8th US/ICOMOS International Symposium

Using Historic Sites to Interpret Racially Diverse Experience:

Proposals Drawn from a National Study

Ned Kaufman

2005 US/ICOMOS

There is a gap between the reality of America’s history and the preserved record created by
preservationists. From the earliest times, the American experience has been one of many races
and ethnicities. Yet the historical picture created by preservation programs falls far short of that
lived experience. Therein lies the gap, or deficit, whose closing is the subject of this talk.

There are many ways to measure the diversity gap. One is National Register listings. Out of
about 77,000 properties listed on the National Register of Historic Places about a year ago, only
about 1,300 are explicitly associated with African-American heritage, a mere 90 with Hispanic,
and 67 with Asian American. Taken together, these amount to 3 percent of what is meant to be a
comprehensive inventory of the nation’s heritage. Register staff argue with some justice that the
numbers are misleading: that the vast number of sites that are not listed as African, Asian, or
Hispanic American are not necessarily white sites. As a measure of the diversity deficit, then, the
National Register numbers are admittedly imperfect. In fact, every measure has its shortcomings.
But taken together, they describe a substantial gap between the racial diversity and complexity of
American experience and its portrayal by historic preservation.

This is nothing new. The National Trust for Historic Preservation began to focus on closing the
gap in the early 1990s. The National Park Service for some years has had a small but energetic
office of cultural diversity, and it has launched valuable programs on the Underground Railroad,
the Civil Rights movement, and other topics of central importance to America’s multi-racial
history. Historic sites like Colonial Williamsburg have worked hard to present a realistic
interpretation of slavery. The problem is that, despite much discussion, the diversity gap remains.

Actually, there are two gaps. The first separates the treatment of white or European from African
American experience. There have been some efforts to close it. The second separates African
American from Native American, Asian American, and Hispanic American or Latino. These
areas have received almost no recognition. Both gaps must be closed, and neither can be closed
at the expense of the other, for in the end, preservation’s success will be judged by the fidelity of
the history it presents, and that is still very imperfect.

A good part of the solution – though not all – lies in doing the obvious: recognizing more historic
sites and telling more stories. But what I want to emphasize now is that the diversity deficit – or
deficits – are at heart an interpretation problem, even if the solutions sometimes lie in non-
interpretive activities. This is most importantly true on the level of the gestalt – the overall
interpretation presented by preservation – which is a composite of many sites. It is also true on
the level of individual sites. Take Boston’s Faneuil Hall. Resistance to the Spanish American
War was organized and expressed in rallies and speeches there, and this is a story of great
importance to many Filipino Americans. If Faneuil Hall fails to present this chapter in its history,
that is an interpretive problem that preservationists can fix. The Southwest presents a seemingly
very different example. The existence of Spanish land grants there – and their subsequent
handling by American courts and politicians – are an important part of the heritage of many
Mexican Americans. If there a dearth of historic sites and markers to record that story, that too is
an interpretive problem that preservationists can fix.

I mentioned the National Park Service’s Cultural Resources Diversity Program a few moments
ago. In 2002, that office asked me to carry out a research project designed, first, to identify the
heritage needs of communities outside the traditional preservation mainstream and, second, to
suggest ways to translate those needs into programs. The Cultural Heritage Needs Assessment
did both. For me, it also became an opportunity to meet and talk with some fascinating people in
almost every region of the country – people whose experience and commitment to heritage
preservation were profound, yet who worked largely outside the regular professional and social
circles of historic preservation.

Before sharing some of the study’s results with you, let me say a little about its methodology,
which was worked out in close consultation with the NPS and professional advisors from the
Library of Congress and the Smithsonian Institution. Since the goal was to learn how diverse
communities outside the preservation mainstream defined their heritage needs, I did not attempt
to define historic preservation beforehand. Another important question, though, had to be quite
tightly defined. To create a comprehensive survey of all of the groups outside the preservation
mainstream would have been utterly impossible, given limited resources. So the study focused
specifically on Mexican, Filipino, and African American issues. It used no questionnaires but
relied instead on in-depth interviews and discussion meetings.

The results of the study were in some ways surprising. Both I and the study’s sponsors had
expected to hear calls for non-traditional forms of historic preservation – for more folklore
programs, for example. What we actually found was a strong unmet need for historic sites –the
very core of traditional preservation practice. This demand, however, was not entirely traditional
in nature. Respondents defined history somewhat differently from many white mainstream
preservationists, and as a result, their expectations of historic sites were also somewhat different.

“History is important,” said respondent Alan Bergano, “because it is the foundation of a people.”
Like Bergano, a trustee of the Filipino American National Historical Society, many respondents
felt that they could not afford to take history for granted, because history shapes the options open
to communities of color and their members. I suspect that, for many white preservationists,
history is a kind of luxury good. But advocates like Bergano feel they can never rest from the
labor of discovering and telling history – and of fighting with the majority culture for its
recognition.

