I am a hyper-curious person, and curiosity is an important value in my life … as well as an important impact of museums.

But curiosity isn't limited to museums, and can be hard to sustain through adulthood. By sharing some of my curious paths through reading, I'm hoping to reinforce how important wide-ranging curiosity is to our practice and spark new conversations that may seem unrelated to museums, but deeply matter to how we do our work. After all, as museums we cover a variety of topics. Our curiosity should also be as omnivorous!
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To that end, here's a new installment of some of my wide-ranging reads (mostly non-fiction) I hope to hear recommendations from you!

Book Love, by Debbie Tung
Books. They are stacked all over my house. I read several at a time. My daughter has every indication of taking after me. And cartoonist Debbie Tung is our kindred spirit. This graphic book beautifully captures what it means to love books … and tea … and the smell of books …

​Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading, by Lucy Mangan
I was totally a bookworm as a kid (and still am). This memoir reminded me how intoxicating reading is to children … and cracked me up about the travails of being a bookish kid … because I totally related. If you read a lot as a kid, you'll find memories here as well as new books to discover.

Finding Wonders: Three Girls Who Changed Science, by Jeannine Atkins
I picked this up for my daughter, but loved it for me. Three beautiful, long-form poems celebrating three girls who truly looked … at butterflies (Maria Merian), fossils (Mary Anning), and the heavens (Maria Mitchell). It is an evocative mixture of poetry, history, science, and girl-power … and three resilient girls who I hope will inspire my daughter.


Have a suggestion for my reading list?  Email it to me at susie (at) wilkeningconsulting (dot) com.

Philip Pullman is a masterful storyteller. I love his books for many reasons, but it boils down to how wonderfully he pulls me into his story.
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In Dæmon Voices, Pullman explores the act of storytelling. And while I picked this book up for my own pleasure (and my own curiosity and geekiness), I found myself thinking of museums and how we tell the stories we tell. (If you are a curator or educator who spends time crafting stories for audiences, you should absolutely pick this book up and read it. I whole-heartedly recommend Pullman's brilliant novels as well.)

Recently, Andrea Jones sent out this Tweet, to which I had an initial response: 

The next day, I read Pullman's essay "Let's Write It In Red," and I immediately began reflecting on Andrea's Tweet and that response of mine. Why do audiences generally dislike disrupted chronology?

In this particular essay, Pullman discusses stories versus technique. That is, is the story you are telling compelling, or are you trying to jazz up a dud story in some fancy way? He likens it to cinematography, considering a normal perspective versus an unusual angle. Or drawing a figure from the top of the head versus straight-on. When you come at a story from an unusual angle, it can hide myriad sins within the story itself, which Pullman explains this way:

• "… if a story is told from an unusual angle, or in something fancy like the second person, or with alternative openings and unclosed endings, or larded through and through with flashbacks and flash-forwards and flashbacks within flashbacks, then you can't see so easily that it's poorly constructed out of thin materials. Tell it plainly, and if it still stands up, it works … the real challenge for the storyteller is the tale told simply."

In my response to Andrea, I didn't say not to tell history in a non-chronological format, but I did warn that audiences tend to dislike the unusual angles and approaches. There are reasons for that:

• When we as experts in the subject matter share content, we understand it more thoroughly and contextually than most audiences (who, in this case, are typically not historians). So we can make leaps that our audiences often struggle with. An unusual approach may make sense to us, but leave audiences perplexed and/or frustrated.
• As humans, we live in chronological time and are taught history that way … a different approach thus takes far more work to make sense of, and that in and of itself can turn off audiences. (I feel the same sense of irritation and disengagement about novels with flashbacks and other unusual approaches; it should only be done if it serves the story.)
• By relying on an unusual approach, we could focus too much on the approach and neglect the story … and the story won't stand.

Thus, there are risks to sharing history in a non-chronological way, and the biggest risk is losing our audience's attention and willingness to engage. 

Before I shared this essay on The Curated Bookshelf, I decided to share it with Andrea. Unsurprisingly, she had some interesting comments that I thought needed to be shared … here's our back-and-forth discussion.

