HERITAGE LEADERSHIP*
Resistance and Healing
The creation of Black Lives Matter Plaza in Washington, DC, was documented by MuralsDC, an organization that works with District youth, teaching proper professional art techniques, sharing supplies, and providing a legal means for youth to demonstrate their artistic skills while respecting public and private property. Photo by the DC Department of Public Works.
Thank you to our contributing authors: Ackesha Patrick, Lotte Lent, Ryan Lindsay, Carol Fitzsimmons, and Theresa Coble
*The posture of a heritage leader is one of cultural humility, a readiness to rebalance power dynamics, and reciprocity.
If your heritage site conveys one or more stories of resistance, then it can make an outsized contribution to healing. That’s what three heritage leadership doctoral students at the University of Missouri–St. Louis (UMSL), Ackesha, Lotte, and Ryan, told Carol and Theresa during a recent conversation.
Ackesha was born and raised in Toronto, Canada, to parents from Jamaica and Trinidad. As a DEI coordinator in Virginia, she works tirelessly to ensure that every high school student is seen, heard, and valued. In her spare time, Ackesha enjoys reading novels from the Afrofuturism genre. Lotte has roots in places as diverse as the New England woods and the Australian outback. As the director of the museum education program at George Washington University in DC, Lotte puts her dual citizenship to work to build more humane global citizens. Ryan is a professor of social work practice at Washington University in St. Louis, where he focuses on suicide prevention and interventions for trauma. He’ll tell you that when his Irish Catholic family gets together, they’re one hundred people strong—and that’s just his mother’s side. Carol is an experiential educator, facilitator, and team builder from St. Louis. As a dedicated educator, Carol has not only shaped young minds but has also served as a program director for Americorps, a Principal for EnTeam Corporation, and a current heritage leadership doctoral student channeling the spirit of service and community building. Theresa has held faculty positions related to natural resources, parks, and public land management and currently leads the heritage leadership cohort at UMSL. Over time, she found that many complex and controversial issues, like climate change and social justice for example, share underlying root causes and overarching solutions. This synergy has motivated her quest to develop robust frameworks to address contested heritage.
Nadine Seiler graciously agreed to be interviewed on Zoom for Ackesha, Lotte, and Ryan’s doctoral research. Nadine expressed a keen interest in the project and followed up her online interview via email with further ideas and documentation. It was a delight for Lotte to finally meet Nadine in person at Black Lives Matter Plaza (BLMP) more than a year after the interview. The two were at BLMP in March 2025 as the Plaza was being demolished by the City due to intense pressure from the federal government; Nadine was there to protest its demise, and Lotte was there to interview onlookers for their research project. Photo courtesy of Lotte Lent.
The New York Times claimed that Black Lives Matter may be the largest movement in U.S.: “there [were] more than 4,700 demonstrations, or an average of 140 per day, since the first protests began in Minneapolis on May 26.” This time-lapse video records protestors marching in Philadelphia on June 6, 2020. Photo by EarthCam.
On March 10, 2025, a New York Times video revealed that Mayor Muriel Bowser had authorized the removal of the Black Lives Matter Plaza and street mural to prevent Congress from enacting legislation to defund the City. Jessica Sawyer, a protester at the mural removal, was also featured in the video. She said, “There are more people in the District than there are in some Western states. These people have always been underrepresented. They have a right to be treated like every other American citizen to have a voice.” Photo courtesy of New York Times.
Ackesha, Lotte, and Ryan form a three-person research team that’s exploring how oppression harms people; through their work we have come to appreciate how resistance and storytelling can interrupt those processes. They have two research sites that are both sites of resistance: the Central West End (CWE), a St. Louis neighborhood that functioned in decades past as a gayborhood, and Black Lives Matter Plaza (BLMP), in Washington, DC. The CWE is where St. Louis’ LGBTQ+ resistance in the latter half of the twentieth century got started. The neighborhood evolved into a space that centered gay life with a plethora of bars, eating establishments, bookstores, and entertainment venues as well as places of work and worship. CWE venues were operated, but rarely owned, by members of the gay community. Although no longer the center of gay life in St. Louis, its historical significance lives on. BLMP is likewise a site of resistance that emerged in the summer of 2020 in reaction to the public murder of an unarmed Black man by police in Minneapolis, Minnesota: George Floyd. The site was a two-block long street with the words “Black Lives Matter” painted in huge yellow block letters. The BLMP and surrounding area became the site of massive protests of police brutality and served as a temporary homebase for protest signs and artwork that became known as the Black Lives Matter Memorial Fence. However, in response to demands from the Trump Administration, the site began its demolition on March 10, 2025.
