Jekyll2022-11-11T05:52:44+00:00https://nikhiltrivedi.com/feed.xmlnikhil trivedi | Museums. Technology. Social Justice.Digital Platforms Are Not Neutral: Actions2020-11-20T00:00:00+00:002020-11-20T00:00:00+00:00https://nikhiltrivedi.com/2020/11/20/platforms-are-not-neutral<p>At MCN 2020 I had the opportunity to present my thoughts on actions we could take to curb the exploitation of our data privacy and the impact of persuasive technology. I presented my thoughts within a framework I got from the <a href="https://www.museumaction.org">MASS Action</a> Toolkit—Awareness, Acceptance, and Action. I suggested following this framework so that any action we take is grounded in the root issues of the problems we’re addressing, with the hope that our action will be sustained long into the future.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/platforms-are-not-neutral-team.jpeg" alt="The six presenters of the MCN panel discussion on a Google Hangouts tiled screen during a planning call" /></p>
<h2 id="awareness">Awareness</h2>
<p>It’s important that we first and foremost understand the history of capitalism. The history of capitalism is the history of racism, classism, sexism, and all forms of systemic oppression because capitalism has always put profits over people. The exploitative patterns we’re seeing in tech are rooted in the foundations of capitalism, and can trace their roots to these same histories. For example, when we talk about surveillance we can look to the panopticon and the increasingly militarized police states many of us find ourselves living in which is can trace its roots to the survilleince of enslaved people. When we consider information being manipulated for the purpose of persuasion we can look back to treaties with Indigenous nations, an exploitative history going back hundreds of years. Captialist exploitation defines the foundations of modern society and the tech world we operate in.</p>
<p>Coming specifically to tech issues, resources for increasing our awareness include:</p>
<ul>
<li>Electronic Frontier Foundation – eff.org</li>
<li>Free Software Foundation – fsf.org</li>
</ul>
<p>Both orgs have been around for 30 years and have a long history of advocating for safer, more just tech. Sign up to their email lists to stay in touch with their activities. It’s also important that those of us in museum tech stay in tune with the tech world more broadly. One list I’ve found useful is <a href="techmeme.com">TechMeme</a>, a daily email that summarized headlines and responses regarding privacy and security as well as more popular news like big Apple announcements.</p>
<h2 id="acceptance">Acceptance</h2>
<p>From here it’s important that we accept a basic reality: surveillance allows platforms to sell their ability to convince us. Big tech is quite simply a set of businesses built on their ability to convince us of things—whether it’s things to buy or people to vote for. The harvesting of things like our location data, our communications with each other, the things we like, facial recognition, their partnerships with enforcement agencies, and the eroding of net neutrality all work together to weave a thick fabric meant to maintain an oppressive status quo. As LaTanya Autry said in her session at MCN last week: Normal is broken. Normal is oppressive. Normal hurts.</p>
<p>We must acknowledge that our participation in platforms and technologies—or our non-participation—matters, however minuscule we may feel our impact might have.</p>
<p>I suggest gathering and sharing resources as much as possible. Find two people in your organization who share a similar interest, curiosity or sensibility as you, signup to the newsletters I linked above, and meet every two weeks to talk about what you’re learning. Then as you’re learning, take action together. Set yourself up so you’re not engaging in this work alone.</p>
<h2 id="action">Action</h2>
<p>Coming back to the foundations of capitalism, we must center all our action in the demand to put people over profits. Research the issues and participate in existing campaigns. EFF has an <a href="https://act.eff.org/">action center</a> where you can see all their existing campaigns. FSF currently had a <a href="https://www.fsf.org/campaigns/campaigns-summaries#surveillance">campaign on surveillance</a>.</p>
<p>Some of the campaigns ask us to contact your representatives. Do it! It’s been shown that the most effective forms of contact are to send handwritten postcards, making calls and making in-person visits (or video-conference during the pandemic). Take the two people you created a crew with and set up an in-person meeting with your reps. Much tech legislation can easily fall off of our reps’ radars as it can be hyper specific to a context they may not be familiar with. We can wear our educational-institution hats and play an important role in helping our reps understand the importance of these policies. If you’re anxious about engaging in this way due to your org being a 501(c)(3), check out this <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xh6ZtRk2bU">Ignite talk by Claire Blechman</a> to dispel any anxieties you might have.</p>
<p>Define your data collection and retention policies. Many of our teams may have unspoken policies, which are still policies. Take a moment to articulate them in writing. This exercise helps us to be really clear with ourselves on what our policies are, and gives us the opportunity to make sure everyone on our team is on the same page. Once you’ve written them out, review them with your team regularly to ensure you’re on the same page.</p>
<p>Then ask your vendors what their policies are. If their policies are not aligned with yours, ask them to change their policies. If you encounter resistance, talk to other customers and organize to push for change. For smaller vendors this can be effective. For larger platforms, we’ll need to rely on larger campaigns like the ones I outlined above.</p>
