FEATURE
“The Infernal Emotion: Anger and Interpretation” by S. Marisol Asselta, introduced by Gaynell Brady
Costumed interpreters gather and discuss needlework in Colonial Williamsburg. Photo courtesy of Harvey Barrison.
EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION:
When the world appears foreign, we all need to seek something more familiar. 2025 has proven to be a year of political and social mayhem. Discussing contentious topics in public settings has been challenging for many of us—especially if you are seeking to interpret gender, race, climate change, or history. I cannot say with confidence that any topic is safe to discuss. The article “The Infernal Emotion: Anger & Interpretation,” written by S. Marisol Asselta, has been a beacon of light for me since 2024.
We are called to facilitate dialogue with people who are committed to misunderstanding and creating chaos. Our work is being infiltrated by meanness. However, we cannot focus on their behavior. We need to identify our shortcomings and collaborate with our colleagues and allies. S. Marisol Asselta wrote, “We’re human beings with emotions and biases, and denying it puts us at risk of serious personal and career handicaps.” Humans, plants, and animals are depending on us to get it right.
“The Infernal Emotion: Anger & Interpretation” inspires me to continue presenting on topics that make people uncomfortable and keep my anger in check. I admit it is very easy to get angry (yes, I, too, have biases). A simple click on the television remote or one too many scrolls on social media could cause a 48-hour argument with someone who lives miles away. However, I recognize that the most important thing I could do at this time is educate others. I am reminded to use my interpretive skills to be a beam of light in the epicenter of darkness. S. Marisol Asselta said, “The ability to channel anger at injustice and ignorance into positive action can be considered a fundamental reason some people join the interpretive field.”
“The Infernal Emotion: Anger & Interpretation” reminds us to identify our biases and work to recenter ourselves. Find your reason and use it to re-energize yourself. I became an interpreter to educate others about my ancestors. What is yours?
ORIGINAL ARTICLE:
The Infernal Emotion: Anger and Interpretation
By S. Marisol Asselta
“The white man destroys everything!” I’m standing in the European Contact hall of the Mashantucket Pequot Museum, listening to a Caucasian man in his mid-30s, his young son wide-eyed next to him, wave his arms in the air while holding forth on the evils of his ancestors, neighbors, and society at large. This is not the best way to finish a long day of running programs about the Massacre of 1637, and my enthusiasm for engaging this visitor is becoming non-existent. Gesturing and smiling at his son, I talk about how much more aware and active people have become in making the world a better place, how we can all work to not repeat the mistakes of the past. He’s having none of it. In fact, I may have set him off worse than before. It occurs to me that he’s enjoying this. I fantasize about grabbing this guy, showing him his child’s face, and asking him what he thinks he’s accomplishing. Instead I try to focus on the boy, letting him know that the systematic oppression of Native Americans isn’t all his fault. Later, my coworker takes one look at my face and silently spritzes lavender water in the air around me. It’s become a tradition for us now to dive for lavender sprays after rough times; equal parts ongoing joke and communal support. For a second the aroma of sweet flowers takes precedence over the sorrow and anger. Because right then I am the thing that isn’t supposed to exist: the angry interpreter.
S. Marisol Asselta
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
S. Marisol Asselta is the volunteer interpretive coordinator at Roots & Shoots Latin American & Caribbean.
Statues of protesters with signage exhibited at the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, Tennessee. Photo courtesy of Adam Jones.
A sculpture dedicated to the foot soldiers of the Birmingham Civil Rights Movement in Alabama. Photo courtesy of S. Marisol Asselta.
Have you ever felt anger as an interpreter? How about fear? Guilt? Despair? I’m going to hazard a guess that the answer is yes, although hopefully much less often than the joy of doing a job you love. Working with controversial sites and topics can make those emotions both more common and more difficult to manage. It’s a unique position to be in, as part of our work is to “plan specific opportunities that are intended to inspire or provoke feelings like…sympathy…regret, grief, and anger” (NPS Interpretive Development Program, Professional Standards for Learning and Performance). The application of hot interpretation—where controversial content is presented with a deliberately emotive focus—and the increasing use of facilitated dialogue to personally engage the visitors bring new levels of responsibility. In the midst of exhibits and activities designed to invoke such strong emotions in others, visitors depend on us to be objective and calm no matter the subject, and they have the right to do so. The moment we start pushing our personal issues and agendas on the visitor is the moment we lose our perspective, and their trust.
So, are we all purely and constantly objective, apolitical, and calm? No, of course not. We’re human beings with emotions and biases, and denying it puts us at risk of serious personal and career handicaps. One is burning out, losing passion for what once held immeasurable meaning for you. Another is allowing those influences to alter your perceptions and actions, by, for example, attempting to assert control over your visitors. While aggressive anger is more high profile, passive anger—resentment, defeatism, manipulation, and self-blame—can be the more insidiously dangerous.