• Andrea's response:  Exactly. It's not just about putting lipstick on a pig. It's about using the history to say something deeper about the human condition. And I think what you are weary of is just reorganizing just to be different, right? Because yes, agreed.
• Susie's response to Andrea: Yes and yes! History is about the human condition, and museum-goers deeply appreciate that … and want to explore it. But reorganizing it just to be different doesn't serve that purpose. As I mentioned, there are novels they disrupt time and irritate me because it is all smoke and mirrors … and no story. But then there are some novels that turn chronological time on its head and come out with something stunning. Kristin Cashore's Jane Unlimited comes to mind. I should have been irritated by it, but I loved it. So it can be done by museums too, if done well.
• Andrea: The march through time is too encyclopedic. It really isn't telling a story at all. And like Rainey Tisdale has told me in the past - when the organization of your content looks and feels encyclopedic there is an overwhelming burden to include EVERYTHING. And we all know history museums are generally terrible at reducing the amount of content to a manageable amount.
• Susie: I am totally with you on that. Encyclopedias don't tell stories. They serve an excellent purpose, but I don't want to walk through one. And deep down, I don't think visitors do either. They want to know you know your stuff, that you are encyclopedic in possibilities from which to draw … but today, during their visit, you are only sharing a part in a meaningful way.
• Andrea: Let's go back to the chronological time thing. You are right to point out that it does take some work to orient people to a new structure when everyone is used to learning history chronologically. So let's get them UNused to it! And scaffold that learning curve.
• Susie: Yep, that is a big challenge. I've just wrapped up a qualitative panel of history teachers, and they talked a lot about struggling to teach kids the concept of chronological time. And now you're trying to undo that work. (Chuckling!) No, really, I think teachers are right to help kids understand chronological time … but they are trying to teach a big, comprehensive history over the course of a year. Museums rarely really need to do that in their galleries.

Now that doesn't mean Andrea shouldn't try to disrupt chronological time. Andrea is a gifted storyteller, and if I wanted my museum to try the non-chronological approach with history, she's who I would go to. I think she should try, because if she succeeded, that would likely help us engage more people with history.

But Andrea is also a very thoughtful interpreter who wants to understand how audiences respond to not only content but interpretive approaches. Knowing my concerns based on audience research, she's the type to think them through, and then make sure the story (and the audience) benefits from the unusual approach … and not mask a weak story.

Or, as Pullman would say, Andrea would stick to the path the story needs … and history deserves.


Full citation: Pullman, Philip. Dæmon Voices: Essays on Storytelling. Oxford: David Fickling Books, 2017.

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Have a suggestion for my reading list?  Email it to me at susie (at) wilkeningconsulting (dot) com.

I am a hyper-curious person, and curiosity is an important value in my life … as well as an important impact of museums.

But curiosity isn't limited to museums, and can be hard to sustain through adulthood. By sharing some of my curious paths through reading, I'm hoping to reinforce how important wide-ranging curiosity is to our practice and spark new conversations that may seem unrelated to museums, but deeply matter to how we do our work. After all, as museums we cover a variety of topics. Our curiosity should also be as omnivorous!

To that end, here's a new installment of some of my wide-ranging reads (mostly non-fiction). I hope to hear recommendations from you!

​Belonging: A German Reckons with History and Home, by Nora Krug
What does it mean to German home and family if you don't know what your grandparents did or thought during World War II? Nora Krug grapples with these questions, trying to piece together those lost years, lost because German families rarely spoke about their own actions during that war. What has been the legacy of silence, not knowing? What happens if the pieces start to come together, but cannot be entirely put together? I found this book heartbreaking and wonderful, thoughtful and devastating. And I couldn't help but think of our own family legacies in America, and what my own family may or may not have done throughout the past, especially when it comes to slavery, race, and the privileged legacy I have received as a middle-class white child. Recommended by Linda Norris and Laura Roberts, and I emphatically agree. This is a must-read.


The Poet's Dog, by Patricia MacLachlan
The fact that this is a book for elementary-age readers should not detract you for it. It is absolutely lovely, and I relished reading it to my two young children. It begins with a dog rescuing two children in a snowstorm, and taking them home to his cabin for the duration. While snowbound, the children learn the dog's story of life with his person, a poet. But the poet is conspicuously absent from the cabin … and, well, you have to read it to find out. Keep tissues handy.


The Inner Life of Animals: Surprising Observations of a Hidden World, by Peter Wohlleben
I've always had a bit of an intellectual crush on John Muir. Peter Wohlleben may be his 21st-century successor. This small volume explores the inner emotions of animals in playful yet serious ways (as Muir often did), having me consider the goat, the deer, and even the weevil in new, yet more empathetic ways. Yes, weevils. (Note: Wohlleben also wrote the popular The Hidden Life of Trees, which I also enjoyed … but the translation is smoother in Animals, making it a more pleasurable read.)



Have a suggestion for my reading list?  Email it to me at susie (at) wilkeningconsulting (dot) com.

I love infographics. I wish I could present all my research via infographics.

Sadly, I'm not that talented (though I am pretty proud of my Data Stories and work with a fantastic graphic designer turns my stories into beautiful reality).

I also love to share my infographic inspiration with you! Here, in my second installment of "Infographic Inspiration," three more places to rethink how data can be shared.