Ackesha, Lotte, and Ryan explored how communities, out of sheer necessity, have resisted being dehumanized and being othered. They discovered that many stories of resistance are left untold, are told in incomplete ways, or are told in ways that center a non-community member perspective. They also found that there is a hesitancy to be honest about the realities of the harm that has happened to people and the harm that continues to play out in people’s lives. But harm and joy, resistance and healing are often juxtaposed; they can emerge in tandem. Perhaps more precisely, experiences of oppression, when met with truth-telling and resistance, become catalysts for healing.
The Central West End was notorious for huge Halloween block parties, and Herbie’s was the site of the first ground-level gay bar in St. Louis, Missouri. Photo by Steven Brawley.
Resistance and Healing through Protest and Direct Action
Ryan:
Our research sites became sites of resistance because society acted in ways that forced these communities to come together. People came together in these places to survive. When you’re the target of oppression, you only have two choices: resist or die. (I use the word “die” intentionally knowing that many people may decide to assimilate or acquiesce to oppressive influences; however, the inability to live authentically can contribute to a dying of the soul.) For those who experience oppression, much of resistance is just the daily act of living, learning by surviving. In the Central West End, LGBTQ+ people wanted to be in a place where they felt safer in terms of numbers. But with larger numbers, they became a bigger target. So, it wasn’t necessarily a safer neighborhood, but rather, if harm occurred, they had their community surrounding them. For neighborhoods like the Central West End in the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s, it was about being affirmed. It was about walking through life exactly as you envisioned yourself, being the authentic you, and not self-censoring.
Lotte:
Ryan, when we think about resistance, we may not realize that coming together in a shared space and forming a residential community can be, in itself, an act of resistance. The Central West End was a place where LGBTQ+ people could navigate life as their true selves. It was a place of sanctuary and solidarity. It was also an economic necessity for some since marginalized groups often require alternative ways to participate in the economy. Sometimes resistance looks like community building, but sometimes it’s an act of defiance like the creation of the Black Lives Matter street mural in Washington, DC. The mural represents protest and direct action. It also represents a healing action and a healing moment in time.
Ackesha:
When I think about direct action, I think about Daryl Davis, a Black R&B and blues musician. He operates on the premise that, you know, how can you hate me if you don't know me? For years he’s led a one-man direct-action campaign to end racism. It all started when he played a country western gig at a “white” bar in Frederick, Maryland. A chance encounter prompted Daryl to connect with members of the Ku Klux Klan and befriend them. He is a fascinating human being. I don't know too many Black people who are willing to do that sort of reconciliation work. Meeting Daryl Davis and learning about his unique approach to healing race relations was an intriguing part of our doctoral research interviews.
Ryan:
Interpreters examine how social systems affect people and communities by exploring the full range of human experience. What I worry about is interpretation where all you get is a celebration of joy; then visitors walk away thinking that group of people are doing just fine. You see evidence of success—and even thriving—in the here and now, so you don't take seriously the harmful policy decisions that were made in the past and that continue to be made in the present. As someone who deals with the deep, painful aftermath of all of this, and who has witnessed many painful stories, I don't know what the right balance is.
But if I designed the Gateway to Pride exhibit at the Missouri History Museum, I would have laid it out in a systematic way, on a big wall, all the policy decisions and how our state and federal governments intentionally excluded and harmed LGBTQ+ people. They made a value judgment, and as a society, we allowed them to do that. At the top of the exhibit wall, I’d like to see all the harmful anti-LGBTQ+ policies. Then on the bottom, I’d like to see all the ways that members of the queer community resisted. I want to see those stories of resistance, but they've got to be contextualized. What were they resisting?
The Saint Louis Gay Community Center was located at 4746 McPherson and provided a physical locale to connect with other LGBT people, resources, and support. Photo by Steven Brawley.
The Sunshine Inn Restaurant was open from 1974 to 1998 and served as a de facto LGBT community center and space for activism in St. Louis. Photo by Steven Brawley.
Morgan Freeman explores the forces that push us apart, from intolerance of differences to fear of outsiders, and the possibilities of coming together. In this National Geographic episode, Freeman interviews Daryl Davis and a former member of the KKK, whom Davis befriended, in search of an answer to a fundamental question: Can we bridge the divide between “us” and “them”? Photo courtesy of National Geographic.