There are plenty of examples of how this kind of historical activism has improved the
interpretation of historic sites – and how all Americans have benefited. The history of slavery is
one. Until recently, almost all plantation houses glossed over the history of slavery: now, at sites
like Evergreen Plantation in Louisiana, the slave quarters are a major focus of interest for both
white and black visitors and the interpretation is both thorough and nuanced. Slavery is, of
course, an ugly subject, and as this example suggests, historical activism always runs the risk of
appearing confrontational: one respondent indeed used the phrase “oppositional history” to
describe it. This is a good description, as long as we recognize that the opposition is not so much
to other social groups as to stereotypes and social amnesia. Oppositional history, in short, is
history opposed to forgetting; and another respondent, the Chinese American scholar John Kuo
Wei Tchen, stressed that its goal is not conflict but rather reconciliation. There is a growing
literature on the subject of racial reconciliation: suffice it to say that all efforts at reconciliation
must begin with mutual recognition of the problem, and in historic preservation terms, this
recognition can best be offered in the form of historic sites that tell the full story of American
history, including the ugly episodes and the excluded groups. This is a great opportunity for
historic preservation.

Related to the concepts of oppositional history and reconciliation is another theme, eloquently
stated by Ralph Ellison as long ago as 1952. “I am an invisible man,” announced the black
protagonist of his famous novel: “I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see
me.” Respondents to this study expressed frustration and anger that their communities remain
largely invisible. Filipino American author and film maker Angel Velasco Shaw knows that
Filipino migrant laborers once toiled in the fields of California, yet traveling around the state, she
sees no trace of them. Shaw would like to see their presence acknowledged and interpreted.
Nicolás Kanellos, director of the University of Houston’s Project for the Recovery of the
Hispanic Literary Heritage, points to the Merced Theater in Los Angeles. The Merced was an
important Spanish-language theater in the 1850s, yet guides to the historic theater fail to mention
that “They erased that history,” says Kanellos. He would like to see it restored.

The theme of invisibility shaped what many respondents hope to gain from historic preservation,
and specifically from historic sites. “It’s important to have visible artifacts,” explained Filipino-
American poet and journalist Luis Francia: they “remind people that at a certain time, and at this
place, there were people who lived here, achieved something, and contributed to society.”

Such visible artifacts would go far to close the diversity deficit. But which artifacts, and what
sites? Many preservation professionals feel out of their depth identifying or interpreting sites of
Filipino or Mexican American history. They would appreciate some practical guidelines to help
with these basic tasks, and in that spirit, I want now to offer a rough and preliminary typology of
the kinds of sites that Francia and other respondents have in mind. This is an interpretive
typology, in the sense that it focuses on the sites’ stories, rather than their physical
characteristics. It is a preliminary proposal, which I hope others will develop further. The names
are mine, but the sites are those proposed by respondents.

First, points of origin: places associated with a group’s entry into the United States or its early
experiences here. For Bradford Grant, chair of the architecture department at Hampton
University, Jamestown, Virginia is such a place: “As one of the first sites where Africans were
enslaved and brought to this country,” he points out, “the place is as significant for African
Americans as for European Americans.”

Second, routes of migration. Inspired by Boston’s Black Heritage Trail, Filipino American
educator Joan May Cordova imagines a guidebook tracing the paths that have led Filipino
migrants to hospitals and military bases, to asparagus fields in California, salmon canneries in
Alaska, universities and architects’ offices in New York …and so forth.
Third, places of experience. Almost every respondent had his or her own list of place where the
presence of ordinary people can be felt. These are sites of work, recreation, and domestic life:
tenements, union halls, hospitals, military bases, migrant labor camps, churches, South Texas
dance halls, Southern cotton fields, Hawaiian sugar plantations, and a carrot warehouse in
Grants, New Mexico. Places of experience are extraordinarily varied: they are the sites that speak
to the daily experiences of millions of people.

Fourth, places of suffering and struggle. These are places associated with all of the
manifestations of racism, economic and social discrimination. But they are also places associated
with courage and inspiration. “We should be marking the hell out of everywhere that Cesar
Chavez worked,” says Mexican American artist Judith Baca – for example, the 250-mile route of
his march from Delano to Sacramento.

Fifth, places of achievement. Once upon a time, White House cooks and stewards were all
Filipino. That is a source of pride for many Filipino Americans: it should be acknowledged.
Sometimes recognizing the contributions of communities of color means celebrating the
achievements of their most illustrious representatives, but it also means acknowledging the
devotion of nurses, cooks, housewives, and army volunteers.

Sixth, spiritual places: African-American churches, Mexican American cemeteries, and all of
the other sites in which communities have created and shared a spiritual life.

