Ebony lived in several states throughout her childhood, with museums in each place serving as places to understand her many new homes and appreciate the stories of those who had come before her.

As a child, I lived in several states -- Indiana, Georgia, Arkansas, Maryland, California, and North Carolina. My family would hop in our green minivan, with our luggage and boxes crowded in the trunk. Nestled in the back of the van, my siblings and I pressed our faces against the window, watching as hills, highways, and coastlines rolled by. 

And although the scenery changed, my family could count on one particular place in each state: museums. Wherever we moved, we would visit local and state museums. For me, museums were sites of wonder, discovery, and curiosity, spaces where I could ask my never-ending questions. At the same time, they also became my roots, grounding me in my own history, in the past, present, and future. Museums were places to understand my many new homes and appreciate the stories of those who had come before me. 

In particular, I remember visiting Little Rock Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas. In 1957, the Little Rock Nine--Ernest Green, Elizabeth Eckford, Jefferson Thomas, Terrence Roberts, Carlotta Walls LaNier, Minnijean Brown-Trickey, Gloria Ray Karlmark, Thelma Mothershed-Wair, and Melba Pattillo Beals--enrolled in the formerly all-white school. They braved the mobs and the Arkansas government to integrate American schools. 

At the historic high school, a tour guide kindly led us through the halls, telling us about the Little Rock Nine and the history behind the site. Riveted by the story, I listened intently, eyes wide. Adjusting my little pink jacket on my shoulders, I looked up at the lockers that lined the long hallway. My small footsteps tapped on the polished floors, echoing down the corridors. As a young Black girl, I slowly walked through the school’s campus with my family, with my Mom, a Detroit native who worked to secure her college education and later dove into art education. With my Dad, who remembers desegregation in Ohio and worked to become a professor. My parents, who fought to give us the best education. And, my brother, who would grow up to become an artist, public historian, and librarian. All together, we stood on those steps, on that soil. And, though not born yet, my sister, born years later, would become interested in art and environmental science - interested in how we keep the soil around us alive. 

I found my way back to museums in college and graduate school. In college, I would visit museums to sketch. As a studio art major, I found museums to be a place of solace and inspiration. I drew museum visitors walking to and fro, doodled tiny replicas of museum paintings and drawings. Yet, as my education grew, I also actively sought out Black artists and writers–Harlem Renaissance artists were my models and muses. And, when looking for more Black artists, I was often disappointed by the short sections in history books or small areas in museums. I wanted to study and support Afro-diasporic creative expression. 

So, in graduate school, I majored in African American Literature. I also decided to intern for the Shumate Council. This leadership group collaborates with the Wexner Center for the Arts on opportunities and methods for engaging Black audiences and contemporary art. Through these experiences, I learned how to support artists, enact museum educational programming, and help create more inclusive stories and programs. I continued to learn about museums, their organizational structures and their visions, while serving as an intern for the National Gallery of Art and the Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage. I also became a research contractor for RK&A (now Kera Collective). The work was stimulating and fascinating. 

Now, I can help develop the experiences that museums created for me: wonder, inspiration, curiosity, and historical grounding. Each day, I think about how museum experiences could serve as visitors’ historical roots - perhaps roots for another little child visiting a historic site for the first time, soaking up indelible moments, stories of struggle and bravery ingrained in the soil, shared through methodically crafted displays, and voiced through the carefully selected, passionate words of a tour guide.