Holding Your Own History - A Reflection

For a while now, I’ve been thinking about where I want to go in my journey, both personally and as a professional. Applying for grad school has been looming over my head for some time as I waited for some sort of sign to tell me what exactly I need to pursue. After all, that’s what always happens. The Universe will slam some opportunity, some connection on my desk. Or evoke some feeling that I cannot ignore. I think I’ve done a good job of heeding her signs to get where I am now, so I try to remain open and willing to receive them. This is about as spiritual as I get.

I think I’ve finally received another one of her signs that hit me in a way that I hadn’t quite expected. It was certainly a lot softer than it usually is. Perhaps she knows I need the grace right now. One of my friends hosted a community archiving workshop this past weekend, in which I attended as a volunteer. On the 4th of July, when my whole family visited my grandmother’s house, I asked her;

“Oh! Grandma, do you have some photos that I can digitize? My friend is hosting this workshop…bla, bla, bla.”

Unsurprisingly, my grandmother was ecstatic by the news and very happily pulled out a treasure trove of photos and albums. Some of the albums were old, nearly falling apart, while others were so new that I remembered when she started them. I hadn’t asked to look through her pictures for a long time. We settled on her wedding anniversary photos, in which I found a mix of original wedding photos from the 50s and anniversary photos from 2018.

Wow, she’s been married to my grandfather for longer than I’ve been alive so far.

When the day came, I was excited myself! I had scanned some of the photos during a training session to learn the scanner with my friend. Hearing them ooh and aww over my grandparent’s wedding photos stirred my heart with pride. So again, I pulled out the remaining photos on archiving day and scanned those as well. It wound up being just us, so we worked on our own family photos. Halfway through the session, a librarian had mentioned a family history website in which people can build out their family trees and possibly connect with others. So I made an account and threw myself down a rabbit hole.

I left the session with a feeling of determination to continue this effort. Looking at my grandparent’s wedding photos, I realized that I hadn’t ever seen photos of either of them that young before. My grandmother’s sisters who served as her bridesmaids looked like strangers to me, despite having met them before. While I also felt determined to take this on as a project, I felt a pit in my stomach too.

Guilt.

I’ve always loved history. It’s always been my favorite subject in school after art. I preach about the importance of preserving Black history in my work, but my own felt unrecognizable in these photos. I should’ve thought about this sooner. I’ve lost a grandparent on both sides now. I should’ve talked to them more. I only have so much time now—to ask about these photos, their memories, their lives. I won’t waste another minute of it.

I’ll turn this feeling of guilt into drive.

Time is running out, it’s always running out, that’s just the way life goes. So I will join her in the race.

What does this have to do with the Universe? I fell into archives by her hands and she seems to want to keep me there. Listening to my friend talk about her goals as she pursues her degree in the fall planted a seed in my mind. For a moment, I had completely written off the idea of pursuing an MLS/MLIS degree because I felt like it would pull me away from art, curation, or creative sectors somehow. In reality, I will always find my way to art regardless of the path I choose. I’m stubborn in that way. Besides, archives and art have always been connected, so why not pursue the path that’s always been in front of me.

This workshop, although we spent most of the time laughing and yapping, felt like a reorientation. I wouldn’t say that I was lost, but rather stuck. I had ideas of what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go, but making a decision was difficult. Although I don’t see my current work as my final destination and want to build something separate for myself, that doesn’t mean that when I do eventually set off on my own, I have to completely 180 from what I’ve been building.

I can carry all of it with me: the art, the storytelling, the history, the archives.

I’ve decided to take this as a sign. The way these moments made me feel so strongly, how could I not take it as one? So I’ll lean in and see where these feelings take me this time.