Yesterday I was scheduled off of work. My children were in school which left me with the entire day to myself. I always complain about how I don't get enough me time to just do things that I enjoy or interest me, so I told myself that I was going to take myself on a solo date. I'd always wanted to go to the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center here in Cincinnati and I really wanted to check out the free genealogy library on the top floor. So I packed myself up and headed downtown.
First of all the culture shock of being thrust into a district of gentrification completely threw me for a loop. And the Freedom Center sits here? It all just seemed contradictory. But let's not allow that to cloud my judgement. I hadn't even stepped foot inside of the place yet!
When I walked into the building it was clean, quiet, and huge. Two white reps greeted me warmly and handed me my ticket. They were really nice, but my cynical self kind of found it a little contradictory as well. I personally expected to be greeted by people of color in the Freedom Center as the museum revolves around the struggle of people of color. But I digress...
I emptied the contents of my coat pockets into my bookbag and hung my coat on the complimentary coat rack. As I continued to situate my things I looked up at the wall and noticed the acknowledgement of George Bush and Bill Clinton winning an International Freedom Conductor Award. And I'm sorry, but this just rubbed me the wrong way. I remember thinking, "I really hope I didn't just pay $14 to hear how white people really aren't that bad." My thought may have been a reach, but with the constant hijacking of Black History I felt my concern was justifiable.
I made a pit stop to the restrooms, which were immaculate and gorgeous, and tried to prepare myself for the good, possible bad, and possible ugly.
After exiting the elevator onto the second floor I noticed that it was huge as well. Very spacious, but at the same time seemed void of a lot. I remember when I used to visit my grandparents in Alabama as a kid we'd always make it a point to visit a museum. I can't recall if the entire museum was dedicated to the civil rights era or if it was a permanent exhibit inside of a history museum. But I just remember it being very interactive. Unfortunately upon arriving on the second floor it didn't look or feel interactive at all. The museum recommended its visitors to stop at various station in the order it was numbered. I didn't because (1) I'm such a rebel and more accurately (2) there were two groups of what I assumed were high school students and I didn't want to disrupt their tours. 1 group was stationed inside of a replica of slave cabin (with a white tour guide) and the other was being taught the history of a quilt (by a white tour guide) that was displayed on one of the walls. So I made my way to the opposite end of the 2 groups.
I'm sure by now you're wondering, "Why do you keep referencing these people by their skin color?" I'll tell you! I feel that the only person who can and should accurately tell and teach the story of your history are those who descend from the ancestors who actually experienced it. It really bothered me to not see a brown face teaching these children about Black History.
While passing through a hall I noticed a station that had cotton branches with raw cotton attached. I was quite disappointed to see that there was no one in sight to offer any information on this station. There was a white girl sitting on the other side of the hall. She seemed too interested in her phone to even look up and acknowledge me. Let alone offer up information on this particular station. I took it upon myself to explore on my own. I picked up the cotton branch and ran my finger up and down the stem, pressed my fingers against the sharp bolls and felt the texture of the raw cotton in complete silence. Trying to put myself in the mindset of my ancestors before me who were subjected to the force of picking this plant day in and day out in the most extreme and even deadly conditions. I looked back to see if the girl was off of her phone. Nope. She was so buried in it that it looked like she was praying. I didn't even bother to snap her out of it.
I moved on to another part of the second floor that seemed a lot more packed with visuals. I honestly don't have much to say about that particular part of the museum. That's only because it was about things I already knew. It would be a wealth of information for those who had no knowledge of how black slaves escaped the plantations, where they migrated in hopes of being free, and what they endured to reach that freedom. But for me it seemed really elementary in terms of what I already knew. I made sure, though, to case the entire exhibit to be sure I didn't miss anything that I may not have been aware of. I planned to catch the elevator to the third floor but remembered that I bypassed majority of the other side of the second floor to stay out of the way of the school kids. By this time they were gone so I went to check out the signs posted on the walls. Here I did learn things that I didn't know. Such as racial classification. I knew of Negro (black ancestry) and Mulatto (mixed black and caucasian). Today was my first time reading of Griffe (mixed black and mulatto or Native American) and Quadroon (mixed mulatto and caucasian). I made note of this in the event I run across these classifications when searching my own family's ancestry. I as well learned the importance of the Ohio River in relation to the slave trade. St Louis and Louisiana heavily relied on this passage way to receive slaves. I never knew.
