Whenever we look back, we’re not encountering the past in its raw form; we’re meeting it through the eyes of those who chose what to record, what to preserve, and what to pass on. Their choices shape the stories we inherit. Every source carries a viewpoint, every narrative has a tilt, and every retelling reflects questions and concerns that belong as much to the present as to the era being described. Yet it would be unfair to say that history is nothing more than personal perspective dressed up as fact.

This becomes especially clear when we consider how history has treated minorities. For centuries, whole communities found their experiences skimmed over, distorted, or erased, not because they were unimportant, but because power decided whose voices mattered. When stories are missing, societies lose more than detail; they lose truth, empathy, and the chance to understand the full richness of their own heritage. Restoring these overlooked voices doesn’t just fill gaps, it reshapes our understanding. It allows people to see themselves reflected where they were once invisible, and it encourages all of us to reckon more honestly with the world we’ve inherited.

Even so, history isn’t a free-for-all. The evidence left behind – letters, diaries, court records, ruins, census lists, artefacts, and countless other fragments – anchors interpretation. These traces act as guard-rails, keeping our reconstructions from drifting too far into fantasy. The past happened in particular ways, and while our understanding evolves, the underlying facts resist being bent beyond recognition. Historians listen carefully to the material they have, aware that fresh questions can bring new insights, and that each generation returns to the archive with different eyes.

Interpretation thrives in the spaces between those facts: in the motives we infer, the consequences we weigh, and the meanings we draw. Two people can study the same event and see different shades of significance, not because one is wrong, but because human experience is textured and complex. This isn’t a weakness; it’s a sign that history is alive and responsive to the needs and curiosities of each age.

So history lives in a delicate balance. It’s rooted in evidence, shaped by interpretation, and enriched by expanding the circle of voices allowed to speak. Its subjectivity doesn’t undermine it; rather, it encourages humility, compassion, and deeper listening as we try to understand who we are, where we’ve come from, and how the long human story continues to unfold.