Removing Penn’s statue from Welcome Park won’t hurt his legacy one bit

On Friday, the National Park Service sought public input on initial renovation plans for Philadelphia’s Welcome Park, located at Second Street and Sansom Walk. On Monday, the park service revoked its invitation after its proposal — which suggested the removal of a small William Penn statue and adding an “expanded interpretation of the Native American history of Philadelphia” — set off a national barrage of commentary.

I unequivocally support the park service’s move toward a redesign of the park’s current interpretation — statue or no statue. As an artist, I dedicated five years of research to Welcome Park, creating a site-specific performance/tour that spoke directly to the statue in question and surrounding design — what it does and doesn’t do.

I detail this not to claim the capital “T” Truth, but to provide my context and perspective in the rigamarole of this news cycle that will flame and die.

I’d like to address concerns and interpretations showing up repeatedly from politicians, newscasters, and across social media platforms, and move the “dialogue” around this Penn statue beyond the current fixation of removal vs. no removal.

Here are some misconceptions about what removing Penn’s statue from Welcome Park means.

William Penn deserves his place in Philadelphia’s story. He has one, many times over. Even if his statue were removed from Welcome Park, his icon would not be canceled; it’s ever-present.

Have you seen Penn’s statue atop City Hall? It’s more than 36 feet tall. What about the one at Penn Treaty Park? Oh, and how about the one outside Penn Hospital, which, coincidentally, is named after him, just like the state of Pennsylvania?

To claim the removal of one infrequently visited replica installed in 1982 is erasure or trying to “cancel William Penn out of whole cloth” (according to Republican state House Leader Bryan Cutler) is unfounded, overblown, and factually untrue.

I’m no Quaker, but I believe removing Penn’s statue would honor Penn’s wishes, and were he alive, he would advocate for it. Here’s why.

There’s evidence Penn didn’t love naming things after himself. He wanted the colony’s name to be Sylvania, Latin for “woods.” The British government insisted he call it “Penn’s woods” so there would be a formal record they had honored a debt they owed to Penn’s dad. When planning the city, William Penn Jr. named the five squares of his “greene country towne” Northeast Square, Northwest Square, and so on — not, in fact, after Washington, Franklin, Logan, and Rittenhouse, whose names were added later. I’d say Penn’s choices signal an aversion to public self-aggrandizement, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it extended to statuary.

(He did name the street Callowhill after his second wife, Hannah, and Pennsbury Manor after his patrilineal name … but we don’t like muddy answers, do we?)

While the bar for respectful founding colonist isn’t remarkably high, Penn deserves credit for his commitment to religious tolerance, and for trying to do right by the Lenape. You know who also deserves credit for the success of that peaceful relationship? The Lenape. But do we call the place where the treaty was made by its Lenape term, Sakimauchheen Ing? Or the anglicized Shackamaxon? No, we call it Penn Treaty Park, because a treaty is just about one person, isn’t it?

Instead, we should continue Penn’s legacy of peace by respecting Indigenous nations in the here and now, at this site. Include “the expanded interpretation of the Native American History” in the redesign. Consult with Indigenous nations (the Haudenosaunee, the Delaware Nation, the Delaware Tribe of Indians, the Shawnee Tribe, and the Eastern Shawnee Tribe of Oklahoma), as the park service is doing — statue or no statue.

Sure. Maybe we do. (But also, he lived in the Slate Roof House for only two years.)

You know who was also removed from their residence? The Lenape. By Penn’s sons, who were active players in the Walking Purchase of 1737, conning the Lenape out of a large portion of their homeland. If we claim to care about respecting residence, we had best apply that standard across the board.

Losing sight of a straight, newsworthy narrative? Now we’re getting somewhere.

It’s easier to blame the government for making the right or wrong choices than it is to roll your sleeves up and engage with the sometimes boring — but revealing — messy histories of our city and nation. Let the park service honor the complex stories we deserve.

Jenna Horton is an artist and writer based in Lenapehoking/Philadelphia