As historians, much of our work and contributions to academia are focused on our use of archives. We rely on archives to find evidence of forgotten pasts, strengthen our understandings of identity, and enhance our theoretical frameworks. Archival research has the power to connect more people to our wider collective memory while broadly reimagining history for the current times. 

  Despite the vital importance of archives as historical chronicles and resources, the truths they house are being erased for the sake of politics. Recent attacks on the education system deeply affect how we teach and for underrepresented individuals, affecting how they exist on campuses in a climate that often denies their identity and presence.  Because we study history, we have seen this happen time and time again, and we know the consequences of these decisions.  

Discussions about the state of mass media and U.S. history are continually contested — socially and politically. This often results in the removal of marginalized and disenfranchised communities from history, continuing the legacy of inequality that those historically oppressed groups know all too well. 

As a Black woman in higher education, I am continually reminded of the erasure of my multiple identities, but I also think of my ancestors’ struggle. That public erasure, while difficult, gives me a greater appreciation of how my family’s everyday lives connect to key moments in Black history. Therefore, I truly believe I am Black History.

Understanding the depths of colorism and white supremacy within Alabama, upon his white father’s death, my great-great-grandfather fled for his life to Parkdale, Arkansas to escape from his white relatives. 

Later in Little Rock, Arkansas,  my great-grandmother worked as a maid in the state Capitol building.

“What connection should one feel to acts committed or omitted before one was born?” It is a question lacking a clear-cut answer, but one that informed the most recent Jefferson Lecture in the Humanities given last October by Dr. Andrew Delbanco who chose to take on the divisive topic of reparations.

In my last column, I discussed some of the ways in which legacy media outlets were acknowledging gaps in their past coverage, oversights that perpetuated misrepresentation or omission of minority populations in the communities they serve. At that time, I stated, “We, as media historians are uniquely positioned to sound a clarion call to ensure that past oversights and misrepresentations do not continue to manifest in the journalism of the present, and we should ask ourselves what we owe to improving the modern journalistic discourse around underrepresented peoples and communities who have for too long been overlooked in our history and our journalism.”

“It’s tricky to point at a lack. But in journalism, what’s left unsaid — whether it was overlooked or ignored — can be as corrosive as a falsehood.”

A searing truth written by Brendan Kiley as part of the The Seattle Times’ A1 Revisited Project which seeks to reexamine the paper’s past coverage of historical events to address harm caused by how some events were covered.

In this case, Kiley is writing about the paper’s coverage of Native American protests at Fort Lawton in March 1970. Kiley informs today’s readers that there was a profound disconnect between the newspaper and the community it was trying to cover, “In missing the context, we missed the story.”

I think about the New York Times’ 1619 Project which sought to “reframe the country’s history by placing the consequences of slavery and contributions of black Americans at the very center of our national narrative.” This project was criticized by some historians who argued it put ideology before historical understanding and accuracy.