One Year Later: What The National Museum Of African American History & Culture Means In The Age Of Trump

"Do you know what that picture is?"

A black mother asks her daughter as we're all seated at a makeshift bar facing a large picture of the Greensboro Four inside the National Museum of African American History and Culture's Sweet Home Café. The girl shakes her head, awaiting her mother's answer.

"That's the Greensboro Four."

Above us looms their faces: Joseph McNeil, Franklin McCain, Billy Smith, and Clarence Henderson. There's a poignancy in this moment — me, this woman and her daughter, as well as the many, many black people who've sat in these same seats, are only able to do so because of the sacrifices of the Greensboro Four; because of black children in Oklahoma waiting to be served at the John A. Brown Co. Luncheonette in Oklahoma. This museum solely exists because of the perseverance and resilience of black people in the United States of America.

"Can you say grace, please," the mother asks her daughter. Almost reflexively, I join them in prayer and give thanks to the black heroes pictured before me, as well as those that I'll see throughout the museum, dedicating my plate of catfish, macaroni and cheese, and red beans and rice to each and every one of them.

This week marks the one-year anniversary of the NMAAHC, a museum which has been in the making since 1915. Following a legislative push in the late '80s, the museum was authorized in 2003, and a site was chosen for its location three years later. The museum officially opened on September 24, 2016, with a ceremony led by then President Obama. Since then, people throughout the country and beyond have traveled to the museum, with the institution having received 2.5 million visitors (approximately 6,850 visitors a day). The museum now stands as a symbol of modernity and progress, and as a stark moral contrast to the centuries-old monuments surrounding it.

However, as much as the museum has changed in a year so has the country it resides in. The museum debuted at the end of the Obama era, a racially fraught eight years that found the country's first black president revered and reviled for simply being black. His successor was supposed to be Hillary Clinton who would've been the country's first female president. But by the morning of November 9, 2016, what was expected to be a landslide win ended in a disappointing and surprising loss. Donald Trump was selected to be president for the next four years.

Nearing the end of 2017, we've seen the ramifications of a Trump presidency, including what has arguably been a reemergence of extreme racism by the those who most feel emboldened by Trump — white people. There's no denying that this president exists as retaliation to this country electing a black man as president twice and almost electing a woman as president. Trump was put into the White House because of white supremacy; because a group of people can't fathom the idea of being equal to, let alone lesser, than a group of people they consider themselves superior to.

This isn't opinion but fact. During the Unite the Right rally that took place in Charlottesville, Virginia, former Ku Klux Klan leader David Dukesaid the gathering of white supremacists, neo-Nazis and far-right individuals was to fulfill the "promises of Donald Trump."

"This represents a turning point for the people of this country," Duke said. "We are determined to take our country back. We are going to fulfill the promises of Donald Trump. That's what we believed in, that's why we voted for Donald Trump. Because he said he's going to take our country back. That's what we gotta do."

When Trump initially called out the white supremacists responsible for the violence that took place in Charlottesville, Duke wrote the following tweet: "I would recommend you take a good look in the mirror and remember it was White Americans who put you in the presidency, not radical leftists."

Along with the reemergence of white supremacy has also come the return of symbols associated with the ideology such as Confederate flags and nooses, as well as the fight to preserve Confederate statues throughout the country. The NMAAHC found itself in the middle of this when a noose was found on the museum grounds. Following the incident, Lonnie Bunch, the museum's founding director, released a statement saying:

The noose has long represented a deplorable act of cowardice and depravity—a symbol of extreme violence for African Americans. Today's incident is a painful reminder of the challenges that African Americans continue to face...This was a horrible act, but it is a stark reminder of why our work is so important.

The action is so offensive because it was intentional, an explicit attempt at violating what has essentially become a safe space for black people in America. A place for us to cry, dance, eat, laugh, learn, and share our history not only with one another but countless other people curious about our contributions to the fiber and DNA of this country, had been attacked.

But there's something powerful about the symbolism of this incident — the feeble and relic noose against the robust and innovative museum; a signifier of America's shameful past against a signifier of America's promising future. These symbols of oppression are not only outdated but are also being removed because of the hatred and pain they embody. A mile away from the museum is the U.S. Capitol, where the National Statuary Hall Collection resides and includes 12 out of 100 Confederate statues. Recently, two Congress members introduced the Confederate Monument Removal Act which, if passed, would remove all 12 statues from the collection.

There's a parallel to be made here — that in the erection of a museum dedicated to the history of black people in America, has come the removal of white supremacist statues across the country. That white people are retaliating during a time where the histories and stories of marginalized people in America are finally being told and taking precedence is no coincidence. They're hanging on to these statues and symbols because it's a reminder of the power that once belonged to them, a longing for a past that has distorted their perception of history in hopes of creating a future of white supremacy.

This is why the African American museum means so much more a year later because just as much as it's a celebration of black America it's a truth-teller, offering the unflinching story of a country built on the oppression and violence of black people. To build and envision a better future is to know our past and the museum is the manifestation of that, a testament to resilience in the face of injustice.