When Leadership Falls Short: The Crisis of Care in Library Work
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Posted on December 18, 2025 in Blog Posts
Authors:
Ashleigh Coren
Dear reader, do you know how to pronounce “semiquincentennial”? Fear not—neither does this writer. For those who have managed to avoid it until now, allow me to announce that next year, 2026, marks the Semiquincentennial: America’s 250th birthday. Two hundred and fifty years ago, a group of men from 13 states gathered to ratify and sign the Declaration of Independence. So next year, the festivities, gatherings, and parades will be unavoidable. For those of us who were in the United States in 1975 and 1976 (I was not), you may remember the Bicentennial. The American Freedom Train! The first space shuttle unveiled to the public! And most importantly, this purse.
This edition of my column is a short guide for anyone who might feel overwhelmed by the idea of the Semiquincentennial, a bit skeptical about what to expect, or unsure whether they even want to participate. What follows are suggestions to help shape your experience and offer a few ideas for celebrating America’s big birthday. What’s great about next year is that you get to decide how you engage with it. I’d suggest viewing this as an opportunity for all of us to reflect on what has happened, explore what we’d like to learn more about, and find ways to connect and build community—regardless of where you live, what’s going on around you, and most importantly, what matters most to you.
Reading parties are great because you can be in community and in silence—a winning combination. The Semi cannot be fully explored without understanding the complex contributions of Indigenous Nations, LGBTQ+ people, enslaved and free African Americans, and women, all of whom played major roles in the American Revolution and on the battlefield. For many of us, these stories may not have been part of our school curricula growing up, but that’s what the internet and bookstores are for. Grab a group of friends, take advantage of the public parks and libraries in your area, and read away. The Museum of the American Revolution has a reading list, and the New York Public Library offers suggestions for books and primary resources as well. If you’re feeling particularly spicy, take it a step further and host a live reading of letters related to the uncovering of Benedict Arnold’s betrayal.
Let’s be clear: I’m not talking about going to a resort. Since there will be so much programming happening in so many places next year, consider taking a day trip, hopping on a local bus or train, or embarking on a full voyage to learn something new about the countless communities that have lived—and currently reside—here. How many of us live near museums, historic houses, or performing arts centers we’ve never visited? Now’s the time to learn something new and invest in organizations that have been doing meaningful work in history, preservation, and education for a very long time. On my list for next year: the newly reopened Studio Museum in Harlem, both a museum and a time capsule for the history of Black art and creative expression. It’s a place that reminds us of the evolution of contemporary art in the United States, the barriers that have blocked Black creatives, and the innovation of those same artists and museum workers. If I had the time and funds, I would also love to visit some of the Black settlements that emerged from the American Revolution, specifically in Nova Scotia, where thousands of Black people who had been living in the United States in the late 18th century created a new hub centered around their freedom. The American Revolution did not only happen in, or only impact, what we now call America.
Full disclosure: this one is inspired by my supreme disappointment in a recent premiere of a series connected to the Semiquincentennial. One of my takeaways after watching was how important it is to fill your knowledge banks with documentaries, films, shorts, TV shows, and biopics that don’t just tell a story but also remind you to think critically about how stories are framed—and inspire you to keep learning even after the credits roll. There are so many amazing documentaries and films that bring us joy, frustrate us, and teach us something new—not just about history, but about ourselves and our place in the world. Films reflect their time, but they also push us to think about whose stories are being shared, screened, and preserved.
Given my background and all the places I’ve lived, here are four suggestions: Amazing Grace (2018), a documentary about the recording of Aretha Franklin’s gospel album of the same name (one of the best-selling live gospel albums of all time); the 2008 HBO miniseries John Adams, which, while not perfect, still holds up and offers a compelling portrayal of the American Revolution; and Mississippi Masala (1991) by Mira Nair, a great film that explores some of the fascinating immigration history of the American South. I’d also recommend Fatal Flood (2001), a documentary about the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927, which aired as part of American Experience.
But if none of that appeals to you, maybe you should make your own film instead.
When my father passed away in 2024, all I could think about was how much I didn’t know about his story as a young boy in 1950s Mississippi. In my work now in museums, libraries, and archives, one of the things I stress to people is the importance of remembering that even if you think your story is insignificant or boring, someone in the future might not—and that person just might be a member of your family. Thinking about all the gaps that currently exist in the historical record, I want you to choose a person. It could be a family member, a neighbor, a mentor, or someone else you admire—and I want you to record their story. There are many organizations looking for this type of content, but you don’t need to donate it anywhere. You can keep it for yourself, for your own memory, for your family’s memory.
In 50 years, when we celebrate the Tercentenary, it will be important that we’ve captured not just what’s going on in our own lives and the lives of people we love, but also a sense of 2026 and everything it brought. So use your phone recorder, Zoom, an iPad—whatever works best for you. You can even go old school and dig out a cassette recorder. But I challenge you to talk to someone and record their story—with their consent, of course.
Because Act III might be released next year and we need to be ready.

Ashleigh Coren is a content strategist, educator, and curator based in the Washington, D.C. area.
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Header image is a detail of This is Harlem by Jacob Lawrence. Courtesy of Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden. © 2021 The Jacob and Gwendolyn Knight Lawrence Foundation, Seattle / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. For more information, click here.
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