Who Tells the Stories?

Growing up, my family spent a lot of time visiting the National Parks. It was a way for us to connect with each other and the natural world. I’ve now explored and worked for National Parks all across the country — most recently as an intern with the Appalachian Conservation Corps.

In this position I worked alongside the National Park Service (NPS) as a Science Communicator, creating digital content about scientific findings to support eleven National Parks. One of my favorite parts about my position was the community built upon NPS Inclusive Science Communication circles, where we would analyze NPS and other articles through the lens of diversity, equity, and inclusion. I seek to use what I learned in these conversations in my work and in my everyday interactions.

Despite my long history with National Parks, I didn’t realize that I was missing a core personal connection with our public lands— learning about Chinese American history. While I learned a lot about white American history (from the battles of the Civil War to colonial settlement) it was rare that I came across exhibits featuring my own cultural identity or history. I didn’t really question it—I just thought there weren’t that many stories to tell. Or perhaps the stories would fall on deaf ears.

heritage in this setting. To my utter dismay (and disappointment, sadness, anger, etc.), the stories lacked representation. They also contained instances of harmful language that perpetuates negative stereotypes.

Some of it was blatant. One statement claimed that an unfair wage gap allowed Chinese railroad workers to have a healthier diet because they had to cook their meals for themselves. Back then, Chinese railroad workers received less pay than their white counterparts, and had to pay for their own food, housing, and clothing.

Some of it was missing an opportunity to be inclusive. Over 90% of the transcontinental railroad workforce were Chinese. but not a single Chinese person was shown in any of the exhibits. There weren’t even any translations for park visitors, including the descendants of the workers.

When I visited with my parents, my mom expressed that she wished she could read the original poems that Chinese workers wrote about homesickness. Sadly, the exhibit only displayed English-translated poems, omitting the original versions. This was a missed opportunity to connect with a broader audience, and it directly impacted my own family’s experience and connection with the park’s history.

In May, I visited a National Park featuring Chinese American history—my first time hearing stories that connected me to my

This experience solidified my desire to share the tales of those who have been historically excluded from the storytelling spotlight.

With dogged persistence, I spearheaded a movement to make the park’s content more inclusive. Throughout this process, I’ve learned a lot about how to institutionalize non-dominant narratives. I seek to center the voices of the people whose stories are being shared. It’s important to question, “Whose stories do we hear? Who is telling them? What voices have been removed? How can we expand the dominant narrative, which is often isolating and exclusionary?”

Stories are so powerful. They can shape people’s identity and help them to feel connected. Stories can also capture a world where anything is possible. If someone that you can relate to has a role in a story, you can put yourself in their shoes. When your stories are continuously excluded, it gives the impression that you don’t belong, that there’s no precedent for someone like you in that space. Learning about the contributions of people before me—that these stories had existed all along—made me feel like parts of myself were kept from me. Over time, I’ve learned some key lessons that I’d like to share for our readers of this zine, which you can find on the next page. I’ve also learned that we must challenge what stories we commonly hear, and always question who gets to tell them. Looking back on these stories can serve as an important catalyst for the more inclusive future we can create.

My hope is that when I next visit the park these issues will be fixed, and the stories of these people will be told through their own lens, with their language, their humor, and their personal testimonies. D