Starting August 1st 2026, the Black Girls in Archives team will be on hiatus as we take some intentional time to rest, recharge, and prepare for what's next. During this period, we will have limited access to email and all social platforms, so expect responses to take longer than usual.🗯️

We'll be back on our normal posting schedule the week of Labor Day. Until then, we want to stay connected! Follow BGIA channels for any updates, announcements, and sneak peeks of what's cooking behind the scenes!

Thank you for your continued support and for being a part of the BGIA community! We cannot wait to reconnect with you soon and continue the work to celebrate, preserve, and share Black stories together!🤎

Soundtrack to a Coup d’État establishes the connection between jazz in the States and the struggle for African independence abroad. By piecing together archival material including but not limited to, voice memos, performance recordings, recorded interviews, and written correspondence, director Grimonprez traces Cold War geopolitics, with jazz as the throughline. As nations across the Global South gained independence in the mid 20th century, the United States engaged in competition with the Soviet Union over influence of these newly independent states. To countries in Africa, Asia and Europe, the U.S. deployed jazz musicians as international ambassadors in hopes of winning these nations over through soft power. Grimonprez’s film exposes a more nefarious purpose jazz diplomacy served. As jazz titan Louis Armstrong performed before thousands in the Congo, unbeknownst to him, Patrice Lumumba was quietly deposed from his post as prime minister and placed under house arrest in a CIA backed coup. Two months later, he was executed and his corpse dissolved in acid.

Which brings us to one of the film’s closing scenes. On the morning of February 15, 1961, as the United Nations Security Council met in New York, prepared to defend the United States’s actions in the DRC, Abbey Lincoln, and Max Roach, accompanied by Maya Angelou, Amiri Baraka and dozens of other demonstrators stormed the building. With news of Lumumba’s assassination making its way to the United States, activists across the country denounced the U.S.’s involvement in the Congo as an act of neocolonialism. Abbey Lincoln was among them.

Given the jazz singer’s growing political radicalism, the forefront of this kind of revolutionary political action is exactly where one would find her. By 1961, Abbey Lincoln was well situated in the Black liberation politics of the mid to late twentieth century. Her music and activism were inseparable.

Born Anna Marie Wooldridge August 6, 1930 in Chicago, Abbey Lincoln was marketed as a sex symbol, early on in her career, an inheritor of Marilyn Monroe of sorts; “ They wanted to make me a glamour type when I first got to Hollywood” she recalled. “They weren’t interested in what I was singing. They were just interested in me wearing that Marilyn Monroe dress.” It was an image Monroe had a complicated relationship with, and one Lincoln similarly sought liberation from.

She credits drummer and composer Max Roach with inspiring within her an understanding of jazz as an art form born out of Black struggle. By the time they met, she had graced the cover of Ebony a few times and starred in a couple movies, during a period described as simply “biding her time”. Roach, she says “saved [her] from all that,” marking a turning point in her career, politics and aesthetic. Their collaboration produced some of the most iconic music of the Civil Rights Era.

The events recounted in the documentary film are punctuated with clips from the 1960 protest album We insist! Freedom Now Suite composed by Roach with vocals by Lincoln. In them, Lincoln’s evolution into a political artist is audible. She screams, rather than sings, her frustration and grief. Featuring songs like “Tears for Johannesburg” and “Triptych: Prayer, Protest, Peace” Lincoln and Roach condemn global racism and draw an inextricable link between emancipation, civil rights and African decolonization. Even before her demonstration at the UN, through works like this, Lincoln was articulating a transnational black politics, one that she understood to be inherent in her art.

While Soundtrack to a Coup d’État makes references to numerous jazz musicians, Dizzy Gillespie, John Coltrane and Thelonious Monk among them, the decision to open the film with Abbey Lincoln’s voice, punctuate it with scenes of her performance, and close it with visuals from her demonstration is intentional. Through a film on one of the many political assassinations that defined the decolonization era, Grimonprez provides viewers with a thread to pull: one that reveals yet another instance in history where black women have actively shaped and given voice to struggles for liberation.

Sources

Baraka, Amiri. “Abbey Lincoln: Straight Ahead - Jazztimes.” JazzTimes, April 25, 2019. https://www.jazztimes.com/archives/abbey-lincoln-straight-ahead/?v=0b3b97fa6688.

Cushway, Rebecca. “Louis Armstrong Was Sent to the Congo to Promote US Values.His Concert Was Used as a Smokescreen for a Coup - ABC News.” ABS News, September 20, 2024. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2024-09-21/louis-armstrong-congo-soundtrack-to-a-coup-jazz-us/10433865.

Grimonprez, Johan, director. Soundtrack to a Coup d’État. Warner Bros. Discovery, 2024.

Gross, Terry. “‘Summer Of Soul’: Abbey Lincoln and Max Roach.” NPR. September 3, 2021. https://www.npr.org/2021/09/03/1034024226/abbey-lincoln-max-roach

Hanks, Tara. “‘Spread the Word’: Marilyn, Abbey Lincoln and a Lost Dress.” The Marilyn Report , March 5, 2022. https://themarilynreport.com/2022/03/05/spread-the-word-marilyn-abbey-lincoln-and-a-lost-dress/.

Moore, Marcus J. “The Unflinching Protest Albums of Max Roach | American Masters | PBS.” PBS, September 29, 2023. https://www.pbs.org/wnet/americanmasters/the-unflinching-protest-albums-of-max-roach/29385/.

National Museum of African American History and Culture. We Insist! Max Roach’s Freedom Now Suite. 1960. Vinyl record and album jacket. Object Number 2015.103.3ab. Smithsonian Institution. Accessed July 7, 2026. https://nmaahc.si.edu/object/nmaahc_2015.103.3ab

On a larger scale, Nollywood, like other film industries, became a source of national pride and a symbol of Nigerian life that could be shared on a global stage. The films were able to capture the identities of Nigerians, both on the continent and across the diaspora,, representing a vast range of stories. The arts, and cinema specifically, are a perfect means of dispersing the sentiments of the pan-African project. According to James Yékú, from its start, Nollywood was “an industry that produced films by Nigerians and about Nigeria, marketed by young people to a Nigerian audience.” It was its popular acceptance that resulted in the wide-scale commercialization first in Nigeria, then across the continent, and later globally. As a result, scholars like Jonathan Haynes have asserted that “Nigerian video films are the leading form of Nigerian popular culture.”

Now, 30 years since its inception, there is a new generation of Nigerians discovering the films of their parents’ youth. The yearning for the past creates a nostalgia that has manifested in multiple ways for first-generation Nigerians across the diaspora, as they collectively seek rediscovery through creative and cultural projects. In the past few years, many clips have gone viral on platforms like TikTok as people are rediscovering movies they might have watched when younger, and it has recently led to Nollywood’s resurgence in mainstream pop culture. On a larger scale, Nigerian youth, both at home and within the diaspora, are identifying with and recreating the Y2K aesthetics present in Nollywood movies. Young millennials and Gen Zers have been sharing memes from screenshots of old films, recreating iconic scenes, and even throwing Y2K Nollywood-themed parties.

One such project is the creation of Yung Nollywood, described on their X platform as a “media platform & digital archive reimagining the golden era of Nollywood cinema through the lens of feminine power, style & radical self-preservation.”. The creator, Theodora Imaan Beauvais, who was born in Lagos and is now based in Montreal, created a collection of curated materials, triggering nostalgia and appreciation of the industry. On their Instagram and Twitter platforms, the account posts screenshots and short clips from old Nigerian films.

For many young Nigerians across the diaspora, this cultural moment is more than merely a trend, but an opportunity to explore an important part of Nigeria’s cultural output and feel more connected to their roots. It is exactly this sentiment that Yung Nollywood embraces through their archive, moving beyond capitalizing on this moment, but using it as a chance to educate and commemorate Nigeria’s earliest exported product.

Highlighting Yung Nollywood shows that today’s archivists are not only working in libraries and museums—they are also building living, accessible collections online that document Black life, creativity, and history for global audiences. Archives are no longer confined to climate-controlled repositories and university special collections. Across social media, Black creators are building digital archives that preserve histories, aesthetics, and cultural memory in real time. By spotlighting contemporary Black-led archival projects, we can expand what an archive can be.

Described on the website as “a thoughtfully curated collection celebrating the artistry, cultural depth, and transformative power of African cinema,” the YungNollywood film library showcases a collection of 95 films. Users can browse the movies in different ways: by mood with genres ranging from horror to marriage to supernatural, by most trending, or even given a film at random, as shown below.

Once a viewer has decided on a movie, clicking a link brings users to a YouTube video where the film can be watched in its entirety. However, the website also provides a lot of valuable information, helping one decide what to watch. Each film has a profile which features information about its release, themes which function like keywords, and a synopsis. Some profiles even have a tab titled “cultural and aesthetic,” which lists some additional information on the film’s cultural context, visual aesthetic, film score, and impact. The remaining tabs provide information about any awards and list the cast and crew.

There is also a tab dedicated to the filmmakers, which, according to the website, allows users to “meet the creative minds behind the films—directors who have shaped African cinema with their unique voices and visionary storytelling.” This section functions as more than a simple directory of names. It provides biographical information, career highlights, and contextual details about the filmmakers whose works are featured on the site, situating their films within broader histories of African cinema. This feature transforms the archive into a resource not only for discovering films but also for learning about the people who have shaped the Nollywood industry across generations.

This website was a treasure trove that I discovered at the perfect time. Last semester, I conducted an independent study which examined the relationship between film, music, nostalgia, and cultural memory through the interconnected worlds of Nollywood cinema and contemporary Afrobeats music. Having the ability to have access to a repository of Nollywood films, most of which are well remembered in the collective memory of the diaspora, was essential to my research. Apart from my scholarly pursuits, it was also exciting to rediscover movies I had such fond memories of watching with my mom and aunt as a kid.

In February of 2026, Yungnollywood celebrated 8 years and on Instagram announced that the main website would no longer be active. It has also been a few months since any posts have gone live on Instagram, X, or TikTok, so it is not clear if the page is still active. However, as of now, the film library website is still available for use.

Yungnollywood is just one of many examples of the commitment the younger generation has to preserving and celebrating important moments in Black culture and history. Along with other modern Black archives, they are essential in accessibly connecting those across the globe during today’s changing Internet and social media landscape. They are reminders to reimagine the conservation of Black artifacts and that archives can exist in a variety of ways beyond the traditional sense.

Sources:

John C. McCall, “The pan-Africanism we have: Nollywood’s invention of Africa,” Film International 5, no. 4 (2007): 2, doi:10.1386/fiin.5.4.92.

James Yékú, Cultural Netizenship: Social Media, Popular Culture, and Performance in Nigeria (Indiana University Press, 2022), 77.

Johnathan Haynes, “Political Critique in Nigerian Video Films,” African Affairs 105, no. 421 (2006): 511.

Vincent Desmond, “How the Y2K Nollywood Aesthetic is Inspiring Parties and Personal Style,” Nylon, accessed July 3, 2026, https://www.nylon.com/fashion/y2k-nollywood-aesthetic-style-parties.

Houreidja Tall, “The Rebellious Beauty of Nollywood’s Screen Sirens,” accessed July 5, 2026, https://www.nytimes.com/2024/11/26/t-magazine/nollywood-beauty-makeup.html.

“Yungnollywood Film Library,” accessed July 6, 2026, https://yungnollywood-film-library.base44.app/home.

Visual artists have and continue to comment on America’s history. Titus Kaphar, an artist working in New Haven, Connecticut, is no finer an example of the intersections of art history, power, race, and identity—and of the power that multiple lenses can have in teaching society the truth of history.