Resistance and Healing through Personal Truth and Storytelling
Theresa:
Storytelling, as interpreters know full well, helps people engage with difficult histories. It provides a human-sized access portal to issues that loom large in society. Well-told stories have the potential to reveal layers of complexity while also bringing the bigger picture into view. Stories also motivate action. When we hear a story, we become the protagonist. That is, in our brain, the same neural pathways light up as if we were the actual protagonist, doing what the story character was doing. When we’ve already done something in our mind, it’s easier to take that action in the real world.
Ackesha:
People resist oppression because they don’t want to be oppressed. That’s pretty simple, right? But what happens after that? How is the story told after the protest signs are cleared away? What happens when people who didn’t participate in the protest visit the site? What do they take from it, other than education, other than facts? If they encounter personal narratives, if they take resistance stories with them, then they also take, implanted within, the seed of healing. Healing is a necessary part of resistance, and it’s a process, not a destination.
Ryan:
I lived in the Central West End for ten years. When I lived there, I didn’t connect with the neighborhood’s history as a gayborhood. I didn’t know about Trinity Episcopal Church’s significance to people in the queer community. I lived down the street from the church, which is a National Historic Landmark for LGBTQ+ history.
Before becoming a doctoral student, to say that I didn’t have a strong relationship to history would be an understatement. The truth is, I never saw myself in the stories I learned in school. But then I interviewed people in their 60s to 80s. I learned about their experiences living in the Central West End and how they navigated their world during both the pre-AIDS and post-AIDS time periods.
By listening to them, I began to feel like I am threaded through generations in a way that I have never felt before. That was a surprise to me. My sense of place changed, and there was healing.
Carol:
That’s interesting. I hadn’t thought about resistance as essential to the healing process before. How does this happen?
Lotte:
Our research has shown that storytelling helps people engage with hard truths. One of our interviewees, Josef Palermo, is an artist and activist in the Washington, DC, area. He shared his experiences of the Black Lives Matter protests and being with that community onsite over many, many days. They came back day after day, and some people actually slept there. Josef indicated that spending time with protestors, having the opportunity to talk with them, to bring food to the protesters who stayed longer, to join them for yoga sessions, to care for them, and to engage in these actions while being in resistance mode was very powerful for him. We think there's healing in those kinds of experiences.
A woman makes bubbles to delight young visitors to Black Lives Matter Plaza in Washington, DC, on the day prior to the street mural's demolition. Photo by Lotte Lent.
Resistance and Healing through Community Building and Allyship
Ackesha:
We're finding that healing is a necessary part of resisting and that people resist oppression because they want healing and wholeness. Resistance shouldn’t be limited to just protesting, because resistance also includes community building and allyship. We interviewed a scholar named Junious Whitaker. His take on healing was really fascinating. He sees it as an everyday, community-oriented process. He said, “I heal by connecting with my community.” He supports Black businesses, so his clothing and apparel become a form of healing for him. He viewed resistance as finding ways to connect with and give back to the next generation.
Lotte:
One of the ways to give back is through allyship. Karen Irwin, a white woman, came down from New York to participate in the Black Lives Matter protests. Karen was a spicy talker. When she arrived at Black Lives Matter Plaza, she decided, “I'm going to be in the resistance.” She worked behind the scenes to arrange the set so that others could protest loudly. She engaged with the police, in direct and ongoing negotiations. Black protesters had more freedom because she was there dealing with the logistical aspects that arise when people are surrounded by the police. Karen took a kind intermediary role between protestors and police, in a good way: as an ally.
Ryan:
The concept of community, voice, and lived experience is important because often outsiders tell the stories. To me, there’s nothing wrong with having an exhibit that’s just for queer people. Other people can benefit from it, but the audience is not everyone. One aspect of entering a cultural space is that you recognize that you’re entering a space that was not made for you. When you enter a cultural space, you need to defer to the cultural norms of that space.
If large cultural institutions don’t co-create content with marginalized communities, then it relegates the history telling of LGBTQ+ or African-American experiences to exclusively queer or Black spaces. When we talk about healing and reconciliation, we should recognize that large cultural institutions have most of the money, staff, and infrastructure. If resistance stories are going to be told by the people and for the people, then these institutions must find ways to operationalize inclusion.
