Unmarking African American History in Philadelphia

This year marks the 400th anniversary of the arrival of the first enslaved Africans in colonial America. The first Africans arrived in Philadelphia circa 1639. Although the African American story cannot be told without Philadelphia, black history was largely excluded from public spaces. A chance conversation at a Kwanzaa celebration led me to sound the alarm about missing and damaged African American historical markers in Philadelphia.

There is power in remembering the past. Lonnie Bunch, founding director of the National Museum of African American History & Culture, recently wrote:

You can tell a great deal about a country and a people by what they deem important enough to remember, to create moments for — what they put in their museum and what they celebrate. … Yet I would suggest that we learn even more about a country by what it chooses to forget — its mistakes, its disappointments, and its embarrassments. In some ways, African American History month is a clarion call to remember. Yet it is a call that is often unheeded.

In Philadelphia, we have heeded the call to ensure the ancestors are not forgotten. During Black History Month, we are checking on the status of African American historical markers.

In an essay published in PlanPhilly, I wrote about the unmarking of African American history:

Philadelphia’s streets are lined with history. The blue and gold signs issued by the Pennsylvania Historical Museum and Commission mark everything from the oldest medical library in the U.S. at Pennsylvania Hospital to 300-year-old Elfreth’s Alley.

But before 1990, there were only two markers associated with African American history installed in Philadelphia: First Protest Against Slavery (1983) and St. Thomas’ African Episcopal Church (1984). To fill the gaping hole in the American story, in 1990 Charles L. Blockson, founder and then-curator of Temple University’s Charles L. Blockson Afro-American Collection, launched the historical marker project. The project was funded by a grant from the William Penn Foundation. In the introduction to Philadelphia Guide: African-American State Historical Markers published in 1992, Bernard C. Watson, Ph.D., then-president and CEO of the foundation, wrote: “The Philadelphia African-American Pennsylvania State Marker Project is a modest first step toward correcting one of the most egregious problems in Philadelphia public history. Philadelphia, the birthplace of our independence, home of the Liberty Bell, the first capital city of these United States, is so rich in historical detail that the absence of signs and signposts to recognize and commemorate the nearly 300-year presence of Africans and then African-Americans, has been especially troublesome. They, too, were and are part of our history.”

Then as now, gentrification was unmarking black history. Dr. Blockson wrote this about the origin of the project: “When the project began, it became apparent that Philadelphia, like other American cities, was losing places of historical significance through gentrification and neglect. It is our hope that through the installation of the African-American historical markers, we can preserve the remaining sites and revive memories of past events and citizens who lived before us and made positive contributions to our nation.”

Jessie Redmon Fauset was among the first wave of markers dedicated in the 1990s. Her marker was installed in front of the North Philadelphia house in which she was living at the time of her death.

The February 18, 2017 issue of the New Yorker included an article by literary commentator Morgan Jerkins, “The Forgotten Work of Jessie Redmon Fauset.” The piece revived interest in Fauset’s literary work. However, the accomplished writer was never forgotten in Philadelphia. On its 150th anniversary in 1998, the Alumnae Association of the Philadelphia High School for Girls elected Fauset to their Distinguished Daughters Court of Honor. She was the first African American graduate of the prestigious public school.

Although former Sixer and NBA legend Charles Barkley played on a different court, he, too, honored Fauset by naming her a “Philadelphia Black History Month All Star” in February 2018. A few months later, Jacqueline Wiggins found an ugly patch on the sidewalk where Fauset’s historical marker used to be.

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Election Day 2018

Election Day is Tuesday, November 6. Be careful how you vote.

As we know, stuff happens. So if you encounter problems at your polling place, call 866-OUR-VOTE.

Up Against a Brick Wall

Last week, Mural Arts Philadelphia unveiled Portraits of Justice, a public art project to engage ordinary citizens in conversations about transforming the criminal justice system.

Jeffrey Krimes and Russell Craig’s powerful murals overlook the statue of Frank Rizzo, a former police commissioner who had close ties with Italian mobsters and hung out at Black Mafia-owned joints on “The Strip” in West Philly. As mayor, Rizzo was sued by the U.S. Department of Justice for a pattern of police brutality that “shocks the conscience.”

The murals’ bricks represent barriers to reentry. With their close proximity to Rizzo, the background brings to mind the former police commissioner gloating that his officers ordered Black Panthers up against a brick wall and forced them to strip naked in front of the news cameras. The August 31, 1970 incident is one of the many reasons Rizzo is loathed by African Americans.

The murals are designed to empower the public to reimagine a criminal justice system that is more than “just us.” To my surprise, they helped me reimagine a Thomas Paine Plaza without the Rizzo statue. The sheer size of the murals and the facial expressions are a silent rebuke to the monument to racial injustice. Tellingly, the family-commissioned hunk of junk has to be caged to protect it from the public.

First Monday in October

Brett Kavanaugh expected to be ensconced on the Supreme Court by the first Monday in October, the start of a new term. Instead, he faces an FBI investigation of the allegations of Christine Blasey Ford and Deborah Ramirez.

