I’ve been to the new Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture (NMAAHC) twice so far - yes, that was a stunt - and it is easily the second Blackest place I’ve ever been in life. The Blackest? I’m glad you asked. That would be in the southeastern quadrant of Washington, DC, where Martin Luther King, Jr. Avenue intersects with Malcolm X Avenue; this corner features a liquor store, a park full of vagabonds, and the coup de grace: Popeye’s.
In fact, let’s talk about the layout.
There are what seems to be 7 floors, three below ground and four above ground. The below ground levels are where I’d imagine most people would start their journey. You have to go downstairs into a dark and cavernous hallway exhibit that takes you from the 1400s and the beginnings of the slave trade (it feels like you're in the hull of a slave ship, figuratively, of course) all the way through the civil rights era of the 60s. There are so many facts. So. Many. Facts. There is an actual slave shack.
As you move up the ramps, you head to the 2nd level which moves towards Blacks early settling in all Black towns and political movements and into the Civil Rights era. There is a guard tower from Angola prison in Louisiana. There is a Jim Crow railroad car with its split whites only and Blacks only cabins. There are ALL the “White’s Only” signs making you realize just how creative white people were back then because SO MANY DIFFERENT TYPES OF SIGNS. There are Woolworth’s lunchcounter chairs. There are the minstrel toys.
There is Emmett Till’s casket.
Look, I’ve been to a lot of museums. Mine eyes have seen the glory, but there was something about looking at the casket that once held the mutilated body of Emmett Till that was jarring. To be Black in America is to know the story of Emmett Till. Obviously he is not IN that casket, but to know that once upon a time, the body of a boy who became a lynchpin of the Civil Rights Movement for doing nothing more than being a boy was difficult.
As you move further up the ramps are videos depicting the various parts of the struggle and of Black life in general.
Oprah Winfrey’s couch. Hip-hop. And that’s all just on the journey from slavery to the present. On the top floors are various galleries dedicated to sports, music, culture, military, art, etc. Blackness is all around you. I’ve been twice and still haven’t seen it all. And despite my HISTORIC musical leanings, I still didn’t see the music level which based on conversations I’ve had with people, that level was tailor-made for me.
I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that fact that Dr. Ben Carson of "Gifted Hands" fame and current "bish whet" fame also has a very prominent exhibit. As I walked by I noted that I'll bet every Black person just walks by, looks at it and shakes their had disapprovingly, to which a couple standing there busted out laughing and agreed. It's an SNL skit in the making if I've ever seen one.
On Wednesday – the last time I went, I was also able to go on Opening Day though the sheer number of people plus pushing a tandem stroller made it fairy impassable – I remarked to my best friend that I didn’t ever want to leave. There was so much to see and so much Blackness all around that felt good that I couldn’t see a good reason to actually leave the museum, seeing my children again, notwithstanding.
And to make it even more Black, advanced tickets for the museum are actually “sold out” through the end of the year, though limited day passes will be made available everyday for that day only. The museum is a wonder and it’s a treasure, and at night it lights up with pictures and even a “Black Lives Matter” slide show. It don’t get no Blacker than that.