Browse Items (17 total)
THE ACADEMY MUSEUM WELCOMES SACHEEN LITTLEFEATHER FOR AN EVENING OF CONVERSATION, HEALING, AND CELEBRATION ON SEPTEMBER 17
June 18, 2022
Dear Sacheen Littlefeather,
I write to you today a letter that has been a long time coming on behalf of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, with humble acknowledgment of your experience at the 45th Academy Awards.
As you stood on the Oscars stage in 1973 to not accept the Oscar on behalf of Marlon Brando, in recognition of the misrepresentation and mistreatment of Native American people by the film industry, you made a powerful statement that continues to remind us of the necessity of respect and the importance of human dignity.
The abuse you endured because of this statement was unwarranted and unjustified. The emotional burden you have lived through and the cost to your own career in our industry are irreparable. For too long the courage you showed has been unacknowledged. For this, we offer both our deepest apologies and our sincere admiration.
We cannot realize the Academy's mission to "inspire imagination and connect the world through cinema" without a commitment to facilitating the broadest representation and inclusion reflective of our diverse global population.
Today, nearly 50 years later, and with the guidance of the Academy’s Indigenous Alliance, we are firm in our commitment to ensuring indigenous voices—the original storytellers—are visible, respected contributors to the global film community. We are dedicated to fostering a more inclusive, respectful industry that leverages a balance of art and activism to be a driving force for progress.
We hope you receive this letter in the spirit of reconciliation and as recognition of your essential role in our journey as an organization. You are forever respectfully engrained in our history.
With warmest regards,
David Rubin
President, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences
Domestic Service
Interpretation Note
Salmon's study plays an important role in understanding how written records define women's labor. By converting lived experiences into surveys, tables, averages, and typologies, Salmon exposes domestic labor as economic labor governed by the same principles as factory or farm employment, which opposes the widespread belief that household work was merely women's natural duty. Yet, her methodology also demonstrates the trade-offs of institutional documentation. The precision of her statistics gives domestic labor new legitimacy, but the process of abstraction can smooth over the emotional, interpersonal, and racial dynamics that shaped daily life inside employers' homes. In this sense, Salmon's work echoes Saidiya Hartman's point about how the archive can make people visible while still muting their voices, since the workers appear as data rather than as narrating subjects. Her historical timeline shows how race and class determined which workers' stories were preserved and which were sidelined. Enslaved Black women, indentured servants, and immigrant workers played a pivotal role in the development of domestic service, yet their voices appear only through employers' accounts or through Salmon's own categorizations. The book demonstrates how genre (in this case, a sociological survey) can validate women's work by recognizing its economic value in the broader national economy, while also repeating the same hierarchies and omissions that define the archive.
The Speech Marlon Brando Didn't Give on Oscar Night
Chain Gangs of Georgia: A Shameful State of Affairs Which the Legislature is Called Upon to Remedy.
Interpretation Note
The article presents the chain gang system as an administrative shortcoming rather than as a moral or racial catastrophe, one that can be tidied up with the right legislation. In doing so, it shows how institutional language can blunt the edges of violence and turn brutality into a mere "affair to remedy." The recitation of prisoners' ages, races, and daily tasks tacitly normalizes forced labor and sidesteps the systematic exploitation of Black men, women, and children. The casual mention that women and girls worked the same grueling jobs as men, such as ten hours of brickmaking or road building, while still being expected to cook and clean for the camp, reflects how deeply race and gender dictated the distribution and meaning of labor in these spaces. Following Marlene Manoff's thinking, the article is both a historical object and a product of an archival logic that prefers bureaucratic categories over lived human experience. When read alongside Tonia Sutherland and Zakiya Collier's work on Black archival practices, it becomes clear that records of Black labor were almost always shaped by the state's need to legitimize punishment and control. Drawing on Saidiya Hartman, the archive is shaped by the people who exercised violence, not by those who endured it. What remains are documents produced by captors and officials, which means the record is built from a perspective of power rather than from the lives of those who were exploited.
Mobilizing Woman-Power
Harriot Stanton Blatch’s 1918 book Mobilizing Woman-Power, with a foreword by Theodore Roosevelt, calls on American women to see World War I as their war too. She insists they must step forward “as equals working with equals for a common end.” Victory, she argues, now hinges on fully mobilizing women’s labor to replace the men lost to enlistment and immigration restrictions. Drawing on the example of British and French women who had already taken up industrial, agricultural, and administrative jobs, Blatch demands that American women prove themselves just as capable. She pushes for practical state support, such as dormitories, canteens, and fair wages, because decent conditions are the only way to sustain long-term productivity. Throughout, she reframes traditional domestic skills in civic and industrial terms: efficient household management, she says, is exactly the kind of disciplined labor a nation at war needs.
Interpretation Note
This book shows how wartime rhetoric transformed the cultural meaning of women's labor. Everyday domestic tasks such as cooking, cleaning, and nursing were suddenly framed as indispensable national service. By celebrating British and French women who entered factories, farms, munitions plants, and offices, Blatch reframes the simple act of showing up to work as proof of women's fitness for full democratic citizenship. The book urges readers to see their own labor as a patriotic contribution and themselves as active citizens whose efforts sustain the nation. In this respect, Blatch anticipates that public discourse shapes people's sense of their civic obligations. Although Blatch demands equal pay and safer conditions, she continues to frame women's work as a noble sacrifice rather than an inherent right. She valorizes traditionally feminine skills as important wartime resources without ever questioning why such work was gendered female in the first place. The tasks themselves get public prestige, yet the underlying sexual division of labor stays intact, and no one thinks to question why certain kinds of work were deemed feminine to begin with. This places Blatch's book in an intermediate position within the exhibition. The exhibition first asks how women's labor is transformed into a patriotic duty. Then, it explores how it can become feminist activism. Blatch occupies the middle ground. Her narrative is also noticeably selective. The women she holds up as exemplars are nearly always white and middle-class, who are the ones who moved into jobs vacated by enlisted men. Black domestic workers, rural women, and immigrant laundresses' toil predated the war, but in Blatch's account, their contributions are invisible. In the end, this book shows how wartime language can turn women's work from a private duty into a public service, yet leave the basic gender hierarchy in place. It also underscores that the voices in that story shape whether women's labor leads only to patriotic production or moves toward real activism.






