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If you want to know whose histories are ignored and overlooked in the United States, just take a glance at the National Register of Historic Places. In 2021, of the more than 96,000 places on the federal government’s official list of sites deemed worthy of preservation for historical significance, fewer than 10% “reflect the diversity of the country’s population,” according to a representative with the National Park Service, which administers the list. Estimates for the percentage of sites associated with Black, Latino, or Native American communities range from less than 1% to just 3% of the total, though precise numbers are difficult to determine.
These numbers speak to how government-led historic preservation in the US has long been a whitewashed undertaking, with far-reaching effects on education and the nation’s young people. “The lens of history is a colonized lens,” says Sehila Mota Casper, executive director of Latinos in Heritage Conservation (LHC), one of the nation’s leading nonprofit organizations for the preservation of Latino places, “and because of that, there are multiple histories that have been excluded.”
This erasure extends to how social studies and history are taught in schools, even when it comes to fundamental parts of the nation’s past, such as slavery or the genocide of Native Americans. The biases that lead to this narrow view are entrenched in the nation’s federal historic-designation program. “Whenever the program was first founded, in the early days, it really had deep roots in the making of the US,” says Casper. “It was a very nationalistic view.”
The National Historic Preservation Act was signed into law in 1966, creating the National Register of Historic Places, the State Historic Preservation Offices, and a system of procedures for identifying and protecting historic resources at the federal, state, and local levels. That legislation, which remains the most comprehensive preservation law on the books in the US today, was meant to recognize and address the damage of decades of interstate highway development and urban renewal programs that were carried out with little thought for the vulnerable cultural heritage in their paths.
Beginning with the Housing Act of 1949, the government provided funds for cities to demolish neighborhoods labeled “slums.” The stated goal was to improve housing, and the Housing Act did provide some funds to build new low-rent public housing; however, in many cities, local governments and planning agencies razed entire neighborhoods and transferred the properties to private developers, who often prioritized more profitable commercial and industrial development over housing.
An outsize portion of these cleared neighborhoods were home to communities of color. In Chicago and San Francisco, over 60% of those displaced from 1950 to the late 1960s were families of color, according to research from the University of Richmond. In Philadelphia and Baltimore that number climbed to over 70%, per the university’s research. During this period, writer James Baldwin coined the term “Negro removal” to describe urban renewal programs. Alongside the thousands of families displaced during urban renewal, documented and unmarked cultural heritage sites alike were also lost.
The National Historic Preservation Act aimed to halt this destruction. Yet, in the almost 60 years since it was passed, experts argue it has fallen short of addressing the disproportionate loss of cultural heritage in communities of color and ensuring that protected sites reflect the nation’s diversity.
Casper says this is because, even before the legislation was enacted, the national preservation movement prioritized saving sites tied to an Anglo American retelling of the nation’s past and those meant to represent significant American achievements, such as the homes of former presidents. “That just really perpetuated a lot of what we see today,” she says, “where a lot of the sites are associated with rich old white men or really grand and large architecture.”
The first site granted federal landmark status marked the nation’s white and colonial past. That honor belongs to the gravesite of Sergeant Charles Floyd Jr., a soldier who likely died of a ruptured appendix on the 1804 to 1806 Lewis and Clark Expedition. Meanwhile, early skyscrapers were some of the first sites designated to be of historical importance in cities like Chicago. Sites in that city’s historic Black neighborhoods, such as Bronzeville, have only been marked for preservation in the last few years.
Says Casper, the current norms are not inclusive enough because “history happens [everywhere, as with] the civil rights movement; it can be out of a church or someone’s house. [But that] necessarily doesn’t fit the mold that we’ve created.”
Over the past few decades, there has been an institutional shift toward expanding that mold to include more sites representative of the nation’s communities of color. In 2013, the National Park Service published its American Latino Heritage Theme Study, a comprehensive survey of Latino heritage sites and resources to improve historical interpretation of and education programs associated with Latino histories at national park sites.
In 2017, the National Trust for Historic Preservation, one of the nation’s foremost historic preservation nonprofits, launched its African American Cultural Heritage Action Fund (AACHAF) to help identify and support Black heritage sites nationwide. Then, in 2022, the Advisory Council on Historic Preservation, a federal agency tasked with preserving historic places, created an Equity Action Plan, recognizing gaps in existing preservation structures and committing to building a more inclusive national preservation program.
Brent Leggs, AACHAF executive director, framed this shift as one means of grappling with the nation’s racist past. “Making amends means that Black Americans are appreciated, that our community is recognized for a 400-plus-year contribution, [and] that our history and the physical places where that history is held are preserved,” Leggs told NPR in a 2020 interview.
Since President Donald Trump's inauguration in January, he has gone after diversity efforts across the federal government and issued executive orders to change historical interpretation at federal institutions, including national parks, in ways that whitewash the nation's past.
Still, organizations like AACHAF and LHC are helping to drive positive change by insisting on the significance of histories and historical sites that do not adhere to the long-standing, whitewashed, upper-class preservation model and advocating for their inclusion in the national story. Their work is intended to invite young people to engage with a fuller telling of American history. For students of color, it also allows them to see themselves represented in history classrooms, perhaps for the first time.
Kinfolk House, a nonprofit art space located in a historic home in the predominantly Black and Latino neighborhood of Polytechnic Heights in Fort Worth, epitomizes the power of this work. The century-old home has belonged to a local Black family for generations, and today hosts art exhibitions and historical tours for student groups.
The Polytechnic neighborhood is rich in cultural heritage. It became home to an influx of Black families during the Civil Rights era, and many held onto property, including Hallie Beatrice Carpenter, the grandmother of Sedrick Huckaby, Kinfolk House’s founder and current board president. Nicknamed “Big Momma,” Carpenter turned her home into a community gathering place during her lifetime, shaping the trajectories of many of the neighborhood's young people, including Huckaby, who has become a celebrated artist.
Jessica Fuentes, founding director of Kinfolk House, says that when students visit the home, it is usually the first time they learn about some of the neighborhood’s past, and characters like Big Momma as historical actors. “There’s often a lot of [confusion], like, ‘What is this space?’” Fuentes explains. “Then that translates into a lot of pride and reconsidering… how their own family histories can tell this bigger story about the history of our city and also the history of the nation.”
For Casper of LHC, engaging with young people is also a matter of furthering efforts to tell a more diverse American story. “Those exclusionary practices have such a head start," she says. "They're so entrenched that there really needs to be a groundswell of this grassroots power to push back.” To do that, she adds, “we need to produce leaders… that are the next generation that’s changing this field.”
Editor's note: The author of this piece writes for the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s Saving Places.