So when you watch a visitor giggle their way through a Holocaust exhibit, what do you do? What if those were your relatives being attacked in those photos, or doing the attacking, or standing by and doing nothing while others suffered? What if this isn’t part of your personal history, but you’re the channel through which others come to remember or understand, so neither retreating into numbing facts and figures nor allowing your own emotions to overwhelm you are options? In a 2011 Legacy article on the Manzanar Japanese internment camp, Ted White highlights this concern: “Employees face some unique emotional challenges. Manzanar is a sad place. It is not unusual to have visitors too upset to speak…. On top of that, someone will occasionally come in and make incendiary or bigoted remarks. All this, both the good and the bad, adds up to stress. In all honesty, we don’t yet have strategies for handling that stress, and wonder as we move forward, how the field of interpretation will advance and tackle the needs of interpreters.”
Ansel Adams photographed the Japanese American internment camp at Manzanar during World War II to document these Americans' forced removal and resilience. Photo courtesy of S. Marisol Asselta.
In Richard Handler’s somewhat controversial book, The New History in an Old Museum: Creating the Past at Colonial Williamsburg, he reports that staff interviewees generally refused to acknowledge that anger is a presence in their field at all. Conversely, the popular video series by former interpreter Azie Dungey, “Ask a Slave,” presents offensive questions she fielded while playing her historic character, and the way she wishes she could have responded, including with anger. At a recent conference, I watched a weary speaker relate how she ended up screaming at visitors unstoppable in their desire to touch and deface the religious images of a controversial, unpopular site. She wondered if violently injuring them would help get the message across. This was a person stretched too thin, trying to convince a government that the historic remains of an oppressive religious regime were still worth protecting. Her words were less disturbing for their violence than for their loneliness, spoken to a room of colleagues where she may have hoped to find expressions of understanding and support. Instead, there was an uncomfortable silence while we waited for the next slide.
The ability to channel anger at injustice and ignorance into positive action can be considered a fundamental reason some people join the interpretive field. Anger is known as a secondary emotion, triggered by a sense of vulnerability and the need for protection from fear and pain; it’s an attempt to control a threatening situation. If not acknowledged and managed, it can in turn cause damage to everyone involved. As Barbara Andrews, the director of education and interpretation in the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, Tennessee, says, “We don’t have a formal structure of support for our interpreters, but we make a space for people to be as emotional as they need to be. We remind them that anger is a natural emotion, but not a productive one. As for something more structured, we should look into this; it’s definitely a need.”
Take the hypothesized giggling visitor to the Holocaust Museum. A centered, experienced interpreter may be able to look more deeply to see if they are actually nervous, overwhelmed, and unable to process what they’re being exposed to. This will then allow the interpreter to react appropriately and with compassion, as opposed to with punishing hostility. Even if the giggler does turn out to be an insensitive clod, the interpreter’s self-awareness is crucial to not exacerbate the situation. So, how do we learn to recognize and handle situations that trigger strong negative emotions in us, personally and professionally? Common triggers, such as a rude visitor or disturbingly violent material, are easy to recognize, while individual ones take some introspection. As the diversity in interpretive staff and volunteers continues to rise, personal connections to sites and subjects may become both more empowering and more emotionally complicated. As visitors are invited to participate on more intimate levels, from public-created content to interactive, dialogue-intense tours, the emotional stability of the interpreters leading these programs is going to become even more vital.
This exhibit at the National Civil Rights Museum features Rosa Parks (seated, center), fellow civil rights activists, journalists, and police. Photo courtesy of S. Marisol Asselta.
My first reactions to learning about the existence of NAI were excitement and relief. This was a community that understands and supports people who do what I do. At the time I was coordinating a municipal nature center in California where many of my volunteers were young people in very difficult situations. The center became a second home to some who became dedicated volunteers. They also shared stories of violence, loneliness, and confusion. Through it all, my job was to teach them that this was their world, their home, and that they had a part in it to play. It was both heart wrenching and heart sustaining, and learning how to balance those emotions was never simple or easy. It would be another two years before attending my first NAI conference, and I regretted not knowing about such a source of support and training. Interpretation will continue to incorporate the interpersonal into the informative. Therefore formal and informal structures of emotional support are going to be a necessity. The response to this need varies; some managers have their staff keep log entries of their experiences, both for the benefit of others doing the programs and to check on the emotional well-being of the writers. Knowing that we can share our stories with coworkers and supervisors who support us is an essential component of a healthy career in our field. Many interpreters at controversial sites find their work provides its own counterbalance to the strain, giving them the opportunity to address these issues directly. The International Coalition of Sites of Conscience provides training in facilitated dialogue that addresses conflict in productive ways for both visitors and interpreters. The need is being recognized and the interpretive world is responding, but more insights and ideas are absolutely necessary. Difficult emotions are not the enemy, but they are present and influential factors in our field. Getting the word out about NAI and its international partners is a fundamental step in the continuing advancement of a support system that can help us manage them productively. At the heart of it all is finding balance, keeping the passion and the connection without losing your center. Scientists and philosophers tell us that balance isn’t static, but rather a constant state of losing and regaining internal stability. By learning this dance and sharing the steps, we will be laying the strongest foundation possible for the future of our profession.
