Christianna Shortridge is the former Communications Director of the Minnesota Humanities Center. She recently relocated to Truckee, California where she will transfer her humanities communications work to a new state. Christianna will write her new blog, SpiritChange, hike in the Sierra Nevada, and pursue her new dream of creating mosaic art out of strategically broken heirloom dishes.
How long does it take to design a new website? How will our programs and events be highlighted? Can we change that header title? When can I get a peek?
These are just a few of the questions that I heard during my 18-month stint leading the production team of this new website that you are enjoying today. But this is not just a website . . . this is a vital piece of the Minnesota Humanities Center's messaging & digital storytelling project.
This messaging and digital storytelling project includes key messaging, engaging photography, relevant content, social media, and many other elements. This project has offered opportunities for clear messaging, a clean and simple design, and concise content created not only with a stellar internal team but also with design and storytelling experts at Haberman in Minneapolis and with scholars, staff, and the board members of the Humanities Center.
What you are looking at now is a true reflection of collaborative work that is at the heart of the Humanities Center — the stories, cultures, people, and communities that encompass the humanities in Minnesota. This new digital experience intentionally includes the many voices and communities that make Minnesota such an incredible place, including those often missing voices or absent narratives.
As you scroll and click through the Humanities Center's new site, you will see a theme of circular connectivity woven throughout the pages. Circles. Story circles, the Humanities Center circle logo, the collaborative work of the Humanities Center. It is all circular and connected — focusing on what unites us and not what divides us. Even in our hectic digital world, we all need to fall back on the humanities, which help us connect and understand our world and each other.
Rich in content and visually stunning (in my opinion), this new website encompasses the collaborative, community spirit which makes the Humanities Center a place where people want to gather, learn, connect, and grow. The more you dig into this site the more you will discover how the humanities are alive and part of your everyday life, connecting us all together in this great human community.
Welcome to the new site! We hope you enjoy it and find it a useful tool as you navigate and engage with the humanities in Minnesota.
Monday, August 7, 2017
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Jennifer Tonko - Why Treaties Matter — to all Minnesotans
Jennifer Tonko is the Minnesota Humanities Center’s Program Officer for Community Engagement and Traveling Exhibits.
“All Treaties made, or which shall be made, under the Authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby.” — United States Constitution, article VI, clause 2
So, if you’re not a Native person, what do treaties have to do with you? Aren’t treaties out-of-date—why do they still matter?
When I started working at the Minnesota Humanities Center, I spent a lot of time learning from the other people who worked here about our mission and values and our culture as an organization. One of our core values was “learning from.” This is really shorthand for “learn from, not about” a people, a place, or a practice.
On the one hand, this makes perfect sense. After all, if people wanted to know what growing up in rural Iowa was like in the 80s and 90s, I’d say, “Learn from me! That’s my experience!” On the other hand, this is completely counter to the way the American educational and academic systems work. The educational powers-that-be tend to look for “experts,” and “experts” tend to be defined as people (often white, often male) educated in the academy using sources that are approved by current or former scholars from the academy that are usually presented as objective.
So “learn from, not about” is actually kind of radical. Instead of learning about a group of people from a designated “expert,” learn from individual people about themselves. Learn from lots of them. Learn from two or three or four or 100 people who might appear similar on paper, but who have different experiences and different values and different selves. Learn from people who actually think, feel, believe, and understand different things about how the world works, how the world should be, and how we, as humans, should behave in the world.
You can also learn from a place. You can learn from the place that is now called Minnesota. And if you are here in Minnesota, one of the first questions you might ask yourself is, “How did I get here?” And, unless you are a Dakota person, your story will be about a migration of some sort. Dakota people’s stories of getting here are different and not mine to tell, but if you’re in Minnesota, your story has intersected with Dakota people’s stories, whether you know it or not. Your story has also intersected with Ojibwe people’s stories. A key way that your story has intersected with indigenous people’s stories (if you’re not indigenous yourself) is through treaties. How do we learn from that?
We can start with learning from the people who know it best. Beginning in 2010, the Minnesota Humanities Center was privileged to work with the Minnesota Indian Affairs Council to create an exhibit that tells some of these stories: Why Treaties Matter: Self-Government in the Dakota and Ojibwe Nations. This exhibit was created with Dakota and Ojibwe scholars. The exhibit content was approved by all 11 sovereign nations within Minnesota.
