I'm currently
working on an application to teach a stand alone course for HIST 270, United
States History to 1815. I am enthusiastic about the possibility of teaching
this course because I see it as an opportunity to follow themes of race,
gender, sexuality, and ability into a period which is not technically within my
wheelhouse. The prelim readings I did on the colonial and early American
periods last year were fascinating to me because I had much less knowledge
about these periods than the later years, and I'm eager to have the chance to
incorporate some of the insights of those books into a course.
However, I'm also
interested in incorporating modern connections, and so (like approximately
800,000 other history instructors out there) I have been incorporating some
materials from uber-popular Broadway hit Hamilton.
I've previously used a song cut from the final version of the show, Cabinet Battle
3, to illustrate the ways in which US founding documents pushed the
issue of slavery further down the road. When I saw the show in Chicago from
seats that I'm pretty sure were in an adjacent zip code to the stage, I was
struck by the show's interest in the historical method. This is sort of an
obvious connection in the closing number-- "Who lives, who dies, who tells
your story?" is clearly evoking questions about how we remember history
and who gets to be a historical figure with a "legacy." However, I
was most intrigued by the role of the historical process in Eliza Hamilton's
song "Burn." The song occurs in the show's second act, following
Alexander Hamilton's publication of the details of his extramarital affair.
Eliza's comments get
at the ways in which historical actors (sometimes in ways that frustrate us)
control the telling of their stories even centuries after their deaths.
"I'm erasing myself from the narrative," she asserts, and "Let
future historians wonder how Eliza reacted when you broke her heart." It's
easy to talk about the ways in which people unintentionally reveal aspects of
themselves in the records and objects their lives leave behind. The problem of
what they have led us to believe through the presence or absence of particular
items is thorny. Acknowledging this fact reminds us that the practice of
history is less a narrative than a conversation, not only between a historian
and other historians, but also between historians and sources and historical
actors themselves.
I hope to use the
song to engage in a discussion about ways in which people can and have shaped
their own images in the historical record and how this activity continues.
Susan B. Anthony performed a similar action by burning a vast quantity of her
own archive. Lisa Tetrault suggests that this meant accounts authored or
approved by Anthony "would become the
source" for information about her life and suffrage activities (The Myth of Seneca Falls, 182). I'll also incorporate some questions for discussion which link this idea to
broader questions about historical practice and students' day-to-day lives:
How much is the
historical record shaped by people's choices about what to save or destroy?
Why might someone
destroy their papers? How might we figure out information about that person
anyway?
What items or
records would document your life? What could you add or remove to change the
story?
Related Links:
There are quite good
analyses at genius.com's lyrics page of the song, including in-depth breakdowns of the lyrics and a gif or two.
A piece at Mic on
the "secret meaning" of the song (is it really that secret, though?)
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