2018 – Page 4 – Public History at UMass Boston

March 19, 2018Heidi Gengenbach No Comments

Wheels, Genealogy, and Baby Hair: An Internship with the PEM Library

By: Rachel Sherman

“To celebrate outstanding artistic and cultural creativity by collecting, stewarding, and interpreting objects of art and culture in ways that increase knowledge, enrich the spirit, engage the mind, and stimulate the senses” This passage is the first sentence of the mission statement for the Peabody Essex Museum (PEM), an internationally recognized art and cultural museum located just north of Boston, Massachusetts.

As a student of public history also pursuing an archives certificate, I knew from the start that I needed multiple internships to gain the professional experience. As a resident and lover of the North Shore area (the cities north of Boston, mostly in Essex County), I wanted to bring my skills in helping cultivate the history of my home. All of this cumulated into an internship at the Phillips Library, part of the Peabody Essex Museum (PEM).

The Phillips Library at the Peabody Essex Museum, Salem, MA

Known as the PEM Library or the Phillips Library, this archive stores the millions of manuscripts donated throughout the twentieth and twenty-first century to promote the understanding of the culture of the North Shore and its community members. The archival collections vary from maritime shipping logs, business logs, unpublished books, maps of the New World before the establishment of the United States, and so much more.

Under the supervision of the head archivist for the Phillips Library, Tamara Gaydos, I got to get my hands dirty (not literally!) and process three collections, as well as write brand new finding aids for the collections: the Archibald Wheel Company Records and Edward A. Archibald Papers, the Martha Jane (Weston) Averill Collection, and the Almy, Butler, and Robson Papers.

Each collection varied in multiple regards: size, material, historical period, and level of necessary processing, to name a few. Each collection also brought new challenges I never faced before, and after all the new folders went into their new boxes and placed amongst the thousands of other archival collections, I left having learned more than I predicted before my first day.

The Archibald Wheel Company Records and Edward A. Archibald Papers was my first collection, and the easiest. The collection consists of business papers relating to the Archibald Wheel Company, a wheel manufacturer active between 1867 and 1910, and its founder, Edward A. Archibald, a Canadian immigrant who immigrated to Boston in 1852, started his wheel company in the late 1860s, patented a machine for creating a new wheel, the iron-hubbed wheel, and successfully served clientele across the United States until his death.

The Martha Jane (Weston) Averill Collection was my second collection and my first actual challenge. The collection consists of extensive genealogical research on multiple New England families conducted by Martha Jane (Weston) Averill (1838-1908), a Middleton woman, over the course of her life. These families include both local families, such as the Curtis, Putnam, and Wilkins families, and her own familial connections, such as the Averill, Gould, and Weston families. The documents collected by Martha on these families include legal documents, bills, receipts, accounts, family trees, and correspondence.

Unopened envelopes. — The Almy, Butler, and Robson Collection contained hundreds of unopened envelopes. Each had to be opened and examined over the course of processing.

The Almy, Butler, and Robson Collection, my third collection, proved to be the greatest challenge yet because, besides previous research conducted by Tamara, there was little to no processing done in this collection; no one knew what was inside the hundreds of unopened envelopes (which I had the pleasure of opening!) The collection consists of documents pertaining to various members of the Almy, Butler, and Robson families, members of the founding family of the Almy Department Store (Salem, Massachusetts), and all of whom were related by blood or marriage. The collection consists predominantly of personal correspondence between family members and close friends; however, the collection also contains photographs, ephemera from travels, cards, drawings, shipping papers, writing samples both written by and about family members, court papers, tax records, and even baby hair! The collection contains documents in English, French, and German. Also accompanying the collection is a family tree to better understand the family.

A lock of baby hair found in the Almy, Butler, and Robson Collection.

Although these three collections by themselves do not change the course of history, they do stand their own ground as gateways into the lives of those who once lived in the communities some call home. The Archibald Wheel Company presents the story of an immigrant who lived the American dream of success. Martha Jane Averill set out to understand her family and her community’s story. The Almys, Butlers, and Robsons kept hold their familial correspondence, pictures, and papers to treasure their relationships. Altogether, these collections present various histories and stories that can be appreciated by a broad constituency of researchers and members of the public.

As an institution of knowledge, preservation of history, and the enrichment of the community, the Phillips Library holds itself to a standard of safe holding and presenting the tantalizing stories of those who once shared the same land as our present communities. To maintain community relations and to allow further accessibility, the Phillips Library digitizes its collections for all to treasure, and this includes the previously mentioned collections processed over the summer.

