Museum of African American History and Culture Preview

I was sorta lucky last Sunday.  The Smithsonian offered employees and volunteers (I've volunteered at the Folklife festival for half a dozen years and started volunteering at the Zoo at the Amazonia exhibit in August) the chance to see the new Museum of African American History and Culture before the big opening this weekend.  Evidently the free timed-entry passes to the museum have "sold out" on weekends through Christmas, though  weekday passes are available in November, so Robin and I were psyched to see it.  I still remember how exciting it was to wander the new Museum of the Native American Indian at 2 AM the night it opened when, for the only day ever, the majority of the visitors were native americans.

I thought the optics might not be great, to see a bunch of white folks entering the museum before everyone else (most Smithsonian employees and volunteers are lily white like me).  But once we got there the crowd was somewhat diverse.  Just waiting to get in gave us a chance to see up close the pattern on  the exterior panels, quite lovely when nearby.  

The hoped for pattern for visiting the museum is to begin in the basement with the beginnings of African American history in the US, in somewhat cramped spaces to evoke the crowding of slave ships.  I know the history of the collection in Africa, the ships, the sales.  The exhibits pointed out what nations the slave ships came from and that, probably unknown to many in the US, most of the slaves from Africa ended up in the Caribbean and Brazil.  One thing that fascinated me was that paper money of the states featured images of slavery.  It would be like us featuring child labor in factories 120 years ago on the dollar bill or "Whites Only" signs 60 years ago on the five dollar bill.

The first thing that was really gripping to me was seeing a partially restored slave shack.  People lived and died in slavery in that house, and now it's on the national mall, across Constitution Avenue from the White House.

Exhibits detailing the history of Jim Crow and the civil rights movement were well done, as the museum space opened up as steps toward freedom were made.  One well made exhibit consisted of copies of the snack bar stools from the sit ins where visitors can sit at counters with large tablets with images, information, and even surveys about the movement.  There were grim images of police attacking demonstrators, portraits of those killed, news footage of the day.  But what hit me really hard were shards of stained glass from the ruins of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama, where 4 girls were killed in the heinous 1963 bombing by the KKK.  It took decades for the bombers to be brought to justice, though the atrocity did spur the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

At the end of the history section is a huge photo of Obama's first inauguration, with him taking the oath before millions of people.  Robin and I were there that day, way, way, way, back, close to the Washington monument.  It was a wonderful day.

Looking at the picture in the museum I realized I had never noticed that Sasha was standing on a small platform at the swearing in.  I found myself thinking that, though it took a long time, the US has come a long way in 150 years, from a black girl standing on a stool at a slave trader, being appraised for sale, to a black girl standing on a stool on the front of the capitol, watching her dad take the oath of office.  Above the exhibit, as if people's hopes were taking flight, was a training aircraft used by the Tuskegee airmen.

What grabbed me was how much of the history, including Obama's inauguration, was during my life and up to date, even Trayvon Martin.  Sadly one could put up fresh images from shootings in Tulsa and Charlotte or the photo of the girl waiting to be arrested by sci-fi movie equipped police.

I remembered many of the images and film clips, not as history, but events during my lifetime.  I suppose for many visitors, now and in the future, they will be history.  I found myself watching grey haired black visitors, wondering what it was like for them to see the exhibits.  

The museum wasn't quite finished, with wires hanging and construction equipment about, exhibits wrapped in plastic, but it was more fun to see it as a work in progress, sorta like history itself.

There were fun things too in the museum, in the culture galleries upstairs.  In the music section, there was a "record store" where you could browse through racks of music album covers sorted by genre, with information about the artists and the music.  Yes, today it is more convenient to search for music on a computer, play it on spotify or download it, put it on your electronic device.  But folks are missing out on the fun of a record store, checking out the albums in the racks and the other people in the store, the fun of album art, finding something you were searching for or something you didn't know existed.  Points to whoever came up with the record store exhibit.

Leadbelly's guitar was nice to see, but the southern blues tradition wasn't heavily represented, alas.  The contribution of spirituals to American music wasn't highlighted very well either.

As a former very bad third trumpet player in band, it was cool to see the trumpets Louis Armstrong and Dizzy Gillespie played (I like the "Dizzy Gillespie for President" button).

A letter from Edward R. Murrow thanking Dizzy Gillespie for his congratulations on becoming director of the United States Information Agency.  (My dad worked at USIA for many years).

I was surprised/saddened there wasn't much about Duke Ellington compared to other musicians.  A group of women, black and white, were watching a film clip of Mahalia Jackson singing.  One said something like "The kids don't know about how great she was," and I interrupted and said, "Maybe because of this museum, they will!"

In the sports section, it was cool to see a famous baseball player's jersey and bat.

They had a life size sculpture of him sliding into home plate.  They also had a life size sculpture of the famous protest at the 1968 Summer Olympics.

I sorta wish they covered more of the story at the exhibit.  Smith and Carlos were ostracized and condemned after the protest.  But they also formed a lifetime bond of friendship with the third man on the podium, Australian Peter Norman.  The medals on the three men's chests for the Olympic Projects for Human Rights were not standard: Norman asked if he could have one too when they told him what they were going to do.  He was condemned in Australia for supporting them.  When Norman died ten years ago, Carlos and Smith were pallbearers at his funeral.

It was a very cool museum.  It inspires and invites curiosity.  One thing I'll be curious about after it opens is the attendance in the museum.  Will a hefty percentage of the visitors, apart from school groups, be African Americans?  Yes, it is on the mall, but, it is almost falling off the edge of the stretch of museums.  I hope people will make the trip, as it's pretty because it tells a story.  Many have complained of its location, its design.  Methinks if they walk in, though, they may judge the museum, to paraphrase MLK, not by its skin, but by the content of its character.