Running Forward: Some thoughts after the 2017 Society of American Archivists Annual Meeting

Jeremy Floyd
Aug 9, 2017 · 7 min read

At the start of the year I began running for fitness. I’m still not going fast or far, but I’ve gotten to the point where I genuinely enjoy it. One of the reasons is that it provides me a space for contemplation: about my day, the world around me, and my place within LIS. For the last month, many of my running thoughts have centered on Jarrett Drake’s announcement that he will leave the archivist profession. I don’t know Jarrett well, but I’ve looked up to him for some time now. His ideas have always challenged me and I’ve been a better archivist/librarian/person for it. My visceral reaction to his leaving was to mourn the loss of this individual from our profession: to see all he had done for us and wonder what we would do without that voice among our ranks. Jarrett argues that ultimately the archivist profession will never break down the systems of violence, structural racism and injustice in the society for which it is a part, at the cost of the security and entrenchment of the profession within that society. Such disruption can only come from outside of this profession, and all professions in general. Jarrett makes a compelling argument, and as I worked through it I began to see how self-centered my initial reaction was: seeing it in terms of what it would do to me, and my professional identity. I have no doubt that he has found his path, and is sacrificing much of the privilege and security lent by the profession to follow it. I still believe that the archives community needs to hear Jarrett’s voice. And if he is better able to use it from outside rather than in, we will be better for it.

I am excited to see the anthropologically informed work Jarrett is embarking on. But from my position within the profession, how can I best support the broadening social justice, while accepting that there may be structural limits to my power because of that position? There is a lot of room for rooting out inequity from within our profession itself and the value of archives and archivist labor is constantly under assault. The first piece I wrote publicly about this made a dumb joke, wondering if the archives field would have space for me as a new professional. Since gaining footing in the profession I’ve tried to use my voice to widen the doors of entry, fighting for the day that all folks with something to add can contribute to our profession, and be fairly compensated for their labor. I hope that enjoying the economic security I have found in this profession will not stop me from fighting to expand it to my peers who have yet to realize that necessity. But how can I use my position of privilege to empower those with less, without co-opting their struggle for my own gain?

Stacie Williams has written more extensively on issues of archival labor, and how we might disrupt the systems of inequality within our own field. Recently Stacie along with Bethany Anderson and the Women Archivists Section completed a Salary Survey which revealed many imbalances within our profession that we can work to remove. Greg Eow at his plenary speech at Archives 2017 in Portland, Oregon saw Jarrett’s announcement as a conduit for exploring his own ideas of whether neutrality in archives is possible or even a desirable aim, a resounding no on both counts. He also examined the construct of professions, and whether they could be used for social change. Referencing Timothy Snyder’s book On Tyranny, Greg argued that professions have been proven to be agents of change, to the extent to which its members are devoted to active engagement with those issues. He sees such transformations must be enacted both internally and externally, and that archivists and the archives profession must actively leverage their authority to lend support to causes like the Open Access movement.

Greg’s plenary wasn’t the only session to remind me of my recent running ruminations. So many people’s ideas touched me and challenged me. They gave me a renewed sense of purpose for using my position within the profession to effect change, and to test the limits of the change that I can effect from within. Michelle Caswell led a powerful discussion of white supremacy in archives, and how we might identify and dismantle its power in all areas from appraisal, description, access, education, and our profession. Her poster, designed by Gracen Brilmyer, now hangs in my office, as a reminder that I have a choice in my daily work to confront white supremacy or let it remain normalized in our profession. Inspired by another of Michelle’s works, an article she wrote with Marika Cifor, a group of women held a panel on incorporating radical empathy into archival practice. They explored ways that a feminist ethic might inform our relationships with the users, subjects, creators and communities that surround or materials. Additionally they extended that radical empathy approach to encompass the relationships between archivist professionals. This bond of mutual responsibility and care can enable social justice to penetrate into our profession. The final day of SAA’s annual meeting centered entirely on the liberated archive, challenging us to imagine how it might manifest through cooperative relationships between professionals and communities, breaking down hierarchies of power. Liberated Archive keynote speaker Walidah Imarisha articulated a vision that incorporated social justice, science fiction, and the archives. All social organizing is science fiction, Walidah urged us to see, because it’s an attempt to make a world that does not yet exist. Archivists have a place in that imagining, for our practice is not just about the past, but also in actively creating a future.

Taking inspiration from all of these sources feels great, but means little if I cannot turn it to action in my professional life. In numerous small ways I’m enacting these ideas. I’ve ensured that conversations of diversity and inclusion in my library are not just held in front of, and for the benefit of the people of color that work there. I’ve attempted to point out that choices we make in archives (what collection to process, modifications to our reading room policies, or the terms we use in description) convey our values and are opportunities to either subvert or reinforce systems of power. I’ve made a point of listening to and trying to amplify voices of new professionals to areas I’ve gained access to due to my privilege. But at the same time if I look honestly at myself, there are ways in which I have put my identity within the profession ahead of the my fight for social justice. When I’ve been overstressed and stretched thin, I’ve enjoyed the luxury of deprioritizing the fight against structural violence, in a manner that for those whose well being depend on such change cannot. I’ve contemplated organizing radical community projects like A People’s Archive of Police Violence in Cleveland in my own locality, but have shied away from undertaking such a project until I’ve attained the increased security of tenure at my institution. And despite my best efforts to be conscious of the paths that inequity intersects with my professional practice, I am unwittingly supporting or passively accepting its presence in ways that I continue to be blind to. Or worse turning a blind eye to the uncomfortable truths I’m not willing to confront. Ultimately the decisions of where to step in and where to hold back have been based upon a calculus of the benefit or cost to me, personally and professionally. I am proud of the steps that I’ve taken, but I want to push myself further and be braver in my actions within this profession. I must turn inspiration to action, using the works and words of the many amazing folks I’ve been contemplating to bring my archival practice deeper down the path.

Nicole Miller. Kill Your Masters. 2017 Acrylic on board

I managed to get two runs in while I was in Portland, along the banks for the Willamette River. And since I’ve started, while running I’ve listened almost exclusively to Run the Jewels. At first because Killer Mike and El-P’s high energy helped propel me on when my legs wanted to stop. But their provocative and engaging lyrics keep them as my running soundtrack. Earlier this summer my wife, Nicole Miller was asked to contribute a painting based on RTJ’s song Kill Your Masters to the Holland Project’s Hip Hop Art Show fundraiser in our town. Her examination of that song, discussions with me of its meanings, and watching her create work based on it have given me a deeper appreciation for it. Sometimes killing your masters is quite literal, like Nat Turner’s Rebellion. Other times it can be a personal process, refusing to give in to inner demons. Or it can be the Masters of structural inequality that you kill through daily acts of resistance, large and small. I still don’t know if I, or the archives profession, will have the power to kill those Masters. But knowing that there is a community of us (both inside and outside the archives profession) working together, makes me feel we have a chance. And with every step on the pavement, and every song in my ear, I’m running and praying that we will.

Thank you to Nicole Miller, Eira Tansey, and Sam Winn for providing feedback to drafts of this piece.

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