We Hold These Truths . . .

. . . to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.

The immortal words of the Declaration of Independence loom large in the study of US history, and particularly in the story of the war for our independence.  I expected these words to feature prominently in my visit (finally) to the new Museum of the American Revolution in Philadelphia this weekend, but I was pleasantly surprised at how they were utilized.

A visit to the museum begins on the first floor with an introductory video that explains the American Revolution from its historical context to its long-term significance. The story of the revolution has so often been told as the story of Great White Men (and I'm sure I'm guilty of having stuck too closely to that narrative when I taught it to my high school students). The video, however, narrated by an African-American woman, breaks this mold from the start (1). She tells of a revolutionary movement that was not exclusive to white men: the stories of Native Americans, African-Americans, and women were integrated into the whole (2). The complicated history of the Declaration of Independence and its assertion of equality is borne out through the exhibits, which tell the story of Native Americans' fear of being smothered by both the British and American colonists; African slaves who were offered freedom in exchange for serving in the British army and contributing to the oppression of their oppressors; women like Abigail Adams who lobbied for a voice in the new government was being created. The museum does not candy-coat these issues, explaining that the revolution did not make good on its promises of equality to all of these groups. The later exhibits trace the story through the enfranchisement of African-Americans and of women, but make it clear that our nation's journey to live up to its own ideals is far from complete.

While there were many highlights, the the exhibit I found most intriguing was at the very end: a wall of photographs of people who had lived through the revolution. A gallery of elderly faces, wrinkled and worn, some visibly ill or disabled, all of whom had witness the world change in their youth. That these men and women lived to see the advent of photography was itself impressive. Most of them made it into their 90s and 100s - the picture of one former slave, Mary McDonald, alleged that she lived to the age of 135! But the events they had played a part in were more so.

The museum ends with a call to arms, asking how we will be revolutionary in our own time. This sort of conclusion might sound like a cliched lesson for schoolchildren - except that the exhibits have already demonstrated that this needs to be done and provided a blueprint for how to achieve it. The battle cries of the revolution - particularly "no taxation without representation" and "all men are created equal" - challenge us to live up to the vision of equality in our own society, to provide everyone with a seat at the table through equal political representation. Given the increasingly visible attitudes of intolerance in contemporary American society, I found it to be a poignant and inspiring message.

(1) My husband and I both had the same impression of her race, though I did a little web searching and was unable to confirm it (or find any information on the narrator at all). 
(2) The Oneida Nation features prominently in several areas of the museum, with an atrium bearing their name and a gallery telling their story. This may have been as much about the $10 million dollars that the Oneida Nation contributed to the project as it was the museum's desire to give voice to every group that had an interest in the war.