Kente Cloth

I live on Manhattan’s upper eastside across the street from Gracie Mansion,  the beautiful 1799 Federal- style house that overlooks the East River and is the residence of New York’s mayor and his family.

On any given day I might see cops,  TV cameras, and angry protesters in front of the Mansion,  or buses dropping off tourists,  or dignitaries arriving in limos.

And just as often I might see happy crowds,  dressed in their finery and leaving the Mansion after a gala event.   One evening some months ago it was the latter.

As I was walking home I saw dozens of people spilling out of the mansion,  many dressed in beautiful African garb – the women in caftans with matching head wraps and scarfs,  the men in colorful tunics and shirts and kufis.

Our city has the largest African community in the nation,  and I remembered this was the night the mayor had hosted an African Heritage Reception for 1,000 men and women from 50 countries.

The crowd was jubilant,  laughing and talking,  and I couldn’t help stopping one young man as he walked by.

”How was the reception?”,  I asked him.

”It was marvelous,”  he said,  “there were people from so many countries,  and inspiring speakers,  and great music,  and excellent food –  you must come yourself next year!”

”Thank you,”  I  said,  “but I’m not African”,

”It’s no matter,”.   he said,  “it’s such a wonderful event,  you’d be most welcome!”

Did I tell you I ❤️  New York?

– Dana Susan Lehrman 

The Lady with the Torch

Like many New Yorkers I’m sure,   I don’t take in the local sights unless out-of-towners are in town!   So when friends from China were visiting recently we decided to take them to the Statue of Liberty where I probably hadn’t been since I was a school kid.

Tickets to tour the pedestal or climb the crown were sold out,  apparently it’s always tourist season in New York and you have to book well in advance.  But we were able to get tickets for a recorded,  self-guided tour around the statue that was available in many languages.   Our friends listened in Mandarin,  and we all found it fascinating.

We were reminded that the Frenchmen who gave us the statue in tribute to our nation’s democratic principles were themselves embittered by the unfulfilled goals of their own revolution – France in the 19th century was again ruled by a monarch,  Napoleon III.   But how many of our own grand,  revolutionary ideals have long gone unrealized?

Our country,  created in the 1770’s as a haven from an oppressor was itself a slave-holding nation,  and would be for another century.   And indeed it’s legacy of systemic racism is with us still.

And what about the rights of women?   This statue,  the most recognizable symbol of liberty,  was crafted in the image of a woman,  and the poem indelibly linked to it was written by a woman.  Yet when the Statue of Liberty was dedicated in 1886,  women were not allowed to attend the ceremony,  nor did American women have the right to vote.   It was over 30 years later,  when my own mother was two years old,  that the 19th Amendment was ratified,  as stunning as that sounds.

After the ferry ride back to Manhattan we walked out of Battery Park and passed the National Museum of the American Indian,  a reminder of another ugly chapter in our country’s history,  another legacy at odds with those lofty revolutionary goals.

Yet despite all that’s far from perfect in our country today,  when I’d come home from a trip abroad I’d often feel like kissing the ground at Kennedy Airport.   May that still be true.

Feng,  Danny,  Me.  and John at the Statue

– Dana Susan Lehrman 

My time as a Playboy centerfold
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