During the summer, while I sat in the corner processing these valuable collections, the Phillips Library staff secretly prepared for their journey to a permanent home for the archival collections. Only recently did the news break out that despite previous promises made to return the PEM Library back to Salem, Massachusetts, the Phillips Library instead planned to house its archives in Rowley, Massachusetts. This news shocked those who eagerly awaited the day that, after six years of housing in Peabody, the Phillips Library would return to its ancestral home in Salem. Instead, the building would become office space, as the collection moved to a new location in another town.

Angered Salemites gathered in the snow to protest. Some created and signed petitions to “Preserve the Phillips Library.” Thousands wait to see what will happen to both the beloved Phillips Library and the PEM Library collections. Yet, regardless of what happens, the issues that the PEM staff face now are part of the archives profession. Archivists must be flexible enough to carry out their work despite resource constraints and sweeping institutional decisions. As long as the wheels keep turning, community members keep researching, and families continue to preserve their stories, history will move forward.

Postscript: The Phillips Library has released a statement about its move. You can read it here.

March 5, 2018Heidi Gengenbach No Comments

Pilgrim’s Progress: An Interview with Rebecca Griffith

By: Molly Liolios

Pilgrim Hall Museum, Plymouth, MA. Photograph by Giorgio Galeotti

Hidden in the lower levels of Pilgrim Hall Museum and camouflaged among the exhibit of the Pilgrim journey is a door leading to the archives. There is a series of makeshift offices, built of plywood and filing cabinets. This is where curator and archivist Rebecca Griffith spends her days.

Museums have held a place in Becca’s heart for the majority of her life. As a child, her family would often vacation in areas of historic interest, attending museums of various collections. There, Griffith would spend hours analyzing the artifacts, taking in every detail, carefully reading the descriptions and that sparked the start of her fascination with material culture. “I had always loved books and reading, and of course history,” she said with a smile. She credits and her undergraduate internship for solidifying the idea of archives as a career.

“I cataloged a book collection in this weird place in Philadelphia, it’s called Fonthill Castle, and it’s this very eccentric bachelor who built this concrete castle in the suburbs of Philadelphia,” she remembered fondly. There was an assortment of tiles he made from his business as well as his collection of incredible rare volumes form the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. It was these books that started Becca on the road towards becoming an archivist and inspired her to pursue graduate school.

Fonthill Castle, Doylestown, PA. Unaltered photograph by James Loesch, https://www.flickr.com/photos/jal33/5437285992

Griffith attended Simmons College and earned a degree in Public History, wanting to continue to work with both paper documents and three-dimensional objects. It was there that she learned the skills to be able to interpret history for the public as well as archival and object handling. She put these skills to use with an internship at Pilgrim Hall Museum, which led to a full-time job with the departure of two directors, the curator, and the retirement of their archivist. Her title is Associate-Curator but she does the work of two departments, not only creating exhibits but also performing all duties with the museums archives. She credits good luck with her position as a fairly recent graduate as the competition for jobs in the field is very steep in this area, joking “you just have to be at a place and show that you’re useful so they’ll want you around and eventually they’ll start paying you.”

Rebecca began to remark on her current job at Pilgrim Hall, talking passionately on how she loves what she’s doing, the excitement and the activity never leave her a dull moment. She receives the most enjoyment out of learning about the history of the objects and documents she works with, stating that she learns something new with every acquisition. The Pilgrim Hall archives covers a broad assortment of documents, beginning with seventeenth century documents and ending with current donations from various clubs and organizations around Plymouth. “Archivally, we really took on the role of the Plymouth Historical Society [there isn’t one] and really just collected everything Plymouth related document wise.” She continued with their extensive photograph collection with the majority containing pictures from the 1800s.

Mayflower passenger William Brewster’s copy of the works of Seneca found its way into the collections of the Pilgrim Hall Museum

Wanting to get an insiders opinion, I asked what her favorite item in their possession was, especially as they have such an extensive archival collection. She surprised me with a book not transparently connected to the Pilgrims at all. It is a 1614 edition of the works of Seneca, a Roman naturalist and a favorite of the Pilgrims. However, it wasn’t the subject matter of the book that constituted it as her favorite; it was the clear provenance of the book. The inside front cover catalogued the history of who owned the book previously and exactly how it came to the following owner, which included William Brewster. An artifact such as this is unique to collections as there are usually mysteries surrounding the objects. Griffith noted that although artifacts like this are great for a number of reasons, she enjoys uncovering the history of documents, adding that without it, the job would be very boring. And thankfully, the majority of artifacts in their collection have a mystery to them.

