When History Is Under Threat, Who Gets to Tell the Story?
On a quiet afternoon in 2023, a high school teacher in Florida received a notice: Her lesson plan about the Harlem Renaissance had been flagged for violating state guidelines. The reason? It allegedly promoted “divisive concepts.” Across the country, similar stories emerged as educators grappled with new laws restricting discussions about race and systemic inequality. Meanwhile, former President Donald Trump’s rhetoric about “patriotic education” and his dismissals of critical race theory amplified fears that Black history—already marginalized in mainstream narratives—might face deliberate erasure.
But as political debates rage, a quieter revolution is unfolding online. Archivists, historians, and grassroots organizations are digitizing artifacts, oral histories, and cultural records to ensure Black stories survive. Their work isn’t just about preservation—it’s an act of resistance.
The Battle Over Memory
History has always been contested terrain. For centuries, the dominant narratives in U.S. classrooms and museums centered white perspectives, reducing Black experiences to footnotes about slavery or civil rights marches. Recent efforts to expand these narratives, such as the 1619 Project, sparked backlash from politicians arguing that acknowledging racism tarnishes national pride.
Trump’s calls for “pro-American” curricula—echoed by allies like Governor Ron DeSantis—have accelerated legislation that limits how race is taught. In states like Texas and Tennessee, educators report self-censoring to avoid penalties. A 2022 study by the UCLA Civil Rights Project found that 40% of U.S. teachers feel pressured to avoid topics related to systemic racism.
But what happens when institutional gatekeepers restrict access to history? Communities step in.
Digital Guardians of the Past
Enter the archivists. Groups like The Black Archives, founded by historian Renée Romano, are scanning photographs, letters, and audio recordings that document everyday Black life. Their mission: to create open-access repositories that bypass traditional gatekeepers.
“History isn’t just what’s in textbooks—it’s in family photo albums, church bulletins, and protest signs,” says Dr. Ashleigh Greene, a digital archivist at Howard University. “When politicians try to silence these stories, we digitize them so they’re impossible to ignore.”
One example is the Freedom Archives, a nonprofit preserving materials from Black liberation movements. Their online library includes rare speeches by Angela Davis, footage of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, and interviews with activists who organized sit-ins. These resources, once confined to university archives, are now freely available to students and teachers worldwide.
Crowdsourcing History
Grassroots efforts are also reshaping preservation. Platforms like HistoryIT and Omeka allow anyone to upload documents or oral histories. In Detroit, high school students partnered with the Charles H. Wright Museum to digitize stories from elders who lived through the 1967 uprising. In Georgia, descendants of enslaved people are mapping burial sites using GIS technology.
“We’re seeing a shift from top-down history to participatory history,” says technologist Tricia Rose. “When communities control their own narratives, they challenge erasure.”
Even social media plays a role. Hashtags like BlackHistory365 and viral threads about overlooked figures—such as engineer Lewis Latimer or poet Audre Lorde—have turned platforms like TikTok and Twitter into informal archives.
The Risks of Digital Preservation
But this work isn’t without challenges. Archivists face funding shortages, copyright hurdles, and the fragility of digital formats. Servers crash. Files corrupt. Algorithms suppress marginalized voices.
Moreover, digitization can’t replace physical preservation. “A scanned photo doesn’t capture the texture of a quilt made by enslaved artisans,” says Greene. “But it’s a start.”
There’s also the question of access. While 90% of U.S. adults use the internet, rural and low-income communities often lack reliable broadband. Archivists are addressing this by partnering with libraries and schools to distribute offline copies of their collections.
Why This Fight Matters
The stakes are existential. When history is whitewashed, it distorts identity and fuels inequality. Studies show that students who learn accurate, inclusive history develop stronger critical thinking skills and greater empathy.
For Black communities, preserving history is also about healing. “My grandmother kept her voter registration card from 1965 in a shoebox under her bed,” shares educator Keisha Thompson. “Digitizing it felt like honoring her struggle—and ensuring her story isn’t forgotten.”
The Road Ahead
The battle over Black history won’t end soon. Political attempts to sanitize curricula are likely to continue, but archivists are adapting. Projects like The Digital Public Library of America now collaborate with HBCUs (Historically Black Colleges and Universities) to centralize Black cultural heritage. Meanwhile, blockchain technology is being tested to create tamper-proof records.
Individuals can contribute, too. Donating family artifacts, supporting local archives, or even sharing stories online helps build a collective memory that’s harder to erase.
As Greene puts it: “Every time someone interacts with these archives, they’re voting for a more honest history.”
In a world where history is politicized, these digital guardians remind us that truth isn’t found in silence—it’s in the stories we choose to save.
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » When History Is Under Threat, Who Gets to Tell the Story