One day during middle school, I visited a museum on a school trip. The next day, I wrote an essay for an assignment. I do not recall the specifics, but it was likely unremarkable—mentioning the bus ride, a few exhibits, my lunch, my friends' comments, and my gratitude for the opportunity. Over the following years, I toured several other museums across Pakistan, including those in Lahore and Taxila. From these visits, I concluded that a museum is a place to display precious artifacts, celebrate past glories, and honor important figures. That was the extent of my understanding. Some museums were in better condition than others, but all shared the same celebratory theme. Had I written another essay after each visit, it would have been merely a longer version of that middle school piece. None of those trips were particularly inspiring.
Discovering the Deeper Purpose of Museums
I began to love museums much later when I learned a fundamental lesson: a museum is not just a window into the past but also a mirror reflecting who we are. It is a place not only to recount a country's incredible journey but also to acknowledge its wrong turns. I was fortunate to visit the Museum of Memory and Human Rights in Santiago, Chile, which focuses on the tragedy, trauma, and injustice of the Pinochet years. On the day I was there, schoolchildren were examining letters written by other Chilean children like themselves, addressed to parents who would never return. It is impossible not to feel a deep pit in one's stomach while viewing the photos, letters, and toys of traumatized children.
Confronting Colonial Horrors and Civil War Legacies
I also visited the Royal Museum of Central Africa outside Brussels, which attempts to confront the horrors of Belgium's colonial past. Though far from perfect, it leaves visitors feeling the pain of the Congolese people. Last week, I went to the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia and spent most of my time in exhibits focusing on the Civil War and the Confederate states' defense of slavery. Even a century and a half later, the letters of some Confederate leaders are full of vile, disgusting emotions and abhorrent ideas.
Embracing a Multicolored History
There is much to celebrate in our history, art, and culture. The land is filled with incredible achievements by remarkable individuals. All those stories are important and must be told. However, our story, like that of any other country, is not monochromatic. We should not represent it as a dull shade of a single color. There are golden moments and patches of darkness. Interspersed in the tapestry of time are deep wounds of injustice and exclusion, memories of trauma and tragedy. Even within these painful stories, there are tales of bravery, dignity, decency, and commitment to the highest human values. Many people living among us—or their families—have experienced those moments. They, too, are part of our history and have much to offer. All these stories deserve to be told and preserved.
A Letter to My Younger Self
If I were to write a letter to my younger self instructing him how to write his museum essay, I would tell him to imagine the museum as a jigsaw puzzle that tells the story of the country. Each piece is beautifully carved with intricate patterns, representing a period with honesty. I would ask him to recognize which pieces are present and wonder which ones are missing.