As Pilgrim Hall is the oldest continuously operating museum in the country, they have been collecting items for over two hundred years, and with that have seen a change in museums standards and record keeping. Griffith and her interns have attempted to piece together the history through museum records, combing through boxes to try to and find any information, which was time consuming as their records are not digitized. However, the interns have begun the tedious process of digitizing their photo collection and transcribing museum records for online consumption. There is no current program in place, but Griffith hopes to have it up and running by the fall of 2018.

Currently, Plymouth is gearing up for the 400th anniversary of the landing of Pilgrims which has left Griffith with little time for anything else. Pilgrim Hall Museums is currently in collaboration with Plymouth 400, a committee solely dedicated to the celebration, to create a community needlework tapestry showcasing the history of Plymouth. She hopes that this creation will not only be a commemoration of the event but a tangible artifact that will last for the next hundred years and beyond.

1620 stamp on Plymouth Rock. Plymouth will celebrate its 400th year in 2020.

As the conversation about the upcoming celebration events dwindled, I asked Becca what the greatest advice she was given, hoping that she could pass on this wisdom to this up-and-coming grad student. She began with advice on publishing, saying to find a newsletter, journal, or magazine that will accept your work. “Pick something you’re interested in and get it published…get your name out there.” She said not to be discouraged at failure or rejection, whether it be from a job or journal- that it will happen and that’s okay. With each answer of no there’s a new opportunity waiting in the wings, and to remind yourself that you’re doing what you love to do, closing with the fact that “you’ve picked this particular field for a reason because it’s something that you’re passionate about. Don’t forget that.”

As she led me back through the exhibit and up the stairs we paused to look at her most recent exhibit on wedding dresses from the 1600s through 2010s. She reflected on it fondly, emphasizing the hard work and long days it took to complete it but highlighting the joy and feeling of achievement it gave her. As we said our goodbyes, I found myself replaying the words she had said about passion, clearly reflected in her work, and I felt a new sense of excitement and determination in me in regards to my own path. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll be sitting across from an archival history grad student answering their questions and, hopefully, filling them with a zest for discovery and pride in their work.

February 26, 2018Heidi Gengenbach No Comments

Branding Lowell: Collaboration, Material Culture, and Community Identity at the Lowell National Historical Park

By: Sarah K. Black

Streetcar, Lowell National Historical Park (photo by David Wilson, Oak Park, IL)

I spent my fall 2018 semester working as a curatorial intern directly under Laurel Racine, Chief of Cultural Resources at Lowell National Historical Park (LNHP). Maintained and operated by the National Park Service and spanning a full 142-acres, the park “interprets and preserves significant historical and cultural resources from the 19th-century American Industrial Revolution.” More than just a conglomerate of former mill buildings, and a locks and canal system, the Park is a hub for education and a major player in Lowell’s evolving cultural landscape and economic revitalization.

I came to LNHP in search of experience in exhibit planning and execution. I also wanted to gain a general understanding of daily museum operations since I had never worked in a cultural institution. Knowing this, Laurel brought me in to assist two volunteers who were in the beginning stages of developing a temporary exhibit. Branding Lowell: A History of Local Design was the brainchild of Mark Van Der Hyde, a graphic designer by trade and an extremely enthusiastic and dedicated volunteer. Combining his love for both logos and Lowell, he envisioned an exhibit that centered on how the city, as well as its local businesses and organizations, have designed their own symbols and how this imagery has reflected Lowell’s collective and evolving identity since its founding.

I knew that I would walk away with more experience than I had going in, but I never expected my internship to be as valuable as it was. Not only did I grow and improve my skillset in several areas including exhibitions, collections management, and museum operations, but the opportunity also offered me a chance to prove to myself that I can step outside academia and into the public sphere of the historical discipline.

