A Visit to the Smithsonian Archives: Native Representation and Memory Preservation

When I consider an archive, I think about a windowless facility to forestall the solar, the enemy of delicate supplies, from coming into. I image a well-guarded secure home, countless cabinets, and packing containers caked with mud. The National Museum of the American Indian’s Cultural Resources Center and the National Museum of Natural History’s National Anthropological Archives modified my notion.

I used to be lucky sufficient to go to these Smithsonian archives in Suitland, Maryland, six miles southeast of the National Mall, together with contributors of the Smithsonian Folklife Festival’s Native Language Reclamation within the U.S. program. I used to be capable of focus on with Native Hawaiians and Kanienʼkehá:ka (Mohawk) individuals how our go to offered them with a possibility to stroll by historical past and reconnect with their ancestors by their phrases and objects.

A babbling creek runs down the steps as you enter the Cultural Resources Center, after which you’re instantly greeted by a blessing from the Hopi neighborhood as soon as inside. You enter by the east, a deliberate option to honor the Indigenous American customized of greeting the morning solar with east-facing doorways.

Once inside, heat daylight bathes the central rotunda by a glass roof, consultant of a portal to the world above us. Columns representing the cardinal instructions flank the room, supporting angled panels and glass sections with latticework meant to resemble butterfly wings and spiderwebs. A glass field sits on the middle of the room, representing the world under; I used to be advised it’s because data is believed to rise from beneath.

I used to be in awe of the fantastic thing about the constructing and the reverence put into its design. Working in collaboration with Indigenous architects, the designers knew it was essential for the constructing to have home windows, in order that the objects—dwelling beings, in Indigenous perception—can see the altering of the seasons.

For Mary Linn, curator of the Native Language Reclamation program, offering a visit to the archives and collections whereas contributors have been in D.C. for the Festival was all the time a objective.

“Community access and shared stewardship is part of my being,” she stated. “It was critical to me that if we invited young Native people to give us their time and expertise for the Festival that we provide an extra day and open our collections to them to see their own heritage that we help care for. I also want to help create the next generation of Native museum workers, archivists, and memory professionals, as well as language workers.”

Pelehonuamea “Pele” Harman was excited concerning the alternative. “One of our major desires since we’re going to be all the way there in Washington, D.C., was to incorporate educational activities for our group,” Harman defined. “Specifically, we wanted to be able to look at the Hawaiian collections in the Smithsonian.”

Harman is a kumu hula (hula trainer) at Hālau I Ka Leo Ola O Nā Mamo (School of the Living Voice of the Descendants), a hula college on the island of Hawaiʻi that teaches completely by ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi (Hawaiian language). In the archives, she and her college students have been capable of see objects they use of their performances right this moment, reminiscent of ipu hula, or gourd drums. “It really was like children in a candy store,” she stated.

For a few of Harmon’s college students, reminiscent of Kāwika Keuma, it was their first time visiting an archive. He related the phrase “archive” with archived lessons on Google Classroom, however he was astounded seeing the fact: rows and rows of cupboards housing numerous objects.

“I don’t think any of us would have expected that those huge, super meaningful sacred artifacts would be in a place like that,” Keuma mirrored. “Being able to go somewhere else and see things that are from here, it was a really cool experience because we were going there to showcase us, and we were able to see a part of us there.”

One of probably the most memorable objects for him was an ʻahu ʻula, a cape made from pink and yellow feathers, a sacred object not usually seen in on a regular basis life. Although Keuma had seen footage earlier than, with the ability to see these objects in particular person added a deeper stage of appreciation. “To be in their presence, especially that feather cape because it’s at such a high status and chiefly status, was really cool,” he stated. “Certain capes represent certain islands, and everybody in our group, we all have different backgrounds, so being able to see that and being represented in things that were there was really cool.”

Harman stated she was in awe of the ʻahu ʻula’s craftsmanship and amazed at its preservation. “The level of excellence in the artistry that went into it, and the fact that the colors remain super vibrant, the designs are intact,” she stated. “I found myself constantly looking back and thinking, can you imagine this? That this was more than 100 years ago, and look—it’s in pristine shape. What does that tell us about our daily lives? Do we create things that are meant to last centuries?”

In addition to offering her college students with an invaluable academic expertise, Harman’s motivation for visiting the archives was deeply private. The Smithsonian presently has 5 packing containers of archival materials belonging to her great-grandmother, Hawaiian scholar, dancer, and educator Mary Kawena Pukui, who’s honored on the 2025 U.S. $1 coin.