Throughout Minnesota history, Native people have retained sovereignty and rights in exchange for land—lots of land. How treaties have been honored and how treaties have been broken shape who you are now and how you live in this place. And, you now have a chance to learn more about that from Dakota and Ojibwe people — the people who know it best — at the Minnesota State Capitol. As part of the Capitol remodel, the Why Treaties Matter: Self-Government in the Dakota and Ojibwe Nations is now on display on the third floor, in the hallway that connects public conference rooms 316-317 and the Cass Gilbert library.
I hope you will take this opportunity to visit the “people’s house” and learn from our Native Minnesota community about their stories and their sovereignty in a place that is open and welcome to all.
“All Treaties made, or which shall be made, under the Authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby.” — United States Constitution, article VI, clause 2
So, if you’re not a Native person, what do treaties have to do with you? Aren’t treaties out-of-date—why do they still matter?
When I started working at the Minnesota Humanities Center, I spent a lot of time learning from the other people who worked here about our mission and values and our culture as an organization. One of our core values was “learning from.” This is really shorthand for “learn from, not about” a people, a place, or a practice.
On the one hand, this makes perfect sense. After all, if people wanted to know what growing up in rural Iowa was like in the 80s and 90s, I’d say, “Learn from me! That’s my experience!” On the other hand, this is completely counter to the way the American educational and academic systems work. The educational powers-that-be tend to look for “experts,” and “experts” tend to be defined as people (often white, often male) educated in the academy using sources that are approved by current or former scholars from the academy that are usually presented as objective.
So “learn from, not about” is actually kind of radical. Instead of learning about a group of people from a designated “expert,” learn from individual people about themselves. Learn from lots of them. Learn from two or three or four or 100 people who might appear similar on paper, but who have different experiences and different values and different selves. Learn from people who actually think, feel, believe, and understand different things about how the world works, how the world should be, and how we, as humans, should behave in the world.
You can also learn from a place. You can learn from the place that is now called Minnesota. And if you are here in Minnesota, one of the first questions you might ask yourself is, “How did I get here?” And, unless you are a Dakota person, your story will be about a migration of some sort. Dakota people’s stories of getting here are different and not mine to tell, but if you’re in Minnesota, your story has intersected with Dakota people’s stories, whether you know it or not. Your story has also intersected with Ojibwe people’s stories. A key way that your story has intersected with indigenous people’s stories (if you’re not indigenous yourself) is through treaties. How do we learn from that?
We can start with learning from the people who know it best. Beginning in 2010, the Minnesota Humanities Center was privileged to work with the Minnesota Indian Affairs Council to create an exhibit that tells some of these stories: Why Treaties Matter: Self-Government in the Dakota and Ojibwe Nations. This exhibit was created with Dakota and Ojibwe scholars. The exhibit content was approved by all 11 sovereign nations within Minnesota.
Throughout Minnesota history, Native people have retained sovereignty and rights in exchange for land—lots of land. How treaties have been honored and how treaties have been broken shape who you are now and how you live in this place. And, you now have a chance to learn more about that from Dakota and Ojibwe people — the people who know it best — at the Minnesota State Capitol. As part of the Capitol remodel, the Why Treaties Matter: Self-Government in the Dakota and Ojibwe Nations is now on display on the third floor, in the hallway that connects public conference rooms 316-317 and the Cass Gilbert library.
I hope you will take this opportunity to visit the “people’s house” and learn from our Native Minnesota community about their stories and their sovereignty in a place that is open and welcome to all.
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Suzanne Constantini - I’m A Better Person for Having Spent a Year in Vietnam
Suzanne Constantini is an Army Nurse Corps Veteran, having served one year in Vietnam. She received her BSN from Alverno College, in Milwaukee, WI and her MBA from the University of St. Thomas, St. Paul, MN. Her career in nursing spans 46 years holding various leadership positions: head nurse, clinical director and VP of Patient Care Services. She retired in January 2015 and now spends her time volunteering, painting, traveling, reading and gardening.
It was spring of 1968 and I was busy completing my junior year in the nursing program at Alverno College. During that time, an army recruiter was on campus and I decided to set up a meeting to learn if there were any opportunities that would help me fund my last year in school. The army offered to pay my tuition for my final year and, in return, I would give them a two-year commitment for military service. I entered the Army Nurse Corps in November of 1968 as a student nurse and subsequently completed my degree in May of 1969. After completing basic training at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, TX, I was assigned to Martin Army Hospital in Fort Benning, GA. Much to my delight, I was assigned to the pediatric unit to care for the children of the resident military personnel.
In early January 1970, I received orders for Vietnam. I wasn’t afraid to go and believed that every American soldier deserved the best medical care the United States could offer. I was confident I could use my nursing skills to help deliver that care.
