This or That: The Reluctant Executive: The Triumphs and Tolls of Early Museum Leadership
By: Neecole Gregory, M.A., NEMPN Committee Member
Like many other fields, the museum sector has long maintained a distinct mythology around the "rising star”, the ambitious Emerging Museum Professional (EMP) who successfully navigates the grueling entry-level landscape to achieve many feats early in their careers. For years, this was the defining metric of success, and it was the exact trajectory my own career took. However, a quiet but profound shift is occurring within the field. Many cultural institutions and museum organizations are noticing that young professionals are increasingly looking at executive leadership roles and actively choosing to step away. As someone who achieved the director title early in my career, and as an EMP who has decided I do not want to remain in this type of role, I see this not as a lack of ambition, but as a necessary reevaluation of how we sustain ourselves and our cultural institutions.
The Allure and the Reality of the Young Director
Stepping into a museum directorship in your twenties feels like a mandate to enact immediate, sweeping change. There is an assumption that reaching the executive level provides the leverage necessary to fix the historical inequities of the field. For those of us passionate about amplifying hidden histories and moving beyond traditional institutional walls, the director's chair initially looks like the ultimate tool for community empowerment.
The reality, however, is structurally different. Particularly within university or government-owned institutions (or really any non-museum parent organization), the work of a director is overwhelmingly administrative. The energy once dedicated to collections, community engagement, and innovative programming is quickly consumed by bureaucratic red tape, budget justifications, and socio-political navigation. The title grants authority, and may even look great on one’s resume, but it isolates the leader from the very hands-on, impactful work that drew them to the field in the first place. Frankly, I miss that hands-on work, and my staff will frequently find me looking for any excuse to get out from behind my desk to reconnect with the physical space and the people we serve.
While abandoning my office to assist with exhibitions or public programming might initially frame me as an exceptionally engaged and accessible leader, it introduces a complex set of operational dysfunctions. By consistently stepping back into frontline duties, I risk blurring the boundaries of delegation and inadvertently infringing upon the professional autonomy of my staff. This dynamic can unintentionally signal a lack of trust in their expertise, or conversely, create an environment where employees feel they can step back because the director is continually overcompensating on the floor. Furthermore, this kind of professional escapism fuels a growing, deep-seated resentment towards the essential administrative, financial, and political duties I am tasked with managing. Ultimately, trying to inhabit both the executive sphere and the practitioner role simultaneously does not make me a more effective leader; it simply ensures that I am perpetually overextended and accelerating my own path toward burnout.
Why the Next Generation is Stepping Back
The exodus of young professionals from leadership tracks is driven by a collective realization that the traditional executive model is fundamentally broken. We are a generation of museum workers acutely aware of the sector's labor issues. We advocate fiercely for equitable compensation, transparent hiring, and the end of unpaid emotional labor. Yet, when young professionals ascend to leadership, they often find themselves trapped between their advocacy principles and the rigid traditional constraints of their institutions, leaving them profoundly disconnected from the very work that inspired them to enter the museum field in the first place.
Young directors are frequently tasked with managing chronically underfunded organizations, burdened with the expectation to "do more with less." In practice, this breeds a martyr-like environment where the director is expected to sacrifice the most for the institution. It is a "rules for thee, but not for me" mentality in reverse: there is an unspoken demand that I be the hardestworking person in the building. This means getting in early, staying late, and endlessly stockpiling PTO and sick time that I swear I am going to use, but never actually do. It means quietly covering costs out-of-pocket in the mere hope of being reimbursed and carrying the heavy emotional weight of advocating for my staff even when they cannot or will not advocate for themselves.
The math simply no longer adds up for EMPs. The marginal increase (and depending on your museum’s size, I do mean marginal) in compensation rarely offsets the exponential increase in stress, burnout, and the emotional toll of trying to reform a resistant system from the inside. Many are looking at their older colleagues, those who have sacrificed their personal lives and well-being for their institutions and refusing to make the same trade.
Redefining Impact Over Titles
My dual perspective as a current director and an EMP charting a different path forward has clarified a vital truth: you do not need an executive title to be a leader in this field. In fact, for many, the executive title is a hindrance to the work that actually matters. On a deeply personal level, I am stepping away because I am simply not built for the bureaucracy and opaque politics of the administrative world. I am routinely asked to uphold policies and accept decisions that defy logic, where the only supporting argument is that "we have always done it this way."
Instead of engaging in the work I value, I am frequently pulled away from important community events, collections care, and inclusive projects. My time is instead spent defending financial justification memos to beg for basic funding or sitting in meetings being reprimanded. Recently, I was scolded because a museum social media post I made advocating against the use of AI-generated imagery with our copyrighted collections was viewed as undermining other departments and creating policies I supposedly lacked the authority to make. It feels as though I am running on a track that countless directors before me had run, and I can literally see their footprints sunken into the mud.
While I have been able to make numerous positive changes to my institution and see wonderful projects to completion, those victories have come at an unsustainable cost. The work has caused me profound mental, physical, and spiritual harm. I know that many of these accomplishments were only possible because I am a strong-willed director, and I have certainly earned a reputation within my organization as someone to be careful around. However, I am expending an immense amount of energy fighting to change a single institution from the inside out. While I value the (hopefully) lasting impact of my work in that specific community, I yearn for change on a broader scale. My ultimate goal is not to be anchored to one building's bureaucratic battles. I want to help as many communities, professionals, and people as I can.
Stepping away from the directorship is not an abandonment of the museum sector; it is a strategic repositioning. By opting out of the top administrative roles, young professionals are reclaiming their time and expertise to focus on localized impact, specialized curation, broader advocacy, and education.
We are choosing to be practitioners rather than politicians.
So, Should I Do This…or That?
Ultimately, my perspective is deeply shaped by my own story and the specific realities of my organizational structure. A director at a much larger institution, endowed with a different level of executive power and resources, might offer a completely different narrative. There is no denying the profound value of the director's chair. Being in a leadership role genuinely provides the authority to enact systemic changes, challenge outdated norms, and protect your staff in ways that are simply impossible from a lower-tier position. The positive impact you can have at the top is both real and deeply meaningful. I do believe that EMPs are looking at the museum field with fresh eyes and have the stamina to run the marathon required for change.
However, my journey also serves as a necessary warning for the ambitious emerging professional. A museum leadership role might be your ultimate career goal, but it is probably not a milestone you should strive to achieve early in your career. Rushing to the top often means sacrificing the formative, hands-on experiences that build a sustainable and fulfilling career, replacing them with bureaucracy and burnout before you have fully explored the field. Leadership is not a race. By pacing ourselves and focusing on the foundational work we truly love, we can ensure that when we are finally ready to take on executive roles, we have the resilience, wisdom, and energy to truly transform our institutions for the better… and know, deep down, that we really want to be there.