academic paper: inclusivity in botanical gardens

There is something utterly peaceful and lush about entering a botanical garden. To the layperson, the curated collection of plants, strategically placed for optimal growth, sustainable nutrition, and symbiosis with neighboring plants is hardly noticeable compared to the aesthetic effects of the garden itself. Leisurely strolls, afternoon picnics, and natural exploration are all typically welcome in botanical gardens and are common afternoon activities for families throughout the world. However, the garden has not always been a welcoming living museum. For many populations, especially for people of color, the garden is the opposite of that, a lasting symbol of colonial oppression, slavery, and disrespect for natural, pre-colonial systems of cohesion. Decolonizing botanical collections and the garden space is imperative if there is hope to cultivate a world of greater natural understanding and plant-human relationships.

Botanical gardens are often considered the awkward cousin of museums, maybe once removed even. While they are similarly classified as a cultural organization, funded through boards, grants, trusts, and public and private support, as well as actively engage in educational programming, seasonal events, and exhibitions, their collections have one fundamental difference -- the collections of botanical gardens are living, in the most literal sense. They consume, expel, grow, change, reproduce, and die. They are both everlasting and final, their descendents continuing their existence alone. It is this fundamental difference that is the cornerstone of interaction within botanical gardens.

There is a longevity and a finality to the relationship that botanical gardens offer to their visiting public. The tree trunks can be embraced, year after year, gaining inches and wounds, possibly for decades or until a noteworthy storm takes it down; the seed pods can be collected and rattled by tour participants creating a botanical opera; the flowers, pressed and dried, serve artistic and scientific exploration for adults and youth alike, freezing time and evolution itself. These physical interactions with the collections are what give botanical gardens their own form of material culture. These unique experiences with plants are remembered most pointedly through their names-- the giant banyan tree, the seed-pod instruments of the royal poinciana tree, the fragrant and ombré blooms of the plumeria species. Common names are identifiers with histories, however, and often biased, white-washed, racial histories, both in common form and Latin form.

A simple Wikipedia search of “history of gardens'' yields a substantial list of white, male names responsible for the establishment and preservation of many species. Void of any realistic and probable recognition of those that led these explorers into the depth of wilderness, such as the people of color pre-existing and thriving in regions of exploration and the far reaches of colonized lands, botanical nomenclature inaccurately represents a history of “discovery” and self-naming opportunities as motivators. Take for example plant names that include cusickii, howellii, anddouglasii, to name just a few from the Columbia River Basin region (Explorers and Botanists). Cacao theobroma, the plant that produces the seed-bearing fruit which are the main component of chocolate (also called cacao), bears a mildly representative reflection of its original users. Cacao is a white-washed spelling and pronunciation of multiple indigenous languages, originally kakaw in Classic Maya, Tzeltal, and K’iche’, and cacahuatl in Nahuatl. At the period of great plant discovery, science and exploration trumped intimate and humanistic classifiers. Today, these common and Latin names are a lasting impression on the material culture that botanical gardens have to offer to their publics.

Looking to Fred Wilson’s Mining the Museum, botanical gardens and the scientific community could consider a collaboration with outside local and indigenous communities, religious and spiritual leaders, and cultural organizations to begin to recognize and reestablish racialized, misrepresentative, and invisible histories of botanical nomenclature (Corrin). It goes without saying that this process would be lengthy, costly, and a tedious overhaul. Yet it can be argued, without much challenge, that colonialism was and is the same. While the general science community continues to deliberate on and fight for the worthiness of their endeavors related to representation (Cahan), there is something both disheartening and embarrassing about inappropriate plant names for the layperson. With common names like the Wandering Jew (Tradescantia spp.) or racial slurs hidden in Latin names like the African Coral Tree (Erythrina caffra), how can a person of color or an individual from a non-white, European background as a visitor, garden member, scientist, or student relate to our natural world in a safe and welcoming way if the exact identifiers and language used to discourse regarding this material culture is remnant of historical oppressors and disregarded relationships?

Beyond botanical nomenclature lies the interpretation and programmatic side of plant material culture and living collections. Gardens have historically been places for the elite to retire to, to take tea in, to stroll with family or associates, to host an affair in, while oftentimes those who work in the actual gardens themselves - typically people of color - hold intimate knowledge of the nature of the plants through daily interaction and care, yet their stories and relationships remain unrecognized and uninterpreted. The estate owners, scientists, and explorers - titles largely dominated by white males -  are recognized in sites, museums and gardens (plantations certainly not excluded) but little is shared regarding the quotidian uses, nor are realistic or cultural histories shared. Mr. Howell may have been on an exploration, but what was the name of the indigenous guide that brought him to the plant? How was it used both then and now? What importance did this plant have to that local community rather than the scientific community? All potential questions for discussion, interpretation, and inclusion to garden programming to better relate to and represent historically marginalized groups in botanical gardens.

Where whimsical and charming anecdotes offer creative fictions for the visitor as is seen in Deetz’s In Small Things Forgotten, real (and potentially unsettling) truths and stories regarding plant presence, nomenclature, and historical and culture use could support public education to better present a more wholesome and encompassing ecological history. Take for example rice, which can be continually planted and harvested throughout the year without a growing season. While the reason of course can lie in the biological abilities of this plant to grow, some Southeast Asian cultures would tell stories to explain why it grows year-round. The story goes that there once was a monster that came from the hills in search of children to steal and eat. Coming upon a farming village, the monster declared all the children of the village would be his to claim. The farmers begged the monster to spare their children, as they needed help to harvest the rice. The monster promised to return after the rice harvest season was over to take their children, not knowing rice is continually planted and harvested, and reappeared to find that there was yet another upcoming harvest and would have to return again. The monster eventually gave up and disappeared into the hills, never to be heard from or threatened by again. While both whimsical and charming like the anecdotes provided by Deetz, there is a much closer tie to cultural relativism and the tradition of storytelling with this story. Drawing on that closeness is important as it opens the door to greater understanding of the importance of plant life, botanical collections, and visitor engagement and stewardship.

Including people of color and marginalized communities in botanical garden spaces is imperative to our future world, including the museum field. Without a diversified basis of understanding, plants can only be appreciated to particular groups that may have no other points of connection. These groups that are largely not included can bring historical context, significant uses as is seen in the discipline of ethnobotany, as well as imperative scientific knowledge from the STEM field, which could help change for the better the material culture that botanical gardens have to offer.


Works Cited

Cahan, Eli, et al. “Amid Protests against Racism, Scientists Move to Strip Offensive Names from Journals, Prizes, and More.” Science, 7 July 2020, www.sciencemag.org/news/2020/07/amid-protests-against-racism-scientists-move-strip-offensive-names-journals-prizes-and.

Corrin, Lisa G. “Mining the Museum: An Installation Confronting History.” Curator: The Museum Journal 36.4, 1993.

Deetz, James. “Recalling Things Forgotten: Archaeology and the American Artifacts.” In Small Things Forgotten, 1996.

“Explorers and Botanists.” Heritage Gardens of the Columbia Basin. www.hgcd.info/explorers-botanists.


Written for: Harvard Extension School, Museums & Material Culture, Gochburg, 2020