<p>Coming to actions that are more individual, the <a href="https://datadetoxkit.org/en/home/">Data Detox Kit</a> has a huge number of suggestions we can take. Look them over and talk to your friends and families about doing these with you. I’ve started sharing one suggestion at a time with my non-tech friends so I can serve as tech support for them if needed. Some of their suggestions include:</p>
<ul>
<li>Turn off location services on all your apps</li>
<li>Delete apps you don’t use every day. You can always reinstall when you need them</li>
<li>Set duckduckgo as your default search engine on your desktop and mobile devices</li>
<li>Do all your browsing in private or incognito windows</li>
</ul>
<p>I’m grateful for the opportunity to present on the panel discussion with some amazingly talented and smart colleagues in the museum tech field including <a href="https://swambold.com">Sarah Wambold</a>, <a href="https://danamus.es">Dana Allen-Greil</a>, <a href="https://spellerberg.org">Marty Spellerberg</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/polackio">Matt Popke</a>, and <a href="https://www.mcn.edu">MCN</a> Execute Director Eric Longo. And thanks to the work of <a href="https://artstuffmatters.wordpress.com/">LaTanya Autry</a> and <a href="https://artmuseumteaching.com/">Mike Murawski</a> for their work on the #MuseumsAreNotNeutral campaign that inspired the name of our talk.</p>
<p>We compiled a <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1RBZC9xX90QtqKzvUWQaSkZaAPV7nHmfAjNYTF0-8IQM/edit">list of additional resources</a> as well, if you’re interested in digging in and learning more about these issues.</p>At MCN 2020 I had the opportunity to present my thoughts on actions we could take to curb the exploitation of our data privacy and the impact of persuasive technology. I presented my thoughts within a framework I got from the MASS Action Toolkit—Awareness, Acceptance, and Action. I suggested following this framework so that any action we take is grounded in the root issues of the problems we’re addressing, with the hope that our action will be sustained long into the future.MCN 2017 takeaways2017-12-04T00:00:00+00:002017-12-04T00:00:00+00:00https://nikhiltrivedi.com/2017/12/04/mcn-takeaways<p>MCN is one of two museum technology conferences that happen annually. While there are many talks and conversations diving deep into technical topics, the conference is most known for its threads on organizational culture and social transformation. Following are some of my major takeaways.</p>
<h3 id="creating-space-slowing-down-demonstrating-our-values">Creating space, slowing down, demonstrating our values</h3>
<p>The tenor of the conference seemed to reflect the current social climate in the United States. There were lots of talks on taking care of ourselves while taking a stand on charged topics in the public discourse. Sessions included topics like <a href="https://conference.mcn.edu/2017/profile.cfm?profile_name=session&master_key=51952C10-E230-0B3B-FC80-B921E0B0A824&page_key=&xtemplate&userLGNKEY=0">self-care and slow change in a feminist framework</a> and clarifying <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsDSboRU1PQ">how science museums can take a public position on climate change</a>. One speaker articulated very clearly the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xh6ZtRk2bU">IRS restrictions in engaging in politics</a>—endorsing a specific candidate is prohibited, but actions like engaging in political dialog and voter registration are indeed allowed.</p>
<p>The conference kicked off with a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRyXH_HyPMw">keynote address</a> that was a conversation between two Black museum workers and activists, <a href="https://twitter.com/CollardStudies">Dr. Aleia Brown</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/adriannerussell">Adrianne Russell</a>, and a Black journalist, <a href="https://twitter.com/JamilSmith">Jamil Smith</a>. Creating space for marginalized people to speak about their experiences, and privileging their voices with the opening all-conference timeslot demonstrated the core values of the conference.</p>
<p>Within an institution, <a href="https://twitter.com/_BlackMuses">Lanae Spruce</a> from the National Museum of African American History & Culture talked about how their museum has a front porch, echoing common gathering spaces in Black communities. In Chicago, the steps of the MCA have been treated as a front porch in recent years. Perhaps a reflection of how they’ve created space for Black voices inside of their walls as well.</p>
<h3 id="staff-diversity">Staff diversity</h3>
<p>Many museums are continuing to think about how to diversify staff as a first step to inviting more diverse audiences. In the keynote, Dr. Aleia Brown talked about how museums “have a problem with over-credentialing for positions that don’t require it.” Jamil Smith went further to say fair pay is a concrete step we can take to diversify staff. “Any prestige brand becomes a prestige brand by good talent. You get good talent by paying for it—at all levels.”</p>
<p>A colleague echoed a suggestion I’ve heard her make in past conferences:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Everyone in the museum should work one frontline shift a year.</p>
</blockquote>
<h3 id="transparency">Transparency</h3>
<p>Lots of sessions talked about the need for transparency and how to get there. In making the business case for transparency, <a href="https://twitter.com/dhegley">Douglas Hegley</a> at Mia said “I can’t remember a time that me being radically transparent ruined an organization. Creating an environment that is safe and trusting is far more important that protecting any trade secrets.”</p>
<p><a href="https://twitter.com/jeffssteward">Jeff Steward</a> at the Harvard Art Museum has been aggregating different metrics across the museum to gauge the overall level of access to works in their collection, including pageviews on their website, the number of edits in their Collections Management System, movements into galleries, and check-ins to study centers, photo studios and conservation labs. He advocated for “data-informed decision” vs. “data-driven decisions.”</p>