Throughout numerous pieces, Kaphar uses multimedia and erasure/inclusion to unveil figures behind important American figures. In Behind the Myth of Benevolence, Kaphar brings down a portrait of Thomas Jefferson to reveal Sally Hemmings. This placement of both the enslaved and the enslaver undeniably ties the two histories together, prompting viewers to examine and question the deliberate removal of Hemmings’ story. Instead of focusing only on Jefferson as the slaveholder, the viewer is invited to look at Hemmings in her eyes.

Shadows of Liberty is one of the pieces now at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in Richmond, Virginia, for the exhibit Titus Kaphar and Junius Brutus Stearns: Pictures More Famous than the Truth, running until July 26, 2026. Along with Kaphar’s own pieces are portraits of the first president by Junius Brutus Stearns. Placing the famous portraits by Stearns alongside Kaphar’s multimedia commentaries expands on George Washington’s legacy; in Shadows of Liberty, the names of enslaved African Americans are nailed onto Washington’s figure.

Kaphar’s TED Talk “Can art amend history?” describes the importance of public education through art and how lack of representation has serious consequences for marginalized peoples, especially children of color. Instead of erasing history, Kaphar suggests we focus our gaze on those left outside mainstream narratives to examine ourselves and what society can become—a more equitable and less oppressive world for all.

The 4th of July does not feel like an easy celebration for many marginalized groups within the United States. The positive imagery of the founding fathers, periods of oppression, and even the current state of the country does not seem like the complete truth or experience for many. Instead of embracing this diluted history, some are challenging it; however, through the work of artists such as Titus Kaphar, we are reminded that the U.S. historical narrative must be reexamined as we face the future.

Citations

Bagneris, Mia L. 2021. “Illuminating the Shadows of ‘Liberty’: George Washington and Blackness in American Art.” American Art (New York) 35 (3): 2–14. https://doi.org/10.1086/717644.

Kaphar, Titus. “Can art amend history?” TED Talk, April 2017. 12 min., 42 sec.. https://www.ted.com/talks/titus_kaphar_can_art_amend_history.

Nemeth, Jeanne, and Libba Willcox. 2023. “Untold Narratives and Reimagined Histories: The Work of Dawoud Bey and Titus Kaphar.” Journal of Cultural Research in Art Education 40 (1). https://doi.org/10.2458/jcrae.5533.

Valentine, Victoria. “National Portrait Gallery: Titus Kaphar and Ken Gonzales-Day Explore ‘Unseen’ Narrative in Historic Portraiture.” Culture Type, March 18, 2018, https://www.culturetype.com/2018/03/28/titus-kaphar-and-ken-gonzales-day-explore-unseen-narratives-in-historic-portraiture-in-new-national-portrait-gallery-exhibition/.

“Titus Kaphar and Junius Brutus Stearns: Pictures More Famous than the Truth.” Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, https://www.vmfa.museum/exhibitions/titus-kaphar-and-junius-brutus-stearns-pictures-more-famous-than-the-truth.

Archives as Tenderness Across Time

Often, the triumphs and tribulations our Black elders face create a mythology around their experiences. Archival materials allow us to close the distance between their lives and our contemporary experiences and desires.

James Baldwin

Few people rival James Baldwin’s archival footprint. Countless records persist of the writer’s intellectual prowess and academic debate, the 1970 documentary short Meeting the Man: James Baldwin in Paris among them. This film in particular shines for its depiction of Baldwin’s solace in the city. Even amidst his necessary critiques of the Western societies he left and occupied abroad, it is beautiful to view the moments of camaraderie and laughter afforded him.

Marsha P. Johnson

A figure without whom we have no Pride, Marsha P. Johnson— alongside many women who face trans misogynoir—remains a hypervisible figure whose humanity is often dismissed. Entertainment hub GAYSBIE recently compiled a collection of her portraits, accurately stating: “Too often, historical figures become frozen in a single moment or achievement.” These images and others like them uplift the real friendships, silliness, and softness that comprise her life, alongside the legacy we see most often.

For our contemporary elders, the global limelight demands the concealment of queer identities in exchange for the platform of creative calling. Archives can retrospectively illuminate memorable moments & uncover new ones with additional context.

Whitney Houston

Whitney Houston is a rare talent whose name is as recognizable as it is synonymous with her multi-faceted life: her voice, her magnetism, her romance with Bobby Brown. Particularly given the latter, it sent ripples through the world when her relationship with Robyn Crawford came to light in Crawford’s 2019 memoir, A Song For You: My Life with Whitney Houston. The publicization of their love story not only adds a familiar and difficult identity struggle to Whitney’s memory but also offers new memories of joy and love to remember her by.

Tevin Campbell

Crooner of the undeniable classic “Can We Talk”, Tevin Campbell’s name has often appeared in the past few years after coming out in 2022. He’s since affirmed that 90s stardom was a discouraging environment for embracing his sexuality, crediting his Broadway run for creating expression and community with other queer artists. Though he was not out at the time they were taken, images from his various Broadway productions preserve and radiate the freedom he experienced in musical theater.

Luther Vandross

This conversation would be incomplete without the late, great Luther Vandross. A talent incomparable in his lifetime and beyond, the exaltation of his legacy was fuelled further by the 2024 documentary Luther: Never Too Much. Friends, collaborators, and footage of Vandross himself address the elusivity of his sexuality amidst a homophobic world stage. These glimpses leave the LGBTQ+ community and musical fans alike imagining a timeline where he could openly and beautifully experience love as much as he soundtracked it.

The Heirloom of Queer Archives

There’s no denying the specific and unwavering gaze the world places on Blackness. Through the inheritance and continuation of queer archives, we can reject the siloing of our elders & ancestors and venerate their multitudes. The work persists! Check out these archives that continue to document queer livelihood all year long:

• Black Lesbian Archives

The Black Lesbian Archives is a hub for Black Lesbians, allies & the LGBTQIA+ community to submit Black Lesbian Archives (articles, posters, flyers, mixtapes, videos, photos, audio, publications, poetry, etc.) to this outlet in an effort to preserve the stories of lesbian lives.

• KyKy Archives

KyKy is a digital archive and educational resource for lesbian, queer, gender non-conforming, and trans people of the African Diaspora.

• Digital Transgender Archive

By digitally localizing a wide range of trans-related materials, the DTA expands access to trans history for academics and independent researchers alike in order to foster education and dialogue concerning trans history.

• Invisible Histories

Invisible Histories is a community-based archive that locates, collects, preserves, researches, and creates an accessible collection of the rich and diverse history of LGBTQ life in the US South for local communities.

Resources:

https://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-50432110

https://www.broadwayworld.com/cabaret/article/Photo-Flash-Anastacia-McCleskey-in-I-Got-Love-20071029

https://www.theculturecrypt.com/posts/queer-rnb-when-singing-in-your-truth-meant-not-singing-a-all

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2024/feb/29/revolutionary-acts-by-jason-okundaye-review-bringing-black-gay-history-to-life

https://www.theguardian.com/film/2025/jan/29/luther-never-too-much-review-vandross-documentary

From these experiences in my youth, I carried into adolescence and adulthood the notion that cornrows were an in-between style. Only done for the sole purpose of keeping my hair “neat” when under a time crunch. I don’t seek to deny the style’s practicality at all. Depending on the braiding pattern, it can be low-maintenance, low-manipulation, and relatively easy and quick to do. Sectioning, detangling, and braiding allow for ease of movement and, in hotter climates, keep hair from uncomfortably sticking to one’s neck. The context in which this traditional African hairstyle entered the Americas is evidence of this.

The millions of kidnapped Black people from Africa did not arrive in the Americas and the Caribbean as blank slates. Along with them came their languages, religions, and of course, cultural traditions. Although they carried with them centuries of hair braiding traditions through this forced transport, in the West, these enslaved Africans didn’t have the luxury to fully engage in these traditions; “When African people were brought to the Americas and the Caribbean as slaves, they obviously didn’t have the time or products or resources to do these styles. Instead, cornrows could be done relatively easily without a lot of extra work.” At some point in our history, many of us adopted the idea that cornrows were not hair worn in public.

This notion I had in youth, that cornrows were a placeholder until I had the time to actually “do” my hair, didn’t spawn out of nowhere; it was not unique to me, nor did it begin with me. This debate about what Black hairstyles are appropriate or presentable has existed at least as long as Black hair has been in contact with the white world. A Black woman in cornrows would not be seen on television until 1962, when Cicely Tyson appeared on the CBS series East Side, West Side. Already having been under fire for cropping her hair short and wearing it naturally, in a 1972 interview, Cicely Tyson tells the Boston Globe, “Black women would come up to me and say I was in a position to project a beautiful black image. Instead, I was distorting the image that my hairstyle was embarrassing and humiliating to black women.”

Centuries of interfacing with a dominant standard of beauty that stands in opposition to everything we are have led us, at times, to denigrate our own beauty practices, with no outside prompting necessary. Even with this understanding and despite being a student in Africana Studies for years, I’d sooner wear a hoodie or scarf than allow my cornrows to be the hairstyle. Although I can admit some of the hesitance had to do with the way the fresh braids emphasized the size of my forehead, much of it was because of how deeply seated this idea of “presentable” hair was.

If I were to hop on any social media platform, Instagram, Pinterest, TikTok, in the last decade, I would find no shortage of black women wearing cornrows weaved in intricate patterns, or adorned with beads, or simply just braided down the nape of their neck. To call this a cornrow resurgence, however, isn’t entirely accurate. As much as I cried and moaned, nothing stopped my mom from giving me ten rows down my head. Even as I got older, my cornrows were there, in the privacy of my apartment, for only the eyes of my closest homegirls. Cornrows haven’t gone anywhere; as a braiding tradition that has endured hundreds of years and oceans of distance, they were never going anywhere. Our perception, however, is increasingly changing.

This newfound appreciation for the canvas that cornrows provide is exemplified by what, in my opinion, was the style for summer ‘24. The braided baldie, a term credited to Los Angeles Braider Monteria Chisholm, is a braided style that mimics a buzz cut. The hair is cornrowed in various zig-zag or flowery patterns, and the ends are tucked away to give the illusion of a braid with no beginnings or ends. For me, this brings to mind the beehive braiding pattern traditionally used for sew-ins. These braids were meant to be covered; they followed a pattern to ensure the flattest sew-in or wig installation. Here, however, these cornrows are the style in and of themselves. Not the placeholder or foundation for something else. And if the engagement metrics tell us anything, it’s that much of the internet was going for it. A tutorial for the braided baldie posted by Chisholm on TikTok currently sits at 1.3 million likes.

References

Asare, Bianca. “The Rich, Deeply Personal History of the Cornrow.” Coveteur, April 3, 2026. https://coveteur.com/the-history-of-the-cornrow.

Blay-Tettey, Annie. “The Braided Baldie Is the Coolest Way to Fake a Buzz Cut.” Allure, June 6, 2024. https://www.allure.com/story/braided-baldie-trend.

Brown, Nikki. “4 Simple, yet Stunning Natural Hair Trends That Will Dominate the Fall Season.” StyleCaster, March 20, 2020. https://stylecaster.com/beauty/hair-nails/1086961/fall-natural-hair-trends-2020/#slide-3.

CICELY TYSON: From Slum to Stardom.” 1972., Dec 03Boston Globe (1960-), 3. https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/cicely-tyson-slum-stardom/docview/503431544/se-2.

Chilsholm, Monteria (@TOOKIEDIDIT). “THE BRAIDED BALD HEAD…FULL VIEW”. TikTok, April 24, 2024. https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTBBp2SRH/

JJraids. “Film and Braids Style Icon Cicely Tyson Was First to Make Cornrows Mainstream.” JJBraids, January 29, 2021. https://jjbraids.com/canerows-2/film-and-braids-style-icon-cicely-tyson-was-first-to-make-cornrows-mainstream/.