In her lifetime, Pukui labored diligently to doc Hawaiian tradition within the wake of the dominion’s overthrow in 1893 and American annexation in 1898. “She really dedicated herself to preserving whatever she could of our culture and our language,” Harman stated. “A lot of [the archival materials] are transcriptions of interviews that she did with Native speakers or Native high practitioners of our traditional medicines. It would also be papers or essays that she authored about a lot of the practices here in Hawai‘i that she was seeing disappear before her eyes.”

The materials additionally included Pukui’s anthropological writings on native crops and different ethnographic notes that might later develop into a part of her greater than fifty revealed scholarly works, together with the Hawaiian-English dictionary she authored in 1957 and ʻŌlelo Noʻeau: Hawaiian Proverbs & Poetical Sayings in 1983.

For Harman, her most treasured reminiscence of the go to was watching an archival movie of her great-aunt Patience Namaka Wiggin performing conventional hula dances. She had seen the movie earlier than on the Bishop Museum in Honolulu, however through the digitization course of, half of the movie was corrupted, ensuing within the lack of whole sections. Thankfully, the Bishop Museum requested that the Smithsonian copy the movie earlier than they tried to digitize it, and this copy stays in pristine situation.

“That was mind-blowing because some of the names have changed over time, or we no longer know the hula practitioner,” Harman stated. “There was a whole other portion that I had never seen on the film explaining hand motions. We watched the film in its entirety. I saw things that I’ve never, ever seen. Just to see my great aunt, who lived to be almost 101, dancing was definitely the highlight.”

Wishe Brant Mittelstaedt, a member of the Kanienʼkehá:ka nation, described an identical private expertise throughout our go to. He seen three baskets woven by the prolific basket maker Mary Adams, and although she handed away earlier than he might meet her in particular person, he has since shaped an in depth bond along with her youngsters and granddaughter. “Seeing those was pretty cool. I even video-called one of her daughters, Trudy, who’s in her late seventies, and showed her, like, ‘Hey, I’ve got your mom’s baskets here, and they’re still in good shape.’”

Mittelstaedt additionally described two group members’ interactions with century-old cradleboards from their neighborhood of Gonzaga, north of Montreal. “That was really emotional for those two people in particular, to know that there were babies from the community that were swaddled in there. They were painted and designed beautifully.”

Mittelstaedt is a member of Ionkwahronkha’onhátie’ (We have gotten fluent), a grassroots group operated by and for younger grownup second-language (L2) learners of Kanien’kéha (Mohawk) working to reclaim and revitalize their language.

“We’re all very big nerds when it comes to learning our language,” Mittelstaedt stated. “We were excited to find all these new words people don’t say anymore and getting a different understanding of things. It’s interesting to see what your ancestors were saying 200 years ago. It may not be relevant now, but it’s so cool.”

Among a few of the paperwork, Mittelstaedt and his friends have been capable of peruse within the National Anthropological Archives have been phrase lists of names for varied medicines and crops, newspaper clippings, and even a letter written within the late 1700s. 

“I’ve had experience working with archivists, but that was my first time in an archive, especially at the scale of the Smithsonian. It was awesome,” Mittelstaedt stated. “There were boxes and boxes and boxes. I would just like to read through all of it and see what I find.”

Mittelstaedt expressed his gratitude for the alternative to go to the archives and forge connections with different Festival contributors. “It was really nice that we had the chance to meet these other Indigenous groups: the Hawaiians, the Myaamia, and the Sugpiaq. That was probably the best part of the whole trip—that we all got to hang out with four different groups.”

Harman echoed the sentiment, talking of the deep sense of neighborhood she felt and the uncommon probability to face earlier than objects as soon as held by their ancestors. “It was so nice to see all these Indigenous people delving into their collections and geeking out on the things that fill their cup,” she stated.

“We’re just very appreciative to know that this is a place that our grandchildren and great-grandchildren can continue to go and visit,” Harman continued. “I have no doubt that they’ll be around for a very long time, for future generations to engage with, because they’re cared for.”

But Keuma hopes these collections will one day be simpler to entry. “If some of those pieces could eventually be returned here, to any of the islands, that’s more accessible for everyone. We could catch a forty-five-minute plane to O’ahu and be able to see that cape somewhere way closer.”

I’m likewise grateful for the chance to go to the Smithsonian’s collections and archives, and it was a strong reminder that whereas objects could journey removed from their origins, their spirit nonetheless belongs to the individuals who made them. Seeing Indigenous ancestors’ phrases, works, and artistry so fastidiously preserved left me questioning what future generations will inherit from us, and whether or not the issues we create right this moment will carry ahead the identical resilience, magnificence, and fact.

Sebastian Barajas is an intern within the Folklife Storytellers Workshop and the Mother Tongue Film Festival and a latest artwork historical past graduate from The University of Texas at Austin.