I wrote this two years ago and never published it (I was still looking for a job at the time). It’s still relevant. 

Every time I go to a museum, I see a lost or wasted opportunity: galleries where connections aren’t made to collections I know an institution owns, changing galleries featuring a seemingly endless rotation of amateur local artists instead of meaningful interpretation of local objects– or, better yet, a show challenging those same artists to react to a museum’s collection. The same is true of many reenactment events.

Pepper-Pot: A Scene in the Philadelphia Market
John Lewis Krimmel, American (born Germany), 1786 – 1821. Oil on canvas, 1811. Philadelphia Museum of Art, 2001-196-1. 125th Anniversary Acquisition. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Edward B. Leisenring, Jr., 2001

I remain deeply frustrated with the way reenacting can use documentary evidence– which rarely includes women– as a means to perpetuate 18th century misogyny in a 21st century setting. The same evidence means events often lack enough children, African Americans, American Indians, and other non-white people to create an accurate vision of the past. We know this because the demographic evidence exists, even when a manuscript fails to mention a mixed group of people in a specific place and time. (When an 18th century newspaper account uses the word “people,” you can bet that the group described included women and non-white men; if the account is about “men,” then it’s white men. Language is always coded.) The changes in the past years to include more accurate working class impressions go a long way towards creating a more nuanced vision of the past, but we’re still stuck with scenes that lack the complexity of the past.

My discomfort with this bothers me greatly. To what degree is my dissatisfaction also grounded in the understanding that recreating events in small, stagey spaces and times can de-contextualize a historical event, ultimately rendering the experience shallow and ritualistic, leaching it of meaning?

To what degree does our fixation on the appearance of participants (clothing standards) over interpretive standards or research materials serve to perpetuate shallow, surface-only events? And does the smallness of events create a zero-sum game in which someone’s talents will always be wasted, unused, and unrecognized, further feeding resentment of the “progressive” reenacting culture, sometimes even by its adherents?

All of that seems so over-thought, but in the midst of overthinking, and while deeply admiring Not Your Momma’s History on Racked, I thought about the critiques I read on @twitter, especially the part of #blacktwitter I follow, and I had a more important thought: Lead, Follow or Get Out of the Way.

Maybe it’s time for the white women to get out of the way, and to expend our energy supporting the people who aren’t included at all. Maybe I need to STFU and invest my energy where it matters more: helping ensure the really unheard voices are heard. Cheney McKnight, Dread Scott, and Michael Twitty all have important things to say about history- American history, African American history- that, at this moment in time, matter far more than what I have to say. Go follow them. Make a difference.

Most readers know that I have a fairly extensive museum background: my entire working life has been spent in museums. Over twenty-six years (right outta school, folks–this is the only life I’ve ever known), I worked my way up from Curatorial Assistant to Director of Collections. I’ve seen a fair number of museum directors and museum crises (deaccessioning, anyone? financial retrenchment? sexual harassment suits and countersuits?), I’ve hired and fired people, managed some large and rewarding projects, and met some amazing donors, researchers, and colleagues.

I still remember when I was front-line staff in the research collection, when you were on the phone 75 times a day, when patrons would walk in, stamp their feet and declare, “My taxes pay your salary! You have to do what I want!” Guess what? We didn’t, and that four cents didn’t go as far as you think.

When I see commentary on FB about the unionization at Plimoth Plantation, and read comments by people stating that until someone can PROVE that the director is making six figures and that the workers are TRULY in danger, they cannot support the unionization of workers because, well, the workers signed up for the poor pay; they knew what they were getting into; and it’s a MUSEUM, so it’s special, I wonder what those commenters are thinking, and what their work lives have been like.

Organizing a union is not an easy thing, so do not imagine that the workers at Plimoth rushed into this willy-nilly like they were voting for prom king and queen. It takes months of effort to canvas employees– work that must be done off-site and after working hours– to talk to them about working conditions and the benefit of union protection. Union reps go with employees who act as the ambassador, and on-site relationships can be testy when the person you thought was your friend and ally resists or resents your unionization effort. I know, because I’ve done it. In 1993-1995, the Missouri Historical Society went through an attempt to form a union that ultimately failed at the ballot box.

One moment that will always stick with me came after the union drive failed.  During the drive, an employee in Development argued with me that she didn’t need a union to protect her; her boss was nice. I pointed out that her boss wasn’t always going to be there; staff changes, and to have happy employment at the whim of one person was risky: a union offered protection from change at the whim of the director or your immediate supervisor. She was one of the “No” votes. Some months later, after her boss had been let go suddenly, and replaced by a more demanding woman with far less tolerance and far more quirks (and the original boss had been no peach), she approached me at a staff meeting. “You were right,” she said. “I see that now.”

There are two lessons in that experience: one, that it’s hard to imagine another person’s situation unless you’ve lived it, and two, that humans are bad at imagining, anticipating, or preparing for change (except those of us with anxiety disorders, who plan multiple responses to any situation). Unions help workers by setting rules that protect them from change, and by having input into things like, oh, HR manuals, where the worst case is that every policy statement ends with, “Or at the discretion of the director.” As much as museums need directors’ “vision” and leadership, museum employees often need protection as they try to implement those visions.**

Here’s the thing: on the 2015 Form 990 filed by Plimoth Plantation, the Executive Director’s salary is listed as $142,896*. Costumed interpreters are seasonal, often paid minimum wage ($11 in MA right now), and contribute directly to the museum visitors’ experience. Yes, the Director is responsible for raising funds, maintaining happy donors, and has overall responsibility for the museum’s success. Let’s say, realistically, the Director works 60 hours a week. For the 2015 tax year, that was $45 an hour. (For a 40 hour week, the base “wage” would be $68/hour.) Should  a director earn 4 or 6 times what front line staff earn? I suppose it’s better than the difference that exists in for-profit entities, but why are the interpreters paid so little? What about Colonial Williamsburg, another place where wages are low and expectations high? What about at the New-York Historical Society, where an archivist can make less annually than in a similar position in a similar organization in much lower cost-of-living Rhode Island?

When a museum pays its director six times what front line staff are paid, what does that tell us about its priorities? Does that imply that the director is more valuable to visitor experience than the interpreters, maintenance workers, and craftspeople? When was the last time the director spent a day over a fire, graciously fielding “gotcha” questions and recreating the past to inform the public? I’ll grant you the director probably does have days when she can’t pee for hours because she’s stuck in a meeting with droning donors, or on endless, useless, frustrating conference calls. And I further understand that the director bears the final responsibility for the museum’s financial health and visitor experience, but when was the last time a director got canned when a guest complained (reasonably or not)?

Why have we decided that museums get a pass? Why have we decided that the work is worth our (or others’) personal sacrifice? Why do we persist in making those excuses, even though we know MPA and MBAs are running museums using the tools and precepts of peak capitalism?

*You need an account, but I highly recommend searching Guidestar before you apply for a job with any 501(c)3. Form 990s (the non-profit annual filing form with the IRS) give you great snapshots of financial health– and an idea of what the top dogs make, and how an organization’s finances have changed over time. I never apply for a job without checking the financials.

** More on this another time– both HR policies and the “visions” of various directors.