<h3 id="honest-communication">Honest communication</h3>
<p>The tone and approach we take to communicate with our publics was a common theme, particularly among people who work in social media and publishing.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“Communication is an experience not just information.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>One colleague described wanting her publications to be “like reading Teen Vogue in the dentist’s office,” referring to the magazine’s ability to take complex, multi-faceted stories and make them both skimmable and fully engaging to atypical audiences.</p>
<p>Speaking from his background in journalism, Jamil Smith suggested we use intellectual honesty as a gauge to measure diversity of voices. That it is a reflection of the safety that people of different backgrounds have to speak their ideas.</p>
<h3 id="conclusion">Conclusion</h3>
<p>Overall, MCN was a strong conference that left us with lots of thoughts, ideas and questions. It’s a conference that provides space to think deeply about critical questions, and left us with concrete tools to move our ideas forward.</p>MCN is one of two museum technology conferences that happen annually. While there are many talks and conversations diving deep into technical topics, the conference is most known for its threads on organizational culture and social transformation. Following are some of my major takeaways.Mini-speech at Facilitated Conversation About Inclusion and Equity in Conservation and Preservation2017-05-29T00:00:00+00:002017-05-29T00:00:00+00:00https://nikhiltrivedi.com/2017/05/29/mini-speech-at-facilitated-conversation-about-inclusion-and-equity-in-conservation-and-preservation<p>Following is a short talk that I gave at the Facilitated Conversation About Inclusion and Equity in Conservation and Preservation that took place before the American Institute for Conservation conference in May 2017. Afterwards are some details of the event.</p>
<hr />
<p>Tonight, I want us to expand our ideas of cultural institutions as places that collect and preserve the history of human ideas and human achievement. I want us to ask ourselves, if we challenge the status quo and we center our work on the people who have survived and still work to heal from these histories today, what are the possibilities? Whose lives that have been erased over time can our work uncover? What can each us do, within the scope of the work we’re already doing? Because at their core, institutions are groups of people working towards shared visions. Those people are us. We are our institutions. And we have the power to change them.</p>
<p>My mom visited my museum for the first time after almost 10 years of me working there, and after 40 years of living in my city. After looking through the South Asian sculptures, seeing Hindu murtis she hadn’t seen since she left India, one of her first questions to me was “so, how did all this stuff get here?” It didn’t take her much time to start thinking about British colonialism, becasure that history is not very old. My mom remembers colonialism. Likewise, people still remember slavery and native genocide. So while the last few years have ben pretty rough, it’s also been a rough few hundred years. Some awful and egregious things have happened to entire populations of people. We’ve been harassed, assaulted, abused, raped, trafficked and murdered en masse. And the residual effects of these traumas are still alive for many people today. Direct lines can be drawn through history to the prison industrial complex, the Dakota access pipeline, gentrification, globalized capitalism, and a number of other modern examples of these patterns playing out in our towns and cities everyday.</p>
<p>The history of human ideas and achievement is inextricably linked with some really awful, traumatic events. Our ability to travel over vast amounts of land, water and sky is entangled with histories of colonialism. Industrialization and many of the achievements in art and science that came with it couldn’t have happened if not for the forced labor of African people. The establishment and growth of our cities would not have been if not for the mass genocide of Native Americans. The word Chicago itself is rooted in indigenous languages, reminding us that we wouldn’t be here today if not for the forced removal of the people who spoke those languages, who inhabited and cared for this land for generations before the arrival of the area’s first settlers, many of whom our streets and parks are named after.</p>
<p>Cultural institutions are places that collect and preserve the history of human ideas and human achievement. What we collect and choose to preserve is limited by the histories we choose to ground our work in. Many of our institutions have benefited from the consolidation of power over time, and it limits what we see, and what we’re willing to say.</p>
<p>Over the course of the next few hours, we want to define a vision for our future, and outline what it will take to get us there. But ultimately, we want each of us in this room to recognize our own significance. To see that we have the power to transform our institutions and, indeed, change the world.</p>
<hr />
<p>For many years, activists and organizers have been calling for people to do social transformational work within their own communities. This has manifested as white people working with white people to dismantle racism, men working with men to end rape culture, and so forth. Museums have taken to this call, too, as many national museum associations have created space to talk about equity and inclusion within their segments of the museum field. As institutions whose histories are often closely tied with traumatic histories, it’s critical work to the wider vision of transforming society towards a just future that couldn’t happen anywhere else.</p>