Seventh, milestones of international relations between the United States and the places
immigrants left: sites like Angel Island, one of the launching points of the Spanish American
War; or, as Judith Baca points out, all of the shifting borders between the United States and
Mexico.

Eighth, places of interaction. Communities of color have always interacted with each other, and
as historian and respondent Dorothy Fujita-Rony points out, “it’s the interactions that produce
some of the most interesting things in American culture.” Intermarriage, military service, living
together in the same neighborhood, and fighting side by side for social justice are common forms
of interaction. Angel Shaw notes that Filipinos and Mexicans are often “pitted against each
other,” but interpreting the sites of the campaigns organized by Cesar Chavez and United Farm
Workers offers an opportunity to break the stereotype and talk instead about cooperation.

Finally, places of education and presentation. Because all of these kinds of sites reveal the
presence of communities of color and educate the public about them, they are all places of
education and presentation. But the most successful such sites have prominent locations. Filipino
American journalist Eric Gamalinda would like to see a statue of Jose Rizal, a key figure in
Philippine history, erected in New York’s Central Park: the point is not any historical connection
between Rizal and Central Park but rather that this is one of the places society has chosen to
honor those it considers worthy of notice. A statue of Rizal, Gamalinda believes, would convey
society’s recognition of Filipino Americans and present the community in a new light.

The nine types of sites that I have outlined here constitute a rough typology of historic sites that
respondents believe would help to close the diversity deficit. If you would like to learn a little
more about them, I encourage you to consult the publication of the study’s findings in the first
volume of the National Park Service’s journal, CRM, which appeared last year – or the more
complete publication on the NPS’s website at www.cr.nps.gov. But now, in closing, I want to
address the question: what next? Unfortunately, this is a troubling question. I asked respondents
what they thought the next steps should be, and the most compelling answer was, essentially:
anything. It doesn’t matter what. Just do something. Obviously a good deal of frustration lies
behind this answer, and for good reason. People are tired of being consulted and then ignored.
Respondents were saying, in effect: you’ve talked the talk, now walk the walk. Put some real
money on the table and then we’ll talk about what to do next. They hoped the NPS would step
up, and so did I. I am perturbed and puzzled that it does not seem to be doing so. I don’t know
why, but I continue to hope that it will.

With or without the NPS, local preservation groups and state agencies can begin to work with
this typology right away, and I hope it will prove useful. In the long run, though, closing the
diversity gap will require more far-reaching adjustment on the part of preservationists. Even
while emphasizing the importance of this goal, preservation agencies continue to put it low on
the agenda. Unfortunately, the problem will not be solved until many of us make it a top priority.

Why does the race issue so consistently get pushed down? One reason is the demographics of the
profession, which remains overwhelmingly white. This has to be said with care. It is not true that
only a Mexican American can interpret Mexican American history – or that only a Jew can
interpret Jewish history. But it is true that a Mexican American preservationist will be more
likely to see the Mexican angle in a given situation than her non-Mexican-American colleague,
and may fight harder to keep it on the table. The point is that if we want to expand the content of
our work, there is no better way than to expand the circle of our colleagues.

There are objections, the main one being that it’s hard to find trained preservationists outside the
white mainstream. There is some truth to this, and to solve problem, the National Park Service
and the National Trust have launched valuable internship and scholarship programs for students
of color. These programs will have some effect over time, but right now, as some respondents
told me, there are well-trained African American professionals who are not getting the jobs their
stature merits. So there are issues of discrimination that need to be addressed at the level of
working professionals already in the field. Perhaps more importantly, there are reservoirs of
talent and knowledge that are going untapped. For while it may be hard to find colleagues of
color among graduates of the nation’s preservation programs, there are plenty of brilliant
historians, anthropologists, folklorists, artists, and so forth. Many are already doing preservation
work in all but name. If we are willing to expand our somewhat rigid definition of professional
expertise to include these scholars and activists, we will suddenly find that there is no shortage of
trained preservationists of color.

Here, then, are two kinds of attitude adjustment. A third concerns the ways in which we relate to
our constituents and colleagues. Although this session is called “Targeting and Widening
Audiences through Interpretation,” I would respectfully suggest that there is a better approach.
The session title reflects a well-established model of outreach which basically imagines
preservationists as selling a product and looking for ways to sell it to more customers. But we
cannot close the diversity gap if we think in this way. We are trying to serve people, and to serve
them better we need to find out what they want. If that turns out to be something other than the
product already on our shelves, then we should develop new products. And the best way to do
this is to design them in collaboration with our constituents. That, I believe, is what the
respondents to the Cultural Heritage Needs Assessment were saying. They are eager for models
of historic preservation that will serve the needs of their communities, and more than willing to
work with us to design them. The typology of historic sites that I’ve presented today represents
one attempt to do so. There are many other possibilities. The main point, as respondents phrased
it, is to put some resources on the table and get to work.

Thank you.