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Black History Month Celebrates the Strength of a People
By Robert Smith
Guest Column
Toledo’s African-American
population is an amalgam and a representation of citizens
from countries and communities representing an entire world
geography, and yet we are joined together by a common thread
simply known as the Motherland.
During this Black History
Month, we acknowledge the uncommon strength of a people… and
we acknowledge, regardless of the tribe, township or
cul-de-sac we come from, that we are all spiritually and
experientially connected.
We come from a beautiful
place; we come from the wombs of strong, inspiring and
protective women. We are the descendants of women who worked
two and three part-time jobs just to make sure their
children could go to school with their heads held high and
something warm in their bellies.
We come from the seeds of
robust men who found no job too hard or beneath their
dignity, as long as they could feed, clothe and shelter
their families. We come from men with hearty souls who would
“take it” if it meant their kids having an
opportunity to do better.
We come from no-nonsense
men and women of faith and conviction who said what they
meant and meant what they said and … only had to say it
once.
Wrapped in an undeniable
common experience our parents - their parents and their
parents/parents- witnessed and changed a country’s
posture toward a people. Those changes didn’t happen in a
day, or a decade. From as early as Harriet Tubman, Sojourner
Truth and Frederick Douglas, the mission never changed: to
better the circumstances of African Americans.
We are the descendants of
a pride, energy and determination which belied educational
or economic circumstances. It is chilling to think that the
fate of an entire race of people was in the hands of
individuals who, trudging through the dark of night toward
freedom, had little more than a dream and a determination.
Their thoughts and
emotions were so eloquently translated by Nina Simone many,
many years later as she uttered, “I wish I knew how it feels
to be free.”
We’re from the north, the
south, the east and West Africa. We are very broadly
defined as African Americans. When once upon a time
we were Colored, then Negro and in the 60’s we became
“Black.” But…I’ve come to learn… no matter the nomenclature,
we are one.
As early as the 1800’s
African Americans began migrating to this community.
Locally, we are the descendants of a people who – in 1919 –
saw a need to create a safe, clean environment for young
African-American women (primarily teachers) to live. It was
Mamye Randall [Duffy], Albertus Brown and Ida Foxx filling a
need and founding the Working Girls Home.
We are the descendants of
brilliant legal minds. It was early legal minds like
Albertus Brown, Lawyer Suttfield, Jess Heslip, who bred, J.
Slater Gibson, J.B. Simmons followed by Emmit Wheaton,
Robert Franklin, Robert Penn and Eddie Cole who in turn
elevated the genius of Terry Jones. We are a very proud of
our roots.
We are the descendants of
Emory Leverette, Zach Redden, Sylvester Hoffman, N. Ray
Jones, Dick Huston and dozens of others who insured young
African American college students (male and female) were in
place to run programs in the city parks to serve as role
models and examples for succeeding generations to know,
first, what it meant to work and be professional and,
secondly, get young minds to understand life was full of
promise and opportunity because…they had our back.
We are the descendants of
Althea and Arthur, but we are also the descendents of pure
athletic genius the likes of Roscoe Cumberland (Sr. and
Jr.), Bill Jones, Porter King, Ezra Moore, Emerson Cole, and
Tootie Grant who bred Odell [Barry], Shorty [Jim Goings] and
John Williams who bred Linda [Jefferson] and Myra [Waters]
and Jimmy [Jackson] and on and on and on. Toledo was once
the bedrock of stellar and professional athletes and we have
to thank our predecessors for … showing us how.
We know the center of
activity for Toledo’s African American community was
first the Frederick Douglas Community Association and
then the Indiana YMCA. It was at these two places where our
community was framed and strengthened. From these two places
men and women of every ilk not only pondered and
pontificated, but also made shared decisions about our
community’s direction.
There is a line in Anthony
Hamilton’s Christmas song, Home for the Holidays. He
never repeats the line, but for some reason, that single
phrase just jumps out. It says, “…we made the most of not
much at all.” That was our community. In many respects that
is our community today. Yesterday, we didn’t have much and
today we have more, but somehow… we have less.
We believe in the
potential that lies within our community, so much so we
chose, for lack of a better expression, a road less
traveled. In 2004, The African American Legacy Project
embarked upon a journey to begin to reclaim our fractured
history. From our very beginnings we looked to our past
seeking answers to, at least, a better understanding of,
problems perpetually infesting our community landscape. We
are not alone. There are so many, many others asking
the same or similar questions.
It is true, we are a
community under siege and while we don’t agree on
everything, we all seem to agree on those things that are
critically important. We’re all reading the same book;
maybe not the same chapter at the same time. Perhaps we just
need to challenge ourselves with a greater veracity. We only
need to look to our genesis for a more complete
understanding of self.
So this February we should
celebrate the indelible spirit of
a people. This February we should hold in reverence
and the highest of esteem those who offered us more than
hope. We should pay tribute to those who worked for
and delivered to us … a life better than they could
ever imagine experiencing.
Whether they are the
people near and dear to us or the thousands of nameless,
faceless men and women who stood strong in the face of
indignity with an uncompromising faith in pursuit of simple
decency; we should take the time to honor their struggles
and successes; their highs and lows and their laugher
through the tears. We should honor their unrelenting resolve
that things will be better.
Maybe during Black History
Month we should collectively light a candle to our ancestors
and for freedom; perhaps we will…. next year.
I wish I knew how
It would feel to be free
I wish I could break
All the chains holding me
I wish I could say
All the things that I should say
Say 'em loud say 'em clear
For the whole round world to hear
I wish I could share
All the love that's in my heart
Remove all the bars
That keep us apart
I wish you could know
What it means to be me
Then you'd see and agree
That every man should be free
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