My Activist Life

While in Taiwan in 2008, I went with several other Fulbrighters to support a protest by the Democratic Political Party (DPP) which promotes Taiwanese self-determination. Today, activism must be flexible to include traditional protests like pickets and marches but also conversations, education, and online organizing.

One April morning in 2004 it was announced that George W. Bush would be coming to speak in Buffalo. Adamantly opposed to the war in Iraq since the very start, several classmates and I decided that we wanted to go and protest in front of Kleinhans Music Hall, where he was speaking. Unfortunately, I was already committed to an overnight college visit that same day, nixing my opportunity to answer my internal call to picket. As my mom and I drove east from Buffalo that morning, I listened to the local NPR affiliate’s coverage until static broke up the station somewhere before Rochester. I felt like we were driving away from my civic responsibility.

Throughout my college visit, I forgot about the missed protest. I found my academic home for the next four years, and was excited about the prospect. In the fall of that year I eagerly began the courses of a poli sci major and stayed up all night to hear the results of the 2004 election on one cold November night. I thought I would become involved in political change.

Again, I thought wrong. By the next semester, I switched away from a political science track to history and education. Trading in my continually-felt frustrations about the challenge of fighting for change, the combined study of historical successes and failures and how to teach them gave me new light. I could leverage my desire to make a difference through other avenues—including the classroom.

Still, I have always felt that the activist inside of me has been hidden away in a box. Sometimes she will come out through personal conversation or classroom coursework such as a movie I made in the fall of 2007 about my cousin’s experience in the Army. Instead of carrying signs in a picket line, I have studied and traveled and listened.

Therefore, I was excited to meet Iris Morales in class last week. A member of the Young Lords Party in New York City during the late 1960s and early 1970s, Ms. Morales’ activist resume is impressive. Illustrating collective action to meet community needs, her 1996 documentary Palante, Siempre, Palante adds the Young Lords to a lengthy list of groups advocating for change at the time. I expected my inner activist to hear a call to action and begin picketing my inactivity.

Instead, I was struck by our conversation in class about the meaning in activism. Today, Ms. Morales works for a non-profit that funds grassroots activism. She described being perplexed to receive so many proposals for teaching English as a Second Language, a task that would not likely have been considered radical by Young Lords standards. But, Morales explained, with the 1990 immigration law and subsequent English-only controversy, teaching English as a Second Language is an important grassroots action. For Morales, this took a shift in her own understanding of activism.

Something clicked for me. My idea of an activist has always been someone walking a picket line, taking intermittent breaks to write letters and meet with officials. In reality, the tiny activist that I thought was hidden away inside is actually part of my daily practice, exercised most regularly in daily conversation and as an educator. Today, activism must be flexible and responsive to meet the needs of the cause and the continual media cycle. Instead, we must live activated and ready to respond.

A Work in Progress

At this point in the semester, when I am teetering on the edge of sanity from the acute combination of physical, mental, emotional, and of course museum fatigue, Iris Morales’ visit was the energizing boost I needed to make it to the end.  Teeming with the New York aplomb I desperately miss but will soon be surrounded by thanks to a summer internship in NYC, Iris took a refreshingly honest approach to introducing and presenting her documentary Palante! Siempre Palante! to our class and community members.  I was struck by her candor on the collaborative nature of the work that often bears only her name, her skill for improvisation and relentless stick-to-itiveness, her willingness to change with the times, and the breadth of her creative endeavors.  Iris certainly has more tricks up her sleeve than anyone I’ve met in a long time.  She is currently working on a book.  She made another short film while earning her MFA.  She created and produces the interactive website us-puertoricans.org.  As she said, she may not always have known how to do something, but that never stopped her from making an attempt and asking for assistance when she needed it.

No time for relaxing on the beach this summer-there's work to be done! papercraftmagic.com

One of her most exciting new projects is working on a play about Vito Marcantonio, a politician from East Harlem who served in the House of Representatives in the 1930s and 1940s.  Iris spoke a bit about the play after showing us her documentary, and I had the pleasure of hearing more about it when I drove her to the train station.  This summer, she is hosting an in-process theatrical reading of scenes from the play—a little “sneak peek,” if you will, at a work in progress.  It may not be polished or complete, but she still believes that it has something to offer in its nascent state.  She took a similar approach when making Palante! Siempre Palante!,holding open screenings at different points during its creation to receive feedback, but more importantly to generate excitement and demonstrate that those unfinished bits were just as invigorating and significant as the end product would eventually be.

Iris’ belief in the legitimacy of the parts that eventually make the whole and her resolve to rejoice in the process as much as the product is something that we as museum professionals must authenticate more readily.  We’ve spent much of this semester exploring how to present complicated, challenging issues in our museums.  Sometimes we’ve become disheartened by the seemingly small number of stellar examples of shared authority or other pioneering devices used in today’s museums.  But searching for or trying to achieve the perfectly executed museum exhibit is not the point.  Iris’ visit really reminded me that making the attempt to enact change and celebrating your efforts are the keys to true success.  She also reminded us to revel in the process and not focus solely on the outcome.

