The beauty of the Brown v. Board of Education National Historic Site is that it remains, unlike so many official documentations of America’s past, a tribute to an idea. Avoiding the usual stories of war or Great Men, Brown v. Board chronicles the struggles of the unknown; brave, unsung men, women, and children who had the audacity to suggest that the Constitution was sincere about its enumeration of equality. For while battlefield honors are welcome and vital in order to understand the national narrative, so much was left undone by a white majority either hostile or indifferent to the suffering of millions.
Brown, then, while a pivotal legal drama – and arguably the Supreme Court’s finest hour – was more than a single event; it represented decades of struggle and sacrifice on the part of those few bother to remember. But as we cannot recall each and every life, nor can we enshrine in marble all the names of those who soldiered for justice, it is fitting that in this humble structure in Topeka, Kansas – Monroe Elementary – we commemorate neither the beginning nor the end of a movement, but rather the entirety of a process. In this way, the Brown NHS is a de facto Civil Rights Museum; a place for reflection, pride, and yes, a healthy dose of shame in the face of the great American contradiction.
The difficulty, of course, is how any one building – even one as significant as Monroe – can encapsulate so complex a movement as the drive for equality. Brown v. Board of Education, as we know, was more than just one plaintiff, or even one case. While this specific decision came after the NAACP encouraged 13 parents in Topeka to attempt to enroll their children in all-white schools, thereby creating the grounds for a lawsuit, the eventual triumph (Chief Justice Warren, through sheer force of will, ensured a unanimous verdict striking down school segregation) cannot be detached from other, equally important cases of the era, from Briggs v. Elliot (South Carolina) to Boiling v. Sharpe (Washington, D.C.). Thankfully, and to the National Park Service’s credit, the Brown NHS does not attempt to treat the case in isolation.
While the facts and figures are handled with great care, answering the need for historical context, the site never forgets that after the judicial robes are put away and the court houses closed, the wants and needs of actual human beings remain paramount. As such, Brown strikes a perfect balance between the law and our collective humanity; a tough-minded, Constitutional lesson with a much-needed moral undercurrent. This is no dry, detached exercise in pedantic study, then. Instead, we are hit with the full brunt of emotion, and how segregation belittled, dehumanized, and humiliated. With sanctioned segregation at the school level, it necessarily hit children the hardest.
Monroe Elementary, which houses both the interpretive site and visitor center, was one of four segregated elementary schools for blacks in Topeka. Due to declining enrollment, it closed for good in 1975. The historic site itself opened to the public on May 17, 2004, in celebration of the famous decision’s 50th anniversary, though the initial designation came via Congress (and President Bush’s signature) in 1992. In the eight years since the ribbons were cut, the NPS has performed admirably, especially in light of the fact that the site is not among the most visited. There’s nothing slick and fancy to attract the kids, and given our capacity to forget, few Americans want to travel to Kansas to remember the sting of bigotry. By avoiding the site, however, people are missing out on an important lesson in getting it right; when education can do more than distract an unruly child for a few hours and actually add perspective.
The NHS has four main components – not including the bookstore – all of which enrich the overall experience with both the personal and the political. First, there’s the Auditorium, where the film “Race and the American Creed” plays on an endless loop. Consisting of a conversation between a young girl and a long-time friend of her grandfather, the film is in stark contrast to so many subpar efforts that litter the NPS system. It’s a genuine keeper, and an essential place to start, especially if you are touring the site with young children. Next up, one visits the “Education and Justice” exhibit, which uses photos, video, and interpretive media to give voice to the otherwise anonymous Americans who fought for equality long before it was fashionable (or safe) to do so. Above all, we get the sense of great risk, and how the fight for integration was long, difficult, and not simply a matter of a judge’s ruling, as important as that was to enshrine equality in our books of law.
Down the hall from there is the “Legacy” room, which chronicles the ultimate impact of the decision, and how the Civil Rights movement was far from over; a process, in fact, that continues to this very day. Once again, the exhibits are the key, and for once, the NPS spared no expense in articulating a vision that isn’t a prisoner to musty, dated materials. Just as important, the site’s displays demonstrate that this is no simple matter of equality for blacks alone. Certainly, the United States has a specific history in how it has treated African Americans, but the ultimate legacy of Brown is that injustice for one is injustice for all. Last, there is the “Expressions and Reflections” area, housed in a former kindergarten classroom. Visitors can, in the words of the exhibit map, “share their experience by recording a 30-second message, forming comments with select words on a board, or by electronically entering comments into several interactive displays.” Many works by children are on display here, an important factor to be sure, given that bigotry only survives if it is taught. And while this stellar NHS is far from the last word, it is nonetheless a treasure; a moving testament to the work that is always far from complete.
FINAL RATING
9/10
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