up here, Internet. Let's think about this: This man divorced his wife and didn't tell her. (Full stop.) What was the benefit of that? Yes, she was performing domestic services essentially for free, but she was still spending his money and he still had to deal with her every day. (I realize this man was probably no prize - he did divorce his wife without telling her, after all - but I'm trying to look at things from his perspective.) So...why? In any case, she was probably feeling a little more than just "much exasperated." Makes you wonder how the husband fared, both in court and out.
For this last story, from the April 1, 1852 anti-slavery paper the Pennsylvania Freeman, we don't have to wonder about the outcome, but one does wonder a bit about the back story:
Lesson: Don't mess with the Real Housewives of St. Louis.
Question: Did the husbands get a severe cowhiding, too? And, given their penchant for visiting "doubtful places," did they like it?
Signing off with a wink and a laugh,
Miss History
NOTICE - All persons are cautioned against trusting a woman
calling herself my wife, SARAH GRAUEL, on my account,
as I am determined not to pay any debts of her contracting.
calling herself my wife, SARAH GRAUEL, on my account,
as I am determined not to pay any debts of her contracting.
DANIEL GRAUEL
So, what's te story here? Is dear Mr. Grauel in the process of divorcing said wife and is separating his assets from hers? Or did she do something to make him mad and now he's cut her off from the money flow? (And how did poor Mrs. Grauel feel, getting called out in public like that?) Or - and the plot thickens - is there an impostor Mrs. Grauel, a lady of mystery who is running around all willy-nilly, buying linens and tea pots and rose water for her freckles while the real Mrs. Grauel lays in bed recovering from a lingering illness? Or, better yet, is Mr. Grauel not even married!
I would have left it there and gone on with my search, but then, Internet, I came across another one:
CAUTION - Whereas my wife, Ann Donally, having left my bed and board,
this is to caution all persons from harboring or trusting her on my account,
as I am determined to pay no debts of her contracting from this date.
this is to caution all persons from harboring or trusting her on my account,
as I am determined to pay no debts of her contracting from this date.
his
John Donally
mark
John Donally
mark
Does two make a trend? Well, maybe not, but there's a theme developing here (cue music): Domestic Discord: Drama in the Dailies." Check this next one out, from the Public Ledger on June 19, 1860:
A WIFE SUES FOR WAGES - A woman in Detroit has
brought action against her husband to recover wages as a domestic.
It seems he procured a divorce from her eight months ago.
She knew nothing about it, and lived with him, performing her usual domestic duties.
He recently told her of the divorce, and she, much exasperated, seeks to punish him,
or at least makes (sic) him pay for the eight months' service
from which his own act had legally released her."
brought action against her husband to recover wages as a domestic.
It seems he procured a divorce from her eight months ago.
She knew nothing about it, and lived with him, performing her usual domestic duties.
He recently told her of the divorce, and she, much exasperated, seeks to punish him,
or at least makes (sic) him pay for the eight months' service
from which his own act had legally released her."
Now, hold up here, Internet. Let's think about this: This man divorced his wife and didn't tell her. (Full stop.) What was the benefit of that? Yes, she was performing domestic services essentially for free, but she was still spending his money and he still had to deal with her every day. (I realize this man was probably no prize - he did divorce his wife without telling her, after all - but I'm trying to look at things from his perspective.) So...why? In any case, she was probably feeling a little more than just "much exasperated." Makes you wonder how the husband fared, both in court and out.
For this last story, from the April 1, 1852 anti-slavery paper the Pennsylvania Freeman, we don't have to wonder about the outcome, but one does wonder a bit about the back story:
THREE MARRIED LADIES in St. Louis, last week,
met a young man upon the street, and gave him a severe cowhiding.
They said he had been enticing their husbands away from home at night,
and taking them to doubtful places.
met a young man upon the street, and gave him a severe cowhiding.
They said he had been enticing their husbands away from home at night,
and taking them to doubtful places.
Lesson: Don't mess with the Real Housewives of St. Louis.
Question: Did the husbands get a severe cowhiding, too? And, given their penchant for visiting "doubtful places," did they like it?
Signing off with a wink and a laugh,
Miss History
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