<p>In May of 2017, 76 conservators joined this call and gathered prior to the American Institute for Conservation of Historic and Artistic Works’ Annual Meeting for a Facilitated Conversation About Inclusion and Equity in Conservation and Preservation. It was a historical convening, whose purpose was to create a sense of solidarity among colleagues to influence the power dynamics in the conservation field and to begin to develop a shared vision for pursuing a more inclusive and equitable professional practice for the future of conservation. Sanchita Balachandran, a co-organizer is the convening shares: “we wanted to imagine and create a new kind of space that is limitless in response to the kind of oppressive limiting that has been a burden of our world and its history. This act is to say we have power to change, we have power to demand and make change.” From this foundation, we hoped to give attendees an opportunity to think about how to effect change in their professional practices through both short-term and long-term actions.</p>
<p>The conversation was facilitated by nikhil trivedi, a developer at a museum in Chicago and a thought leader on oppression in the museum field, Lisa Marie Pickens, a local consultant who does strategic planning and organizational development for grassroots community organizations in Chicago, and Manju Rajendran, a national organizer who came to us by way of AORTA.</p>
<p>Attendees said they found hope in the conversation. They saw potential for greater community in the conservation field. After our four hours together, folks were overwhelmingly hungry for more time to connect and dig deeper.</p>
<p>The conversation was organized by Sanchita Balachandran, Abigail Choudhury, Lauren Fair, Heather Galloway, Morgan Eva Hayes, and Anna Serotta.</p>Following is a short talk that I gave at the Facilitated Conversation About Inclusion and Equity in Conservation and Preservation that took place before the American Institute for Conservation conference in May 2017. Afterwards are some details of the event.Radical road trip songs2016-07-24T00:00:00+00:002016-07-24T00:00:00+00:00https://nikhiltrivedi.com/2016/07/24/radical-road-trip-songs<p>To the tune of “wheels on the bus:”</p>
<p>The people on the march say “Black lives matter!”<br />
“Black lives matter!”<br />
“Black lives matter!”<br />
The people on the march say “Black lives matter!”<br />
All across the town</p>
<p>The racist-ass cops we don’t need them<br />
We don’t need them<br />
We don’t need them<br />
The racist-ass cops we don’t need them<br />
All across the town</p>
<p>The people blocking highways shut it down<br />
Shut it down<br />
Shut it down<br />
The people blocking highways shut it down<br />
All across the town</p>
<p>The people on the march say “Water is life!”<br />
“Water is life!”<br />
“Water is life!”<br />
The people on the march say “Water is life!”<br />
All across the town</p>
<p>The leaders of the march say “no justice!” (No peace!)<br />
“No justice!” (No peace!)<br />
“No justice!” (No peace!)<br />
The leaders of the march say “no justice!” (No peace!)<br />
All across the town</p>
<p>The marshals on the march say “please turn here”<br />
“Please turn here”<br />
“Please turn here”<br />
The marshals on the march say “please turn here”<br />
All across the town</p>
<p>The allies on the march they check their privilege<br />
Check their privilege<br />
Check their privilege<br />
The allies on the march they check their privilege<br />
All across the town</p>To the tune of “wheels on the bus:”Text from my Ignite talk at MCN 20152015-11-05T00:00:00+00:002015-11-05T00:00:00+00:00https://nikhiltrivedi.com/2015/11/05/text-from-my-ignite-talk-at-mcn-2015<p>Last night I gave an Ignite talk at MCN 2015 in Minneapolis about museums and oppression. An Ignite talk is a 5-minute presentation with 20 slides that advance automatically every 15 seconds. I fit a lot in there, so I thought it might be useful for folks at the conference to refer back to what I said. Below is a video, my slides, and the text from my talk, entitled Towards an Anti-Oppression Museum Manifesto:</p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WicEkXGqv8Q" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<p>Check out my slides on <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/nikhiltrivedi12/towards-and-antioppression-museum-manifesto">SlideShare</a> or <a href="/IgniteMCN2015.pptx">Download the PowerPoint</a></p>
<blockquote>
<p>Before I begin, I just want to recognize that like most things in this world, this talk wouldn’t have come together if not for the leadership and support of women and gender fluid folks. Rose, Aletheia and Porchia at Incluseum, Suse Cairns, Masum at the Smithsonian, Amita at the Skokie Public Library, Keisa Reynolds, Colleen Dilenschneider and the countless people who participated in the slides you’re about to see. So here we go!</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide02.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>I live two lives. At the Art Institute of Chicago for 10 years I’ve been surrounded by technical innovators, genius developers, smart designers, and a collection of some of the greatest documented creative achievements.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide03.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>Outside of work, I’m surrounded by innovators of a different sort—grassroots community organizers, queer activists, radical philanthropists, prison abolitionists, rape victim advocates, healers and artists, all who look at the world through an anti-oppression lens.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide04.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>We fight for a more just world, we work to heal our communities from historic traumatic events that are still alive for many of us today, we work to distribute power more equitably and to make our world safer for those that are the most unsafe.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide05.