'I've often thought about how being a black woman impacts my dining experience, and wished that more critics understood that experience' — korshawilson
to recount his lifelong yearning to belong at the original Four Seasons — which “may never have been populist, but its Kennedy-esque aspirational vision was open to all” — declares that the Grill and its companion restaurant the Pool “are everything great about New York, a triumph of the New York a kid might dream about growing up in the hinterlands of Deep Brooklyn.”of the critics felt. Instead, I felt embarrassed by this nostalgia, and the fact that I had just participated in it.
While for some, Kennedy-era Manhattan is an inspirational time, calling to mind gleaming buildings and uncut optimism, for others, it represents a bleak period of misery and oppression. The original Four Seasons opened in the space in 1959, five years before the Civil Rights Act was passed, meaning I might not have been able to eat where the Grill now stands; in fact, it’s hard to imagine that this space would have been quick to welcome black diners even after the act was passed.
From being asked for a drink by white patrons to being told a different wait time for a table , restaurant dining rooms too often act in accordance with the same racial hierarchy as the rest of the world. I’ve been cut in front of as if I didn’t exist and been grabbed by a diner who thought I was ignoring her when she wanted another drink, or whatever she felt she needed at the moment.
Even my first visit to the Grill was a reminder that my skin didn’t fit in with the rest of the clientele. After angling in between groups of men in suits to order a Hemingway daiquiri with aged El Dorado rum, the bartender looked at me sideways and asked, “What do you do?” I lied and said I work in consulting. Apparently, I didn’t fit the profile of a Grill patron, or an aged-rum drinker.
In those moments, I want to ask the bartender why he responded to my drink order with a question about what I do for a living, just loudly enough to be heard by everybody around us, so they’d know what I’d experienced. But, as many black diners know, being in a dining space can often mean choosing between being ignored, interrogated, or assaulted. From
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