1 - The Global Economy As You've Never Seen It. Or, in other words, economics through infographics. I'm geeky enough to have sat down and read the book, but I stylistically like how they conveyed big things in appealing ways. Citation: Ramge, Thomas, and Schwochow, Jan. The Global Economy As You've Never Seen It. New York: The Experiment, 2018.

2 - Seattleness: A Cultural Atlas. To be honest, I had an internal debate about whether this book belonged under "infographics" or one of my "three good/curious reads" because it is full of random bits about what makes Seattle Seattle … I wish every city had one of these so I could read them before visiting! That being said, from microclimates to the heights of our hills to coffee shops, there is an infographic about every single thing that is Seattle quirky, and there are many ideas for any museum dealing with place-based stories. The infographics were more fun than dense with data, but that's OK, as the visualizations are still clever. Citation: Hatfield, Tera, et. al. Seattleness: A Cultural Atlas. Seattle: Sasquatch Books, 2018.

3 - "The Best Data Viz of 2018 Showed Us Our Rapidly Changing World." Fast Company's compilation of data web graphics showcases the gorgeous to the frightening. The web format allows data to change with time, making it more striking and real.

If you come across an infographic you think works particularly well, send it my way at susie (at) wilkeningconsulting (dot) com!

Why I picked it up: My sister is angry. As a liberal, she is angry that conservatives have taken patriotism away from her. She's angry that the values that conservatives have imbued patriotism with are not, in her mind, easily reconciled with what she believes America can and should be … the values she associates with this country. She loves our country, but is angry that conservatives thinks liberals like her are trying to destroy it. And she wants to reclaim patriotism.

I understand how she feels. While I am not as angry as she is (despite being, if anything, even more liberal), I am grieved that the conservative/liberal divides have deepened so much that liberals feel they can't embrace patriotism … and that conservatives could even think that liberals don't love the ideas and ideals of this country.

Yet this assessment, both from other sources as well as in my research, generally holds true. In particular, my research has yielded evidence about how strongly some conservatives feel that liberals are anti-American … even going to so far at time as to explicitly say liberals are actively working to destroy this country. And liberals, on their part, feeling a bit of bewilderment that their positions come across as anti-American while at the same time calling out conservatives for clinging to a romanticized view of the founding of this country … a view that also excludes any history that disagrees with that romanticized view. After all, an America that isn't just to everyone isn't really living up to its ideals.*

While this divide in America is rooted in many things, one of the things my research indicates it is rooted in is history and the different ways people approach, and question, the past. But, when I look deeply, my research also indicates hints of common values that may bring us together … not to agree, but to perhaps find common ground and a common path forward.

Which brings me to why I picked up this book. I'm searching for insights, ideas, and hypotheses about the work that needs to be done to bridge our differences in productive ways … and the role of museums in being that bridge. I want to have hope. And I'm hoping that Eric Liu's "civic sermons" on the ideas and ideals of America, and our civic life, will help.

What you need to know

The focus of the book is civic religion, which Liu defines as "the creed of ideals stated at our nation's founding and restated at junctures of crises (like today), and the deeds by which we and those before us live up to the creed."

The book is comprised of 19 civic "sermons," which are very much like a sermon you might find in a house of worship … except the texts are primary sources related to American founding and identity, and the sermons focus on what it really means to be an American.

Liu is a liberal, and many of his sermons spoke of his heartache at what he sees happening in this country -- not only the actions of our national leaders but also the implosion of civil discourse and responsibility. He wants Americans fight for what they know to be just and good through a context of American history and values, and to promote social justice as part of our American creed. I find that fascinating because history is such a crucial part of this. It is all about the relevance of history to today's public discourse and the social challenges facing us today.

The overriding emotion that comes out of the book, however, is fear. For Liu, a thoughtful fear, but still fear. And a diagnosis of a citizenry that is also full of fear.

I think the fear that Liu diagnoses is correct … I've seen it in my recent research on American attitudes towards inclusive history. Fear is real and palpable. This fear comes from both liberals and conservatives, is sometimes rational, and often isn't.

But if we are to find any common ground we have to use cognitive empathy to understand the fears that others have. Not necessarily agreeing, but understanding. We have to rehumanize American society, which begs the question of how we recognize our shared humanity in this polarized age. What can bring us together?


Implications for Museums:

Given how intertwined American identity is with history (and vice versa), and how conservatives and liberals thus approach history with different questions and ideas, it seems self-evident that history museums and historic sites are, whether they like it or not, political players in our current polarized society. And as trusted sources for history, that makes it incumbent on us to be a forum for civil discourse, whether the public explicitly wants us to do this or not (data on this forthcoming). We have a critical role to play in understanding what it means to be an American now and in the past … and bringing us all together through the shared values we do maintain, creating a future for us and this country.