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>For the future of museums, these two worlds cannot remain separate. So tonight I want to invite you into my other life. I want to bring what I’ve learned about social justice movements to the work that we do here—producing, managing and developing technologies in museums.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide06.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>Our spaces are alienating for many of the people I’m close to, and we’re not alone. We see museums as part of a legacy of aggression and power that our institutions have benefited from. In order for this climate to change, museums have to operate within an anti-oppression framework.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide07.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>As a result, our institutions will change. For example, my friends and family might see themselves in our projects, collections might be presented with a critical analysis of where our objects came from and my communities might be invited to participate in mutually beneficial ways.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide08.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>But first let’s talk about what an anti-oppression framework is. It’s a tool that came out of second-wave feminism to challenge the ways people are treated and targeted with violence based on our identities—things like race, gender, ability and so on.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide09.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>This framework examines and addresses everything from our own assumptions to institutional policies. It believes everybody is hurt by oppression, including those in positions of privilege. And it recognizes multiple oppressions operating at the same time, all the time.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide10.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>For instance, as a man I benefit from male supremacy, and as a person of color I’m dominated by white supremacy. And keep in mind that in this framework, no one is a bad person. The systems that perpetuate oppressions are the problem. No human is the enemy.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide11.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>This is work that we do with love, compassion and care. So, let’s challenge ourselves this week to think about our current projects through an anti-oppression lens. How can we use what we’re already doing to create anti-oppressive spaces for our visitors?</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide12.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>There’s work like this already happening in our field. The Oakland Museum curates in cooperation with the communities they represent. They have control over program development, and the institution is conscious of their own history as tied to oppression. It’s a fundamental part of their practice.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide13.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>For us in museum technology, it means thinking about access, but it more fundamentally requires us to interrogate the content we present. We can start by asking questions. I’ll give you a few to think about centered on history, power, and representation.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide14.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>Whose histories do we value? How can we think about histories that have been systematically erased over time? We can examine dynamics of power to look at the perspectives we present. Whose voices are missing or have been filtered by our institutions’ motivations?</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide15.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>Finally, who gets to be represented by their own, fully empowered choice? Who doesn’t get to give permission for their legacies to be used in our work? And who decides how they’re represented?</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide16.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>As educational institutions, it’s crucial we recognize that the histories we use have been written by those who’ve held power over time. Take a moment to think about the resources that founded your collections and institutions. Are there ways they’ve has benefited from slavery, genocide, colonialism and war?</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide17.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>This is complicated work that requires time, effort and commitment. We have to be vulnerable enough to hear how we oppress others in spite of our intentions. It’s a lot to ask, so don’t do this alone. Find allies here and at your institutions.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide18.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>I leave you with two calls to action: First, this week let’s think about how we can use our current projects to create anti-oppressive spaces for our visitors. I’m here and I’m available to support you in thinking this through, so please come find me.</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide19.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>Then, after MCN commit to a regular conversation with one other person about how your institution has benefitted from slavery, genocide, colonialism and war. And start with one question: who were the black people who have been lost in your histories?</p>
<p><img src="/images/posts/Slide20.jpg" alt="" /></p>
<p>That’s it, one person, one question. Can you do this? Do this for yourselves and the people you love. Do this because Black lives matter. Because Black lives have always mattered. Because trans lives matter. No more war! End all genocide! End sexual violence! Smash patriarchy!</p>
