It’s probably not an uncommon misconception to believe that archives are distant, hidden away and devoid of feeling. As a current graduate student pursuing a master’s in library and information science (MLIS), archival practice based on scientific principles, especially those framed in Anglo, Eurocentric ideologies can and do feel disconnected from capturing the vast tapestry of the human experience. I often found myself questioning how “respect des fonds,” original order and provenance can be applied in a way that puts the human experience, and yes, human emotion, at the heart of the work. These principles all felt reminiscent of the detached nature of museum exhibitions. History you can see but not access, missing valuable historical and cultural context and almost impossible to connect to in any meaningful way.
I’ve worked in museums for most of my career, referring to myself as an informal educator, developing cultural public programs and events. My goal, no matter how small the outcome, was to bring the stories and voices of museum collections to life through meaningful experiences and engagement. Whether it was bringing an instrument to life through live cultural performance or bringing Oaxacan artisan tradition to Arizona through alebrije (Mexican folk art sculptures) and ceramic workshops led by Oaxacan master artists, I strived to make the history and stories that adorned museum walls and glass cases tangible and relatable. My pivot to archival work is rooted in my passion for uncovering and sharing stories that resonate with and connect people to their own histories, heritage or, hopefully, expose them to facets of society that never pierced their atmosphere.
But the question I struggled with as I contemplated my future beyond my graduate studies: Will I be able to do this same passionate work in spaces deeply rooted in colonial frameworks and structures? The answer is…yes! This became clear to me when I saw ASU Library’s Community Driven Archives in action. Had I heard of them before my internship this spring – of course! Had I explored their digital archives to inform my own understanding of our rich cultural histories in Phoenix – absolutely. What I had not experienced was their ability to form relationships with the very communities they document.
I was invited to observe and assist with a Community Archives 101 workshop for a university student group, hoping to learn how to preserve their personal histories. I expected nothing but the best knowledge sharing, given that Nancy Godoy, CDA director, and Vanessa Jasmine Torrez, assistant archivist of CDA, were leading the workshop, and I was excited to soak it in among a community of learners. What transpired caught me off guard in the most transformative way. What started as attentive but minimal nods of engagement between Nancy and the students, blossomed into an honest, open and vulnerable exchange of personal stories. Stories of the families that stared back at them from their family photos. An up-close and personal confrontation of “why do we want to preserve these memories?”, and the very real and emotional toll that comes with tackling and exploring their truths. Some memories were filled with joy, others with pain and trauma, and some didn’t even exist in their minds, just on paper as material matter was the last remaining impression of a life or lives lived. Letters, governmental documents, photos, art, or random artifacts that accidentally or intentionally, revealed the scope of human emotion, identity, and tradition. I never imagined that anyone, let alone a whole room of people, would share their innermost reflections about the people who populate their personal archives. I sat in that space and absorbed the reality of what was unfolding – a community reconciling, reminiscing and reclaiming their histories. Histories that become narratives, narratives that transform representation and reclaim ownership.
This is decolonization in action, and it looks different from what I had imagined. Rather than experiencing conflict and tension with colleagues and the institution, I found healing in communal reflection. Creating an environment for memory keeping and healing in a university library is no small task, yet it exists. This space exists, not in performative grandstanding, but deeply rooted in the principles of reparative justice and inclusivity. Although it thrives in quiet surroundings, its mission to reframe memory keeping as a healing practice is anything but silent. This healing practice fosters community empowerment and ensures representation. In spaces like these, archives can be an extension of a community and inspire future archivists, like me, to find passion and purpose in their efforts towards memory keeping and preservation of cultural knowledge.
Written by: Dyadira "Yadi" Fajardo, Spring 2026 CDA Intern, MLIS graduate student and Knowledge River Scholar