This doesn't mean it will be easy. But if not, us, who?

Additional things of interest:

There are a number of themes that emerge that are relevant to history and American discourse today, including:

• The fractionalization of America over identity. As Liu says, "Identity politics here started when the first Puritan stepped ashore." No kidding. Just now we are much more aware of it. This yields some who resist hearing the multiple perspectives of the past and today (calling it "revisionist"), and those who embrace it. Liu suggests that the single, common narrative of the American story of the past is dangerous because it allows the rationalization of the domination of other in order to privilege the few. That's the story of American history, but will it be the story of the American future?
• What I call "Mayberry Syndrome." That is, a feeling of nostalgia for the past and a desire to recreate it … that small-town, everyone knows each other, safe past. Of course, that rosy view of the past wasn't so rosy for everyone. Indeed, it could be argued it was only rosy for white males. Personally, I find Mayberry Syndrome abhorrent because I think of all the people that environment held back (or kept down). But Liu points out there are other ways of thinking about it that can be productive. The sense of community, of safety. But it has to have a 21st-century interpretation of inclusiveness that most victims of Mayberry Syndrome don't seem to be able to stretch themselves to (at least, not the ones I've seen in my research).
• Empathy and compassion. In some ways, Liu seems to dismiss empathy as not useful. And when you think of empathy as the end-goal, then that makes sense. I prefer a view of empathy (especially cognitive empathy) as a step towards empathetic concern and action. Doing something productive and good with that empathy. But Liu does consider ways empathy can help us find the common ground we need, and the shared values we do still retain. I found myself linking what Liu writes with the empathetic research and practice of Jamil Zaki (reviewed here).
• All of our civic responsibilities take practice. Deliberate practice. We can't be lazy. We need to get into shape civically, by taking civic action on a regular basis, so we mainstream that action into our own lives. To serve our local communities deeply and diligently with that new civic muscle. I'd like to think through how we do this as museum professionals, and thus effect a more civil, just, and equal society through our work.

I also had three primary issues with this book:

• It isn't so much what Liu says, as a suspicion that it will be a victim of polarization. Because Liu is a liberal, I fear that few conservatives are willing to listen to his message … even the parts that should be shared values. I found myself wishing for a conservative counterpart that embraced the shared values and provided a foundation for discourse. (If you know of one, let me know!)
• Sermons serve their purpose best by being weekly messages … not all at once. A steady drip-drip-drip reminder of our values and faith, which requires some degree of repetition. Thus, I suggest spreading out your reading of this book, so you don't have the sense of repetition I had.
• I felt sermon #7, "Legitimate Doubts," was elitist, condescending, even somewhat victim blaming. I don't think it was intentional, but it left a bad taste in my mouth that I had to work hard to dispel to review the rest of the book.

Read or skip?

Read … slowly. If you want to practice being a American, and consider how your museum can be more proactive in helping visitors practice being an American, then you should pick it up. Just take your time reading it!



*As a liberal, of course I have a liberal bias in my beliefs. It is a bias I am aware of and try to mitigate in my research in order to present alternative viewpoints fairly. With that in mind, I have endeavored to fairly represent the research findings I share in this review … and to make clear when my opinion is being shared.


Full citation:  Liu, Eric. Become America: Civic Sermons on Love, Responsibility, and Democracy. Seattle, WA: Sasquatch Books, 2019.

Have a suggestion for my reading list?  Email it to me at susie (at) wilkeningconsulting (dot) com

Why I picked it up: As I wrap up a project on American attitudes towards inclusive history, I've been giving a lot of thought to the deep divides in this country, and how they are rooted in history. Understanding the perspectives of those who don't value inclusive history, and who I personally disagree with, is crucial if we are going to find common ground that can move us forward into a future that is full of uncertainty. (Senator Cory Booker calls this "courageous empathy," and I agree).

Thus, I want to practice radical curiosity and courageous empathy, as it is only by understanding those perspectives that are different than mine that I can understand how we can work towards making our society more just and inclusive. When I saw a review of this book (it was released only two weeks ago), I jumped on it because I wanted to better put my research findings in better context. 

What you need to know:  This book is an excellent primer on empathy and how it works in humans in today's society. It also explores how our society is shifting in ways that don't support empathy, with empathy levels generally decreasing. But it also shares that, like most traits, empathy isn't fixed. With practice, we can all become more empathetic, which benefits our collective fate.

Museums as empathy gymnasium.

OK, Zaki didn't write about museums at all. But if empathy is a skill that can be practiced, what is the role of museums in helping people practice it? Zaki discusses that empathy helps people recognize their "common humanity with others." That phrase jumped out because I see comments from museum-goers all the time that say museums help them do just that. (I tweet these types of comments daily at #imaginenomuseums; take a scroll through and you'll find examples.)

