American letter | Juneteenth at the museum

(Washington) Behind me, the visitor is talking to his wife, but loud enough for everyone around to hear.

“All white people here bear some responsibility. All that still exists! »

It was in March, my first visit to the National Museum of African American History and Culture, the latest addition (2016) and undoubtedly one of the most remarkable of the Smithsonian Institution, which manages 21 museums free in the American capital.

The visit begins in the basement, with the history of slavery. The very architecture of this passage imperceptibly compresses you as you see the images of the boats where Africans captured to be sold in America were put in chains. With a low survival rate very often.

The famous “Gate of No Return” on the island of Gorée, Senegal, was just one of dozens of departure points along the Atlantic coast for captives sent to plantations in Brazil ( 5.8 million Africans were sold there), the Caribbean, the United States (3.3 million)…

I approached the angry visitor. He felt he had to apologize.

“I’m sorry if I insulted you, sir, I lost my temper…

— There’s really nothing wrong with it, sir, this is all upsetting. »

It’s as if my accent had relaxed the atmosphere, clearing me of a symbolic historical guilt by association of the American white. I did not delve into the intricacies of the history of slavery in New France, contenting myself with being a sort of neutral Swiss-observer.

I went back this week, during “Juneteenth”. Juneteenth : contraction of June and of 19th century, commemorates the end of slavery in the United States in 1865. It was on June 19 of that year that emancipation was announced in Texas, after the other Confederate states. The commemoration of the liberation has existed since the 19th^e century in black communities. But since 2021, the celebration is an official federal holiday.

A bit like this young museum, the idea of ​​which dates back 100 years, Juneteenth aims to bring the cumbersome story of slavery and racism into the light of national history.

The idea of ​​the architects (Freelon, Adjaye and Bond) and designers was to construct the narrative of slavery not in general terms, but in the first person, through a few intimate stories. Some objects. A hut where 12 people lived. Rusty shackles. The little embroidered handkerchief of the abolitionist Harriet Tubman.

Narrow corridors lead to a huge room. We breathe better. We can read the Declaration of Independence of 1776, the country’s founding act, which generations of Americans have learned by heart.

We hold the following truths to be self-evident: all men are created equal; they are endowed by the Creator with certain inalienable rights; among these rights are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Governments are established among men to guarantee these rights, and their just power emanates from the consent of the governed…

Reading and weighing each of these words in the African-American eye gives them another dimension. Because obviously, these “inalienable” rights for “all men”, born to be “free”, did not concern the millions of them who will only be free 89 years after independence.

These revolutionary, grandiose words are written by the hand of Thomas Jefferson, an enlightened man if ever there was one… but owner of 607 people in Virginia. He didn’t free 12 in his entire life. Father of six children of Sally Hemings, his maid and legally his thing. He never recognized them. The fact was long denied by official history, until DNA tests proved it only 26 years ago. This kind of historical “detail” is still too confusing for some.

“A (white) visitor already told me: ‘It’s impossible, Jefferson would never have slept with a black woman,’” the African-American guide told me, still stunned years later to have been say that to your face.

Sometimes you have to manage visitors’ emotions.

“I’ve seen all kinds of reactions over the years: some people are angry, some are crying, some can’t take it, but most are just attentive and focused,” the guide told me.

This is why we installed a “contemplative” interior courtyard.

It was there, in front of the skylight and the waterfall, that the Nellums, a family from Texas, stood.

“My mother needed some quiet time,” Jordan, 24, a graduate of the University of Texas and Texas A&M, told me. It was his tenth visit. He now lives in Washington and works for the Century Foundation, a think tank progressive (big industry in DC, the think tanks).

No matter how much we “know”, it is another thing to immerse ourselves as a witness, I was going to say personally, into these centuries of servitude which still have resonance today.

“I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream,” said his mother, Audrey Nellums, who knows the story very well. Just because of the color of their skin, people like me have been sold like objects. How is it possible ? At least I take comfort in thinking that people who had your skin color marched alongside us for our rights…

“My great-great-great-great-grandmother was in slavery in Texas. His story has been passed down to us from generation to generation. My grandmother wasn’t, but she told me she ate whatever came under the table in the white house where she worked. Very nice people, that said…”

The 58-year-old woman reflected for a few moments to the soothing sound of the fall. She tossed a coin into the fountain.

“We must not stop there. You have to go up to the upper floors, to see how far you have come, and how much remains to be done,” says Troy, her husband.

The upper, bright floors are devoted to African-American culture, music, visual arts, literature.

A series of large impromptu dances took place in the hall on Wednesday. Visitors mingled and joined in the rough choreographies, like a joyful meditation with their legs.

We must remember, we must look the past in the face, but it is a day of celebration, today is the celebration of freedom.