For Black folk, the home is filled with ancestral memory. It is deeply spiritual to keep the memories of ancestors alive. Displaying throughout the house photographs of people who have passed then can become an altar, a moment you can look upon fondly and remember the lives that exist beyond the physical. Even the way homemaking is learned is ancestral,- as we are taught to care for the home by older generations. In her essay “An Aesthetic of Blackness: Strange and Oppositional,” bell hooksrecounts her grandparents’ house as a place where she cultivated an aesthetic practice. She learned this way of seeing from her “grandmother, Baba, [who] made [the] house a living space” (hooks, 2019, p.121). The practice of living in a space, furnishing it, and filling it with material is spiritual because “objects are not without spirit” (hooks, 2019, p.122) and thus have the ability to transform a room into “a space that can reflect beauty, peace, and harmony of being, a spiritual aesthetic” (hooks, 2019, p.122). When the home becomes a sanctuary, the spirit has a place to rest.

The home is often characterized as a place of refuge. Where safety from oppressive structures, unavoidable in mainstream culture, disappears. Black people act out our desires spiritual attunement I didn’t know I needed. Looking at her photos felt special. freedom in the way objects in a home are chosen, arranged, and brought together to create a space that promotes racial healing. This is part of writer, designer, and theorist Jacquelyn Ogorchukwu Iyamah’s Interior Race Theory; the belief that the home can be a place where “the objects we interact with have the power to affirm, challenge, or construct our societal thoughts, values, and behaviors” (Iyamah, 2023, p. 13). Iyamah states that objects “actually reflect the social worlds in which they exist” (Iyamah, 2023, p. 13) and thus can be designed and used daily in home environments to transform oppressive hierarchies. The desire to curate a space where you feel like the culture of domination has no hold on you is indeed an intentionally artful practice.

The homes of Black people, as utilized in photography and movies, recognize the importance of this site as a trustworthy container for emotional expression. When I first saw Deanna Lawson’s work, it was a kind of spiritual attunement I didn’t know I needed. Looking at her photos felt special.

I was invited into the house, and feelings of familiarity washed over me. Viewing her pictures that use the setting of Black domestic life felt like being bombarded by a hospitality you can’t (and didn’t want to) turn down. In these photos, the importance of the home to the identity of the person who lives in it becomes clear, as the viewer feels the same sense of safety as the subjects

The specificity of matching interior colours, cascading browns from the curtains to the rugs, reflected back in the stems and branches of the plants, and playfully jolted alive by pops of colour tells the viewer what the subject feels: I am safe here.

When I watched the movie, “Waiting to Exhale,” directed by (Forrest Whitaker). I was struck by how the homes of the Black women in the movie, Savannah, Robin, Bernadine, and Gloria, were so detailed and specific.

Waiting to Exhale 1995 dir. Forrest Whitaker

The art in their homes, the furniture sets, the colours of the walls, the light fixtures all told a story about who this character was and how their home was a site of refuge for them to express their full selves. The set design and decoration in the movie were utilized to share the desires, joys, and interests of these characters.

Waiting to Exhale 1995 dir. Forrest Whitaker

Waiting to Exhale 1995 dir. Forrest Whitaker

Oftentimes, traditional archives don’t tell the full story of the subjects whose materials they hold. Especially for Black folks, there exist many gaps and silences about who people in the archives were. The home is a space filled with subjectivity, and its representation in art highlights this curation process, in which Black people can develop their own aesthetics, building an archive within their living space.

The unique process Black families use to personalize their homes also reflects cultural practices and standards. Across the diaspora, Black families have formed homes that resist colonialism and reassert identities beyond colonial aesthetics. In this way, the homes of Black people can be regarded as archives engaged in the process of decolonization, where space is mediated by objects that signify new identity formation.

The home is such a resonant space that it becomes a site of exploration in museums. For example, Michael McMillan, in his 2005-2006 installation-based exhibition, The West Indian Front Room: Memories and Impressions of Black British Homes at the Geffrye Museum. Here, McMillan surveyed the history of West Indian migrants to Britain and working-class respectability in the 20th century using the Front Room.

The West Indian Front Room 2005 John Neligan

The installation is “decorated and dressed with artefacts reminiscent of the front room in West Indian homes from the late 1960s/early 1970s which were sourced from personal loans, second hand shops, flea markets and car boot sales” (Mcmillan, 2008, p.50). In his exhibition, the diasporic, hybridized identity of Black British West Indians is seen through domestic space and made by the “layering of complex identities and desires”(Mcmillan, 2008, p.50). The origins of the Victorian parlorroom, where etiquette, decorum, and politeness were used to solidify British colonial culture in the Caribbean, aretransformed with the creation of the Front Room.

The West Indian Front Room 2005 John Neligan

In the mid-20th century, independence movements across former colonies still confronted the contradiction between British colonial cultural values and post-colonial independence. During post-war diasporic migration to Britain, working-class people used the house to raise “questions about modernity and migrant aesthetics, the process of decolonization and the subjective desire to redefine oneself through material culture in the home” (Mcmillan, 2008, p.68). Using everyday objects to decode “conventions in fashion, certain standards of taste, [and deal] with the realities of everyday life” (Mcmillan, 2008, p.55), the home is a site for dialogue between conformity and the process of self-definition.

Black people and families have used the house as a safe space for identity transformation, emotional expression, and historical preservation, making it a home. From the way furniture is selected and maintained to the photos of loved ones lining the walls, these objects are carefully curated archives that are also sites of ancestral veneration. For Black folks, home-making is an archival practice in which specific aesthetic sensibilities are learned and practiced, then transformed into art, from movies to photography to film. The home is a rich archival site, partly due to its spiritual meanings, its ability to tell the story of the people who live there, and thus the power to archive oneself.

References

hooks, bell. An Aesthetic of Blackness: Strange and Oppositional. In Belonging: A Culture of Place, p. 121-134. 2019 Routledge.

Iyamah, Jacquelyn, O. Interior Race Theory: Using Interior Objects to Resist Harmful Racial Conditioning. 2024. Journal of Interior Design, 49(1)

McMillan, Michael. The ‘West Indian’ front room: Reflections on a diasporic phenomenon, Kunapipi, 30(2), 2008. Available at:https://ro.uow.edu.au/kunapipi/vol30/iss2/7

Photos

https://www.guggenheim.org/artwork/36097

https://www.dazeddigital.com/art-photography/gallery/25994/1/deana-lawson-s-planes

https://art.nelson-atkins.org/objects/67609/ring-bearer

https://ualresearchonline.arts.ac.uk/id/eprint/9378/#

In a seamless compilation, the documentary showcases performances from both of Beyoncé’s 2018 Coachella shows. Known as Beychella, these two weekends marked Beyoncé as the first Black woman and the third woman overall to headline the annual festival. The performance highlighted her prolific career up to that point, condensing almost 20 years into two hours.

Such a momentous moment could not be easily overlooked and prompted the recording of the performance, which was ultimately produced as a documentary film, released on Netflix a year later. It begins with Crazy in Love, letting us know as she struts down the bleachers to the song’s intro, narrated by Jay-Z, that we are watching “history in the making.”​

The name of the show, Homecoming, is indicative of the historical memory the film aims to preserve through its documentation of the captivating live performance. Understanding that she is the first Black woman to headline Coachella, and the grandeur of this feat, necessitated capturing it to ensure the show would be relevant for generations to come, and that those not able to witness it at the moment would have access later.

As with her creative efforts, Beyoncé was at the forefront of the project’s creative process, writing, executive-producing, and directing the film. She hoped to “create something that will live beyond [her]... something that makes them feel…like they’re living in a time that’s super special, and like it’s a day that they will never relive.” And this is definitely the case, no matter how many times I watch it (at least once a year).

The film cuts between the performance scenes and clips from rehearsals, acknowledging the immense amount of hard work that went into making such an iconic performance. She gives us insights into the planning behind the two performances, showing the process alongside the product. This film provides a behind-the-scenes look at arguably one of the most historic Coachella headliner performances, capturing the entire production process.

Homecoming created a safe space to celebrate Blackness on a large scale for those who performed on stage with her, those in the crowd, or those watching on screens at home. Throughout the documentary, Beyoncé shared the screen with those who made her presence on that stage possible in the first place. Audience members are met with voiceovers from historical Black figures, including Nina Simone, Audre Lorde, Maya Angelou, Cornel West, Toni Morrison and Malcom X. She makes clear that in addition to studying her own past, she also remembers her history, and ensures that viewers are steeped into Black culture along with her, sharing that she felt “a responsibility to do what’s best for the world and not what is most popular.”

​Admittedly, Coachella has an overwhelmingly white audience, but she did not let that stop her from making sure to showcase Black culture to such a mass crowd. Even for those not in tune with the references she makes in the moment, the documentary can serve as a site of education, encouraging viewers to research the culture they witness on the Coachella main stage. For those who are culturally aware, it is amazing to see themselves on such a large platform. There is a moment, thirty minutes into the film, where we see a montage of marching bands and majorettes from HBCUs before it blends into a rehearsal scene of her all-Black band. “There’s something incredibly important about the HBCU experience that must be celebrated and protected,” she shares, moving her to have an all-Black orchestra, drum line, and steppers.

In line with the tradition of homecomings, the documentary is a celebration of Blackness and legacy. Her guests, which included Kelly Rowland, Michelle Williams, Laurent and Larry Bourgeois (aka Les Twins), Jay Z, Solange, and even Blue Ivy, were important in performing her history on stage alongside her. Her choreography showcases iconic dances from her hits (e.g., “Single Ladies”) that audiences will be familiar with and able to perform along with her.

It’s been eight years since Homecoming, and Beyoncé has already had such major shifts in her artistry since then. One can only imagine how different this performance would look if it were staged at the 2026 Coachella. I, for one, can imagine different black sororities and frats performing during “SWEET HONEY BUCKIN’.” Even the Bug A Boo roll call interlude became an opportunity to acknowledge her vast discography and specifically name some songs, staged as a step performance with the dancers taking on the identities of the songs, having separate step identities, which come all together now at the end of the bit, transitioning into “Party.”

Halfway through the documentary, Beyoncé shares that she “wanted us to be proud of not only the show, but the process. Proud of struggle.” She makes the labor visible, making it difficult to underplay just how much work went into the show, from the dancers to the musicians and even the production crew, shouting them all out in the outro of the show as “Shining” ushers us all to the end of the night.

In addition to recording this process for fans, it was also an archival process for Beyoncé herself. Her performance, originally slated as the headlining act for the 2017 festival, was ultimately postponed due to her pregnancy with twins. Throughout the film, Beyoncé opens up about having to rebuild and reacclimate her body for such an intense performance after such an intense pregnancy. Her practice occurred while she was a mother of six-year-old Blue Ivy and her twins, who were not yet one. If a healthy pregnancy wasn’t impressive enough, headlining on one of the largest stages only six months after certainly deserves acknowledgment. She admits she will never push herself that far again, suggesting this performance was once-in-a-lifetime.

Situated within a larger tradition of Black music documentaries, Homecoming is not simply a concert film, but a deliberate act of Black cultural preservation. Beyoncé’s decision to professionally film Homecoming sets a precedent for how Black women can preserve their artistic legacies on their own terms. Acknowledging the cost and time of such productions, Black women deserve greater resources and institutional support to document their large-scale performances. Positioning Homecoming as both performance and archive, I urge more Black women to use concert films to author their own histories before institutions can erase, flatten, or reinterpret them.

Sources:

Ayanna Nicole, “Beyoncé’s ‘Homecoming’ is an Unapologetic Celebration of Black Culture,” JARO Magazine, accessed May 24, 2026, https://magazine.watchjaro.com/beyonces-homecoming-is-an-unapologetic-celebration-of-black-culture/.

Doreen St. Félix, “Beyoncé’s Triumphant Homecoming at Coachella, The New Yorker, accessed May 26, 2026, https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/beyonces-triumphant-homecoming-at-coachella.

Hannah Giorgis, “Beyoncé’s Black Intellectual Homecoming,” The Atlantic, accessed May 26, 2026, https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2019/04/beyonces-homecoming-a-scholarly-coachella-documentary/587362/.