Mark had conceived of a panel exhibit with the help of Tony Sampas, Senior Digital Documentation and Records Management Specialist for UMass Lowell’s O’Leary Library— and a fellow logo enthusiast. My task—shifting the two-dimensional exhibit into a three-dimensional one—required me to research, select, and interpret artifacts to create a storyline. I spent many long hours searching through the park’s databases and experimenting with storyboards, all the while trying to find objects that both fit Mark’s narrative and illumniated stories that did not appear in the panel text. But the artifacts themselves are undeniably crucial in this history. Early sketches of the logos reveal the process of branding. Branded goods and memorabilia evidenced how these symbols were disseminated to and absorbed by consumers. Taken together, these themes demonstrate just how pervasive symbolism and branding is throughout our culture.

Early mock-up of UMass Lowell’s hockey team logo. Including sketches from the artists offers audiences a glimpse into the process behind forming a logo. Circa 1994. (On loan to LNHP from artist Brian Trainor; photograph by author)

After just a few weeks on the job, I realized just how dynamic and unpredictable building an exhibit can be. With each team meeting, Branding Lowell grew in both content and thematic scope, and with it, so did my responsibilities. Hoping to put my training in public history theory and practice to good use, I volunteered to explore new content, draft panels, and introduce interactive components. Although these additional tasks certainly opened the door to practical experience in interpretation and exhibit planning, I found the collaborative component of the project to be the most valuable. Each member of our four-person team brought something unique to the table, be it curatorial experience, graphic design skills, or an extensive knowledge of the history of Lowell. Our exhibit team meetings were opportunities to share progress and problems; they were honest and productive sessions where we brainstormed, proposed solutions, and compromised. Collaborations, especially when they involve community members, are never a guaranteed success, so I am tremendously grateful to have worked alongside professionals who were both eager to share ideas and open to constructive criticism. In the end, our unique perspectives and expertise combined to ensure Branding Lowell is as content-rich, aesthetically pleasing, and engaging as possible.

Branding Lowell will open on March 24, 2018 and although my formal internship has concluded, I intend to see the project through to its completion. We still have a great deal to do, including case layouts and object mounts, text editing, and installation. I look forward to increasing my skillset even further.

Ferrin & Parker "Boots and Shoes" nineteenth century business card — The Branding Lowell exhibit will feature an array of nineteenth-century business cards. This one is from 1890. (LNHP collection; photograph by author)

The internship requirement for the public history program had haunted me since the evening I received my acceptance letter. I came into the program with no experience in a museum (or even a comparable institution), and feared that my lack of experience in the field would ultimately cast me as the inexperienced underdog in both academic and professional networks. But this is exactly why our time as interns is so essential. No matter how little or how much experience a student has, there are always new skills to learn, most of which have to develop outside of the classroom. I was fortunate to be mentored by a museum professional with tremendous experience in the field and a desire to create a positive and productive environment. Laurel not only took me under her wing to teach me about collections management and museum operations, but she also granted me a great deal of freedom with the exhibit content and development. At the end of the day, I will leave my internship with something even more valuable than an improved skill set: the knowledge that I left my mark on a truly dynamic and collaborative project, one that tells the story of a city’s identity in a unique and interesting way. As an aspiring public historian, I can think of no place better suited for professional and personal growth than the Lowell National Historical Park.

February 18, 2018Heidi Gengenbach 1 Comment

Transparent Faces & Hidden Mothers: Processing Tintypes at Historic New England

By: Caroline Littlewood

This portrait of a woman and child contains white lines. Note the oval mark where a frame or mount used to be. Historic New England, Library and Archives.

She found them at flea markets. Hundreds of painted tintype photographs—colorful portraits of anonymous Americans—caught Dr. Diana Korzenik’s eye, and, over the years, she amassed an impressive collection. The tintypes range in size and vary in appearance. Some are so thickly coated in color that the original photographic image is obscured. Others have one or two pigments to make a face blush or a necklace sparkle. But each tintype is evidence of another time, when photography was young. Invented in the 1850s, tintypes preserved likenesses of working class Americans who could not afford daguerreotypes. Whether once hung on a wall for all to see, or sent through the post as a token of affection, these historical artifacts are important records of a time past.

Only within the last couple decades have collectors come to value painted tintypes. For years, they were more interested in the antique frames that encased them. But Dr. Korzenik saw value where others hadn’t and sought to preserve them, along with smaller, unpainted tintypes of working-class women and children. To promote the continued study and appreciation of tintypes, Dr. Korzenik recently donated her substantial collection to Historic New England.