</blockquote>Last night I gave an Ignite talk at MCN 2015 in Minneapolis about museums and oppression. An Ignite talk is a 5-minute presentation with 20 slides that advance automatically every 15 seconds. I fit a lot in there, so I thought it might be useful for folks at the conference to refer back to what I said. Below is a video, my slides, and the text from my talk, entitled Towards an Anti-Oppression Museum Manifesto:Settlers of Catan replicates early U.S. treatment of indigenous and black people2015-10-12T00:00:00+00:002015-10-12T00:00:00+00:00https://nikhiltrivedi.com/2015/10/12/settlers-of-catan-replicates-early-us-treatment-of-indigenous-and-black-people<p>Thoughts on how the board game Catan replicates early U.S. treatment of indigenous and black people for Indigenous People’s Day:</p>
<ul>
<li>Catan is described as an uninhibited island, but there’s someone already living there by the time we arrive: we’re told to call them “the robber.”</li>
<li>The robber prevents sometimes up to three different players from collecting resources on a tile. No one person could possibly mine so much ore or harvest so much wheat that there wouldn’t be plenty for everyone to share. So perhaps the robber represents a larger community of people.</li>
<li>When we first arrive, the robber is living in a dessert, not over-consuming any of the islands resources. As settlers, we move the robber around all over the island. Essentially, we enforce the robber to mine/harvest all the resources so no one else can have any. There are no game mechanisms to ensure they’re being paid fairly or treated well for their work.</li>
<li>The robber is a black wooden piece.</li>
<li>In the end, the robber doesn’t go back home to the dessert, unless the settlers decide so. The robber ends up on whatever small portion of the island we reserve them to.</li>
</ul>
<p>Some friends and I have talked about how to play Catan in a way that takes the island back from the settlers. Let’s do it! Happy Indigenous People’s Day!</p>Thoughts on how the board game Catan replicates early U.S. treatment of indigenous and black people for Indigenous People’s Day:An oppression primer for museums2015-08-10T00:00:00+00:002015-08-10T00:00:00+00:00https://nikhiltrivedi.com/2015/08/10/an-oppression-primer-for-museums<p>Several months ago, I wrote an article for the Incluseum blog breaking down ideas of oppression for the museum community: <a href="http://incluseum.com/2015/02/04/oppression-a-museum-primer/">Oppression: A Museum Primer</a>. Here’s an excerpt:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>How do we shift our institutions towards a deep commitment to unravel their centuries-old patterns rooted in histories of colonialism, genocide and slavery and work to truly end oppression?</p>
<p>It’s a big, daunting question. In a recent conversation on Twitter about how museums have responded to the movements that have gained momentum since Ferguson, it was clear to me that any meaningful response or participation must come from a place of our institutions being committed to ending the oppression that creates such awful events. So let’s talk about oppression. We’ll talk about how to recognize oppression and what we can do about it, but let’s begin by talking about what oppression is.</p>
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<p>Read more <a href="http://incluseum.com/2015/02/04/oppression-a-museum-primer/">here</a>.</p>Several months ago, I wrote an article for the Incluseum blog breaking down ideas of oppression for the museum community: Oppression: A Museum Primer. Here’s an excerpt:Museums and #BlackLivesMatter2014-12-12T00:00:00+00:002014-12-12T00:00:00+00:00https://nikhiltrivedi.com/2014/12/12/museums-and-blacklivesmatter<p>There’ve been <a href="http://museumquestions.com/2014/12/08/should-museums-respond-to-the-grand-jury-verdicts-in-ferguson-and-new-york-city/">discussions</a> <a href="http://www.museumcommons.com/2014/12/joint-statement-museum-bloggers-colleagues-ferguson-related-events.html">among</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/search?q=%23museumsrespondtoferguson">museum professionals</a> questioning if and how our institutions should participate in the movements that have arisen from Ferguson in some way. As I’m sure many people in the conversation have been, I’ve been extremely affected by the recent decisions to not indict law enforcement in the killings of unarmed black people, and these recent injustices have occupied my mind a great deal in recent weeks. I recognize that these decisions are part of a history of the state murdering black people with impunity that goes back hundreds of years. I also recognize that this history includes the murder of and sexual violence against women and trans folks as well, whose stories are often met with silence. With this weight, I share in the great mix of emotions many of us are experiencing. And if we do talk about responding in some way, I want it to be based on reason and compassion, with an understanding of our relationships with black people and our shared histories.</p>
<p>We should ask what it would mean if institutions like ours, who have a primary interest in preserving the historic, talk about responding to the death of black people without preceding that conversation with criticism of how we engage with the living black people in the communities we serve.</p>
<p>I attended a discussion on blackness and gender violence recently hosted by <a href="http://rapevictimadvocates.org/">Rape Victim Advocates</a> and facilitated by <a href="http://wechargegenocide.org/">We Charge Genocide</a>. Part of the discussion that resonated with me was around the questions of how we express anti-blackness and what it means to say “Black lives matter.” We asked: if we don’t interact with black people in a respectful way that recognizes their full humanness everyday, do we have a right to say “Black lives matter?” If our actions don’t match our words, do they hold any meaning?</p>
<p>I think we should ask similar questions of ourselves and our museums when we wonder if we should participate in the current movements against anti-black state violence.</p>
