Beyond the Glass Case: How Public History Can Ignite New Scholarship
In the world of public history, we often grapple with the tension between preserving the past and making it accessible, engaging, and relevant to modern audiences. Too often, the pursuit of entertainment or simplified narratives strips away the very essence of the historical figures we seek to commemorate, reducing them to mere objects of curiosity or worse, trivial amusement.
As public historians, we navigate a post-truth era where historical facts are increasingly contested and distorted. We feel a profound responsibility to safeguard the stories of those who came before us, those who have no voice but ours to speak for them. Yet, in our efforts to make history accessible, we risk transforming these complex and nuanced lives into flattened exhibits or clickbait headlines. When this happens, we betray the very people we aim to honor, violating the unwritten contract of authenticity and accuracy that underpins our work.
True public history, as Denise Meringolo so eloquently articulated, is about building bridges - between scholars, practitioners, and the public. It thrives in the fertile ground where rigorous research, creative interpretation, and imaginative storytelling converge. The best public history sparks curiosity, ignites debate, and inspires further exploration.
The story of Ryland Randolph and Aggy, a tale as compelling as any found in a history textbook, exemplifies the transformative power of public history to drive new scholarship and enrich our understanding of the past.
Ryland Randolph, a descendant of Pocahontas and a cousin of Thomas Jefferson, was an enigmatic figure, largely forgotten by history. He was a man of contradictions – a wealthy Virginia planter, a scholar fluent in multiple languages,an eccentric who reveled in his mixed-race heritage. And at the heart of his story lies Aggy, an enslaved woman who shared his home and bore his children.
Ryland's will, which sought to free Aggy and their children and provide for their future in England, offers a glimpse into a complex interracial relationship that defied the norms of 18th-century Virginia. The subsequent legal battles over the will reveal the challenges faced by enslaved people seeking to claim their freedom and the resilience of individuals like Aggy who refused to accept their lot in life.
At Colonial Williamsburg, we recognized the power of this story to illuminate the complexities of race, class, and gender in early America. We collaborated with scholars, students, and talented interpreters to bring Ryland and Aggy to life, breathing new meaning into the historic landscape.
Through meticulous research, we uncovered hidden documents and unearthed new insights into Aggy's remarkable fight for her freedom. We discovered a Virginia where an enslaved woman could challenge the entrenched power structures and emerge victorious.
The ripple effects of this public history project extend far beyond the walls of Colonial Williamsburg. The scholarship it inspired has deepened our understanding of interracial relationships and the agency of enslaved people. It even raises intriguing questions about the potential influence of Aggy's story on Thomas Jefferson's own choices regarding Sally Hemings and their children.
This is the true power of public history – to connect us to the past in ways that are both intellectually stimulating and emotionally resonant. It is a testament to the enduring human spirit and the transformative potential of storytelling. It reminds us that history is not just a collection of dusty facts, but a living, breathing tapestry woven from the lives of countless individuals, each with their own unique story to tell.
