A visit to the National Museum of African American History and Culture
A recent visit to Washington D.C with some friends proved to be a powerful architectural moment for me, an experience that penetrated my soul. I was a first-time visitor to The National Museum of African American History and Culture, opened in 2016. The outside structure of the building is magnificent in its intricate detail and form, but it was the interior space that spoke deeply to me.
We walked down a number of flights of stairs to reach the dimly lit, cramped, crowded, and confining bottom floor rooms of the exhibition. The space was suffocating with the feeling only enhanced by the current reality of Covid. In these rooms, the exhibits explained the Atlantic slave trade in statistics, photos,and stories, but it was the sensation of being in a slave ship that made the lasting impression. How could humans treat others in such a destructive and dehumanizing way? My stomach turned!I found my body pulling into itself.
As we left the “slave ship” area and entered into a great hall with a three storied ceiling, I gazed upon the words of the Declaration of Independence written in huge letters on the towering wall in front of us. The area was immense, my vision moved upwards, and the freedom in both space and words was liberating, at least for a moment. Under the words of “all men are created equal” began the pictorial story of slavery present at that time in a “free” country. Instead of a lingering sense of freedom, the space crushed down from above; instead of inspiring, the words mocked the tragic reality of so many. Tears came to my eyes and resisting the weight that was pushing me to my knees, I moved forward barely able to take in much more of the exhibition, despite its excellence.
As an American, the contradiction between words of freedom and the devastating reality of slavery is not new news. I have wrestled with how the beautiful contribution the United States made in the evolution of self-governance stands in sharp contrast to the sickness of slavery that determined and defined much of its past. Though unsettling, I am grateful that my recent architectural experience allowed me to feel this unresolved contradiction in my bones.
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Thank you Craig for this personal retelling of your experience at the National Museum of African American History and Culture. Your way of describing things stirred in me my own memories of visiting the museum, and helped me better understand today what I was feeling years ago inside that space.