<p>In what ways do museums express anti-blackness? Many of our large, historical institutions can link our existences closely with histories of slavery, colonialism and genocide. Black histories have systematically been erased by those who dominated the present, so in what ways do the presentations of our collections, information and our spaces erase black lives? How do we engage with the communities we reside in to mutually heal from these historical community traumas, and dismantle the ways in which they continue to operate? Museums aren’t homogenous, and each of our institutions express anti-blackness in specific ways. What meaning does saying “black lives matter” take when we simultaneously perpetuate anti-black racism?</p>
<p>Any meaningful response must come from a place of being committed to ending the oppression that has created such awful events, otherwise the response is self-serving. We must recognize that the recent killings are deeply connected with a history that includes slavery and genocide, and that many of our institutions have roots that connect with it.</p>
<p>I worry that some of the urgency we feel around responding to the recent attention on anti-black state violence comes from a fear that our institutions are not staying relevant. But I wonder, if a good number of visitors of color haven’t been to our institutions in <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jG1vjPM-Ks&t=20m58s">over 5 years</a>, to whom are we currently relevant? Making statements in support of the current movements won’t fundamentally change the ways in which we relate to black people in our communities. I recognize that our silence is complicity, but I don’t think we have to jump further ahead than where we are. Let’s be honest with ourselves and with our communities about where we need to criticize our selves, strengthen our relationships and let’s work to build the trust that will help us grow sustaining relationships with black people in our communities. Those actions will speak louder than any of our words ever could.</p>
<p>Thanks to Keisa of We Charge Genocide for their thoughtful facilitation of the discussion I attended. Keisa asked some of the fundamental questions I bring up in this post. Also thanks to Rose from <a href="http://incluseum.com/">Incluseum</a> for helping me think through some of these ideas.</p>There’ve been discussions among museum professionals questioning if and how our institutions should participate in the movements that have arisen from Ferguson in some way. As I’m sure many people in the conversation have been, I’ve been extremely affected by the recent decisions to not indict law enforcement in the killings of unarmed black people, and these recent injustices have occupied my mind a great deal in recent weeks. I recognize that these decisions are part of a history of the state murdering black people with impunity that goes back hundreds of years. I also recognize that this history includes the murder of and sexual violence against women and trans folks as well, whose stories are often met with silence. With this weight, I share in the great mix of emotions many of us are experiencing. And if we do talk about responding in some way, I want it to be based on reason and compassion, with an understanding of our relationships with black people and our shared histories.Starting a Mens Feminist Reading Group2014-12-09T00:00:00+00:002014-12-09T00:00:00+00:00https://nikhiltrivedi.com/2014/12/09/starting-a-mens-feminist-reading-group<p>Over the past year, I’ve gotten together with a group of three of my friends who are men every two months or so to read writings by feminist authors. We’ve read fiction, non-fiction, and essays by feminist writers, mostly women of color. It’s been fun for me to connect with my friends in a new way, and for all of us to grow our thinking together and be critical of ways in which we participate in sexism, male domination and rape culture. Here’s essentially what I did to get it going:</p>
<p>I posted <a href="http://thefeministwire.com/2013/06/against-patriarchy-tools-for-men-to-further-feminist-revolution/">this article</a> on Facebook and asked if any guys were interested in reading feminist literature together. In the comments of my own post, I tagged a bunch of people letting them know I was specifically thinking of them.</p>
<p>I then collected e-mail address from everyone who responded to the post in any way, whether by comment or simply liking the post. I already had emails for most of them since we already knew each other, but the others I just sent a quick Facebook message to get.</p>
<p>I then sent an e-mail to the group laying out what I envisioned: a casual reading group that gathers once every two months somewhere central to all of us, and sent out a Doodle to get a sense of what days of the week generally worked better for folks. I didn’t want to push people away for feeling like this was too formal or hardcore, I always kept it loose and very casual.</p>
<p>After a week or two, with a few casual reminders, I sent out dates for three meetings, I went ahead and picked <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Feminism-Everybody-Passionate-bell-hooks/dp/0896086283">Feminism is for Everybody</a> by bell hooks for our first book, and then started getting a sense of where people lived and worked to determine the location. We ended up reserving a room at the Harold Washington Library for our meetings (free, downtown, but can only reserve no more than two week in advance).</p>
<p>At the first meeting we did a round of introductions (name, neighborhood, gender pronoun, why we’re here), decided on group expectations, and then started talking about the book. Afterwards, we brainstormed and picked the next few books, which included fiction, non-fiction and poetry. It ended up being just four of us, and we’ve been a solid group since.</p>
<p>I think what has made the group go well is that I was sort of the glue at the beginning. We weren’t a completely random group of folks, everyone there had some sort of relationship with me, and that made it easier to build trust more quickly. It’s hard to talk about ways in which we perpetuate oppressions because we tend to feel a lot of embarrassment, shame, fear, and any number of other feelings that make it hard to be honest and vulnerable. Because we weren’t starting from scratch in our relationships, and we were a small intimate group, we ended up talking about all sorts of personal and private stuff. I don’t think that would have happened that way had it not been a group of people I was already connected to.</p>
