Museums have been going through a time of unprecedented change and growth. Working through the challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic and addressing the culture of white supremacy that many of our institutions were built upon has ushered in burgeoning awareness around diversity, equity, accessibility, and inclusion. The push to bring new, diverse, voices into the fold has resulted in many programs aimed at bringing BIPOC students and young professionals into museums, with varying degrees of success.

At the height of the pandemic, and just weeks after the murder of George Floyd, I received a call from a museum in rural New York, offering me a remote position as a Diversity Fellow. At the time I was grappling with sorrow and desperation from the loss of so many of my brothers and sisters, but the chance to make a difference in an institution with no BIPOC on staff invigorated me. My time working remotely for the museum felt like a great success. I did research in developing an online exhibition focused on marginalized people and outdoor recreation. It was a personal subject for me and I was able to contribute in ways that the rest of the staff was not. Although I experienced push back to some of my suggestions, I was comfortable enough to voice my opinions and I felt they were taken seriously by my supervisors. After working remotely through the summer and into my last semester of undergrad, I was proud to be a part of what felt like real change in a museum.

I jumped at the opportunity to continue the fellowship onsite the next summer. The museum was located in a small hamlet in the middle of the woods - beautiful but isolated, with a 100% white year-round population. I lived in museum-provided housing with the five other Diversity Fellows and other seasonal staff. Along with one interpretation assistant, we were the only BIPOC on the entire museum staff. After growing up outside of Washington D.C. and moving to Philadelphia for college, it was like nothing else I had experienced. The nature was breathtaking and the loud quiet of the forest was peaceful but it did not come without challenges. The nearest town with a “real” grocery store was 45 minutes away. The first time we made the trek to shop, everyone in the front of the store stopped, stared, and began whispering to each other. We never went back.

The separation that we felt from the residents of the local towns also echoed in our roles at work. In the first meeting with our supervisors they informed us that although we were there to learn about museums, we were also brought there to teach. To teach them what they were doing right and what they could improve on, teach them how to be better allies. Although this is an important job, and necessary work, it was not the job that we had signed up for. The responsibility of speaking as the authority on diversity in a museum should not be thrust upon college students.

The struggle to feel safe in our environment was compounded by the discomfort of being singled out in the workplace. When we tried to act in this role that had been assigned to us without our consent, many of our assessments and recommendations were dismissed and not taken seriously. When one of the fellows brought up questionable language referencing Black people in an exhibit, she was brushed off. Our supervisor excused the choice of wording by informing her that a Black board member had pre-approved the text. Our request to formally add pronouns to staff name tags was rejected multiple times, and when a colleague opted to add pronouns to their name tag, it was met with a threat of suspension.

The input of the one queer person of color who was not part of the diversity fellowship program was routinely dismissed despite experiencing similar struggles in the workplace. They were never included in meetings, even in regards to issues they had brought up to management themself. The lack of interest in the wellbeing of other BIPOC staff was telling of the true priorities of the museum.

Throughout the summer, all museum staff attended mandatory  “cultural competency” classes. This consisted of a three-part zoom workshop where participants were encouraged to address biases and think about how the museum could better serve a wider audience. Although this was a step in the right direction, it was frustrating and alienating to be made to participate in activities such as reflecting on when you first became aware of race. It only served to highlight how different our own experiences were from the rest of the museum staff. This type of baseline DEAI training should be in motion even before museums consider creating diversity programs to ensure participants are entering a safe and welcoming environment. It is ongoing work that cannot be encapsulated in a few annual zoom classes. Regular meetings, dialogue and continuing education are necessary to move diversity initiatives forward.

My experiences as a diversity fellow at an all-white institution left me feeling isolated and tokenized. I am so grateful for the other fellows who shared the experience with me. Together we were able to make it through those long months. Our mentors, a pair of diversity consultants brought in by the museum, did everything they could in their capacity to hear our complaints and address them while teaching us how to navigate difficult conversations surrounding our experiences. The lasting relationship I cultivated with them was one of the best outcomes of the program. In my time as a fellow I met and worked with lovely people who I believe were trying their best to give us a good experience and I am grateful for their support. Ultimately, when I left the museum after three months, I left questioning whether or not I wanted to continue in the museum field. I left feeling burnt out and discouraged, misled by diversity statements, land acknowledgements, and performative allyship.

Museums and cultural institutions need to examine their own capacity and competency to host diversity programs before putting them into action. If no prior work has been accomplished on the creation of safe spaces in the workplace for BIPOC and queer people, the organization risks placing the very people they seek to welcome into the field, in uncomfortable and even dangerous situations. It breaks my heart to think of students continuing to be thrust into these situations, under the premise that they are there to learn, when the reality is that they have been brought there to be used as a temporary ‘solution’ to a looming problem in museums.

Looking back at my time as a diversity fellow, three main points come to mind that I would urge any museum to consider when creating diversity programs. 

• Museums should first evaluate hiring practices intended to bring BIPOC into their spaces. With short-term diversity programs, institutions have little accountability for long-term results. Having established BIPOC staff on the team is important for the continued diversity of the institution. They can also serve as a resource for diversity program participants, creating a safer space for students and young professionals.
• Hire a diversity consultant with experience in cultural institutions. Don’t bring in a student to do the work of a diversity consultant. Don’t hire BIPOC for unrelated jobs and expect them to do the work of a diversity consultant.
• Begin DEAI training with staff before beginning a program. It is important for the groundwork to be laid before participants even arrive. Commit to making a safe space for BIPOC staff and recognize that this will be ongoing and evolving work that does not begin or end with a diversity program. Provide the resources and create an environment that participants need to be successful, making lasting changes to both the institution and in their own professional life.

I am grateful for everything that I learned from this experience. It taught me to question motives, question language, question why I’ve been brought into a space. It taught me to advocate for myself, not to shy away from difficult conversations. Although it was an important lesson for me to learn, it is not the lesson I hope awaits the next generations of those who take part in these programs. Instead, I hope they learn lessons about object handling, collections databases, label writing, programs development, education, and museum best practices. They should not be burdened with the weight of being the only BIPOC in the room.

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash