Black Beauty

First thing to know about the National Museum of African American History and Culture: this place has the most gigantic elevator you will ever see.  Second thing to know about the National Museum of African American History and Culture: you need to find a way to go ASAP.  I’m telling you, this museum absolutely blew my mind. 

Throughout the museum, the lightly-colored lettering etched into walls and placards shines through the dimly lit ambience, symbolically representing the African American chronicle of hope and opportunity permeating through darkness and prevailing over despair.   As I waded through the museum, making sure to take in every last bit of information I could, I noticed something that I don’t know if I have ever before had the opportunity to realize; I was in the minority.  Understandably, most of the people exploring the museum were black.  This realization was continuously at the forefront of my mind during my museum visit, and throughout the tour, my newfound awareness elicited a distinct set of thoughts and feelings.  Right off the bat, I suddenly comprehended that most of the people around me were reading about the atrocities committed against their ancestors, their very own flesh and blood. They were reading a story of survival, a story recounting the amazing improbability of their own existence. I tried to relate to the ambush of emotion likely felt by many of the museum-goers around me— feelings of anger, disgust, sadness, hope, pride, but perhaps most of all, I thought, gratitude.  How fortunate these people must feel to have such resilient, brave, heroic ancestors. How grateful these people must feel to their ancestors for persevering through the suffering of slavery and segregation. 

At one point, I was standing in front of an auction block that previously served as the notorious rock upon which slaves stood while being inspected, sold, and separated from their families.  A young black couple came and stood next to me, and the young woman said loud enough for me to hear, “I wonder if this is an actual auction block.”  Having already read all the information, I pointed to the paragraph with the answer while saying, “Yeah, it is.”  As I stood next to the couple, I was overcome with emotion—I, a white man, am currently standing next to black couple looking at this auction block in a museum… a couple centuries ago, this same rock supported someone who looks like them being SOLD by someone who looks like me.  This time warp sent me into a sort of whirlwind of twisted emotions.  I felt completely hopeless, imagining the misery of being physically removed from the company of my family, knowing I would never see them again.  My sadness was supplemented by anger—I was enraged knowing that the United States’ Founding Fathers like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson stood for such a deplorable, inhumane institution.  Yet, along with that anger, I simultaneously wondered if I had been alive at the time, if I would have stood up and called for abolition.  Of course, I was then buried with guilt and disgust, resenting myself for needing to consider the answer to that question, and hating my color for forcing me to ask it.   

As I moved through the museum, I continued to wrestle with complicated questions and emotions.  Ultimately, I was filled with hope and thankfulness for all the progress our country has made in recent decades.  Yet, as I thought about how much the world has changed for the better, I couldn’t help but consider how slavery still exists in 2017… just in an alternate form.  Our country makes up 5% of the world’s population, yet the land of the free is home to 25% of the world’s incarcerated population.  1 in 3 African American men end up in jail at some point in their lifetime, and rampant recidivism rates show that our justice systems are failing to adequately rehabilitate prisoners.

I hope to witness and partake in the next chapter of African American triumph—criminal justice reform that brings radical change and eradicates our current epidemic of mass incarceration. 
   

Each floor of the African American Museum contains a reflection booth, allowing museum-goers to reflect on their museum experience.  Check out the attached video for what I was thinking about while making my way through the museum.