I began by surveying the collection. At first, the tintypes looked very similar. — Historic New England, Library and Archives

As the Historic New England intern responsible for processing Dr. Korzenik’s donation, I sought to convert this personal collection into an archival collection that would be accessible to researchers. I began by surveying and researching my materials. I dove into classic works like Taft’s Photography and the American Scene: A Social History which helped me to understand what I had before me and formulate a processing plan. I researched rehousing and preservation recommendations then tallied the contents of the collection to order the appropriate sleeves and boxes. When I had these archival materials in hand, I set to rehousing and describing each item. By the end of my internship, I had processed over 520 individual tintypes at the item level, produced a finding aid and helped digitize a portion of the collection.

The experience was thrilling and rewarding, but it was not without its challenges. I hit my first obstacle early on as I surveyed the collection. Dr. Korzenik had numbered and grouped her tintypes, but I had no understanding of her organizational schema. The collection was an indecipherable mix of subjects, painting techniques, and plate size. Some categories described the physical manipulation of the tintype: “thick paint, white lines, black lines,” “hand-painted tintypes powder/gold jewelry/white lines/black lines,” and—my favorite—“transparent faces”.

This portrait of a young woman was categorized as a “Transparent Face.” Historic New England, Library and Archives

Tintype close-up — Some tintype portraits are more intricately painted than others. Historic New England, Library and Archives

Others described the portrait subjects or size: “children and couples,” “hidden mothers,” and “carte de visite-sized”. Why did she make these distinctions? What did they mean? When I spoke to Dr. Korzenik, she explained that the labels are meant to draw one’s eye to the compositional aspects of each photograph. The average person sees a photograph as an image meant to reflect reality.

But as a professional artist and educator, she also saw tintypes as artifacts that had been painted, tinted, highlighted, outlined, scratched, and solarized. Categories based on subject or size also shared composition traits. Her “hidden mothers”—portraits of young children with the adult presence concealed—are small and unpainted; “children and couples” are large and painted. Once I saw these layers and distinctions, I could better describe Dr. Korzenik’s materials and preserve the expertise that shaped her collecting activities.

This is one of roughly 200 “hidden mothers.” Historic New England Library and Archives

The collection also challenged me to manage my time carefully. Early on, I realized that I was dealing with a miraculously growing collection, which had somehow ballooned from my estimated three hundred tintypes to over five hundred, plus a few non-tintype materials. I was eager to get started, but I had to wait for supplies to arrive. Once they arrived and I began rehousing, I struggled to standardize my descriptive language. But I used my time waiting for archival materials to work on my finding aid and produce a detailed spreadsheet. I asked my supervisors for help and examined finding aids from similar collections when I struggled with description. When I travelled to Historic New England’s Haverhill facility to work on framed tintypes, I documented my work carefully so that I could continue it offsite. And when I came to a tintype that warranted further investigation, I set it aside and continued with my work, assembly-line style.

Smaller tintypes often came in paper sleeves or mounts. Historic New England, Library and Archives

Before I knew it, my time was up. I no longer think about tintypes most of my waking (and some of my sleeping) hours. But I know that my work will facilitate access to a historically rich and unique collection. Each tintype can be so many things. It can be a fashion plate, a genealogical record, and evidence of early photographic props, poses, and conventions. Furthermore, each painted tintype illustrates the relationship between young photographic technology and a traditional painted portraiture. Despite the challenges, I’ve helped to make these materials visible and accessible to the general public, and I don’t know if there is anything more rewarding than that.

February 12, 2018Heidi Gengenbach No Comments

Finding One’s Path on the Road of Research: An Intern’s Journey

By: Nina Rodwin

Originally published by the Center for the History of Medicine on December 5, 2017: https://cms.www.countway.harvard.edu/wp/?p=14583

Nina Rodwin, UMass Boston Public History Student

When I started my internship at Harvard’s Countway Library of Medicine, my project adviser, Joan Ilacqua, project archivist for the Archives for Women in Medicine, and I decided to investigate digitized journals between 1900 and 1920 from the Medical Heritage Library’s State Medical Society Journals project to uncover the effects of the 1910 Flexner Report on women’s medical education. The goal of the project was to create a digital exhibit about the state of medical education before and after the Flexner Report to better understand how women medical students and physicians were influenced by Flexner’s recommendations. However, as I conducted my research, I found that this topic connected to multiple issues beyond the question of women’s education in the medical field. These new avenues opened the exhibit to larger questions regarding sex, class, gender, and race during the early 20^th century.

