Tourists walk down Duke of Gloucester Street, the main road at Colonial Williamsburg, which closed briefly last year because of the
pandemic. More than 600 original and reproduced structures evoke the onetime capital of the Virginia colony.PHOTO: JARED SOARESEXPLORE | CLOSER LOOK
Hearst Castle to marching as 1880s soldiers at Mich-
igan’s Fort Mackinac.
These time-traveling guides and sites share a mis-
sion to educate visitors about history by immersing
them in people, places, and activities. But institutions
that employ—and try to honestly depict—Black,
Indigenous, and other people of color still have a
long way to go.
In the early 20th century, many historical sites
glossed over people of color or simply left them out
of their programming. Plantations might have had a
costumed guide, but it was probably a white woman
decked out as a Gone With the Wind–style lady of the
manor. If the enslavement of people was alluded to,
staffers might genteelly mention “servants.”
In the late 18th century, about half of the popula-
tion of the city of Williamsburg was Black, burdened
with the firewood chopping, bedpan emptying, and
farming that kept the capital of the colony of Virginia
humming. Colonial Williamsburg, a 301-acre open-
air museum of early American life, was built in 1932
on the remnants of the old city. But in its early days,
only a few costumed employees represented Black
citizens, most of them dressed as coachmen.
When first-person interpretation started at Colonial
Williamsburg in the late 1970s, three Black actors were
among the troupe of nine people. They portrayed a
range of enslaved characters, including the Reverend
Gowan Pamphlet, a minister who was eventually freed.
Today 36 first-person actor-interpreters are on staff;
15 are Black, though the total number of costumed
interpreters of color on site is just 14 percent.
“We still haven’t found the sweet spot to make sure
that the full story is told, but we’re further than we’ve
ever been,” says Stephen Seals, who plays enslavedAmerican Revolution spy James Armistead Lafayette.
Historian and actress Mary Carter began portray-
ing Aggy, a real-life 18th-century enslaved Black
woman, at Colonial Williamsburg in 2011, drawn by
her unexpectedly nuanced biography. Like many
enslaved women, Aggy was impregnated by the
plantation owner, Ryland Randolph, and bore him
two children. More unusual: When Randolph died,
his will stipulated that Aggy and her children be
freed. It would take a battle in courts to enforce his
wishes. “I wanted people to know her name and to
know her story,” says Carter.
In tours and talks, Carter veers into disturbing
topics like consent, violence, and human rights.
As Aggy, Carter is wary and speaks with hesi-
tation, conveying the cornered nervousness of
someone whose time, words, and movements are
not her own. The questions visitors pepper her
with—“Did Randolph love her? Was he good to
her?”—demand hard-to-hear answers. “I under-
stand what they’re asking: They want to know if
there was hope or a silver lining,” says Carter.
“I think enslaved people did find moments of joy, but
it’s wrong to look for them in the actions of people
who held them in bondage.”
Like most interpreters, Carter continues her
research—through letters, court documents, and
diaries. Her portrayal of Aggy is ever evolving. “There
have been times in my own life I was made to feel
ashamed because I was a descendant of enslaved
people,” she says. “But they forgot to tell me to be
proud of what they endured, what they survived,
what their strength caused them to push through.” j
Jennifer Barger is a senior editor and Heather Greenwood
Davis a contributing editor at National Geographic.