"We've buttoned up our Union Blues to join the fight for our freedom... railed against injustice decade upon decade."

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...that's an excerpt from then-president Barack Obama at the Dedication of the National Museum of African American History and Culture.

It's actually a bit sad for me reading these remarks full of hope and promise for the future; Barack putting forward the ideal that we'd laid down permanent markers to the past based on our own perspectives; our own scholars, writers, and influencers views and understanding of the past; based on artifacts, generational knowledge, and icons who we chose as representative of our history.

...so, the sadly unsurprising news from the Trump plantation:

White House reviewing Smithsonian exhibits to make sure they align with Trump's vision
https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/politics/white-house-reviewing-smithsonian-exhibits-to-make-sure-they-align-with-trumps-vision/ar-AA1KoBxm

The National Museum of African American History is a place for all Americans, but not everyone is entitled to have their interpretation of our black histories represented there. That should be an obvious expectation for a people whose views, opinions, and self-determination were subjugated strictly to not only what white Americans would allow, but also what the oppressive law of the land proscribed for them.

Free expression for blacks in America has been the essence of our liberation; not just in emancipation from slavery, but in our right to tell our own stories; account for the state of our own lives; petition government for redress or defense on our own terms; and to define ourselves apart from those who have long characterized us as less than citizens; or inferior to the character of the white majority.

I've talked and written about this for decades, but always in a bubble of optimism and expectation of good faith in the promises of inclusion and accommodation after centuries of oppression and repression.

Today, however, we have the President of the United States who is militarily occupying a city with a 40% black population, without their consent, by lying and mischaracterizing the people there as criminals; as threats worse than in Taliban-controlled Baghdad, according to the Trump administration.

I watched this president eliminate decades-old efforts by the federal government to assure equal opportunity which my father helped establish - joining the government and working at EEOC, up to his appointment as Director of Civil Rights at the agency.

It hurts to watch these intended bulwarks against the racial injustices of the past being taken down so cavalierly and so easily; sops, actually, which were meant to mollify and assuage the unrest and agitation that followed the assassination of JFK and MLK Jr., along with the federal programs which so many republicans and their agents and allies in the courts have assisted them in eliminating.

I get that it's just a museum, not reparations for repressing a people for generations and generations; not recompense for myriad, or countless opportunities denied; or for all of the lives profiled for police violence; or for denying basic human rights, much less rights as citizens.

But it's OUR museum, not Trumps or any other demonstrated racist asshole who thinks he's going to dictate his bigotry down to Americans through our venerable and hallowed institution.


...so, Barack:

___What we can see of this building -- the towering glass, the artistry of the metalwork -- is surely a sight to behold. But beyond the majesty of the building, what makes this occasion so special is the larger story it contains. Below us, this building reaches down 70 feet, its roots spreading far wider and deeper than any tree on this Mall. And on its lowest level, after you walk past remnants of a slave ship, after you reflect on the immortal declaration that “all men are created equal,” you can see a block of stone. On top of this stone sits a historical marker, weathered by the ages. That marker reads: “General Andrew Jackson and Henry Clay spoke from this slave block…during the year 1830.”

I want you to think about this. Consider what this artifact tells us about history, about how it’s told, and about what can be cast aside. On a stone where day after day, for years, men and women were torn from their spouse or their child, shackled and bound, and bought and sold, and bid like cattle; on a stone worn down by the tragedy of over a thousand bare feet -- for a long time, the only thing we considered important, the singular thing we once chose to commemorate as “history” with a plaque were the unmemorable speeches of two powerful men.

And that block I think explains why this museum is so necessary. Because that same object, reframed, put in context, tells us so much more. As Americans, we rightfully passed on the tales of the giants who built this country; who led armies into battle and waged seminal debates in the halls of Congress and the corridors of power. But too often, we ignored or forgot the stories of millions upon millions of others, who built this nation just as surely, whose humble eloquence, whose calloused hands, whose steady drive helped to create cities, erect industries, build the arsenals of democracy.

And so this national museum helps to tell a richer and fuller story of who we are. It helps us better understand the lives, yes, of the President, but also the slave; the industrialist, but also the porter; the keeper of the status quo, but also of the activist seeking to overthrow that status quo; the teacher or the cook, alongside the statesman. And by knowing this other story, we better understand ourselves and each other. It binds us together. It reaffirms that all of us are America -- that African-American history is not somehow separate from our larger American story, it's not the underside of the American story, it is central to the American story. That our glory derives not just from our most obvious triumphs, but how we’ve wrested triumph from tragedy, and how we've been able to remake ourselves, again and again and again, in accordance with our highest ideals.

I, too, am America.

The great historian John Hope Franklin, who helped to get this museum started, once said, “Good history is a good foundation for a better present and future.” He understood the best history doesn’t just sit behind a glass case; it helps us to understand what’s outside the case. The best history helps us recognize the mistakes that we’ve made and the dark corners of the human spirit that we need to guard against. And, yes, a clear-eyed view of history can make us uncomfortable, and shake us out of familiar narratives. But it is precisely because of that discomfort that we learn and grow and harness our collective power to make this nation more perfect.

That’s the American story that this museum tells -- one of suffering and delight; one of fear but also of hope; of wandering in the wilderness and then seeing out on the horizon a glimmer of the Promised Land.

It is in this embrace of truth, as best as we can know it, in the celebration of the entire American experience, where real patriotism lies. As President Bush just said, a great nation doesn’t shy from the truth. It strengthens us. It emboldens us. It should fortify us. It is an act of patriotism to understand where we've been. And this museum tells the story of so many patriots.

Yes, African Americans have felt the cold weight of shackles and the stinging lash of the field whip. But we’ve also dared to run north, and sing songs from Harriet Tubman’s hymnal. We’ve buttoned up our Union Blues to join the fight for our freedom. We’ve railed against injustice for decade upon decade -- a lifetime of struggle, and progress, and enlightenment that we see etched in Frederick Douglass’s mighty, leonine gaze...

...update:

___In late March, President Donald Trump signed an executive order demanding in part that the museum take down any exhibits that “divide Americans based on race.”

NBC News went inside the museum and found at least 32 artifacts that were once on display have been removed.

They include Harriet Tubman’s book of hymns filled with gospels that she is believed to have sung as she led enslaved people to freedom through the underground railroad, as well as a cloth made by enslaved people and a photo of the hip-hop group Public Enemy.

Also removed was the “Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass,” the memoir by one of the most important leaders in the abolition movement. Both items were gifted to the Smithsonian...

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/politics-news/critics-question-exhibits-african-american-history-museum-are-rotating-rcna207432

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