While museum-going may not be doing extremely focused training like psychologists do when they run their studies, it does appear that museums are a viable empathy gymnasium for flexing empathy muscles over a lifetime … especially for cognitive empathy.

There's a hitch, though. When it comes to opening people's minds to other perspectives (especially if they are resistant), reason and evidence are not great tools. Yet my research indicates that, at least when it comes to attitudes around inclusive history (and likely contentious science or social issues today), those who resist it the most are also most likely to say that museums should only present facts so they can make up their own minds. They tend to look for certainty, and this type of rigidity, according to Zaki, inhibits compassion. This doesn't mean we abandon facts (we can't), but instead consider how we present those facts in ways that reassure that we are presenting the truth while also opening the door, even if only slightly, to different perspectives that can engender empathy.

Empathy for "the other"

While I've studied this quite a bit in my work, this book helped me crystallize my thinking while also producing some new research and evidence that pushed me to stretch and grow to consider new insights.

• "Contact theory."

In psychology, contact theory is basically the idea that the more we rub up against one another, the easier it becomes to accept one another and feel empathy. In some cases it isn't true (think alt-right responses to demographic change happening around us), but when contact is meaningful, it can help.

To some extent, I see this in my research as well. Over and over, museum-goers share that museums are important for exposing them to other opinions, ideas, perspectives, and experiences. That museums broaden minds, and that these experiences lead to prosocial outcomes (including empathy).

But I think we need to be honest about how museums do that because the exposure is typically indirect, through stories and interpretation and not through person-to-person experiences. That means it is likely more superficial than person-to-person experiences, and that's OK. Instead, museums appear to provide a fundamental first step towards exposure and acceptance, laying groundwork for deeper empathy in real life. In fact, if museums play a role in doing that for a lot of people (and my research indicates they do, as do some other informal learning activities), then that is a significant contribution to a kinder society. Helping move people from ambivalence to starting to care should never be undervalued.

Another way that museums help with this opening of the mind is by how we position our content. Zaki notes that sometimes for change to occur people's impression of their community's beliefs have to shift, and then their own beliefs catch up. If, for example, we think everyone believes blue is a horrible color, then it is easier to believe that too. But if we learn that all we are hearing is a very vocal minority of blue-haters, it is easier to shift our opinions to say blue is perfectly fine color.

This suggests that when museums mainstream content, such as a more complete and inclusive history, visitors better contextualize detractors as outliers. That shift of perspective can help create those initial exposures and contact shifts that are so crucial for eventual acceptance, tolerance, and understanding.
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• Race and historical empathy

Zaki cites a study where white Americans were asked to read about the massacre of Native Americans at the hands of Europeans. Afterwards, "they doubted that Native Americans could feel complex emotions such as hope and shame." Why that result? Apparently, when people cause suffering, empathy begins to erode. It isn't so much that people choose to harm others, but instead adapt to the choices they have made. That is, they rationalize the harm in ways that suppress emotional empathy. In this example, whites today were rationalizing what whites did long ago. 

Let's contextualize these results with my own findings around historical empathy. Numerous studies (some reviewed on The Curated Bookshelf) have shown that whites tend to downplay racial discrimination or rationalize it differently in ways that support who and what they are today. To support the status quo, that is. When it comes to inclusive history I suspect the same thing is happening. Those who are more resistant to that more complete and inclusive history are doing so as a defensive mechanism to protect their identity. So as a white-dominated society did, objectively, a considerable amount of harm to people of color in the past, whites adapted in ways to rationalize the harm, which suppresses empathy towards people of color today. This would, of course, extend to harms happening today (which are often products of the past).

But I would go further than that because in my work I find that many history museum-goers claim they have high levels of historical empathy … but, most crucially, who they have empathy for varies. Those that are more historically conservative tend to believe they exhibit more empathy for people of the past because they don't judge them by today's mores and values. Of course, that can also be interpreted as a way of letting whites off the hook for grievous harms to people of color (as well as women, LGBTQ, those with different religious beliefs, etc.). Based on what Zaki shares, this tendency of historical conservatives is likely a defense mechanism they use to rationalize the past and who they are today. (My research findings on historical empathy will be coming out in fall 2019.)

This doesn't necessarily mean that historical conservatives don't feel any empathy for those harmed in the past, however. But their empathy scale is likely out of whack, heavily weighted towards empathy for that white perspective. Zaki writes that when this type of imbalance occurs, sometimes the goal is to reduce empathy towards the in-group so that a better balance can evolve, thus improving empathetic concern towards the out-group. In my example, that would mean that whites with the most imbalanced empathy scale would need to pull back on empathy for whites in the past in order to have a greater relative empathy for people of color. Realistically, I'm sad to say, that is a very tall order.
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Final thoughts: When it comes to something like inclusive history, or climate change, or vaccinations, I believe what I believe to be rational and right, and the most kind to the most people. But those beliefs are wrapped up in my identity and emotions (also making it harder for me to admit I might be wrong), and we see how that is playing out for everyone in our modern, and polarized society.