When I arrived in Vietnam on March 7, 1970, I was processed through the 90th replacement center in Long Binh and received my assignment to Cu Chi. Oh my! When my boots hit the tarmac, I felt overwhelmed and encompassed by the sounds, the smells, the heat, and the whirl of the chopper blades in the background. At that moment, I had to really reach deep inside to remember why I was there.
I was assigned to the post-operative recovery room and ICU. The trauma I witnessed was horrible and I still remember the first soldier who died on my watch. I cared for him every day for six weeks; 12 hours a day, six days a week. His name and face are etched in my memory, and when I close my eyes I can see him as clearly as if it were yesterday. The empathy and camaraderie I experienced following his death, helped provide a psychological and physical healing, but I would never again remember any last names or let myself get emotionally attached. Years later, during a visit to Washington D.C., I went to the “Wall.” I found that soldier’s name and touched it, and when I did, I found peace in knowing he was home.
Although my year in Vietnam was long and difficult, I got through it and found the ability to cope, adapt, improvise, and make tough decisions – sometimes under the most dire of circumstances. As I reflect on that year, I know the clinical experiences, collegial relationships, and camaraderie of my Vietnam experiences formed the foundation for my nursing career, as well as defining the way I lead my life today. When my world seems to be closing in around me, I revert back to those days in Vietnam so long ago and say, “It don’t mean nothin’.”
Suzanne’s experience and those like hers are a critical part of the story of the war in Vietnam and Southeast Asia in the American and world consciousness. This September, when PBS premieres the Ken Burns and Lynn Novick documentary, “The Vietnam War,” these stories will once again rise to the forefront of the national dialogue, and the Minnesota Humanities Center is poised to help further and facilitate those important conversations. If you are interested in hosting conversations about Vietnam and the war in your community, please consider becoming a host site for Minnesota Remembers Vietnam.
It was spring of 1968 and I was busy completing my junior year in the nursing program at Alverno College. During that time, an army recruiter was on campus and I decided to set up a meeting to learn if there were any opportunities that would help me fund my last year in school. The army offered to pay my tuition for my final year and, in return, I would give them a two-year commitment for military service. I entered the Army Nurse Corps in November of 1968 as a student nurse and subsequently completed my degree in May of 1969. After completing basic training at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, TX, I was assigned to Martin Army Hospital in Fort Benning, GA. Much to my delight, I was assigned to the pediatric unit to care for the children of the resident military personnel.
In early January 1970, I received orders for Vietnam. I wasn’t afraid to go and believed that every American soldier deserved the best medical care the United States could offer. I was confident I could use my nursing skills to help deliver that care.
When I arrived in Vietnam on March 7, 1970, I was processed through the 90th replacement center in Long Binh and received my assignment to Cu Chi. Oh my! When my boots hit the tarmac, I felt overwhelmed and encompassed by the sounds, the smells, the heat, and the whirl of the chopper blades in the background. At that moment, I had to really reach deep inside to remember why I was there.
I was assigned to the post-operative recovery room and ICU. The trauma I witnessed was horrible and I still remember the first soldier who died on my watch. I cared for him every day for six weeks; 12 hours a day, six days a week. His name and face are etched in my memory, and when I close my eyes I can see him as clearly as if it were yesterday. The empathy and camaraderie I experienced following his death, helped provide a psychological and physical healing, but I would never again remember any last names or let myself get emotionally attached. Years later, during a visit to Washington D.C., I went to the “Wall.” I found that soldier’s name and touched it, and when I did, I found peace in knowing he was home.
Although my year in Vietnam was long and difficult, I got through it and found the ability to cope, adapt, improvise, and make tough decisions – sometimes under the most dire of circumstances. As I reflect on that year, I know the clinical experiences, collegial relationships, and camaraderie of my Vietnam experiences formed the foundation for my nursing career, as well as defining the way I lead my life today. When my world seems to be closing in around me, I revert back to those days in Vietnam so long ago and say, “It don’t mean nothin’.”
Suzanne’s experience and those like hers are a critical part of the story of the war in Vietnam and Southeast Asia in the American and world consciousness. This September, when PBS premieres the Ken Burns and Lynn Novick documentary, “The Vietnam War,” these stories will once again rise to the forefront of the national dialogue, and the Minnesota Humanities Center is poised to help further and facilitate those important conversations. If you are interested in hosting conversations about Vietnam and the war in your community, please consider becoming a host site for Minnesota Remembers Vietnam.
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