“Homecomings: A Celebration of HBCUS and their Legacies,” National Museum of African American History & Culture, accessed May 24, 2026, https://nmaahc.si.edu/explore/moments/homecoming-celebration-hbcus-and-their-legacies.

Luvvie Ajayi, “Beychella is Proof That Beyoncé is the Greatest Performer Alive. I’m Not Arguing,” in Queen Bey: A Celebration of the Power and Creativity of Beyoncé’ Knowles-Carter, ed Veronica Chambers (St. Martin’s Press, 2019).

Rachel Chang, “Inside Beyoncé’s Historic 2018 Coachella Performance,” Biography, accessed May 26, 2026, https://www.biography.com/musicians/beyonce-coachella-performance.

Many will doubt the validity of this subject due to the skepticism towards taboo subjects. For the Black American community specifically, spirituality as a whole can be met with a noticeable amount of judgment and fear. An example of this is the responses people have when they see words like “psychic” or “powers.” They immediately think that you’re an unreliable source for valid information, and they may accuse you of being delusional. Religion is more readily accepted, but if you speak of deities such as the Orisha or Hoodoo spirits like High John the Conqueror, you’re met with sideways glances and scrunched noses.

Therefore, choosing to highlight these occurrences as historically significant typically invites considerable criticism. It’s important that the work is done regardless. We should be asking ourselves why we confine our acquisition of knowledge to rigid definitions and methodologies anyway! And who gets to decide what is or isn’t historically significant?

Upon further assessment, you’ll likely find that colonial perspectives are centered. One long-term effect of chattel slavery and colonialism as a whole is the prioritization of the conquerors’ perception. This has subconsciously shaped our ideas of what is considered “right” and “wrong” or what is “fact” versus “fiction.” To counteract that, we must center methods that are culturally relevant and significant to those considered other. Black people (and other people of color) are often, if not always, considered other.

Yet we make do, honestly, we alchemize. We take our pain and struggle and transmute it into something greater. This ability is part of how we’ve been able to create our complex yet beautiful culture, which some see as nothing but scraps. A powerful way we practice being alchemists is through oral history documentation. Noll’s book has fascinating accounts of extraphysical capabilities that folks shared with her during oral history interviews.

She also shared beliefs, practices, and traditional knowledge that are specifically relevant in the African American community. For example, the concept of being born with “the veil” is discussed, one of the clearest physical signs of special abilities. It’s described in the book as, “It is a strong thin tissue which on occasion completely caps a baby’s head or face at birth…Often associated with the veil are the abilities to see spirits and to prophesy,” (Noll, 1991, p. 185).

One thing the author does well is share a range of perspectives. There are stories from Baptist preachers to Hoodoo rootworkers and fortune tellers. One of the interesting parts of the book is her highlighting notable historical figures who express having a spiritual gift or some sort of connection. Not in a general sense, but also directly relating to what made them become relevant at some point in their lives. Some of my favorite figures include:

• Harriet Tubman (1822-1913): “Through the voice she knew as the voice of God, and through visions, dreams, and forewarnings, Tubman was led where to go or what to avoid. A vision which came to her one night in 1860 caused her great joy… She rose singing, “My people are free! My people are free!” She came down to breakfast singing the words in sort of ecstasy. She could not eat. The dream or vision filled her whole soul, and physical needs were forgotten,” (Noll, 1991, p. 73).

• George Washington Carver (exact date unknown–1943): “He told them of his practice of getting up at four o’clock every morning, going to the woods, and talking with God. He explained, God gives me my orders for the day. Alone there with things I love most, I gather specimens and study the great lessons Nature is so eager to teach us all…I never grope for methods. The method is revealed the moment I am inspired to create something new…After my morning’s talk with God, I go into my laboratory and begin to carry out His wishes for the day,” (Noll, 1991, p. 94).

• Minnie Evans (1892-1987): “Draw or die!” said in a vision. On Good Friday, 1935, Minnie Evans, then fifty-two years old, started drawing… Minnie contended she was trained by teachers whom she described as “not of the physical world. I’m without a teacher, a worldly teacher…God has sent me a teacher, an angel to stand by me… (he) directs me what to do,” (Noll, 1991, p. 80).

Even from these three figures alone, the range is clear. Those with spiritual gifts can come from all walks of life and have an immeasurable scale of potential for their higher purpose. Harriet Tubman is one of the most iconic social activists and abolitionists of her time. She is generally known for a number of notable feats, including assisting 70 enslaved people escape to freedom (Dawson, 2024). She spoke often of the assistance she received from God throughout her journeys.

George Washington Carver is a name that instantly captures your attention. The agricultural scientist and inventor is famous for his work with peanuts, but he also made many other breakthroughs, which he partly attributed to his spiritual connection with God. Additionally, Minnie Evans was a drawer and painter whose art was inspired by her dreams and visions; her work has been showcased in art museums and exhibitions worldwide.

Like many cultures, Black Americans have adopted systems and methods for preserving their history. Coming across this book felt like finding a hidden piece of emerald. It served as a wonderful example of what can come from choosing to shed light on what’s overlooked as valid segments of history. It’s a strong advocate for using oral history practices for documentation.

And as technology continues to advance rapidly, oral history interviewing is becoming a go-to method. What are some ways in which we can continue to refine this method as a collective? After all, it’s important that we continue to evolve together!

References

Noll, J. E. (1991). Company of Prophets: African American Psychics, Healers & Visionaries (1st ed., Vol. 272, p. 1). Llewellyn Publications.

Dawson, Shay. "Harriet Tubman-Davis." National Women's History Museum. National Women's History Museum, 2024.

Britannica Editors. (2000, January 12). Harriet tubman. Encyclopedia Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/biography/Harriet-Tubman

Britannica Editors. (1998, July 20). George washington carver. Encyclopedia Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/biography/George-Washington-Carver

Minnie evans. (n.d.). Smithsonian American Art Museum. Retrieved May 22, 2026, from https://americanart.si.edu/artist/minnie-evans-1466

NOTE: All photos shared are directly from the book Company of Prophets.

Dance has been at the front of my mind, especially since Misty Copeland took center stage at Sinner’s “I Lied to You” Oscar’s Performance, healing the little ballerina in me. For a good portion of my childhood, I begged to take dance classes. Yet when I went to class after school, I was often the only Black girl in a room of white children. Although this art form is something I haven’t professionally engaged with in years, dance—from ballet to breakdancing—will always be something I’ll admire.

One of my favorite dancers of all time is Josephine Baker. Her legacy within the dance community, film world, performance industry, fashion, and even government precedes her, and Baker’s influence still carries on today; the singer FKA Twigs was just announced to play Baker in an upcoming biopic.

Josephine Baker (1906-1975) began her performing career in her birth city, St. Louis, Missouri, by joining the St. Louis Chorus Vaudeville Show at thirteen. Traveling and performing soon took her to New York, where Baker performed in Shuffle Along. This iconic musical provided her the opportunity to travel to France, where her career exploded.

At only nineteen, Baker moved to Paris and performed in La Revue Nègre at Théatre Des Champs-Élysées, catapulting her into European fame. Although she created her own bold and playful style (even bringing in American dance such as the Charleston), Baker’s roles often played into Western/French colonial fantasies; in Danse Sauvage, she played an exotic and hyper-sexual African woman to a white audience.

Baker is undoubtedly known for her famous banana skirt, which she wore in Un Vent de Folie. Wearing only the skirt and pearls, Baker’s movement and nudity solidified her in Europe’s mind.

Josephine Baker’s banana skirt—and numerous other fashion looks—still hold cultural relevance. In 2006, Beyoncé wore her own banana skirt, citing Baker as a fashion and performing inspiration. Rhianna’s sparkling 2014 CFDA Awards look was in reference to Baker. Last year at the 2025 Met Gala, the Black dandyism theme featured references to her from Black creatives, including Megan Thee Stallion and Quinta Brunson.

Instead of seeing her as perpetuating the harmful stereotypes of promiscuous Black femininity, Baker can serve as an example of a Black woman having agency over their sexuality and as a creative who has distinct artistic expression and vision.

Living as a Black woman in the first half of the 20th century, both in and outside the United States, was not easy for Baker. She experienced segregation in the U.S. and racist, Nazi rhetoric pointed towards her while traveling around Europe.

Baker notably worked as a spy for the French resistance during World War II, raising funds for the army, hiding resistance fighters at her residence, and carrying documents for government officials. In addition to being the highest order of merit for military and civil action, she was awarded the Croix de Guerre and the Rosette de la Resistance by the French military. Although she lived in France for most of her life, she continued to advocate for American civil rights, even attending and speaking at the March on Washington.

Although she passed away in 1975, Josephine Baker reminds us that dance, fashion, performance, and politics are entwined. She existed within the context of the early and mid-20th century. Still, Baker shines light on how having agency over our bodies and sexualities can be a form of resistance—and power.

References

Central Intelligence Agency. “Josephine Baker: From Poverty to Stardom to Espionage.” March 27, 2024, https://www.cia.gov/stories/story/josephine-baker-from-poverty-to-stardom-to-espionage/.

Imperial Society of Teachers of Dancing. “Saluting Our Sisters: Josephine Baker.” October 9, 2023, https://www.istd.org/discover/news/saluting-our-sisters-josephine-baker/.

Jackson, Angelique, and Elsa Keslassy. “FKA Twigs to Star as Josephine Baker in Movie Biopic Filming This Fall.” Variety, May 11, 2026, https://variety.com/2026/film/markets-festivals/fka-twigs-josephine-baker-biopic-maimouna-doucoure-studiocanal-1236744418/.

Sweeney-Risko, Jennifer. “Fashionable ‘Formation’: Reclaiming the Sartorial Politics of Josephine Baker.” Australian Feminist Studies 33, no. 98 (2018): 498–514. https://doi-org.umw.idm.oclc.org/10.1080/08164649.2019.1567251.

The National WWII Museum. “Siren of the Resistance: The Artistry and Espionage of Josephine Baker.” February 1, 2020, https://www.nationalww2museum.org/war/articles/siren-resistance-artistry-and-espionage-josephine-baker.

“The Scandalous Joy of Rihanna and Josephine Baker.” Ebony, June 4, 2014, https://www.ebony.com/the-scandalous-joy-of-rihanna-and-josephine-baker-999/.

Waxman, Olivia B... “Josephine Baker Was All Over the Met Gala Red Carpet” Time, May 5, 2025. https://time.com/7283031/josephine-baker-met-gala-references/.

And in true Sex and the City fashion, I immediately wondered: what makes gold “ghetto”?

Because, as a young Hispanic woman, gold jewelry has always been an appropriate metal; it’s just what we wear. Babies are often given tiny gold studs and tiny gold bracelets, which are worn for years. And in my own experience, it’s deeper than that: most of what I wear wasn’t picked out in a store, but gifted or handed down to me by the women in my family. My own “ghetto gold jewelry” is deeply sentimental, full of memories, and carries my loved ones with me.

How Could Something with that Much Meaning be Treated like a Punchline?

Because at the time, “ghetto gold” wasn’t just Carrie’s personal taste; it was, and still is, the kind of jewelry women of color — Black, Hispanic, Indian, Middle Eastern, and African (and the list goes on!) — were known for wearing: chunky gold, bold pieces, visible jewelry. “Ghetto” is a word people throw around like it’s describing a look, but it’s usually describing a people. It’s a shortcut for discussing class, race, and respectability. “Ghetto” becomes a way of separating “fun” from “serious,” “costume” from “class,” and (especially around weddings) what counts as “bridal” from what gets labeled “too much”.