So I'm thinking carefully about how we effect change in ways that we can come together for a kinder world. And that means using radical curiosity and courageous empathy to better understand how those who I disagree with come to their conclusions. Especially when they think their beliefs are rational, right, and kindest. 

This means listening and understanding beliefs and fears. It means considering how we can drive the biggest impact … and that small shifts in perspective can make a much bigger difference than we think. It means giving far more thought to the appropriate pacing than we may have anticipated so that we bring people along with us for the long-term good. Because not deploying that courageous empathy likely means alienating those we most need to reach … and losing them as an audience altogether. We can't risk that.
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Read or skip? This book is an excellent introduction to empathy in today's world. For that, yes, it is a great read. If you are really deep into empathy work already, it is likely mostly review, but there is enough new content that you may want to at least skim it to find those spots for closer reading. I've read a lot on empathy, and I picked up new thinking to help me in my work.


Note: if you have ever had an infant in the NICU, I strongly encourage you to skip chapter 5. I powered through it (and then took my dog for a long walk). You don't need to do the same as it is the least relevant to museums.

Full citation: Zaki, Jamil. The War for Kindness: Building Empathy in a Fractured World. New York: Crown Publishing, 2019.

Have a suggestion for my reading list?  Email it to me at susie (at) wilkeningconsulting (dot) com.

I read and skim a lot of reports. Some are reviewed here on The Curated Bookshelf. Some turn out to not be that relevant. And some have bits and pieces that are interesting, falling a bit in between.

Pew Research Center produces a prodigious amount of high-quality reports, and here are snapshot review of three fairly recent ones that I found of enough interest to flag (two briefly, one at more length). 

"Generation Z Looks a Lot Like Millennials on Key Social and Political Issues." Pew Research Center, January 2019.

First, if you don't know who Generation Z is, it comprises a new generation ages 14 to 22 … the generation that comes after the Millennials. It is shaping up to be the most diverse and well-educated generation yet (until, of course, the generation that comes after them!). Overall, their attitudes are fairly similar to Millennials in that, compared to older generations, they tend to be more liberal … at least for now. As they grow fully into adulthood, attitudes can shift. What I think is most important to museums is that both non-Hispanic whites AND Gen Z Republicans specifically are more progressive on racial and ethnic issues and on climate change than their older counterparts, which I personally view with hope.


"What Americans Know About Science." Pew Research Center, March 2019.

Science, just like many things, is political. Climate change, vaccines, the age of Earth … whether one believes science is real or that theories are up for debate (thus clearly not understanding what science means by the word "theory"). As usual, Pew Research Center is unafraid to delve into political issues and looked at what Americans know about science, and then ran their filters and cross tabs to look for variations. Of interest to us is that science knowledge isn't steady. One would think that those with more education score better on a test of science knowledge (they do), but men outperform women, and whites score better than blacks and Hispanics … even after controlling for educational attainment. Meanwhile, political persuasion doesn't seem to matter when it comes to science knowledge, but it does come into play in terms of how people apply science to the world. If you are dealing with the public on science issues, you should read the full report.


"Where Americans Find Meaning in Life." Pew Research Center, November 2018
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We talk about how visitors find meaning in museums. But most people don't visit museums, and those that do are visiting a handful of times a year, not every week. So how do Americans find meaning in their day-to-day lives? And can that give us better insight to how they find meaning in museums?
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Unsurprisingly, family comes out tops for finding meaning in life. But of interest to museums is how activities and hobbies rank, as well as learning.

The learning finding makes a lot of sense, given my work that shows that somewhere around 5 - 10% of the population is highly curious and finds joy in learning … as well as the 10% or so of Americans who visit museums 3 or more times/year. While these two groups are not exactly the same, the point is there is likely a high degree of overlap and the sizes make sense.

As Pew points out, different groups of Americans finds meaning in different places. Educational attainment drove some key differences, as those with higher education were more likely to mention friends, good health, hobbies, travel, and most crucially, learning … things that those who are less socioeconomically privileged may not always have the resources to enjoy. 
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​There are important differences by  other factors such as religion, race and ethnicity, and political persuasion. Some are more relevant to museums than others (though educational attainment seems to be the strongest factor for us). But bottom line, meaning is found in emotional attachments, whether family, religion, or friends, and in how we live our fullest lives. Museums can help with both. 


