As public (state-dependent) institutions, history museums in Mexico are viewed as embodiments of official history , unable to present history as contested and constructed. This article offers a detailed explanation of how and to what extent official history operates in the construction of historical narratives and visitors’ experiences of two history museums in Mexico City. Results showed specific omission strategies, divergences, and inconsistencies in the historical discourse, as well as peoples’ autonomous and creative meaning-making of the past, both of which provide strong evidence to advocate for an understanding of official history not as one, but as several competing narratives produced at different times by institutions and professionals affiliated (either directly or indirectly) with the state.

This Report from the Field is a post-mortem reflection on a statewide memorialization project on slavery that ultimately failed. In this essay, I attribute the failure of the project in large part to conflicting historical approaches and claims to narrative authority over the representation of a specifically Rhode Island image of slavery. Although the organization studied here no longer exists, other nascent grassroots organizations dedicated to the memorialization of slavery and grappling with issues of emerging narratives and competing claims to local memory may derive benefit from my analysis and the proposed “scaffolded conversations” with which I conclude.

Inequality in Bronze is a two-year project (2018–20) reckoning with the history of slavery at Stenton, a plantation house museum in Philadelphia, by commissioning a new memorial to Dinah, a woman enslaved at the property in the mid-1700s. Drawing on data collected throughout the project, this article argues that historic house museums need to move from “community participation” to “community integration” in their efforts to forefront racial equity. This article asks how we can redress centuries of erasure and the absence of Black lives at historic sites. It offers points of consideration for other historic house museums contemplating similar projects as the collective work to address the legacies of American enslavement continues.

The “Faro a Colón,” or “Columbus Lighthouse,” is perhaps the largest memorial to Christopher Columbus in the world. Inaugurated in 1992 as a celebration of the five-hundredth anniversary of Columbus’s first arrival in the Americas, it is visible throughout much of Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic. This article argues that the typical presentation of the monument is badly misaligned with the historical record, but that a historically and historiographically informed interpretation can lead to a truer understanding of the violence and greed of colonization. Contrary to what its designers wanted to show about Columbus, and in some ways in spite of itself, the Columbus Lighthouse conveys with unusual clarity the problems of memorializing one of the most (in)famous figures in world history.

This article describes and evaluates a 3-D scanned and printed exhibit created by students and faculty in collaboration with a local museum to increase accessibility to archaeological and historical collections for audiences with visual disabilities, neurodivergence, and sensory processing differences. 3-D technologies allowed for the creation of a hands-on exhibit, accompanied by a variety of accessible solutions, such as audio, video, and braille, allowing audiences to explore reproductions of artifacts through touch. Surveys of museum attendees and students who participated in the project revealed that the tactile exhibit and design experience were extremely positive. As museums and public historians strive for universal design and access in programs, this technology provides another opportunity for engagement. The authors explain methods and applications for public historians, museums, and outreach.

Since Pleasant Rowland launched the American Girl brand in 1986, the popular dolls and books have inspired generations of young people. The American Girls Podcast, developed and produced by two historians, re-examines the world of American Girl, applying historical analysis and social commentary to understand how formative the brand was for their own and others’ lives. The podcast has also cultivated a community of listeners who continue to engage with the dolls and stories in innovative ways; in this way, the show serves as a forum for ongoing conversations about the meaning of American Girl.

Girlhood (It’s complicated) is an exhibition at the National Museum of American History (NMAH), part of the Smithsonian Institution, which opened in October of 2020. Created with federal funding as part of the American Women’s History Initiative (AWHI), the exhibition commemorates the centennial of women’s suffrage. To put a fresh spin on this anniversary and draw attention to larger, intertwining issues of gender and politics in the United States, the exhibition team chose to explore the history of girlhood and girls as political actors as the focus of the show. Drawing on the rich, interdisciplinary literature of girlhood studies and inspired by zines as a form of identity creation and political self-expression, the show aims to create a public history of girlhood that unveils the public lives of girls in the past and showcases the many ways in which they, even without the vote or formal political power, have had a political voice in American history. The exhibition is open at the NMAH from October 2020 to January 2023, and will travel with the Smithsonian Institution Traveling Exhibition Service through 2026.

This article explores girls’ participation in 1976 American Revolution Bicentennial celebrations through their national organizations. Members of the Girl Scouts and the Camp Fire Girls were deeply involved in the nation’s displays of civic pride. Girls’ organizations linked their ordinary service projects to the Bicentennial and created new projects as they caught the national bandwagon. To some extent, these efforts emphasized unquestioning patriotism, but each organization, propelled by second-wave feminism and social history, also absorbed and advanced efforts to recover multiple perspectives. Girls’ organizations became public history spaces and girls in them saw the understanding of and dissemination of history as an important part of female citizenship.

