My formal introduction to Dunbar High School was in
2006. I had an interest in
visiting this prestigious institution, one of the many black institutions in
Washington, D.C. that my grandfather would talk about when I visited him at his
home in LeDroit Park, simply to soak up the history of its hallowed halls. Upon arrival to the address listed on
the school’s webpage, I was greeted by a stark, ominous 1970s school building,
one that in no way resembled the image of Dunbar that I had fashioned in my
mind – red brick, white trim. I
was immediately pushed by questions to understand what I was seeing: “What is this? When did this happen? Who thought this was a good idea?” My research was also pushed by early
assumptions: “Clearly this was not something the community wanted, this was
forced upon the community by an outside agent.” When I set upon the task of answering the questions and
buoying my assumptions, I discovered that not only was I wrong about the agents
of change, but that in a particular time and place – post-riot Washington D.C.
– the design of the 1970s Dunbar school represented a new form of Black
power. This new form appropriated
the leading avant-garde designs promoted by architecture and educational journals,
while espousing a rhetoric of change and egalitarianism that was very important
in the transitioning politics of Home Rule in the nation’s capital. I was overwhelmed and fascinated by the
conversations about the meaning of design that were happening in the African
American community. This was the
type of dialogue that I longed to hear about, but rarely was exposed to in my
formal architectural education.