To understand why gold could be framed as unserious or unrefined in that moment from SATC, you have to transport yourself back to the 1990s. The decade’s “class” aesthetic was sleek and minimal. Women like Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, Jennifer Aniston, and Kate Moss dominated the news and embodied a very specific kind of American elegance: clean silhouettes, quiet confidence, a look that said class. In that world, the most fashionable thing you could be was understated. Silver and white metals could read as modern, crisp, or expensive, without trying.

But that wasn’t the only 90s. The 90s were also tumultuous: gang violence in big cities, drugs pushed into American neighborhoods, and millions of people living in poverty with very little support. And inside that America, hip hop culture (music, style, attitude, and fashion) was exploding across the nation, reflecting the feelings and experiences of suffering and survival.

This is Where the Gold Comes In.

Big, thick Cuban links dripping off the necks of rappers. Bamboo hoops on women who didn’t need anyone’s permission to be seen. Nameplate necklaces — literal identity worn at the collarbone — stacked with other chains. Chunky gold, bold pieces, visible jewelry. Not delicate and certainly not quiet.

A lot of that beautiful gold was worn by people of color — by Black and Hispanic individuals — who often did make up the neighborhoods mainstream America called “poor” and “violent,” as if those were personal flaws instead of the result of policy, neglect, and racism. Gold was status and adornment in a world lacking peace but overflowing with culture.

And because of MTV, movies, tabloids, and pop culture, Americans like Carrie Bradshaw and her three best friends absolutely would have seen these looks, but not necessarily respected it. Mainstream culture can consume an image while still mocking the people it came from, borrowing the aesthetic and keeping the stigma.

That’s why Carrie can say “ghetto gold” so easily. The phrase depends on an assumption: that there’s a kind of gold associated with “real” class, and another kind associated with people who “aren’t”. Same metal. Different meaning.

Scholar LaMar Gayles writes about gold jewelry as more than decoration, where it can carry deep cultural meaning: empowerment, beauty, and connection to ancestral heritage. Gold isn’t chosen only for its monetary value; it also draws on traditions in which gold signified status, spirituality, and community ties. In more recent history, Black and POC artists have used gold jewelry to express identity, resist cultural erasure, create narratives that reflect lived experiences, and honor cultural roots.

What gets lost when gold is dismissed as “just for fun?” For many of us, gold isn’t just a trend, but an inheritance and cultural connection.

And then — this is the part that really makes the SATC moment feel dated — look around now.

Today, gold jewelry is the trend, and honestly, the norm. Stacks of bracelets and necklaces, chunky hoops, rings, and anklets: gold from head to toe. People are buying and wearing the same jewelry that, 25 years ago, wasn’t deemed appropriate enough even to be considered “engagement ring” material. It's all the rage, and somehow it’s now treated as emblematic of that same classy, old-money-adjacent aesthetic that the 90s coded for silver.

So What Happened in Those 25 Years?

Part of it is the basic cycle of fashion, as trends always come back around! Part of it is the media and internet speeding up what becomes “in” and the mainstream finally catching up to what women of color have been wearing for decades. But there’s also the uncomfortable part: the way the same look was once mocked and now celebrated. “Ghetto” gold jewelry has quietly become “editorial” without anyone admitting that what changed wasn’t the metal. It was the cultural framing.

Maybe that’s the real question behind Carrie’s line: not what makes gold ghetto, but what makes something respectable? Who decides when a style becomes “classy”? And why so often, women of color are wearing the “just for fun” pieces first, only for them to become the standard of choice later, once the industry decides they’re ready to call it fashion.

References

https://hiphopgoldenage.com/artists/missy-elliott/

https://www.elle.com/culture/celebrities/g35194261/90s-celeb-throwback-photos/\

Britannica Editors. “Sex and the City”. Encyclopedia Britannica, 10 Apr. 2026, https://www.britannica.com/topic/Sex-and-the-City. Accessed 12 May 2026.

https://www.harpersbazaar.com/fashion/trends/a70279883/carolyn-bessette-kennedy-style-guide/

https://www.shutterstock.com/blog/hip-hop-pioneers-1990s-photos?dd_referrer=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2F

https://www.history.com/articles/the-los-angeles-riots

https://www.jdinstitute.edu.in/why-gold-jewelry-reigns-supreme-in-asian-households/

1. Gayles L. Crafting and forging the black diaspora: Black histories in jewelry. [Order No. 28927062]. University of Illinois at Chicago; 2021.

The end of April marks an exciting time for creativity in my city: the annual Milwaukee Film Festival. The fifteen-day affair platforms innovative makers of all experience levels across the city, region, and globe. Determined to fit a screening into my busy schedule, the golden opportunity presented itself in the 78-minute program “Black Lens Fiction Shorts: For the Dreamers.” The night of the screening found me lit up in the theater's darkness, giddy to experience the five films curated by programmer Ty Williams. Among the most impactful of the night was the affective standout Bailey’s Blues.

Without the program’s pre-existing context of fiction shorts, one could easily mistake the film’s expositional claim for restored archival footage. Bailey’s Blues “surfaces” an interview between bassist Marion Bailey and a French filmmaker during the 1962 International Jazz Festival. Director Shiloh Tumoh Washington’s first project on 16mm, the medium masterfully (re)creates an atmosphere of racial tension and reverence intimately familiar to Black culture. He skillfully emulates the French New Wave in the faux documentary’s composition and narrative ambitions while simultaneously questioning the latter. As a result, the velvet color grading cuts a sharp contrast between the projected fascination of interviewer Pierre and the reality of Bailey’s artistry.

Under such lighting, the depth of Marion Bailey’s character presses to the forefront. The bricks of his foundation are drawn from real creatives and real buildings: he is rooted in South Side Chicago, a lineage that carries familiar stories of placemaking and the Great Migration. He exhaustively embodies the tension of creating under the consumptive white gaze. It is easy to believe Marion Bailey’s place in the canon of Black American musicians; not only are his generational ambitions palpable, but like many such figures, his story slips from prevailing historical memory. In Washington’s words, “Bailey’s Blues is both a film and a living archive--resuscitating not just one individual to speak, but an entire era of distinct-but-silenced voices.”

Washington’s creation and other speculative archives breathe curiosity and dignity into the underdogs of dominant historical narratives. Scholar Saidiya Hartman articulates this notion through the concept of critical fabulation, which throws into crisis “what happened when” by exploiting the “transparency of sources” as fictions of history. Over and over again, we encounter archives in which Black humanity appears only in omission. Critical fabulations like Bailey’s Blues reclaim these archival gaps as infinitely wide containers for truth: true experiences within white supremacist social structures, true familial lineages persisting into the present, true relationships between Black artists & their craft. Bailey continuously and ardently speaks to the taxing nature of his music; Bailey’s Blues not only captures his rawness but also moments where the internal documentary cuts or redirects in discomfort. The creative liberties of a fictitious approach thus do real work to dislodge Black livelihood from marginal documentation and into the broader frontier of narrative possibilities.

The fiction of Bailey’s Blues allows for a unique implosion of several temporal moments. The film itself emerges as an untold narrative within its own cinematic universe, in which Bailey is a member of the central band in Washington’s larger feature film. As an imitation of racial dynamics, it illuminates that the white perception of Black creativity historically is an invention of its own. The revelations presented by speculative archives not only question the past but also crack open the possibilities of our futures. As audience member and artist Vee Adams shares, “ [Bailey] said he leaves pieces of himself every time he is on the stage. I think as artists, we do this when we create. What do I want to leave behind?”

References

Chicago International Film Festival. Bailey’s Blues - Cinema/Chicago.

https://www.chicagofilmfestival.com/film/short-bailyblues/

IMDb. Bailey’s Blues (2025). https://www.imdb.com/title/tt35342949/?ref_=ttmi_ov_i

Indiegogo. Bailey’s Blues: An Experimental 16 mm Short Film.

https://www.indiegogo.com/en/projects/shilohtumowashington/bailey-s-blues-an-experimental-16mm-short-film

Hartman, Saidiya. Venus in Two Acts. 2008.

https://warwick.ac.uk/fac/arts/history/research/centres/blackstudies/venus_in_two_acts.pdf

Milwaukee Film. Black Lens Fiction Shorts: For the Dreamers.

https://mkefilm.org/films/69b8282f806dff10f20e5168/

TUMO WORKS. Bailey’s Blues Pitch Deck.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1NGIzbu_JxNCegefaHXcHI-qAN2CpoMY6/view

A Legacy of Representation

HBCUs were established as safe spaces, providing higher education for Black students who previously lacked access to both a well-rounded education and a safe campus environment. Since their founding in 1837, appearances have carried immense weight. In a period where respectability politics ruled Black life, students used fashion to assert their dignity and challenge the ruling stereotypes that kept the Black community down for so long. Formal dress became synonymous with social mobility and academic excellence. This included gloves, suits, and a polished overall look.

This emphasis on presentation extended into early campus traditions, leading to the creation of Founders Day. Founders Day naturally serves as a celebration of the college’s founding and allows students to acknowledge graduating seniors. These celebrations often called for formal dress to signify pride in their institution. Students and faculty combined Victorian styles with emerging Black aesthetics and fashions.

The Rise of HBCU Pageantry

HBCU pageants originated through another tradition called Homecoming. This tradition, which usually comes with a full week of events and parties, originated in the 20th century, long after HBCUs adopted their expectations of formality and professional dress. Because of this, HBCU Homecomings have existed as a space for students to express their style without judgment. Many students chose to wear attire that reflected their school colors, while Greek Letter organizations expressed their style through paraphernalia and coordinated looks. Pageants became a platform to express both talent and intellect. Unlike mainstream beauty pageants, HBCU pageants existed to foster community leadership. Fashion often became a vessel for telling stories and showcasing personality. They often wore flowy silhouettes with matching gloves, following a more traditional pageant-style dress during the time.

Evening gowns were a focal point of pageant fashion, but as time passed, fashion evolved, and gowns came to feature more fitted silhouettes, heavy beading, and vibrant colors. Elegance, however, was a constant in pageant styling, despite how much popular styles may have changed. Contestants focused on supporting Black designers to reinforce community ties and contribute to the economic growth of these businesses.

Hair became its own form of expression, and as the natural hair movement grew, that change was reflected within both campus and pageant culture. Contestants began wearing locs, afros, and braids to embrace their cultures and redefine what “pageant glamour” looked like.

Founders Day

Founders Day fashion carries its own symbolism, often blending sophistication with style. Even now, many HBCUs require white appropriate dresses for their female students, with simple jewelry like pearls, for any held convocation meetings or chapel events. For men, a suit, dress shoes, and minimal accessories are typically required.

While professional wear is still common, Founders Day fashion has become much more expansive, often replicating HCBU Homecoming stylings. Students now are drawn to contemporary trends, mixing streetwear with classic pieces. They stay true to tradition, often showing respect to their institution by wearing school colors and paraphernalia for students in the D9, or the Divine Nine, which serves as the National Pan-Hellenic Council.

Continuing the Tradition

Today, HBCU fashion continues to advance, often setting trends that soon become popular with a wider audience. Students continue to defy the norms while embracing both innovation and tradition. At its core, HBCU fashion trends, whether it be pageants, Homecoming, or Founders Day, tell a story of visibility and pride in Black culture. Every gown, suit, or Homecoming fit carries a legacy, one that honors the past while acknowledging and proudly stepping into the future.

References:

https://nmaahc.si.edu/explore/stories/5-things-know-hbcu-edition#:~:text=Historically%20Black%20Colleges%20and%20Universities%20(HBCUs)%20are,provide%20land-grants%20for%20institutions%20for%20Black%20students

https://hbcufirst.com/resources/hbcu-history-timeline

https://www.thefamuanonline.com/2025/04/06/crowning-culture-the-legacy-and-impact-of-hbcu-pageantry/https://www.thefamuanonline.com/2025/04/06/crowning-culture-the-legacy-and-impact-of-hbcu-pageantry/

https://www.watchtheyard.com/deltas/kahlana-barfield-brown-delta-sigma-theta/?amp=1

Connect with Chandler!

