The history of the Mütter is worth mentioning here, mostly because it was an institution that began with physicians in mind, and not disabled people. In 1787, the College of Physicians of Philadelphia was established as a private medical society. In 1858, Philadelphia surgeon Thomas Dent Mütter (1811-1859) donated his personal “pathological collection” to the College with instructions on establishing a permanent museum (3). Together with donations from fellows of the college, the early Mütter included “gallstones, monsters and plaster casts,” as well as bones, “wet specimens,” and paintings, and came to include other objects and ephemera. Although the Mütter Museum started life as a teaching space for medical students, its purpose changed over the decades, and it was opened to the public. Since the 1980s, curators like Gretchen Worden and others have actively reshaped the museum into a “Disturbingly Informative” space for in person and online exhibits on medicine, illness, and disability (4). The Mütter does a great deal of public medical history programming, and collaborates with scientists (5). The museum also has notably collaborated with disabled people (for e.g.: Harry Eastlake, Carol Orzel, and Robert Pendarvis) to build exhibits displaying rare conditions (6). What is without question is that the museum has a devoted and committed fan base, who love its aesthetic and design, and visit frequently.
Earlier this year, the Mütter temporarily took down its online exhibits and resources while they conducted a review. It caused an uproar, spawning sometimes vicious social media debates and various articles. Online advocates against the changes at the Mütter have urged the museum to retain what they saw as its unique and “weird” character, to be more collaborative and open about review processes, and go so far as to suggest that the Mütter’s actions were contributing to public ignorance of disease and disability. Disabled advocates of the museum also spoke up, arguing that they had used the space to make sense of their own bodies, to see reflections of their experiences and selves in the exhibits. But perhaps what I have found truly distressing in the discourse around the Mütter Museum from many advocates is the unquestioned implication that they have some kind of “right” to use the bodies and body parts there. To say I have mixed feelings about this is an understatement. On the one hand, yes, public discourse on disability is routinely ableist, and museums can change the conversations on disability with sensitive and thoughtful exhibits. And I agree that it is important for those exhibits which were freely and actively donated to the museum by disabled people, like Henry Raymond Eastlake’s skeleton, to continue to be exhibited. But the Mütter has historically often been neither reflective nor sensitive in the ways it represented disability.