Like Iris’ play, the museum field is currently a work in progress.  We clearly haven’t figured everything out yet.  But we must constantly remind ourselves of the beauty inherent in our willingness to create new approaches and innovations, even if they may not be fully formed or perfect.  As I gear up to start my internship in New York, I’ll keep Iris’ lessons close to heart.

SNCC and the YLP: Student Activism Then and Now

Throughout my college research on the 1960s Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), I learned a lot about what allows groups to function and succeed, and what contributes to major organizational problems. Within SNCC, members considered Martin Luther King, Jr.’s idea of a ”beloved community” integral to their organization. This ideal community was based in liberalism and personalism, and used nonviolence to achieve its goals. Its ultimate goal was integration and the creation of loyalties that would transcend race, tribe, class, and nation.[1] As time progressed and the organization evolved, however, commitment to the beloved community ideology waned, and instead SNCC emerged with a separatist ideology in 1966, calling for the expulsion of all non-black members, and a new commitment to black power.

When Iris Morales spoke to the Class, Race, and Gender students last week, I realized many similarities as well as many differences between SNCC and the Young Lords Party (YLP), which she was a member of. Also composed of mainly young people, ages about 17-26, the YLP worked towards social and economic equality.[2] A major difference, though, was their inclusion of all types of people into their organization. While SNCC struggled with women’s issues, among others, the YLP presented many platforms, not only concentrating on rights for Latinos, but also for homosexual and female latinos. Additionally, the YLP seemed to encourage anyone to join their ranks–females and non-Puerto Ricans were among members in the highest ranks, and they were never expelled from the organization.

Photo courtesy of UPenn.edu

Reflecting on these groups from the 1960s made me wonder: How do students organize now? As Iris Morales said last Tuesday, there are still causes to fight for, but it’s almost harder because issues are not quite as obvious in many cases. People may have prejudices, they tend not to voice them as loudly as in the past. So how do we deal with this? A lot of organizing is now done online, and funds can be donated to organizations and causes by simply texting a number on your phone, and paying the donation off when you pay your phone bill. Is this as effective? What’s happened to people really getting out there and personally talking to people about the issues? It seems like a Catch-22–while more people than ever are able to get involved in social and political issues via the online community, there also seems to be less person-to-person action. There’s less opportunity for group politics to get in the way of political and social action, but activism also takes a hit by not being as blatantly obvious and present.

[1] Kenneth L. Smith and Ira G. Zepp. Martin Luther King’s Vision of the Beloved Community. Christian Century (April 3, 1974): 361-364.

[2] Iris Morales. “Organizing for Revolution” in Power to the People.

The Activist Museum

The words “activism” and “museums” are not often spoken in the same breath unless you are referring to a new exciting exhibition installation.  Last week, community activist and documentarian, Iris Morales, provided the possibility for those two words to be strung together. During Ms. Morales’ visit to Cooperstown, we screened her documentary Palente! Siempre Palente! This film documents the 1960s Puerto Rican activist group, the Young Lords.  Ms. Morales, a former member of the Young Lords, held an informal discussion on community engagement and museums before showing the film.

Iris Morales Photo from Media That Matters website

Like the Black Panthers and Indians of All Tribes in California, the Young Lords were a militant group of young activists who desired better civil rights and service for the communities within which they lived.  Originally formed in Chicago, the Young Lords developed branches all along the east coast and provided various services to their respective communities.  In the documentary, one interviewee remarked that the New York Young Lords branch acted in the interests of the poor people. They went out into the community and asked people directly what they needed.  One of the more dramatic activities conducted by the Young Lords was their occupation of a local church.  They occupied the building for eleven days and developed a makeshift community center called The People Church which provided free breakfasts and cultural entertainment to locals.  In watching the documentary I realized how similar the goals of museums today are to those of the Young Lords of the 1960s.  We both want to meet the needs of our community.

Community engagement is a primary aspect of the Cooperstown Graduate Program curriculum.  However we have learned that community engagement is not necessarily a priority among museums outside of Cooperstown.  Many museums cannot or choose not to make the effort to speak to their communities, provide services or even reflect their community.  As a result, many museums are losing their relevancy and support.  Museums have not always been averse to change or activism.  The Gloom of the Museum, by author John Cotton Dana, was a seminal book redefining museums as places for education and learning.  As a result, museums all over the country have become places of learning.  In a more specific case of community activism, The Strong National Museum of Playin Rochester, New York changed its entire mission to meet its local community’s need for a space for children.  Museums can be community driven.

Interior of the Strong Museum of Play photo from Wikimedia Commons.

Today, museums are in the midst of societal change.  Individuals are more technically engaged and the economy is growing smaller.  Globalization and environmental change are major issues that American (and world) communities are facing.  In an ideal world museums would endeavor to meet the challenges faced by their communities head on. Museums are often discouraged by the real concerns of funding and board requirements. However, by talking with the community leaders and individuals we could expand our view of what a museum could be and do.