Have a suggestion for my reading list?  Email it to me at susie (at) wilkeningconsulting (dot) com.

Why I picked it up: Is history a list of facts and dates to be memorized? Of course not. If it were then, sure, we could leave history to our phones and simply look up what we need to know, when we need to know it.

But we all know history is much more complicated than that. It is also being politicized, which increases its capacity to harm if most people don't have the historical literacy to understand how bias works, what facts and truth really are (and how they differ), how to evaluate evidence, and who to trust. I am working on a project that assesses public attitudes around history and how it relates to inclusion and social justice, and this book caught my attention as a plea for historical literacy to increase for society's sake.

What you need to know: The book is largely a criticism of how history is taught and shared in this country. History as taught tends to be focused on facts, and stripped of its "intrinsically human character" … a method that discourages critical thinking about the past AND that leads many students to become disengaged with history as adults (as my research also clearly shows).

The teaching of facts means that students look at history as only facts, black-and-white, not changeable (hence charges of "revisionist history" when we change our interpretation of the past), and that today they don't know how to evaluate the source of information for credibility. We all know what that means in our fake news saturated world.

Wineburg makes two comments that stood out as important as we as a society wrestle with the past and how it affects today:
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1. "Too often, whether we like someone's politics determines whether we like their history." My evidence-based response from my research? No kidding.
2. With the right efforts, "students' muscle for ambiguity grew stronger." I'd like to bottle that ability and then put it in the water supply because so much of my research shows how uncomfortable most people are with an ambiguous past. That discomfort leads to doctrinal, black-and-white approaches to history that draws absolute lines in the sand. This makes our work so much harder … especially when we try to be inclusive in our interpretations of the past.

There was one conclusion that did not sit well with me, however. Chapter 8 suggests that good work has been done in opening a more inclusive past to Americans. Specifically, he shared data that showed that MLK, Rosa Parks, and Harriet Tubman are now considered the most influential Americans (that were not Presidents or First Ladies).

While I agree that those individuals deserve that acclaim (their stories are courageous and inspiring), I also felt that their appearance so high on the list isn't necessarily a deserved pat on the back for history. This outcome does not mean that a truly inclusive history is being taught. That is, by teaching about the things that Harriet Tubman achieved, we skip over the horrors of slavery and its long-term repercussions. By extolling MLK and Rosa Parks, we can push to the side where the Civil Rights Act has failed. We can teach, then, "feel-good" history.

Or, as one of the qualitative panelists from my Inclusive History in America research noted, "I feel like the Civil Rights movement is taught about because it is the more convenient narrative of history to be taught. It is a way to teach about slavery and racism with the least amount of white guilt as possible."

We can't just teach the inspiring stories and what seems like happy endings, and then check off the inclusive work as "done." Inclusive history needs to become mainstream history. That hasn't happened. So while Wineberg doesn't say straight out that work for inclusion is successful/done, neither does he make the case that we haven't done enough … and why this matters.

Implications for museums: As the most trusted source for history, how we deal with history in this age of alternative facts really matters. My research shows how aware many of those on the left are that the traditional historical narrative deliberately leaves out whole swathes of the population … while those on the right see that traditional narrative as one that supports values and ideals that are important to them. How do museums deal with this tension? How do museums convey that history is messy, interesting, nuanced, ambiguous, inspiring, and challenging, and thus our understanding of history is ever-changing? It's hard. The past as taught teaches certainty, and when we share a more inclusive history, that certainty is erased, making many feel like the rug has been pulled out from under them (or worse). As that most trusted source of history, we need to figure out how to deal with this … and use it as an opportunity to truly share evidence-backed knowledge that works to open minds to other perspectives, understanding, tolerance, and the complexities of our past, present, and future.

Bonus: Quotes Stacia Kuceyeski of the Ohio History Connection on page 49!

Read or skip? A maybe. I think about history a lot, and I found this a highly thought-provoking read not only of how we teach history, but also extrapolating it to today's civil and historical discourse (or lack thereof). But while I think Wineberg is (mostly) right about his criticisms, I also thought the book would have been stronger if it included a more nuanced understanding of how most American adults actually approach history … and why this matters if we are going to raise new generations of historically literate and tolerant Americans. Bottom line, if my review piques your interest, go for it. It's a good read. 

Full citation:  Wineburg, Sam. Why Learn History (When It's Already on Your Phone). Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2018

Wilkening Consulting research quote: the Inclusive History in America research will be released late summer 2019; a full citation will be provided at that time.


Have a suggestion for my reading list?  Email it to me at susie (at) wilkeningconsulting (dot) com.

Why I picked it up: As I continue to analyze research I fielded around American attitudes towards inclusive history, anything that feeds into that analysis will inevitably catch my eye. The stat that nearly half of whites think a majority nonwhite population will weaken American culture certainly did that, and as places of American culture, museums need to pay attention to these attitudes.