<p>Reach out to your network and start something up! Don’t take the <em>organizing</em> of it too seriously, save that for the conversations. Be loose, fun and flexible, and people will follow!</p>Over the past year, I’ve gotten together with a group of three of my friends who are men every two months or so to read writings by feminist authors. We’ve read fiction, non-fiction, and essays by feminist writers, mostly women of color. It’s been fun for me to connect with my friends in a new way, and for all of us to grow our thinking together and be critical of ways in which we participate in sexism, male domination and rape culture. Here’s essentially what I did to get it going:Towards an anti-oppression museum manifesto2014-12-04T00:00:00+00:002014-12-04T00:00:00+00:00https://nikhiltrivedi.com/2014/12/04/towards-an-anti-oppression-museum-manifesto<p>During a panel about <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jG1vjPM-Ks&list=PLXAe-JDguLm3KAt3TF3zahLJ9WZjuWWpt&index=38">open authority</a> at <a href="http://mcn.edu/mcn2014">#MCN2014</a>, I was struck by a question <a href="https://twitter.com/porchiamusem">Porchia Moore</a> asked: “why don’t visitors of color participate at the rates of other groups?” This is a question that I’ve pondered myself for some time, and I appreciated her creating space for discussion with other museum professionals.</p>
<p>Firstly, I would like to think about participation in terms broader than race, to ask “why don’t visitors who are targets of various intersecting oppressions participate?” So that we include in the conversation class, gender, sexual orientation, ability, size, immigration status, religion, mental health, and other ways in which power is unevenly distributed between people. But in this article I’ll focus on race specifically in the U.S. for brevity and to speak from my own experience.</p>
<p>Moore defined participation in museums partly by noting that a number of people of color she surveyed hadn’t been to a museum in over five years. Prior to my current position visiting museums wasn’t really on my radar either, which is still true for a number of people of color I’m close to. I’ve worked for almost 10 years at a museum that has a significant number of Hindu murtis on display. My Hindu parents visited my museum for the first time <em>ever</em> this past summer!</p>
<p>One of the big questions that gave me pause when I did walk though galleries and halls was “how did all this stuff get here?” It was clear to me that museums are inextricably linked with histories of colonialism, genocide and slavery, but collections didn’t seem to be presented in ways that honestly spoke to these aspects of the institutions’ histories. Invisibilizing those histories seemed to ignore the historical traumas our communities continue to heal from today, and seemed to privilege the perspectives of those historically powerful enough to separate those struggles from their legacies. That left me with a very deep feeling that museums weren’t talking to me, and therefore were not places I was welcome to.</p>
<p>Another big question I carried with me was “who’s telling these stories?” With an appreciation for scholarship, I understood that there are multiple perspectives on history, and ours are influenced by who has controlled history over time. If those who control the past dominate the present, through whom’s lenses are stories about these collections being told?</p>
<p>Now that I’ve worked at a museum for some time, I have a better understanding of why these histories aren’t included in museums’ narratives. Museums and cultural institutions in the U.S. function in an economic system that requires us to make decisions that will lead to reliable monetary outcomes. And while our collections are primary in all that we do, the capitalist system we operate in creates constraints that make it difficult to be vulnerable. There’s fear that being that open and honest will lead to smaller crowds and less buzz, which could have an economic impact on our institutions’ abilities to keep our doors open.</p>
<p>I understand these complexities, but I believe that in order for museums to have long-term, sustained relationships with a broad spectrum of people in the communities we serve, we must do more. Colonialism, genocide and slavery are traumatic community events we are all still struggling to heal from today, whether we have ancestry with people targeted by these forms of violence, people who perpetuated them, or both. For museums to truly be a forum for visitors of color, and not a temple for those with privilege, we need to do work with our staff, boards, volunteers, vendors and with our communities to have honest conversations about our institutional and collections’ histories.</p>
<p>Furthermore, conversations about race shouldn’t be siloed around certain parts of our collections. Oppression plays a role in the history and acquisition of all the works in our collections, and if we are to grow with our communities we need to move towards a place where we can honestly talk about even the unpleasant aspects of all our histories.</p>
<p>I’m glad I found that I’m not the only or the first person to think about these things. I’d like to connect further with Porchia and find other people in the museum sector thinking and working in this area. If that’s you, or if you know someone I should connect with, please let me know!</p>During a panel about open authority at #MCN2014, I was struck by a question Porchia Moore asked: “why don’t visitors of color participate at the rates of other groups?” This is a question that I’ve pondered myself for some time, and I appreciated her creating space for discussion with other museum professionals.