In 1908, Professor Abraham Flexner was hired by the Council on Medical Education (a branch of the American Medical Association) to travel to each American medical school and evaluate the overall institution; from curriculum, to the number of faculty, to the condition of laboratories and libraries. Flexner’s findings were unnerving and the quality of medical schools varied wildly. Flexner recommended that schools with financial means should emulate the quality of education seen at Johns Hopkins University, one of the first medical schools affiliated with a teaching hospital that also required laboratory experience for all its students. Flexner strongly recommended that schools which could not afford such expensive upgrades be closed.

Modern analysis of the Flexner report shows that his decisions meant that most women’s and Black medical schools were closed, as these institutions often had fewer funds. While medical students in the early 20^th century were more likely to learn the latest medical techniques from prestigious institutions, many women and Black medical students were barred from these opportunities, as many schools (including Harvard) openly refused to admit them or admitted them in minuscule numbers. When I began this project, I assumed that these issues would be reflected and discussed in the state medical journals of the time.

I imagined discovering blustering editorials, where the authors would be offended at the very the idea of women entering the medical field. However, I struggled to find any editorial that even mentioned women, yet alone any that excoriated them for being in the field. I found many articles and editorials that dryly reported the progress of medical education and criticized the Flexner Report for its negative conclusions, but none discussed what these changes would mean for women medical students. Finding little evidence connecting the Flexner Report to women’s education in medical schools was particularly important– it demonstrated that many physicians in the early 20^th century were no longer outraged by the idea of women practicing medicine. The research showed that the question for women physicians in the early 20^th century was not a debate surrounding their abilities or rights to practice medicine, but was rather a debate surrounding which kinds of medical fields were best suited for women.

The Woman’s Medical Journal, Vol. XV, No. 4. April 1905.

In fact, women physicians during the early 1900s went to great efforts to prove sex discrimination was a relic of the past. This belief however, was often countered by their own experiences, as seen in editorials from The Woman’s Medical Journal. These editorials were especially interesting when compared with editorials from state medical journals, as both used cultural ideas about women, motherhood, and women’s natural abilities to argue for or against women in certain fields. As my research progressed, I was especially drawn to the differences between the Women’s Medical Journal (WMJ) and the Pennsylvania Medical Journal. (PMJ) While both journals contained medical articles, the WMJ also had a social justice slant, advocating for women’s medical education across the world, endorsing a woman’s right to vote, and demonstrating that women physicians were just as capable as their male counterparts. Both journals portrayed women in the medical field, but PMJ often emphasized traditional ideas about a “women’s place.” For example, there are many articles in the PMJ, including this toast given in 1907, about the self-sacrificing wives of male physicians, but no mention of the struggle women physicians faced balancing their social, professional and domestic roles.

My research found that the fields of anesthesiology and lab work were seen as ideal place for women physicians. Public health was especially popular for women physicians, as its focus

Caption from “The Doctor’s Wife,” a speech given by H.J. Bell, MD in 1907.

on the household, parenting, dieting, and children’s health were considered extensions of a woman’s natural role as caretaker and mother. However, white women physicians in the field of public health in the early 20^th century often advocated for eugenic practices, including limiting marriages to those considered “fit” and the sterilization of those considered “unfit.” So as white women advocated for equality in the medical field, they also encouraged policies that targeted and discriminated women from marginalized groups. While this topic is quite disturbing, I have found this section of my research the most interesting, as the concepts advocating for White Supremacy are very similar both in the early 20^th century and today.

I believe that making historical connections to modern events can be a great tool to help connect today’s audiences to the past. The issue of discrimination against women in the workplace is still very relevant today, especially in the medical field. The decisions made by the Flexner Report still affect medical education today. Although women’s enrollment in medical schools was almost evenly split with men in 2016, according to the Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC), and rates of minority student enrollment has increased over time, Latino and Black students only comprise 20% of incoming medical students nationwide although these statistics do not break down minority applicants by gender. Furthermore, women in the workforce still struggle with societal expectations of motherhood and marriage, making the balance between their personal lives and professional lives much harder. Although my research evolved from a project specifically on the Flexner Report to an analysis of women in medicine in the early 20^th century, I hope my forthcoming exhibit can shed light on how far women have come, while reminding my audience that many obstacles remain. I look forward to completing the internship and presenting my findings.