I might not have been navigating the sun-drenched streets of LA at that time, but every rewatch is a reminder of the soundtrack of my own life during my teenage years. From 2015-2019, and honestly probably a little bit after, every minor inconvenience felt like the end of the world. Looking back, there was a specific lightness to those “end of the world” moments because the world hadn’t actually ended yet. We were living in a pre pandemic purity, and the artists that were just getting their feet wet during those years captured that high-stakes emotionality in their music. It was the sound of a generation that was digitally connected but emotionally wandering.

This era of music was driven by aesthetics and production that married orchestral soul with gritty influences. It’s defined by muffled, almost underwater sounding production and conversational style vocals. Both made the music sound like the artists were doing more venting than singing, and created a space for the songs to become a part of our interior lives in a validating way.

Dreams vs Reality

The soundscape of these years is comparable to being transported through melodies that were almost ethereal, and lyrics that were grounded in the truisms of navigating love and life while being young and black.

Frank Ocean’s “Blonde” felt like looking at the sky on a hazy afternoon. “Pink + White” created a dream-like atmosphere through layers of instruments and vocals that felt like they were floating just out of reach. The same could be said for Tyler The Creators “Flower Boy”, which marked a new era of cinematic and lush production from Tyler. In contrast, Bryson Tiller’s “TRAPSOUL” and “True to Self” sounded like you could see the scenarios play out in real-time. His grounded, real-life-inspired lyrics and reverb-heavy, 808-driven production inspired a new language. Brent Faiyaz’s “Gang Over Luv” achieved the same with descriptive storytelling that evoked a feeling of nostalgia for a moment that hadn’t even ended yet.

The Sonic Archive

For me, these songs serve as a sonic archive. Music is a unique medium that can be used to memorialize moments our minds won’t let us forget, or the versions of ourselves we’ve outgrown. When I listen to “Over It” by Summer Walker, I’m immediately transported back to the day it dropped during my senior year of high school, feeling the exact anticipation I did when I snuck to the back of the classroom to listen to it for the first time. Daniel Caesar’s “Case Study 01” carried me through my summer of 2019, a season of optimism and heat. And then there was SZA’s undisputed classic “CTRL” , a project I listened to often but probably didn’t appreciate until I got a little older and realized my life was starting to sound like it could be a verse.

The Old New Wave

At the time, I didn’t realize I was witnessing a new evolution of R&B. A sound that defined an era and launched careers for some of the most popular artists in music today. I definitely didn’t realize that these songs that I was drawn to for reasons I couldn’t quite explain were actually describing my near future.

This “New Wave” of 2015-2019 didn’t just give us something to listen to, it outlined the twenty-something experience before we arrived there. These artists helped us effectively archive our own evolution through their sound. Every time we hit play, we’re revisiting a time that preserves our growth, our drama, and our culture.

There’s war abroad, in Vietnam, and it’s wildly unpopular. The draft isn’t an abstraction; it’s brothers, sons, cousins, classmates. People you know are being shipped out, and for many families, that is the crisis of the era: the fear of losing someone to a war that feels senseless.

But at home, the country is also on fire.

The Civil Rights Movement wasn't just a “topic”; it was a daily reality of protests, legislation, backlash, and constant violence. Black Americans were fighting for basic civil rights while being surveilled, beaten, and killed. And the contradiction of it all, the US claimed to fight for freedom abroad while denying it at home for its own citizens.

In a moment this volatile, foreign war and domestic violence, ideology is spoken and worn.

Clothes were read by the state, by the media, by neighbors, and by other movements. Angela Davis, a US political activist from this period, captures the brutality of that reduction perfectly, saying, “I am remembered as a hairdo.” (Davis, p. 37). She exposes the trap, Black political identity flattened into an aesthetic and then recycled as a trend, detached from risk.

And risk is the whole point.

In the 1960s and 70s, style became a fast code for radical or safe, patriotic, or threatening, respectable or dangerous. And when those labels decide who gets followed, stopped, searched, fired, arrested, harassed, fashion becomes survival.

Panther vs. Hippy: two “freedoms,” two bodies, two readings

The Black Panther aesthetic is instantly recognizable even today, decades later, because it was designed to be a controlled image of strength, discipline, unity, and readiness.

As Ava Saleh describes it:

“An afro tucked into a black beret, sunglasses over the eyes, a black leather jacket ornamented with pinback buttons, and a gun strapped across the body with a fist in the air. This is the uniform of the Black Panther Party” (Saleh, p. 11).

The term uniform matters because it means a collective identity. It means a message before individuality. It means: if you see me, you know what I stand for. And it is protective in a way people miss if they treat it like a costume. It builds recognition and warning, making the movement visible on purpose because, at this point in American history, invisibility wasn’t safe either. The uniform functions as a refusal to perform comfort for White America or to soften the Civil Rights era into something more “palatable.”

White Hippy Counterculture: Antiwar Style and the Luxury of Being “Free-Spirited”

When you flip the image, the white hippie counterculture of experimentation looseness Make Love Not War a politics of vibe and yes, often appropriative.

The antiwar protests weren’t trivial or symbolic; they produced real political pressure and cultural shifts, shaping how dissent looked and how it could be expressed in public.

But the social contrast is still brutal and obvious when white bodies are dressed outside of the system, they’re read as youthful, idealistic, brave, messy, and free, but when black bodies do it, especially in a uniform associated with self-defense, they’re read as criminal, militant, or a threat. The same country that romanticizes rebellion often prosecutes it.

Angela Davis gives clear proof that the body is never seen neutrally. When she was underground, she tried to style her way out of danger:

“it seemed to me that glamor was the only look that might annul the likelihood of being perceived as a revolutionary.” (Davis, p. 41)

Beyond The Uniform: Black Style as Infrastructure, Not Just Image

Even if the Panthers produced the era’s most iconic image, they weren’t the whole story of Black fashion politics. Some of the most consequential work happened away from cameras altogether, built in everyday spaces, through local networks, and in the quieter style decisions that shaped how people moved, gathered, and stayed safe.

A line from the Journal of Pan African Studies excerpt nails it:

“Shifting the focus away from lunch counters and public transportation reveals the ways in which spaces such as beauty salons and black-owned fashion boutiques were nodal points…” (Journal of Pan African Studies excerpt, p. 295)

Style and fashion are a network. Salons and boutiques, or spaces where women talked, organized, and exchanged information, built identities, debated, and created a space that didn’t have to cater to white permission or the media.

The part that’s harder to romanticize: “access” style, code-switching, and acceptable visibility.

Not everyone could afford to live in the iconic yet confrontational look of the Panthers: powerful, but it was also risky. Middle-class and Suburban black Americans (a smaller demographic than today) often had different calculations to make: mobility, employment, safety, and even getting home.

This fashion choice was not radical or loose; it’s something closer to acceptable. Clothing that signals that you know the rules buys you access– freedom looks different depending on what you were able to risk.

Style, History, and Context

Ending with “this matters now” can sound like a discovery when it isn’t. Style has always been one of the quickest ways to declare – or get assigned – an identity. Black style still gets filtered through context: the same look can be treated as a threat or celebrated as a trend depending on who’s wearing it, where, and what the moment demands. In that sense, the 60s and 70s(loud decades for fashion politics) left a blueprint for how aesthetics get tied to safety, danger, and belonging.

If we don’t keep the context alive, the image survives – but the politics dies first.

References

Lawrence, Vanessa. “Black Power Dressing: In the ’60s and ’70s, Ebony Magazine Founder Eunice Johnson Changed the Color of Fashion. A New Exhibition Pays Tribute.” W, vol. 42, no. 3, Mar. 2013, pp. 342+. Gale Academic OneFile, link.gale.com/apps/doc/A352302527/AONE?u=tall85761&sid=bookmark-AONE&xid=8b8fcaeb. Accessed 8 Apr. 2026.

Davis, Angela Y. “Afro Images: Politics, Fashion, and Nostalgia.” Critical Inquiry, vol. 21, no. 1, Autumn 1994, pp. 37–45.

Saleh, Ava. “The Politics of Style: How Black Fashion Redefined Identity in the Civil Rights Movement (1950s–1970s).” Rushton Journal of Undergraduate Humanities Research, vol. 3, 2025, article 2, https://digitalcommons.wayne.edu/rushton/vol3/iss1/2.

Ford, Tanisha C. “Soul Generation: Radical Fashion, Beauty, and the Transnational Black Liberation Movement, 1954–1980.” The Journal of Pan African Studies, vol. 5, no. 1, Mar. 2012, pp. 294–295.

“I’m tired”

“Not more tired than me”

The conversation between my mother, grandmother, and I that rang through my apartment hallway at the end of most days. A conversation shaped by matriarchal figures who were the true heads of households, who worked late nights and early mornings, who spent their days off running errands or doing chores, or who never sat down even when their bodies tried to force them to.

After generations, the need to always be doing is ingrained in us. Even at 23, I find the idea of truly doing nothing difficult to grasp. As if a day off work spent in bed and not getting something done is a day wasted.

In media and visual arts, black women aren’t often depicted resting at all, and if they are it’s to prepare to give more time and energy into others rather than to rejuvenate themselves. Challenging this narrative is Danielle McKinney, a Montgomery, Alabama born artist using her work to illustrate black femininity in one of its rarest forms: resting. McKinney didn’t have a traditional background in painting, she began her artistic journey diving into photography. The artist shares that her childhood growing up in a southern baptist family sparked her interest in photos capturing memory.

McKinney’s work is a masterful blend of intentional technique and relevant cultural expose. She uses black gesso as the foundational soul of her work, establishing a literal and metaphorical darkness for her subjects to rest in. By starting with a black background rather than a traditional white canvas, she reverses the standard additive process of painting. This method allows the figures to feel as though they are emerging from the shadows, mimicking the process of developing film photography in a darkroom. The resulting contrast in color creates a cinematic and deeply intimate mood that pulls the viewer in. This sense of closeness is further amplified by McKinney’s choice of scale. Her paintings often feature a smaller aspect ratio, a compositional decision that dictates the physical relationship between the art and the observer. Because the works are not sprawling or monumental, they require the viewer to lean in, shedding the distance of a casual spectator. This proximity allows one to feel like a “fly on the wall,” gaining access to the private, unvarnished experiences of the subjects in a way that feels earned rather than intrusive.

Within her work, the black woman’s home is reimagined as a sanctuary rather than a place of work. McKinney depicts her subjects lounging on sofas and beds, capturing them in moments of solitude and stillness. This portrayal stands as a juxtaposition to the historical narrative of Black women as the “keepers of the home”, a role often defined by tireless labor and the emotional needs of others.

To achieve this, she employs a chiaroscuro technique that places strong contrasts between light and darkness. While this style draws from the influence of the Old Masters, McKinney subverts traditional Western practices by replacing its typical white subjects with Black women in modern, lush settings.

This elevation of the Black experience through visual arts is similar to the work of Dominican painter Jorge Severino, who similarly depicted Black women in regal positions to contrast the limited, often stereotypical ways they were portrayed in historical family photographs.

In addition to the subjects, the scenery McKinney creates builds on the themes of comfort and lush. In an interview with Boston Art Review, she shares “It’s like I’m dollhouse building. I want to find a little house for these ladies to go into, and I want to make the scene very comfortable.”

Ultimately, the power of McKinney’s paintings lies in the interiority of her subjects. They often have their eyes closed or turned away from the viewer. This subtle shift in posture moves the narrative away from the act of being seen by the outside world.

Instead, the work becomes about the act of being with oneself, asserting that the most profound beauty exists in the moments when no one is watching.