Activist and researcher Junious Whitaker IV told a Howard University interviewer that, “Growing up in North Carolina, I always found myself in situations where Black history was being told improperly or not at all… This is why it’s important for more people to get involved with Black history and take intimate time to comprehend it. It is important to realize that to understand history, you have to be very much involved. You have to not only be a listener, but you also have to be action based.” Photo by Rin-rin Yu.
Karen Irwin, from New York (left), and Nadine Seiler, originally from Trinidad and Tobago (right), met in Washington, DC, during the 2020 protests against police brutality. They joined forces to protect the many protest signs left at the security fence around Lafayette Park and the White House that became known as the Black Lives Matter Memorial Fence. Karen and Nadine worked to keep the protestors’ message alive by protecting approximately 900 signs from vandalism and were heralded as the curators of the Black Lives Matter Memorial Fence. Photo by Robin Fader, NBC Washington, DC.
Working with Edwin Chow, a Texas State University professor, a New York Times article provides an interactive map of Black Lives Matter protests on June 6, 2020. They argue that “Black Lives Matter protests peaked on June 6, 2020, when half a million people turned out in nearly 550 places across the United States.” NYT estimated that 15 to 26 million people in the United States participated in demonstrations after the murder of George Floyd. Photo courtesy of Crowd Counting Consortium, Edwin Chow, and New York Times.
Ackesha:
Ryan, yes to co-creating stories of resistance with marginalized communities. And I think there's value when people hear resistance stories from someone who looks like them. I invited a white woman who was on the front lines during the Freedom Rides and sit-ins to talk to the predominantly white student body at my high school. This civil rights activist was arrested more than forty-five times. Her story has credibility.
But even if she weren't on the front lines, it's important for white kids to hear about social justice from other white people. Not only that, but Black people disproportionately bear the burden of diversity, equity, and inclusion work. Allyship is shared responsibility; it’s how white people can ensure that members of marginalized groups are not overburdened by the emotional labor of having to constantly explain these issues to others.
Lotte:
Interpreters can and should function as allies. Our research shows that white people can step up and help to unburden those who have been oppressed. But there’s also a tension between two differing views, both of which have legitimacy. First, there’s the view that only marginalized groups can authentically tell their lived experiences and share their stories of resistance. Second, there’s an acknowledgement of the need for allyship, an awareness of shared responsibility, and the recognition that systems of oppression were not established by those who were oppressed. I think everyone holds a piece of the resistance story, but you must know which piece and how and when to share it.
Carol:
In the research Ajena Rogers and I are doing, we're incorporating the work of the Indigenous Education Institute as well as the Cosmovisions of the Pacific framework of relational accountability and their principles of collaboration with integrity to understand how non-Native institutions can best partner with Indigenous groups. Relational accountability emphasizes mutual respect, a recognition of sovereignty, trust, transparency, cultural humility, long-term commitment, and healing and reconciliation, among other core commitments. I think this discussion about resistance and healing through community building and allyship has important parallels with my own research. I love to see this kind of synergy.
"Respect Our Existence or Expect Our Resistance” is one of hundreds of protest signs left at Black Lives Matter Plaza Memorial Fence in August 2020 that have been digitally archived by the DC Public Library. Photo courtesy of Black Lives Matter Memorial Fence Artifact Collection.
Trauma, Resistance and Healing
Ryan:
Whenever there’s oppression, there’s trauma. Resistance stories provide insight into the trauma that people have experienced. Trauma differs for each person, and it may differ across communities. It may hit at deeper levels for some than for others. Different sources of trauma can coalesce, compounding trauma. For example, there’s personal and collective trauma, and both survivors and perpetrators experience trauma. So, the question becomes, how should we think about and manage trauma?
Ackesha:
We’ve done a lot of thinking about trauma, especially as we conducted our interviews. We have standard boilerplate language that we give to folks before we begin an interview. We let them know we may be asking some difficult questions and that they are under no obligation to answer those questions if they might cause harm, or dredge up difficult emotions or memories. But what we are finding as we talk to people about Black Lives Matter Plaza and the Central West End is that not only is there trauma, but there is also a need for healing.
Theresa:
If we, as interpreters, are going to tell more complete stories of our heritage, and if we are going to have any hope of healing, we need to couple storytelling and story listening with trauma-informed approaches.