What you need to know: Pew asked Americans to consider what they thought America would be like in 30 years, and found widespread pessimism, with respondents believing that the US will decline in worldwide importance while our American society becomes increasingly unequal and increasingly polarized. While this pessimism could reflect current dissatisfaction with the current state of the country (nearly 3/4 are dissatisfied with that), it also highlights very real challenges that we are grappling with.
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The report focused on perceived challenges in four areas (perceived because they were asking what Americans thought about the future):

• Weaker economy
• Growing income divide
• Degraded environment
• Broken political system

​My focus, however, was on American culture, and here things were, well, interesting. While only 23% of respondents said that a shift to a majority nonwhite population (estimated in 2050) would be "bad," whites were about twice as likely to say so than people of color. Additionally, whites were about twice as likely to feel that this shift would weaken American culture. 

Yet interestingly, minorities are more optimistic about the country's future than whites. I wonder what drives this, and speculate it may be because whites may be more likely to see a majority minority future as a challenge, whereas minorities may see it as an opportunity.

While race, age, and education affected how people responded, the bigger gap in the survey was between Republicans and Democrats … a gap that I see in my research as well. People's political attitudes reflect their social attitudes in highly pervasive ways, and Republicans and Democrats agree on very little in this research. Bridging that gap (whether in politics or in attitudes towards inclusive history, DEAI, science and the environment, or anything else), will be a challenge that affects all of us … including museums.

Implications for museums: One of the things I have been thinking about in my work is how we bridge the gaps in our polarized society, and how much political persuasion correlates with what side someone takes on an issue. This report underscored those gaps today and projects them into the future in ways that are clearly troubling. Yet I keep coming back to a question: what are the shared values we still have? Then, how can we use those shared values to allow real conversations about our pasts, our environment, our communities, our different backgrounds, and our country today? And what should be the role of museums in sparking curiosity about others, gaining knowledge, and developing empathy, understanding, and tolerance? Because someone has to … and that work may be the work of museums as one of the few places that are trusted and considered safe for just that kind of exploration.

Read or skip? The big takeaway is it underscores how divided our country really is, and in ways that affect museums. Internalize that, and you can probably skip in favor of research more specific to how it affects museums. But if you want to get really depressed, go read it. It doesn't paint a particularly optimistic portrait of the future or for an America that is willing to come together to tackle problems.

Full citation:  "Looking to the Future, Public Sees an America in Decline on Many Fronts." Pew Research Center. March 2019
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Have a suggestion for my reading list?  Email it to me at susie (at) wilkeningconsulting (dot) com.

I am a hyper-curious person, and curiosity is an important value in my life … as well as an important impact of museums.

But curiosity isn't limited to museums, and can be hard to sustain through adulthood. By sharing some of my curious paths through reading, I'm hoping to reinforce how important wide-ranging curiosity is to our practice and spark new conversations that may seem unrelated to museums, but deeply matter to how we do our work. After all, as museums we cover a variety of topics. Our curiosity should also be as omnivorous!

To that end, here's a new installment of some of my wide-ranging reads (mostly non-fiction) I hope to hear recommendations from you!

Treasure Palaces, edited by Maggie Fergusson
Twenty-four great writers, on museums. Pretty obvious must-read, I should think. These essays were originally published in Intelligent Life (now called 1834), a sister publication of The Economist. Includes meditations on connection, thought, objects, serendipity, sublimity, intimacy, and perception shifting (just to start). A lovely read.


Book: My Autobiography, by John Agard
Imagine if Book (yes, Book) could tell you its autobiography. From writing and clay tablets to ebooks (and everything in between), this book tells Book's story. Beautifully and cleverly written, learn why Book salutes Phoenicians, personally thanks Ts'ai Lun, and feels excited about "sitting on a passenger's lap and feeling my pages turned, and the pride rushing down my spine, as the steam engine puffed its way through the countryside of northern England" (train reading apparently a precursor of modern-day plane reading). If you love books, get Book!


Technology in the Country House, by Marilyn Palmer and Ian West
Confession: I love to geek out around old houses. I also realized, halfway through writing my master's thesis, that I was writing on the wrong topic. I should have done technological systems in 19th-century homes. So I LOVED this book. From plumbing to heating to central vacuum systems … it totally appeals to my interest in not only how people lived, but how they strove to make their homes more comfortable and efficient. And while this focuses on the grand country houses of the United Kingdom, it's not hard to extrapolate to how, say, electric lighting changed domestic spaces for people across the socio-economic spectrum.


Have a suggestion for my reading list?  Email it to me at susie (at) wilkeningconsulting (dot) com.