“When most people think of archaeology, they think of huge reptiles buried beneath the ground and great rulers hidden in triangular castles in the sand.”
I stood behind a lectern at the National Museum of China. There were more than fifty attendees before me this time. No one took notes. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the covered dais.
“We’re not just uncovering physical relics of the past, we are uncovering the stories of the marginalized, the minorities, the underrepresented. The history books are written by the victors. But sometimes they lie. Sometimes they get the story wrong. Sometimes they leave out the details.”
I winced as I leaned too far forward against the lectern. My wound had healed. The skin had knitted itself back together in a day. But a phantom pain remained two weeks