Ryan:
It’s important for interpreters to recognize that trauma-informed heritage practice is not about treating people as fragile or trying to protect people. That’s very paternalistic and it decenters the lived experiences of those who’ve experienced oppression. We need to honor people by providing honest, accurate storytelling. It’s not about omitting the harsh reality. In fact, watering down the story is an invalidation of the harm someone has survived or has to keep surviving. Don’t diminish the depth of harm, but bear in mind that interpreters should not focus solely on the harm or lead with a narrative of victimhood. Relegating someone to victim status is the opposite of honoring their strength, resilience, and agency in surviving the trauma.
Lotte:
Agreed, Ryan, and that’s the interpretive challenge. Because visitors might not know what stories the site tells, or what content the site shares, they could be inadvertently traumatized. Interpretive sites must function as a “container” where visitors can engage with contested heritage topics safely and bravely.
In the Contemplative Court at the National Museum of African American History and Culture, according to a Smithsonian Magazine article, “A cylindrical fountain rains into a pool in the center of the room, coming from a skylight above. The water creates a sound that conveys something in the midst between a feeling of white noise, and calming relaxation. Some visitors come here and sing. Others sit quietly, staring into the constantly shifting liquid pool. It is a space for deep thoughts and meditation.” Photo courtesy of The Smithsonian Magazine: Jason Flakes.
Ackesha:
The National Museum of African American History and Culture (NMAAHC) has an exhibit that helps visitors imagine attending Emmett Till’s visitation, filing past the open casket during the viewing that Mamie Mobley Till held for her son. There’s a warning before you get into the exhibit that says, “What you're about to see or hear may be disturbing.” I like that. They give visitors that warning. Providing content warnings and docents to support visitors as they engage with traumatic content is respectful.
Carol:
I also appreciated the large circular space in NMAAHC with the waterfall feature. It was a space that was cleansing, mesmerizing, and that allowed for reflection. This was so necessary for me, as a visitor, after I took in all those aspects of African American history.
Lotte:
Trauma-informed heritage practice isn’t just for visitors. There is a need for interpreters, docents, and researchers engaged with these topics to practice self-care—but there’s also a need for institutions to create workspaces, workplace policies and practices, and an organizational culture that fosters employee wellbeing. I’m not in the field every day, and I don’t work in a museum setting, but even as a researcher of contested heritage, we have had to recognize when we needed a break or when we needed to limit our exposure to difficult topics.
Ackesha:
There’s a lot of internal work that interpreters have to engage in. They have to think about bias. They have to cultivate self-knowledge. There are days when I ask myself, ‘How much of a given topic can I handle?’ I have to decide how much news I’ll consume, or how much I’ll talk about a given topic. You have to take your own temperature and set your own boundaries. I think that, as an interpreter, a lot of trauma-informed heritage practice is internal. How are you handling things? What are you doing to take care of yourself? I think it’s important to figure out what self-care looks like for you.
Carol:
My takeaway from this discussion is a clearer understanding of how community supports resistance and healing. We really do need each other.
Lotte:
This research has increased my empathy.
Ryan:
I have found that healing comes when I encounter stories that tell me how I can survive.
Ackesha:
When you're working with a doctoral research team, it's amazing if you can have this kind of synergy. We support each other. We lend our strengths. We work on our areas of growth. And we move the work forward.
Theresa:
I’ve been working in the field of heritage interpretation for decades, but it’s conversations like these that show me how much I still have to learn and point me in the right direction. I am honored to be surrounded by such great teachers.
If this discussion has piqued your interest, dig deeper through these action steps:
- Engage deeply with affected communities. The pathway to holistic storytelling that truly honors the complexities of the lives of those impacted by social exclusion is to collaborate directly with activists, descendants, survivors, and communities connected to sites of resistance. When you are putting together advisory boards or community dialogues, collaborate with those closest to the issue. Finally, prioritize a range of lived experiences and personal narratives in interpretative programs. Check out IPinCH for more information on community-based cultural heritage research.
- Conduct thorough historical and contextual research. As interpreters, this is not a new recommendation. For some communities, the histories are held within the oral tradition: the most marginalized rarely wrote down their stories and often were not economically positioned to save significant artifacts. Thus, engaging in dialogue, recording new oral histories, and working directly with trusted community stakeholders is crucial. It is also important to consult historians specializing in resistance movements, activism, and social justice. Check out the International Coalition of Sites of Conscience for additional guidance.
- Center the voices of the excluded. Amplify the stories traditionally underrepresented, silenced, or left out of the historical narrative. Generate pathways to co-create the narratives through mutually beneficial partnerships (i.e., those with shared social, economic, and cultural benefits). Check out the Oral History Society for more information on conducting LGBTQ+ oral histories.