Before leaving this floor I photo'd a few transcriptions of letters written by slave owners and took a few pics of some beautiful art. Then I journeyed to the third floor.
When the elevator doors opened I got a little more excited. It seemed to be filled with a lot more than the floor that I'd been on. Where do I go first?? I decided to explore what was behind the elevator and afterward make my way to the other side. When I turned around there was a teal colored circa 1955 voting booth. I've never saw one up close and personal before. Ahead of that was an exhibit titled "From Slavery To Freedom". My heart sank a bit because I was just sure that this floor would touch on who we were as a people before the slave trade even began. Angry because when I began thinking of children who comes to this museum looking to learn about Black History are instead having planted in their minds that this is the beginning of who people of African descent are. And that's just not true!
I went through anyway because despite that fact these things are still our history. I learned in depth the mechanics of the slave trade. The recounts seemed very accurate and sympathetic to what people of African descent had endured. Going forward there was a dark room dimly lit by a cylinder cover in teal stones radiating a beautiful blue hue. Along the walls of the room were cases of dimly lit artifacts of what was left behind of slaves who were brought to the Americas on ships.
The connecting room detailed the types of crops harvested and materials used for houses and clothing. Above me on the ceiling were leaves of dried tobacco.
Onto the next room were different stations touching on the brutality that black slaves went through, abolitionists, and the connection that Blacks had with Native Americans. Most notably the Native Americans who were part of the Five Civilized Tribes... Now the Five Civilized Tribes are made up of 5 Native American tribes... Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek (Mvskoke), and Seminole. These 5 tribes adapted the Colonial, European style of government as well as culture. As a result you see these tribes also participating in owning slaves and subjecting them to the same brutalization as white slave owners. The tribes who did not accept this way of life were deemed "wild" and "uncivilized". I wish they would have gone more in depth about the relationship between blacks and Native Americans.
Further in there's an interactive board recounting the life of Dred Scott. A little further and we reach the civil war era. This is where I kind of quickly walked through because I began to feel the narrative shifting towards "white people saved black slaves from slavery." It was just too much for me to bear and I didn't want to spend my little time reading the indoctrination. Getting to the end of this exhibit it seemed to give the notion that now everything was better and equal for the most part for Blacks. At the very end of the exhibit was a replica of one of the first Ku Klux Klan robes and hood. It was creepy to see. And that was it. No continuation into the civil rights movement. It just ended with a creepy KKK robe and hood. Once again, disappointed, I walked over to the other end of the third floor.
Here they had a temporary exhibit titled "Auschwitz". I kept an open mind because I know that there are many parallels regarding the hate that moved Europeans to commit atrocities to both Africans and Jews.
Before coming to the museum I read an article about Blacks in Germany during Nazi rule. Surely in a museum like this they would certainly touch on this fact just to kind of bring it full circle with the theme of the Freedom Center. But no... I decided to check it out anyway. I remembered when I worked at the YMCA an older lady used to come in almost everyday to participate in the senior citizens activities offered. She always talked to whoever was at the front desk about what she went through being a prisoner of one of the concentration camps. I was interested enough to go on through.
I was greeted by a heavier set white guy. I assume he was somewhere in his 50's. He had a full salt and pepper beard and full mustache to match. He offered up a lot of information that I simply was not aware of. I am glad to learn in depth the story. What rubbed me the wrong way though is his insistence that somehow Jews had it worse than Blacks. While I wanted to stay and learn more I couldn't stomach the downplay of the African/Black struggle in order to tell the story of Jews in Germany. I left. I was pretty disgusted. I didn't even bother to check out the last exhibit that talked about human trafficking and modern day slavery.
I made my way to the fourth floor to check out the genealogy library. Soon after I became frustrated. The person there would not listen. It looks as if there is a lot to search through both on computers, in books, and on microfilm. But on this day I couldn't tolerate the guy. I understand that sometimes there's a need to comb through things you've already explored because there may be something missed. This guy on the other hand kept back tracking when I clearly already had the information that he claimed to have newly discovered.
I'd about had it. I did some solo searching and left.
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Honestly I was disappointed in this visit. This stems from the fact that I had something different in mind. Would I go again? Maybe... Maybe I will enjoy it more the next go round knowing now what to expect. I think I will bring my kids at one point or another because I think the information is plenty for a young child. They are bound to learn. Unfortunately, though, this museum did not meet or surpass my expectations.
