Celebrating NY’s Emancipation Day

Today I went to St. Augustine’s, a church on the Lower East Side that has preserved two “slave galleries” from the early 1800s.  If you’ve read A Wish After Midnight, you know that Genna storms out of one such gallery when her white employers expect her to sit in the segregated area of their church.  Because the novel is speculative fiction, I took a few liberties with the narrative; I knew such segregation existed in white churches, but it’s possible that had stopped by the 1860s (especially since slavery in NY State ended in 1827).  In the 1820s, white parishioners were likely to bring their slaves and/or indentured servants with them on Sunday morning; in that particular area of Manhattan, there were two black neighborhoods, one consisting of free blacks, and slaveowners wouldn’t have wanted their property to “get lost” while they were busy praising the Lord.  I learned about St. Augustine’s from Girlgriot (check out her blog); today’s event was brought to my attention by Rev. Deacon Hopper, who gave a brief history of the church before we were taken up a very narrow, winding staircase to the men’s gallery (slaves/servants were separated by gender).  It’s interesting…reminded me of Monticello, and Thomas Jefferson’s efforts to use architectural innovation to HIDE slaves from sight—how distasteful, having to see the black hands that likely made the food or wine you were having for dinner!  The church’s galleries were designed so that slaves could see the sanctuary and hear the sermon, but white parishioners seated below wouldn’t have blacks’ unpleasant presence brought to their attention (blacks couldn’t be seen at all while seated).

I met some really nice people afterwards, including one gentleman who completed a family history and is now in awe of writers—“What stamina it takes!”  Yes, stamina and discipline.  And love…I remember meeting a favorite author once, and when I asked how her latest novel was coming she said, “It’s excruciating–so painful to write.”  And I was shocked; I would *never* write if it hurt.  Never.  Writing is thrilling and challenging but mostly fun for me; I really love what I do.  Anyway, the trains are totally jacked up today, but I finally got home and just watched Detroit burn…all the episodes of Eyes on the Prize are playing back to back on PBS.  I get SO riled up watching these films, but I just can’t help myself…