The Wages of History: Emotional Labor on Public History’s Front Lines by Amy Tyson was, for me, a spooky read. I saw my own experiences as a front-line worker reflected back at me from interviews which date two decades back. Tyson’s personal experiences as a worker and her interviews with front-line staff are what ground the book, and Tyson works through the history of Fort Snelling to discuss the current situation many historic sites and cultural workers find themselves in. Underpaid, underfunded, not enough hours, no benefits, no stability, a sense of shame about one’s career trajectory, micromanagement; these are just a few of the issues which plague the industry. Not to mention that for first person interpreters at Fort Snelling, the layers of history begin to collapse as historical racism, classism, and sexism simply become racism, classism, and sexism. Coworkers who eke out a little bit of authority, like the ‘lead guides’ at Fort Snelling, then use that authority to control and monitor coworkers in an attempt to exercise a little control over their lives. Tyson shows that the work is hard to leave behind at 5, many interpreters take it home with them. Her story about an interpreter who committed suicide is especially chilling.
When sites emphasize hierarchy and authenticity, the result is a modern-day workplace which functions more like a nineteenth century barracks. And who actually wants to work there?
The conflation of history, entertainment, and customer service is to blame for many of these issues, and the book opens with Fort Snelling’s “customer service superstar” training. Emotional labor, as the title suggests, plays a large role in the book. Interpreting history, especially difficult history, is essentially an exercise in managing and guiding emotions, both yours and the visitors. That work falls unevenly on female interpreters, as Tyson shows, as there is a contingent of male interpreters who are more interested in playing soldier than they are at actually interpreting history for guests.
What I loved most about this book was Tyson’s ability to really capture the multifaceted issues and joys which come with working at a museum or historic site. Most of the workers she spoke to loved their job, and found real joy in connecting with visitors and with history. They did the work because they thought it was important. And if one values a historically literate society, it is important: after leaving school, most Americans get their history from museums and historic sites. America’s inability to deal with its own history (I think of Clint Smith’s How the Word is Passed, here) is connected to its broad disinterest, and sometimes angry refusal, in confronting the historical roots of the crises before it. That’s the stakes then, for worker’s rights on the front lines of historical sites. But even if the soul of the nation wasn’t on the chopping block, I’d still like the interpreters to be able to pay their bills.