- Employ creative and innovative interpretive techniques. Allow the community to shape the what, when, how, and why of your interpretive program. This may include powerful storytelling methods such as digital multimedia or interactive technology, or multidimensional art installations, public performances, etc…using the methods of the community.
- Learn more about St. Louis’ LGBTQ+ History:
- The St. Louis LGBT History Project. The purpose of the St. Louis LGBT History Project is to preserve, document, and interpret the diverse history of LGBTQ+ communities in St. Louis through archival collections, oral histories, exhibitions, and public education programs.
- The Missouri History Museum’s Gateway to Pride Exhibit (through July 6, 2025). The "Gateway to Pride" exhibit at the Missouri History Museum explores and celebrates the history and contributions of the LGBTQ+ community in the St. Louis area.
- The Mapping St. Louis LGBT History Project, Washington University in St. Louis. "Mapping LGBTQ St. Louis" is a digital project by Washington University Libraries that uses interactive maps to document and explore the region's LGBTQ+ communities from 1945 to 1992.
- The State Historical Society of Missouri, LGBTQ Collections. The State Historical Society of Missouri's LGBTQ collection preserves and provides access to manuscripts, publications, photographs, and ephemera documenting the experiences and history of LGBTQ individuals and organizations in Missouri.
- Learn more about Black Lives Matter Plaza:
- The Urban Art Mapping, George Floyd and Anti-Racist Street Art Archive. The George Floyd & Anti-Racist Street Art Archive is a project by the Urban Art Mapping research team that documents and analyzes street art from around the world created in response to George Floyd's murder and the ongoing movement for social justice and equality.
- Black Lives Matter Plaza Wikipedia Page. Black Lives Matter Plaza is a two-block section of 16th Street NW in Washington, DC, named by Mayor Muriel Bowser on June 5, 2020, featuring a prominent street mural and serving as a site for demonstrations advocating racial justice and equality.
- MuralsDC, Beautifying the City One Wall at a Time. MuralsDC is a program established in 2007 by the DC Department of Public Works in partnership with the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities to replace illegal graffiti with artistic works, revitalize communities, and teach young artists proper techniques, resulting in over 150 murals across Washington, DC.
- DC Public Library, Black Lives Matter Memorial Fence Artifact Collection. The Black Lives Matter Memorial Fence Artifact Collection, housed by the DC Public Library's People's Archive, comprises posters, banners, clothing, photographs, and other items attached to the fence surrounding Lafayette Square in Washington, DC, from June 2020 to January 2021, serving as expressions of protest and remembrance related to social justice movements.
- Clint Smith, "Republicans Tear Down a Black Lives Matter Mural," The Atlantic. In March 2025, Washington, DC's city-sanctioned "Black Lives Matter" mural near the White House was removed due to legislative pressure and threats to remove federal funding, reflecting broader shifts against diversity initiatives.
Finally, check out these recommended resources:
- Black Lives Matter. Black Lives Matter is a decentralized political and social movement advocating for the eradication of systemic racism and the prevention of police violence against Black individuals.
- The National Museum of African American History & Culture. The National Museum of African American History and Culture is a Smithsonian Institution Museum located on the National Mall in Washington, DC, dedicated to documenting and showcasing the history, culture, and contributions of African Americans through its extensive collection of artifacts, exhibitions, and educational programs.
- The International Coalition of Sites of Conscience. The International Coalition of Sites of Conscience is a global network of historic sites, museums, and memory initiatives dedicated to connecting past struggles to today's movements for human rights by transforming memory into action.
- The American LGBTQ+ Museum. The American LGBTQ+ Museum is a collaborative initiative dedicated to preserving, researching, and sharing the evolving histories and cultures of LGBTQ+ communities across the United States.
- The Indigenous Education Institute. The Indigenous Education Institute was created for the preservation and contemporary application of traditional knowledge. The mission and goals were developed to provide awareness of the importance of linguistic based Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math (STEM) knowledge in the world today. This mission provides strength and richness to individuals and nations. Indigenous ways of knowing provide sustainability through stewardship of the earth and sky, leading to a balanced future, based on collaboration with integrity.
- Cosmovisions of the Pacific. Cosmovisions brings together Indigenous and non-Indigenous persons interested in networking to collaborate and co-creating across cultures.
Ackesha Patrick
Lotte Lent
Ryan Lindsay
Carol Fitzsimmons
Theresa Coble