In the worlds McKinney creates through her pieces, the idea that stillness produces abundance thrives. OMckinney had her first US solo exhibit in 2025 at the Brandeis University Rose Art Museum. Her work will soon be on view at the Norton Museum of Art under a new exhibition entitled “Danielle McKinney: Shelter” opening March 28th 2026. In recent years, other artists have brought this conversation to public spaces as well. In 2023 artist duo, Navild Acosta and Fannie Sosa used their MOMA installation “Black Power Naps” to ask an important question that Mckinney’s paintings also invoke- How Can We Rest If We Don’t Sleep?

The exhibit featured two studies that helped illustrate the “sleep gap” between black and white Americans and the structural differences it’s creating. Acosta shared with the MOMA creative team that “The first illustrates that there is at least a one-hour sleep gap between Black and white Americans ... The other study illustrates that Black Americans are not arriving at slow-wave sleep at the frequency that white Americans are. And slow-wave sleep is where we do all the repair in our bodies.” McKinney is showing us what it looks like when the body is finally safe enough to enter the deep, reparative stillness that Acosta and Sosa advocate for.

McKinney’s canvases argue that the constant state of doing is not a requirement for a life well-lived. Her work validates the idea that Black women have the same right to an inner complexity as their counterparts. Black women deserve a world of thought and daydreaming that doesn’t need to be explained or made productive for others. This is the heart of generational healing: honoring the ancestors who never sat down by finally taking a seat ourselves.

Resources:

https://www.moma.org/magazine/articles/842

https://marianneboeskygallery.com/artists/453-danielle-mckinney/works/

https://marianneboeskygallery.com/artists/453-danielle-mckinney/biography/

https://www.bostonartreview.com/read/danielle-joy-mckinney-in-conversation-alyssa-gaines

Connect with Shjan!

But the world of museums is much bigger than that.

Across the GLAM sector—Galleries, Libraries, Archives, and Museums—professionals are preserving historic documents, curating exhibitions, designing public programs, digitizing collections, and helping communities access knowledge in creative.

For students and emerging professionals interested in history, culture, and storytelling, the GLAM sector offers a dynamic and evolving career landscape.

What Do GLAM Institutions Do?

Though the work overlaps in many ways, each part of GLAM has its own focus.

Galleries typically focus on the exhibition and interpretation of visual art. Gallery professionals may work as curators, educators, registrars, or exhibition designers, helping bring artistic visions to life for audiences.

Libraries collect and provide access to books, digital materials, and research resources. Librarians and information professionals help communities find, evaluate, and use information effectively.

Archives preserve historical records and primary source materials. Archivists organize and care for documents, photographs, oral histories, and digital files that help tell the stories of individuals, communities, and institutions.

Museums collect, preserve, and interpret objects related to history, science, culture, and art. Museum professionals work in a variety of roles, including curation, collections management, education, public programming, and conservation.

While these institutions may appear separate, they often collaborate closely and share similar professional practices around preservation, research, and public engagement.

Careers in the GLAM Sector

One of the biggest misconceptions about GLAM careers is that they are limited to curators or librarians. In reality, the field is incredibly diverse and includes roles such as:

• Archivists and digital archivists

• Curators and assistant curators

• Collections managers

• Museum educators

• Librarians and research specialists

• Conservators

• Exhibition designers

• Public historians

• Digital humanities specialists

• Community engagement coordinators

Many GLAM institutions also employ professionals in communications, marketing, fundraising, event planning, and program management.

The Hard Truth

There are many opportunities to grow in the museum field; however, it isn't as simple as just applying for a job to break into these spaces. According to Ithaka SR and the American Alliance of Museums, People of Color still occupy fewer than 25 percent of certain key positions, and progress among Black and Indigenous staff has been limited. You can read their 2022 report here.

As of 2026, 600,000 Black women remain unemployed and underemployed. Those most affected are often the ones you wouldn't expect—college-educated women. I'm not sharing this to discourage you from entering the field; we desperately need more representation. However, I believe it's important to understand the obstacles some people face within this industry and the job market.

Overall, increasing the presence of Black women in GLAM is essential. Even if you're not in a traditional museum role, you could be creating content on diverse history topics, consulting with brands, or launching your own preservation business; the options are limitless. If you don’t see the opportunity, make one for yourself.

What Education Do You Need?

Educational pathways into the GLAM field vary by role. Many archivists and librarians hold graduate degrees such as a Master of Library and Information Science (MLIS) or a specialized archival studies degree. Museum professionals may pursue graduate training in museum studies, public history, art history, or related disciplines.

However, education is only part of the pathway. Internships, fellowships, volunteer work, and hands-on experience are often critical for entering the field. Here are a few MLIS and History Programs.

University of Alabama

University of Toronto

Louisiana State University

Pratt Institute

Emory University

Georgetown University

Tulane University

University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

Why Representation Matters

Historically, many GLAM institutions have not reflected the full diversity of the communities they serve. As a result, there has been a growing effort within the sector to expand access, diversify the workforce, and ensure that historically marginalized histories and voices are preserved and represented.

Organizations and initiatives focused on mentorship, community archiving, and inclusive collections practices are helping reshape the future of GLAM.

For students and emerging professionals, this means there are more opportunities than ever to contribute new perspectives and help redefine how history, culture, and knowledge are collected and shared.

Starting Your Journey

If you’re interested in a career in GLAM, consider:

• Taking courses in history, information science, or museum studies

• Volunteering or interning at local cultural institutions

• Attending public programs, exhibitions, and archive events

• Connecting with professionals in the field

• Exploring digital collections and community archives

Working in GLAM means becoming a steward of culture and knowledge. Whether preserving historical records, curating exhibitions, or connecting communities to information, professionals in this field play an essential role in shaping how stories are remembered and shared.

People and Pages to Follow

Black Girls In Archives

Armani Mines - Fashion Historian

Dr. Rikki Byrd - Founder of Black Fashion Archive

Kyah Harris - Fashion Historian

Asha Aman - Founder of The Contemporary Archives

The Reading Room in Houston, Texas

Dr. Adeerya Johnson - Hip Hop Museum Curator

Dr. Cyd Robertson - Fashion Researcher & Assistant Professor

Black Fashion Archive

References

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/11/20/arts/design/metropolitan-museum-max-hollein.html?utm_source=Pinterest&utm_medium=organic

https://sr.ithaka.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Mellon-Art-Museum-Staff-Demographic-Survey-11162022.pdf

https://www.ganttcenter.org/

https://www.instagram.com/blackfashionarchive/

https://www.houstoniamag.com/arts-and-culture/2026/02/reading-room-black-art-books-houston?utm_medium=organic&utm_source=Pinterest

https://www.zucotgallery.com/

https://news.artnet.com/art-world/simone-leigh-venice-biennale-ica-boston-1915042

Born: December 22, 1960, Brooklyn, New York, NY

Known For: Avant-Garde, Contemporary art, Neo-expressionism, Primitivism in the 1980s

Why His Work Matters: “I cross out words so you will see them more: the fact that they are obscured makes you want to read them.” Basquiat’s massive, expressive canvases are defined by bright, urgent color, bold mark-making, and his signature crossed-out text, a device that draws the viewer’s attention by partially withholding meaning. His work is also known for groundbreaking, skull-like faces and repeating symbols that feel at once personal and universal. Throughout his career, Basquiat referenced and paid homage to Black cultural icons, often writing their names directly onto the canvas, and his use of language, graffiti, and layered text remains central across his different artistic eras.

Famous Works:

On View: The Broad Museum LA, The Whitney Museum, The Museum of Modern Art(MoMA)

Kara Walker

Born: born in 1969 in Stockton, California, and raised in Atlanta, Georgia

Known For: Large-scale silhouette tableaux.

Why Their Work Matters:

“I wanted to make work where the viewer wouldn’t walk away; [they] would giggle nervously, get pulled into history, into fiction, into something totally demeaning and possibly very beautiful.” — Kara Walker.

Walker’s work is uncomfortable but hard to look away from, inviting viewers in while posing urgent questions in deliberately unorthodox ways. Drawing from forms historically associated with “women’s” craft and traditional modes of storytelling, Walker confronts slavery, racism, exploitation, gender, sexual violence, and imperialism with biting clarity. She has described herself as an “unreliable narrator,” using subjectivity and internal truth to create narratives that feel personal while still tapping into collective memory. Her work is often monumental in scale, immersing viewers both physically and emotionally.

Famous Works:

On View: The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York; The Museum of Modern Art, New York; The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; The Tate Gallery, London; the Museo Nazionale delle Arti del XXI Secolo (MAXXI), Rome; and Deutsche Bank, Frankfurt.

Henry Ossowa Tanner

Born: June 21, 1859, Pittsburgh, PA

Known For: Realism, religious genre painting, symbolism, impressionism, orientalism

Why His Work Matters: He broke through the social barriers placed on Black men in the art world and gained international recognition on his own terms, creating work that is both technically accomplished and deeply resonant. He also helped transform religious and genre painting by reimagining it through modern lived experience, moving beyond traditional biblical narratives and the people those stories were “supposed” to center on. The result is emotionally hard-hitting work that treats Black life and culture with seriousness, complexity, and care. That combination of curiosity, restraint, and maturity is what makes his work feel timeless, something each new generation can return to and still find urgent.

Famous Works:

On View: Hampton University Museum (Hampton, Virginia); Musée d’Orsay (Paris); Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (Boston, Massachusetts); Philadelphia Museum of Art (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania); and the Smithsonian (Washington, D.C.).

Ambrose Rhapsody Murray

Born: Jacksonville, Florida

Known For: Mixed media, film, sewing, and African American contemporary art

Why Their Work Matters:

“Through fabrics misshapen, draped, cut apart, sewn together, blurred, masked, and hidden imagery, I aim to visualize the complicated nature of memory, remembrance, and re-telling an account of violence or harm. Feeling and memory connected to cloth, textiles, and archival photographs are central themes in my work.” - Ambrose Rhapsody Murray

Their practice uses textiles and photographic reference points to explore how harm is remembered, reshaped, and retold, and how history can be both revealed and obscured. They also stand out for a collaborative approach, building work that feels communal while still sharply focused on the colonial holdovers that continue to shape everyday life. Influenced by Black feminist writers like Toni Morrison and Gwendolyn Brooks, their work carries a literary sense of voice, layering, and emotional precision. They were also named to Forbes 30 Under 30 (Art & Style) in 2024, signaling growing recognition for the impact and clarity of their vision.

Famous Works:

On View: The Studio Museum in Harlem and The Montclair Art Museum

Ryan Cosbert

Born: 1999 in New York, where she currently works

Known For: abstract compositions, mixed media, textural elements

Why Their Work Matters: Her work draws viewers in through bold, high-saturation color and dense, tactile surfaces that feel both inviting and charged. Underneath that visual immediacy is a research-driven practice: she uses what she describes as a “scholarly approach to abstraction,” building compositions informed by topics such as medical care in Black communities and architectural histories across the African continent. As an emerging artist, she stands out for the way her work balances beauty and intensity, pairing rigorous inquiry with a powerful, unmistakable visual language.

Famous Works:

On View: Traveling Mercies - Luce Gallery, Turin, Italy

References:

https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-29-emerging-black-artists-discover-black-history-mont

h-1

https://www.theartstory.org/artist/tanner-henry-ossawa/

https://www.moma.org/collection/works/110565

https://www.myartbroker.com/artist-jean-michel-basquiat/articles/jean-michel-basquiat-top-10-wo

rks

https://smarthistory.org/kara-walker-darkytown-rebellion/

https://smarthistory.org/kara-walker-darkytown-rebellion/

https://www.ambroserhapsodymurray.com/my-memory-is-a-machine

https://www.ryancosbert.com/install-shots

Connect with Natalie!

In just two years, we’ve hosted events in Atlanta, Virginia, and New York; created consistent monthly social hours that foster connection and community; launched a newsletter that has grown to 2,000 subscribers in just one year; and built a collective audience of over 10,000 followers across all platforms.

While the numbers are meaningful, the real impact goes far beyond metrics. What matters most is the community we’ve cultivated, the relationships we’ve built, and the ways we’ve supported Black girls as they navigate archives, libraries, museums, and cultural institutions.