On Friday, the Senate Judiciary Committee voted 11 to 10 to send Kavanaugh’s nomination to the full Senate. Although Sen. Jeff Flake joined in the party-line vote, he called for a one-week delay to allow the FBI time to conduct an investigation. President Trump said he will “let the Senate decide.”

The Senate Judiciary Committee decided on a “supplemental investigation” of limited scope:

The supplemental FBI background investigation would be limited to current credible allegations against the nominee and must be completed no later than one week from today.

The “credible allegations” do not include claims of Julie Swetnick who is represented by Michael Aventati, Trump’s archenemy.

The Senate will likely vote on the nomination on or about October 5. In the meantime, check out the big brain on Brett.

While Samuel L. Jackson thinks the mash-up is funny AF, he keeps it real.

No Goode Way

On May 13, 1985, I was living in San Francisco. On that day, a bomb was dropped on a row home on Osage Avenue occupied by 13 members of MOVE, a black liberation group based in Philadelphia. The bomb incinerated 11 African Americans, including five children.

I watched the horror unfold on TV. I was later horrified to learn a black mayor – Wilson S. Goode Sr. – gave the approval for the police to drop the bomb. He also said nothing as firefighters stood by and let the fire burn. In addition to the 11 lives lost, two city blocks were destroyed.

I now live in Philly. Anyone who has lived here longer than a minute knows African Americans remain traumatized by what Goode now dismisses as “one day.” Councilman Curtis Jones Jr. poured salt into an open wound when he quietly introduced a resolution to rename the 2400 block of North 59th Street after Goode. Jones didn’t bother to tell the residents he was renaming their street.

At the street renaming ceremony, Goode said he “accepts responsibility.” Really!? It happened on his watch. Goode is responsible for the senseless killing of 11 people. The little man then proclaimed:

I’m going to man up for what happened on May 13. …You will not define me by one day of my life. I am more than that.

Indeed, he is. He’s an arrogant “child of God” who thinks he can erase history and define his legacy.

Goode will forever be known as the mayor who bombed his constituents, some of whom are still living with the consequences of that fateful day. Milele Sullivan-Gailliard posted on Facebook:

All kinds of PTSD [Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder] symptoms continue with the neighbors. Until this day, if some of them hear helicopters, it causes rashes and hyperventilation. Many of them suffer from Insomnia and still have nightmares. Ramona Africa the only adult MOVE survivor recently had a stroke and was diagnosed with cancer. A cancer that is believed to be related to inhaling the smoke and fumes from the military grade C4 chemical incendiary bomb!

…

Another neighbor who was not a part of MOVE, who was only 15 at the time, was interviewed on the radio the next day after the street renaming for Mayor Goode, about how his family continues to be impacted by the crimes committed on that day by Governmental officials on hundreds of his neighbors.

Get this: The mayor of the poorest big city in the country said he will replace the sign if it is defaced or taken down. Jim Kenney will continually pour taxpayers’ money down the drain because it’s only a matter of time before the sign is defaced.

With memories of that “one day” still fresh in my mind, I think this is a more accurate representation of Goode’s legacy.

#NeverForget 9/11

Charlottesville: One Year Later

In the year since the deadly white-supremacist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, there has been a growing awareness that public art is about public memory. It matters whose story is told in public spaces. From Maryland to Texas, Confederate monuments have been taken down. It took Baltimore Mayor Catherine Pugh three days to send the Confederate monuments in “Charm City” packing.

Conversations about public memory and symbols of hate were also held “Up South.” The Pittsburgh Art Commission voted to remove the monument to Stephen Foster, the “Father of American Music,” who is memorialized with a barefoot slave seated at his feet.

A task force appointed by New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio ordered the removal of the statue of Dr. J. Marion Sims, who operated on enslaved African American women to develop advances in gynecological surgery.

In Philadelphia, calls grew louder for Mayor Jim Kenney to remove the monument memorializing Frank Rizzo, a former mayor. As police commissioner, Rizzo presided over a police department whose practice of beatings “shocks the conscience.” That was the finding of the U.S. Justice Department which, in 1979, filed an unprecedented civil lawsuit against the city over its abusive policing tactics.

On the eve of the first anniversary of Charlottesville, Kenney did an about-face and said the Rizzo monument would stay at the gateway to municipal services for at least two to three years. The Mayor claims he is concerned about “incurring additional costs” of $200,000. Truth be told, the police department will likely spend at least $200,000 quarterly guarding a monument to police brutality, racial bigotry and misogyny.

But get this: Kenney presides over a city government that spent $5 million on a computer system and has nothing to show for it. Also, City Controller Rebecca Rhynhart recently reported the city cannot account for a whopping $33 million in taxpayers’ money.

The Philadelphia Inquirer called out Kenney for his backpedaling:

Mayor Kenney has taken pains to publicly underscore the value of our city as welcoming and diverse. That’s a message undercut by the delay in moving the controversial statue that for some stands for oppression. That it was confirmed so near the anniversary of Charlottesville is sadly tone-deaf — especially at a time when better listening is critical.

Meanwhile, Frank Rizzo Jr. said that if his father’s statue is removed, “there’s going to be a fight.” Listen up, Junior: It’s on.