An Archaeologist's Guide to the Exploring the Universe

Unlike many academic archaeologists I know, my journey to the discipline did not begin with Indiana Jones or the Mummy. So often I hear of stories of how these ostentatious films "changed my life" thanks to their so-called inspirational plot lines filled with adventure. Call me crazy, but I haven't even seen the Mummy, and I didn't find Indiana Jones all that inspiring. These films represent an outdated interpretation of the discipline of anthropology and archaeology, one in which a white, overly cocky male goes on explorations seeking to steal material culture from its place of origin—grave robbing, if you will.

My journey into archaeology started in the woodsy suburbs of Atlanta with my sister. Growing up, Ali and I spent much of our time outdoors, creating storylines in our minds of fairies hiding in the moss-covered ground, of nymphs traversing through the trees, and of mermaids splashing in the seas. We dreamed of meeting these creatures and learning about their lives, but we also recognized the importance of their solitude away from human interaction. Even then, we knew that some things were sacred, and these needed to be kept away from the greedy hands of human exploitation. So we searched for them with careful innocence, hoping to gain their respect and friendship without causing unnecessary stress and discomfort. Ali and I sadly never encountered these enchanting creatures, and while I am older now and less inclined to believe in fairytales, a part of me will always dream outside of the bounds of human understanding.

A glimpse into the woods outside of my childhood home.

The curiosity continued throughout my adolescence and into my adult life—my once high-pitched, incessant "But why, mom?"s paved the way to an exploratory mindset both in academia and in the mundane. Rather than seeking the simple answers, I wanted to dig deeper and understand the root of an idea. I dabbled in philosophy as a means of understanding but was dissatisfied with the convoluted rhetoric and egotistical thinking. History fascinated me, but I was never good with strict memorization and preferred a more holistic perspective on matters. Numbers overwhelmed me, and mathematics became my worst nightmare; chemistry was too specialized, and biology made me a bit queasy. It seemed that all of the traditional pathways were either too focused or too broad, and I couldn't quite find the right fit for my specific goals. I found an outlet through journalism, feeding my frustrations with the world onto a page and getting to connect with people. Interviews quenched my thirst for deeper understanding of the individual self and its connection with the collective experience. But the stress of deadlines and late-night editing overburdened me, and I realized that I valued different things in my life.

On one fateful day during my junior year, my beloved English teacher and mentor, Dr. Slayton, recommended—nay, insisted—that I research socio-cultural anthropology. As a naive and stubborn 17 year old, I blew it off as a waste of time, not understanding the complexity of the discipline and the various pathways it offered. Eventually my curiosity overcame my stubbornness, and after a few mind-opening google searches, I realized that, unsurprisingly, he was right, and my path towards archaeology was forged. I applied to colleges with the intended major, and I was lucky to spend the next four formative years at UC Berkeley, working with top professors in the discipline and recognizing the endless potential for myself.

Anthropology is the study of humanity, on the most basic level. The discipline differs a bit in America and Europe, but in American Anthropology, there are four sub-fields that make up the discipline: Bio-anthropology, Cultural Anthropology, Archaeology, and Linguistics. To be successful in any of these fields, you must study each of the fields.

Screenshot from a presentation I gave as a professional archaeologist at my high school (Lovell 2023).

Cultural anthropology teaches you the ways in which our traditions and practices shape our society and our cultural expression; it teaches you of the impacts of colonialism and imperialism on diverse societies; it teaches you the significance of everyday activities and provides you with an appreciation for human expression and creativity. What better way to learn about ourselves than by studying our human past? Anthropology builds empathy and creates a unity that celebrates our differences and our individual perspectives through a shared understanding.

I firmly believe that every student should take an anthropology course. Learning to not just eliminate one's own bias from understanding another perspective, but recognizing said bias and considering how it affects the way we interpret the world is fundamental to self-discovery and exploration. Plus, it teaches much needed empathy in a world that desperately lacks it. While computer science and engineering are certainly necessary within the modern world, these fields often avoid active human interaction that transcends the world of datasets and numbers. Anthropology connects you to your own humanity, revolutionizing the simple ideals that seem obvious at first glance but bring unexpected depth to one's life.

Archaeology, however, expands upon these ideals and takes you into the wilderness, looking at where humans have been, where they are now, and reflecting on where they will be. The interdisciplinary nature of archaeology allows us to contemplate resilience not just within humanity but within the natural world, and we seek an understanding of Indigenous practice and care that works in harmony with the natural world rather than against it. Indigenous landholders understand the environment we live in better than white colonizers and their descendants ever will. We need to listen to Native people and tend to our physical environment as a steward of the land rather than abuser of its offerings. If every person spent more time outside to learn from and celebrate the natural world, peace would permeate our beings and extend beyond the individual.

Step outside and listen.

Our capitalistic world forces a sense of individuality and selfishness that leads to loneliness and dissatisfaction—as human beings, we are collaborative by nature, seeking companionship for basic biological function as well as a sense of greater meaning. We crave community, and we thrive in groups. With anthropology, we can understand the why behind our communal nature; the study of the past can only lend to greater understanding of the present. And, frankly, there is nothing more powerful than holding an ancient relic in your hands and recognizing the care into its creation. Fast fashion and commercialization has decreased the production value of everyday objects, allowing for people to access goods at incredibly rates, without worry about the creation behind them. People of the past cared about their creations and specialized in production. Every object, every painting, every pot was crafted with careful detail, whether for ease of use or appreciation of beauty, and we are so incredibly lucky to witness what they left behind. As I work with objects of the past, I admire their craftsmanship and reflect upon my own interactions with material goods. I now actively contemplate where I spend my money, avoiding the Big Business capitalist tyrants that utilize prison- and child-labor to mass produce items for ease of access. I shop locally at farmer's markets and small businesses—especially those that are Black or Indigenous owned—whenever possible. I especially love old and used things and regularly visit thrift stores or estate sales, cultivating that appreciation for craftsmanship in my own property. There is eternal beauty in human creation; why not enjoy the things of the past rather than discard them?

The more I learn, the more dissatisfied I am with my lack of knowledge, and I continue to seek greater understanding. It's truly an endless cycle (as all academics know). I think about my own privilege in accessing education and having family support, and as I experience this immense gratitude, I cannot help but reflect upon the systemic injustices placed against BIPOC communities and those growing up in poverty. Education should not be gatekept. Education should not be inaccessible. I celebrate public libraries and the scholarships created by and for BIPOC communities, and I applaud our representatives who advocate for access to free and public education. How dare our government ban books that teach empathy and truth? How dare we censor the realities of suffering against Black and Brown communities in America? As our history tells us, change will come, and these trends towards violence and oppression will trend back towards peace and respect.

In solidarity and awe,

Juliette