As we celebrate this milestone, our team took time to reflect on how Black Girls in Archives has shaped their personal and professional journeys — and what this community truly means to them.

1. When you started Black Girls in Archives, what did you believe was missing — and how has that belief evolved over the last two years?

   When I founded BGIA, I knew two things were missing most: community and resources for Black girls in this space. That was my why, and it still is. Over the past two years, I’ve watched something shift. Archives have become a bit more accessible. More people are talking about it, whether that’s documenting their journey through school or preserving their family legacy. What I’m most proud of is giving us a platform and a language to name what we’ve always been doing.

   2. What moments over these past two years made you realize this work is bigger than you?

   I can’t point to just one moment. BGIA as a whole reminds me of this every day. But the launch will always stay with me. It showed me that I was never alone in the archives. There was already a community of Black women passionate about archives and the GLAM sector. I just created the space for us to find each other. And the more our community grows, the clearer it becomes that this work is so much bigger than me. I always say BGIA belongs to the community, not to me. I’m just the driving force behind it.
   

   3. If a young Black girl discovers BGIA ten years from now, what do you hope she finds — and what do you hope she feels?
   
   I hope she finds alignment — that feeling of this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I hope BGIA shows her that she belongs in the archives, in the GLAM sector, in these spaces that have always needed her voice. I hope she finds it useful as a tool to navigate her career, but also as a place to celebrate Black culture and our history. More than anything, I hope she feels honored, proud, and empowered. Knowing that she, too, can be a part of history in her own way. Archiving is not an easy path, but it is a joyful one for those who choose it. I hope BGIA reminds her, at every stage, that she is not alone.

   ---

1. How has being a part of the BGIA team impacted you?

Being part of the BGIA team has expanded how I understand archives and who they are for. I used to think about archives mostly in traditional terms, but this work has helped me see how they show up in our everyday lives. In our families, our communities, our creative work, and the ways we document ourselves.

It has also sharpened the way I think about access. Connecting with people across different parts of the field has shown me how far reaching archival work really is and how many different entry points there are. That perspective has pushed me to think more intentionally about how we create opportunities for others to see themselves in this work.

2. What does being a part of this community mean to you?

Being part of this community means responsibility in the best way. It means helping to create spaces where people feel welcomed, informed, and inspired. It means uplifting those who are already doing powerful archival work while also being a resource for those who are still figuring out how they fit into the field.

It also means helping people recognize how expansive archives can be. There are so many pathways, and I care a lot about making those pathways visible. Most importantly, it is about making sure our stories are preserved with intention and care, and that we feel empowered to take up space in this work.

I’m grateful to have spent the last two years building something that feels both impactful and personal.

1. How has being a part of the BGIA team impacted you?

   Navigating my archival interests as a student and thereafter was a challenge, to say the least; it was so disheartening, time after time, to experience a lack of institutional support for my mere presence, let alone my specific cultural intentions regarding the archives. Being part of the BGIA community and then joining the team is an affirming reminder that the preservation of Black stories is far from a siloed interest; it’s work taken up by innovative and intentional cultural workers all around me.

   2. What does being a part of this community mean to you?

   Being in the BGIA community means I get to support projects from all over the country. We uplift each other’s successes and ideate together on how to best fulfill our personal goals and serve the broader BGIA community. Coming out of some stuffy and elitist archival spaces, it’s the best breath of fresh air to be in community with those who get it, simply put.

   ---

1. How has being a part of the BGIA team impacted you?

   Being part of BGIA has been amazing. It’s meaningful to work alongside a team that shares similar interests and goals while fostering an inclusive and uplifting environment. Through this experience, I’ve expanded my understanding of the different pathways within the GLAM field and strengthened my confidence in pursuing archives and cultural preservation. Collaborating with like-minded peers has pushed me to think more critically about my role in this profession.

2. What does being a part of this community mean to you?

   BGIA means being part of an intentional community of people committed to preserving and amplifying Black women’s contributions. It represents legacy, visibility, and care. Learning about the history and impact Black women have made in this profession reminds me why this work matters and reinforces the kind of impact I hope to make in my own career. I’m grateful to grow in a space that reflects my values and aspirations.

   ---

1. How has being a part of the BGIA team impacted you?

   Being a part of BGIA has been one of the most grounding experiences of my college journey. BGIA has allowed me to immerse myself in new journalistic styles and has given me clarity about the impact I want to have.

2. What does being a part of this community mean to you?

   I’ve been pushed to think beyond just content, considering culture, connection, and storytelling in my works. I now feel a purpose behind my passion, affirming my ideas that impact starts with community and that I’ve found my community in BGIA!

   ---

   

   1. How has being a part of the BGIA team impacted you?

   Being part of the BGIA team has impacted me in a very positive way. I love being part of a community of people who look like me and share my interests. That was something I struggled with growing up. I love feeling like I make a bit of an impact by sharing information with people who might not know anything about archival fashion. I am on the fashion social team and have been here since September 2025. I have had such a great time being a part of this team.

   ---

1. How has being a part of the BGIA team impacted you?

BGIA has not only allowed me to meet amazing Black women in the GLAM sector but also created a safe space where I can learn, grow, and challenge myself.

2. What does being a part of this community mean to you?

   Being part of BGIA has helped me professionally and personally; it’s allowed me to turn my hobby into presentable, fulfilling work that I am proud to be part of, and it's helped build my confidence in my ability to create, plan, and execute.

   ---

1. How has being a part of the BGIA team impacted you?

   It has allowed me to engage with like-minded women and has drawn me closer to my interests in documenting and preserving Black women’s legacies.

2. What does being a part of this community mean to you?

   Being a part of this community means having a space dedicated to celebrating the people and places that are important to me.

1. How has being a part of the BGIA team impacted you?

   Being part of the Black Girls in Archives team as a non-Black woman has been incredibly inspiring. Working alongside so many powerful Black women has encouraged me to reflect more deeply on my own heritage and community, while also appreciating and learning from this one. As an art history student, much of our coursework focuses on the classical canon, but researching Black artists for the newsletter has opened my eyes to creative communities and histories that I was aware of but had never engaged with so directly.

2. What does being a part of this community mean to you?

   This experience has made the importance of community feel very real to me. I am constantly inspired by the passion, knowledge, and support that these women bring to the space. Being part of an all-women team is empowering in itself, and witnessing a space intentionally created to uplift Black women has been both eye-opening and meaningful. Even though it is not a community I personally come from, it has been an honor to learn from it, contribute to it, and grow alongside it.

1. How has being a part of the BGIA team impacted you?

Being a part of Black Girls in Archives has impacted me in such a meaningful way. It has allowed me to see the importance of preserving Black history and culture, especially within fashion and creative spaces. As someone on the marketing team for the fashion side, I’ve learned how storytelling, branding, and archival work all connect. This experience has strengthened my confidence, expanded my professional skills, and reminded me of the power of Black women creating space for one another. It has truly made me more intentional about the work I want to do in the future.

2. What does being a part of this community mean to you?

Being a part of this community means belonging. It means being surrounded by driven, creative, and talented Black women who are passionate about preserving culture and shaping the future. It feels empowering to contribute to a space that values history, fashion, and representation. This community represents support, growth, and legacy. Also, being a part of that is something I don’t take lightly.

2. What does being a part of this community mean to you?

I never knew there were so many Black women interested in archival work before BGIA. Being a part of a team with other women with different interests and awesome work backgrounds has been an exciting ride. It feels like I’m a part of history as we build BGIA together. As I push out content, I too am learning more about the archival field and all its facets, which is beautiful. Thank you BGIA for this space!

1. How has being a part of the BGIA team impacted you?

Being a part of the BGIA team has truly changed my life. I met Armani on LinkedIn before the inception of BGIA. I told her about my passion and interest, and she opened up a door I never knew existed. A world of archives and fashion history. That changed the trajectory of my career. I have had the opportunity to grow in my leadership abilities by overseeing our newsletter content. I have an amazing team of writers who continually open their perspectives and prioritize educating others. I am forever grateful and thankful to BGIA for the doors it has opened for me.

2. What does being a part of this community mean to you?

Black women have and always will show up for me everytime. Being around so many smart and powerful black women is inspiring and uplifting. I am encouraged to keep trying and exploring while being given the space to do so.

Thank you to our amazing BGIA community. We wouldn’t be this far without you and your support. Cheers to another year! 🥂

For these very reasons, zines play a powerful role in the history of Black American autonomy. As self-publications, zines break down the barriers established by a literary industry whose valuation of “worthwhile” narratives is directly correlated to white supremacy and capitalism. Through history and into the present, Black zine-makers use their craft to break free of the standards imposed on Black culture & instead take power into their own hands.

A Brief History of Black Zines

Ida Bell Wells remains one of the most lauded names in Black American history. An investigative journalist and civil rights activist, Ida B. Wells traveled throughout the South gathering eyewitness testimonies of lynching. While she eventually came to own & co-own the investigative newspaper Memphis Free Speech and Headlight, she importantly published and distributed her own pamphlets. Through these publications, Wells challenged the social myths that justified lynching and unflinchingly delivered them to affected communities.

Though a single-issue publication, FIRE! is one of the most prolific self-publications to emerge from the Harlem Renaissance. The magazine's contributors include literary giants like Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, Wallace Thurman, and Countee Cullen. The contributors viewed the publication as an outlet to “express ourselves freely and independently without interference from old heads, white or Negro.” FIRE!! not only incubated poetry and prose, but made space for taboo-like experimental writing and queer stories, breaking the mold that Black writers were cattled into.

The cover alone of Black Woman’s Manifesto remains one of the most iconic images from the explosion of zine-making in the 1970s. The medium complemented the socio-political landscape of the time; zines were critical resources for mass education amid revolutionary change. Calling out medical racism and labor exploitation, the manifesto pointedly documents the ‘double jeopardy’ (phrase coined by contributor Frances Beal) of Black women, whose position is the most vulnerable yet most outcasted in the feminist and Black power movements.

The third project under this name (first skate collective and band) by Ramdasha Bikceem, GUNK, was launched when Bikceem was just 15 years old. The publication emerged after Bikceem submitted an anonymous complaint to popular skateboarding magazine Thrasher, stating, “I’ve decided not to wait around for you to include females in it. I’m going to start my own mag.” They produced five issues of the riot grrrl movement publication, carving space to speak about punk and skateboarding cultures from the distinct oppressions facing Black femmes.

Contemporary Vehicle into the Future

Zines remind us that we have all the tools we need to share our stories with the world. Especially in a society that relentlessly pushes narratives to dehumanize and discredit our Blackness, we can follow in the footsteps of our ancestors and fight these stories with beautiful creations of our own.

Check out these upcoming zine fairs to connect with Black innovators and get inspired to publish your own:

LGBTQ+ Zine Fair - February 21, 2026 (London, United Kingdom)

FLUKE Mini-Comic & Zine Expo - March 28, 2026 (Athens, Georgia)

Milwaukee Zine Fest - April 18, 2026 (Milwaukee, Wisconsin)

Black Zine Fair - May 9, 2026 (New York, New York)

Detroit Zine Fest - May 16, 2026 (Detroit, Michigan)

Olympia Zine Fest - May 30, 2026 (Olympia, Washington)

Resources:

https://organizingmythoughts.org/making-things-together-zines-strategy-and-survival/

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/brooklyn-museum-explores-how-zines-offered-a-voice-to-those-outside-mainstream-culture-180983351/

https://womxnskatehistory.ca/2022/05/05/ramdasha-bikceem/

“Reimagining the Archives with Zines: A Conversation with Mariama Kaba” workshop with the Avery Research Center

https://nicezines.skynash.co.uk/2025/12/29/zine-events-in-2026/

https://www.metmuseum.org/perspectives/library-zines-in-watson

Connect with Mia!