Philly’s Black history can be seen through its landscape

The seeds of Black History Month were planted by historian Carter G. Woodson in 1926 — but to him, it was just a week, and not meant to be the only time people considered Black history. Rather, for him, “Negro History Week” was a time to emphasize “what has already been learned about the Negro during the year.”

That, of course, didn’t happen, even when the week was expanded to a month in 1976. Today, too many American educators have come to think of February as the one time of year to highlight the Black experience.

Fortunately, students in Philadelphia’s public high schools have had the privilege of spending an entire year studying Black history since a mandate was passed in 2005 making African American history a graduation requirement. I taught the course at Masterman from its inception until I left teaching in 2013. Since then, I’ve continued to read and write about Black history, with an emphasis on the Philadelphia experience.

I’ve been particularly interested in how that history — much of which has received increased attention in recent years — is reflected in the landscape. Whether through the many blue and gold historical markers sprinkled throughout the city or as a full-fledged monument such as the Octavius V. Catto memorial at City Hall, Philadelphia’s terrain is full of information about the long and continuing presence of Black Philadelphians.

Consider Richard Allen. Born enslaved to Benjamin Chew, chief justice of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court, Allen later bought his freedom and became a Methodist preacher in late 18th-century Philadelphia, then the national center of free Black life. Along with Absalom Jones, Allen founded the Free African Society, a mutual aid society that was one of the first independent Black organizations in the United States.

After being part of a group of Black worshippers forced to sit in a balcony at St. George’s United Methodist Church (still an active congregation at Fourth and Vine Streets), Allen purchased a lot at Sixth and Lombard Streets in 1794 that has been home to what became known as Mother Bethel African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church. No other property in the nation has been Black-owned for such a long time. The name of the church is a reference to its being home to the AME denomination of Christianity, a sect that has spread throughout the country and the world.

A remarkable leader, Allen has long been honored in the Philadelphia landscape. The city’s first federally funded public housing project, the Richard Allen Homes, was built in 1939. Historical markers for Mother Bethel and the Free African Society were installed at Sixth and Lombard in the early 1990s, thanks to an effort by the late Black history visionary Charles Blockson.

To commemorate the bicentennial of the founding of the AME denomination, in 2016 a statue of Allen was installed at the corner of Sixth and Lombard, and a large mural of Allen was painted at 38th and Market Streets.

An additional mural recently unveiled on Washington Avenue in South Philly includes Allen and other members of the Colored Convention, first organized by Allen in 1830, the last months of his life. The meeting of Black leaders aimed to find ways to improve the lives of African Americans. Colored Conventions continued to be held until the 1890s, and eight of them took place in Philadelphia. The mural depicts Allen perched atop a triangle-shaped pantheon of Colored Convention leaders and participants.

Most significant to me personally — as a resident of Allens Lane in Mount Airy — a block of Allens Lane (named for William Allen, a Philadelphia mayor and an enslaver) was renamed Richard Allen Lane in February 2022. Eight months later, our SEPTA Regional Rail station was renamed Richard Allen Lane Station. There is poetic justice in the fact that this station is situated mere blocks from Chew Avenue, a street named for Allen’s enslaver.

These alterations to the landscape may seem insignificant, but as Pennsylvania State Rep. Chris Rabb said at the dedication ceremony for Richard Allen Lane: “When we take time to research our history, it gives us a chance to reflect and correct choices made with the inclusion or consideration of a diversity of stakeholders. We must closely examine the history we choose to memorialize and honor, especially versions of the past validated by false narratives that marginalize the value of Black people and other communities of struggle.”

This Black History Month, and all year long, I hope you’ll join me in seeking out, and perhaps even advocating for, reflections of Philadelphia’s African American experience in our city’s landscape.

Amy Jane Cohen is the director of education for History Making Productions and a frequent contributor to Hidden City Philadelphia. Her first book, “Black History in the Philadelphia Landscape: Deep Roots; Continuing Legacy,” was published by Temple University Press this month.