The protesters chanted as they lay in a roadway in Sylvania, their bellies and faces pressed to the ground.
“I can’t breathe!” they yelled again and again.
The group stayed like that for nine minutes, about the amount of time that George Floyd was pinned down by officers from the Minneapolis Police Department during an encounter with law enforcement that ultimately cost Mr. Floyd his life.
Standing above them was Mariah Coleman.
“Sorry, guys,” said the University of Toledo student, apologizing for allowing her tears to override her impassioned speech about the killing of Mr. Floyd. She took a moment to wipe away tears before continuing with her speech.
“Are we going to stop?” she shouts into the megaphone. “Hell no! They thought [protesting] was going to be over after the first week. We [are] not done!”
The date was June 11, and the rally that unfolded in Sylvania that day marked the sixth time that Ms. Coleman and a new activist group called Toledo Together staged a peaceful assembly denouncing the sort of systemic racial injustice that has become a flashpoint across the nation since Mr. Floyd’s death.
Toledo Together formed little more than two weeks earlier, seemingly one of several new activists groups that created in the Glass City amid a surge in nationwide protests.
Many of the groups and many of the demonstrations that have played out across the region have been led by individuals — mostly men — who are familiar faces in the region’s social justice circles.
But Toledo Together is somewhat unique in that it is led by largely by young African-American women.
And that leadership speaks to a long-established but oftentimes overlooked aspect of the fight for civil rights in America.
Women have always organized on the frontlines right alongside men, even if they haven’t always gotten the credit.
“I always think back to the civil rights movement and how you had Martin and Malcolm at the center of it,” Ruth Leonard, a local educator and leader of the Community Solidarity Response Network of Toledo, said.
“But there were women who for whatever reason were kept behind the scenes that were just as important for the movement. Now that we've had this shift of recognizing the importance of black women's voices and perspectives. I think that women can lead in a way that's just as impactful, which brings in a new demographic, brings in a new perspective, brings in a new way of looking at a problem.”
Toledo Together is made up of nine core members, most of whom are African-American women.
Along with Ms. Coleman, there is Zakiya Hatten, Carrington Ellison, Keeyawn Lasley, Jayla Few, Dominga Grace, and Alyssa Thomas, among others
They joined together after attending the protest outside of Toledo police chief George Kral’s home in early June. The women left the protest with the impression that it wasn’t geared toward manifesting concrete change for African-Americans in Toledo.
“We kind of noticed at one of the first protests that the person facilitating it wasn’t giving us what we wanted out of it,” Ms. Grace, who will be a UT senior this fall, said. “We ended up taking the person who was leading to the side and genuinely asking what was the purpose. When the chief came outside there were people clapping.
“It was like ‘why are we applauding him for coming out of his house when we’ve been here for 45 minutes?’ He’s coming out to get rid of us.” Ms. Grace said she felt like some protesters weren’t in attendance for the “right reasons,” saying some were taking pictures to post on social media.
“As a black woman in America we didn’t do this for glitz and glamour. This is not a joke to us,” she said.
Ms. Coleman felt the same way. The protest didn’t feel like it was meant to highlight black voices, issues, or concerns, she said, almost more like it was geared toward white participants.
“I felt like if they're here to fight for our lives, where we fear for our lives every day, they shouldn't have to be comfortable,” Ms. Coleman said.
Though it wasn’t intentional to have an organization led by mostly black women, the women of Toledo Together continue the long tradition of African-American women handling the on-the-ground organizing that propels liberation movements forward.
“I think that what we are seeing in the contemporary moment is just business as usual for black women,” Wendy Smooth, an Ohio State University associate professor in women’s, gender and sexuality studies, said. “Black women have always been leaders in revolutionary movements and social movements.”
Ms. Smooth said history has a tendency to only remember those who held the megaphones as leaders, and that simply obscures the true reality of those on the ground congregating the people.
“There's a movement afoot to define leadership differently,” she said. “And to think about leadership and the important work that has to be done to mobilize people. That shifts our attention away from simply those that are out front holding the microphones to thinking about those who are the architects of social movements.
“In terms of bringing people together, encouraging a network of people to connect, and encouraging people to take great risks. We know that for the black community in particular that has always been the work of black women.”
Ella Baker, for example, was a civil rights activist and a largely behind-the-scenes facilitator whose career spanned more than 50 years. She was a key figurehead in three of the most influential civil rights groups: the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, and Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. She spent the better part of her careering traveling from state to state galvanizing black people into fighting for their human rights.
“Her very leadership philosophy is expressed in a wonderful quote from her: ‘Strong people don’t need strong leaders,’” Ms. Smooth said. “Her whole strategy of leading was all about giving people the space to grow, the space to speak, the space to do their own thing, and they would come up with the solutions that were appropriate.”
Ms. Smooth also noted the work of Jo Ann Robinson, a central figure of the Montgomery bus boycott. Ms. Smooth said that without the willingness of black women to connect everyday black people there would be no movement to begin with.
“In every social movement you’re requiring people to take great risks by putting their bodies on the line to change the status quo,” she explained. “[Ms. Robinson] was the one who produced the actual flyers and made the phone calls way before King came to the table.
“Without Robinson we may not have seen the bus boycott executed the way it was executed.”
This current iteration of black women leadership in Toledo is embodying that very sentiment.
“Even with us nine, we want to make sure to keep it unconventional,” Ms. Grace said about not being beholden to an activist title. “I like the facilitator role. I don’t want to get caught up in labeling us an organization. I don’t want to get caught up in a name. I don’t want to get caught up in making T-shirts. I just want to make sure we’re able to voice the people and facilitate.”
Ms. Hatten voiced the same idea.
“It’s not just one voice,” she said. “That's why we call ourselves organizers, because we organize the space to bring everybody together and then we let them use their voice.”
Whilst young activists are cultivating spaces for their voices to be heard, they are inherently learning from those with years of organizing experience.
Ms. Leonard applauds the work the younger generation has showcased, and said that she can’t get enough of seeing more young women stepping up to lead demonstrations.
“They [Toledo Together] know their strengths. They know how to exist as a lawyer who is also a black woman, as a student who is a black woman, and as a teacher who is a black woman. I love to see the leadership that’s coming out in black women.”
Activists have similar ideas for what the next steps are. Toledo Together is focused on getting a seat at the table with policy makers, while Ms. Leonard is focused on amplifying the voices of the disadvantaged.
“Even the days we're not out here marching we're trying to do something every day,” Ms. Thomas said. “Whether that be like online education, providing other education materials, being on social media taking questionnaires, or conferences with like higher up officials and stuff like that so people see we are doing a lot of stuff behind the scenes.”
by Precious Fondren
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