Pleasant Rowland, who founded the American Girl historical doll, accessory, and book collection in the mid-1980s, claimed that her dolls were like “chocolate cake with vitamins,” enjoyable, but also educational. Although history has always played a part in the American Girl brand, its role has fluctuated over time in concert with changing social discourses about gender and race in American culture. This essay explores how the brand has engaged with these shifting discourses over the last thirty years as it determines how to invite children and their parents to encounter the brand’s retelling of the past. How have the “vitamins” that Rowland imagined for her consumers changed over time as the seventeen historical characters have been created, rebranded, and marketed in contemporary America?

LEGO bricks are one of the world’s most popular toys, part of a class of postwar playthings that addressed middle-class ideals of childhood creativity and educative play. As the company adapted to a globalized consumer culture in the second half of the twentieth century, however, it also relied on longstanding tropes of gender, history, and cultural others that put pressure on its claims as a provider of wholesome, “universal” play. This article unpacks how LEGO’s product designs, marketing, and theme park operations have commodified historical inequities, giving tangible form to stereotypes of a racially unmarked European past, colonial encounters with the “uncivilized,” and the gendering of domestic space and construction play.

The animated Schoolhouse Rock! shorts that ABC ran between Saturday morning cartoons from 1973 through 1985 (and again in the 1990s) formed many children’s understanding of civics and US history. The Schoolhouse Rock! cartoons, however, were better at celebrating the accomplishments of the United States than presenting varied perspectives or addressing difficult historical issues. So what lessons can this program offer to twenty-first century historians seeking to offer children a more inclusive and nuanced story of the past? This article uses oral histories, promotional materials, and corporate records to examine the process of making these wildly popular models of public history. It also hypothesizes how a Schoolhouse Rock! for the 2020s could bridge scholarly and public discussions about the relationship between civics and history, while simultaneously creating diverse and critical historical narratives that are (hopefully) as engaging and memorable to young consumers as the original series was for their parents.

Using social media posts on sites such as Reddit and You Tube, I analyze how players think about the history embedded in Civilization , an immensely popular computer game. I find that most players are males who started playing the game as children or adolescents. Most posters express little interest in history, but those that do often credit Civilization with sparking a lifelong passion for history. These players develop what I call an “immersive critique.” They enjoy playing the game even as they readily articulate its flaws.

Regardless of their interest in historic architecture, Americans often dismiss Modern architecture for being too boring, ugly, or recent to be worthy of preservation. Using the author’s advocacy experience in Columbia, South Carolina, as a case study, this article offers strategies for those looking to advocate and educate for Modern buildings constructed outside of major American cities between 1945 and 1975. The essay introduces the historical context for local Modern architecture, dissects its most common derisions, and suggests ways to convince skeptics to move past their assumptions.

This article examines the potential use of dinosaur parks to reassess the relationship between humans and the environment. These sites have been developed across Europe and the United States over the course of the last century and have been neglected as sites of public history and environmental heritage. Within the guided trails where visitors interact with model or animatronic re-creations of animals that were extinct millions of years ago, a process of transformation takes place as individuals are required to rethink humanity’s place in the vast timescale of the Earth’s history and the fate of our own species in the context of climate change. Methods of affective engagement within the dinosaur parks serve as a tool to understand how natural history can be presented to the wider public as a means of changing attitudes and ideals. As we enter into the Anthropocene and we face environmental threats caused by human activity, it is the confrontation with the dinosaurs that can alter our present and our future on the planet.

The industrial heritage attraction known as AutoWorld, which opened in downtown Flint in July 1984, was intended to lure businesses and tourists to a struggling city. Yet just six months after opening, AutoWorld closed. This essay explores AutoWorld’s creation, its exhibits, and why audiences rejected it. I argue that this “half museum” and “half theme park” prioritized the auto industry’s agenda and white suburbanites over the needs of Flint residents. In doing so, I trace the connections between AutoWorld and the Flint Water Crisis, the origins of which are partially rooted in the subsidization of the auto industry’s expansion to the Flint suburbs. Because of misguided planning initiatives like AutoWorld, as well as the criminal enabling of the water crisis, the foundation of trust between Flint residents and those who operate the city’s institutions has been severely weakened.