April 2021
Are you ready for the pandemic to be over? You’re not alone. Even the most introverted introvert is looking forward to that mask-free day when they can breathe fresh air unfiltered and hunker down in a theatre packed with patrons.
Vaccinations are happening and the bar is now officially open in most places. “Revenge travel” and “herd immunity” are 2021’s replacements for last year’s “lockdown” and “hydroxychloroquine.” Even those of us decades-separated from our school days are experiencing a spring break sensation. We are ready to open up and bust loose.
But there is also trepidation. For those of us who have spent much of the last 12 months in the WFH bubble, it is a bit daunting to contemplate returning to a routine that includes daily commutes, hard shoes, and structured pants. There is also a deep fear of the unknown. How much does it cost now to park for an hour in Boston?! When did they make this a one-way street? Couldn’t we have just done this meeting over Zoom like in the old days?
Because we in the museum profession tend to orient ourselves around collections, missions, and audience engagement, the pandemic in a way allowed us to show our true colors. It didn’t take long after the shutdowns began to reimagine the way we do business. Many of us immediately offered masks, gloves, and other PPE from our collections departments to address community shortages. We opened up our outdoor spaces so the public could enjoy fresh air activities. We became proficient in using remote technology to keep community connections alive with online programs, educational resources, expanded collections access, and virtual gatherings.
But our true colors also revealed some rather unsavory truths. Some museum leaders panicked, laying off large swaths of their staff despite the availability of federal funding for staff salaries, more liberal NEH and NEA grant rules that allowed project funds to be used for operations, and continued stock market growth that fueled museum endowments as well as stability in philanthropic giving. AAM has estimated that 50% of our field has been furloughed or laid off. I’m sure that some of this pain was necessary and justified in the name of survival. But I wonder how much of it was caused needlessly by leaders whose moral compass was driven by fear rather than compassion.
The economic forecast looks positive. As society emerges out of the gloom, museum hiring will rebound. But I am concerned that our field will remain shaken by how we define museum work. It seems like 2020 broke some fundamental covenants between museums and museum professionals. Grass-roots organizations such as Change The Museum on Instagram and Museum Workers Speak have emerged to provide advocacy and financial assistance for unemployed professionals because they don’t feel supported by the field. Folks who work in museums often do so because they are committed to something larger than themselves: the art and artifacts, the stories, the places, the science, the people, the mission. This, unfortunately, makes them vulnerable to power structures that treat them like interchangeable parts.
Even in the best of times this dynamic, present in too many museums, creates frustration and dissatisfaction with museum work. While museum directors talk about their “teams” and are often genuine in their attempts to build healthy workplace cultures, their efforts are sometimes undercut by boards that advocate a “business is business” ethic, which emphasizes metrics and accountability rather than the well-being of staff and community. The pandemic has in some cases magnified this.
The result is a museum workforce that today is heavily traumatized. Those who have been let go are struggling financially and with feelings of betrayal from a career they love, yet does not fully love them back. Those lucky ones who were spared are working harder, filling in for their fallen colleagues, and experiencing the guilt of survivor’s remorse. I know many folks who are abandoning their museum careers, disillusioned and exhausted, especially women, who bear the brunt of inequities exposed by the pandemic.
The pandemic has also further exposed the fundamental racism undergirding the system of museum employment. Since their introduction in 18th-century America, museums have been largely spaces for privileged white patrons, white leaders, and white employees. Persistently low wages, higher degree requirements, and traditions such as unpaid internships have kept it that way. Only those with privilege can afford to work in such a field.
This is not a formula for success. Communities hold museums in high esteem precisely because of the people working in them. It is their expertise, enthusiasm, curiosity, knowledge, and ability to engage that makes the content come alive. We need to do better. We need to nurture humane workplaces that revolve around the creativity and commitment that museum people bring to their jobs. We need to create inclusive structures that not only invite multicultural workforces, but give them the support they require, through equitable pay, opportunities to share power, and upending systems that treat them as things instead of people.
As we emerge from the pandemic, we face a reckoning and an opportunity. Owning up to the truth of what we are and have been is not easy, at least for those of us who have benefited from inequitable systems. But the coming months of rehiring and rebirth in our field is a chance to set things right, change the systems, and find ways to make museum careers attractive and rewarding to people of all backgrounds. Let’s work together to make it that way.
