The City of Toledo, Institutional Racism and the Exclusion of Black Urban Farmers

By Carla Thomas

Truth Contributor

The controversy surrounding the Al Peake & Sons pop-up market is bigger than carrots and collard greens. It exposes how the City of Toledo repeatedly makes decisions for Black communities without meaningfully involving the people already living, working, investing and building within them.

This is what institutional racism looks like. It does not always announce itself with racial slurs or openly discriminatory policies; sometimes it looks like a “community-centered” project designed without the Black businesses already serving that community.

The Real Issue Is Not the Pop-Up

This is not an argument against bringing fresh food into the neighborhood. The issue is that the city created a produce market in the heart of a Black community while overlooking thriving Black urban farmers already operating nearby.

SONIA Organics, located at 619 Woodland Avenue, is approximately 2.3 miles from Swayne Field Shopping Center. Johnson Produce Market [David Johnson, owner/operator], located at 524 Pulaski Street, is approximately 2.7 miles away. Mighty Organics [Thomas Jackson, owner/operator], located at 1489 Milburn Avenue, is barely a mile away.

These farmers did not suddenly appear when funding became available. They have served this community through its struggles, setbacks, and seasons of neglect. They built their businesses from the ground up, often while fighting for land, resources, recognition, and basic institutional support. They are not merely selling produce here. They are invested here.

Who Benefits from the Community’s Money?

The city committed approximately $150,000 to this 10-week pilot project.  And Black folks’ money will leave this neighborhood and benefit three non-local families:

Keil’s Produce & Greenhouse — Swanton, Ohio.

Laux Farms — Monclova, Ohio.

Bauman Orchards — Rittman, Ohio.

This is laughable. Black dollars will leave the Black community to help build these farms, support these families, put their children through college and help fund whatever dreams they have for the next generation.

And to everyone who keeps referencing the RFP, you’re missing the point. The city designed an RFP seeking one vendor capable of planning, launching, operating, and evaluating the entire market, including distribution, staffing, food safety, merchandising, payment processing, and reporting.

Even if the Black urban farmers had seen the RFP, the whole structure favored a large, established operation. The city claims, “We remain committed to uplifting our small, local businesses.” I call BS. If that commitment were real, why didn’t the city create a model that allowed local farmers to provide the produce while another organization handled the market’s operations? The RFP included paperwork for primary contractors and subcontractors, yet it did not require the selected vendor to partner with, purchase from or subcontract with neighborhood growers.

In other words, this entire model was never designed with local growers in mind. Our Black farmers were not merely overlooked during the bidding process; they were excluded when the city decided what the project would look like. 

So, my question is why would the city create a project that required one entity to do everything instead of designing one that built local capacity, divided the opportunity among urban farmers, and kept the money circulating within the community?

Because the City Sees US as a Project, Not a Partner

I’ll tell you why. Because the city does not see the Black community as equal contributors, business owners and taxpayers worthy of real investment. It sees us as a project, people who need someone to ride in on a white horse and save us.

When I stopped by the Al Peake Pop-Up Market on opening day, the whole aesthetic was giving mission trip to the inner city: “Let’s bring the poor Black folks some nice fresh fruits and vegetables.”

Meanwhile, thriving Black farmers are operating less than three miles away from the location.

Now Make This Make Sense

After the community raised questions, the city apologized, saying the RFP “didn’t reach many farmers and food producers who may have been eligible” and called the situation one of the “hiccups” of a new program.

Hiccup my arse.

Roslyn Clemens, the city’s chief of housing and neighborhood sustainability, told The Toledo Blade:

“We didn’t do any outreach … We didn’t do any outreach prior, to make sure as many people [knew].”

But Philip Peake told The Blade that the city reached out to him directly:

“It was about a year, maybe even a year and a half ago, that they reached out, mentioning that they’re redeveloping that plaza.”

So, which is it? The city did not outreach, yet it reached out to an outside vendor as much as a year and a half ago. A year-long process is not a hiccup, and it is not an RFP that simply “didn’t reach” enough people. The city knew how to reach the business it wanted.

You claim to remain committed to uplifting our small, local businesses and removing barriers that prevent them from competing, yet you created the biggest barrier: local farmers cannot compete for an opportunity they were never told existed and that was never designed for them in the first place.

What Happens Now?

In its apology, the city announced that it would “course-correct” by opening an opportunity for additional local food producers and providers to participate in the remaining Saturday events through the end of October. 

This is not inclusion. This is afterthought and crumbs. You want to now invite Black urban farmers in after the contract has been given to a white company and white non-local farmers and call it good.

WE DO NOT ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY CITY OF TOLEDO

This cannot end with a Facebook apology, a few late invitations, or another promise to “do better.” The community deserves a public forum, full transparency, and direct answers.

• Who decided that this was the best use of $150,000? 
• How does this project benefit the Black community beyond giving us another place to spend our money? 
• Where in the plan is there any real investment in the people, businesses, and resources already here? 
• Why is our money always good enough to spend, but our businesses are never good enough to invest in?

BLACK PEOPLE: Stop mistaking access for inclusion. Giving us a place to spend our money is not investing in us. A market placed in a Black community that sends dollars somewhere else is not community development. It is extraction dressed up as service. We don’t need another project brought in to save us. We need investment in what has already been built.

Opinion: Build a Bridge Not a Bypass

By Rev. Donald L. Perryman, Ph.D.

The Truth Contributor

“Sometimes ‘they’ forget about us, but ‘WE’ will lift us up.” – SONIA Organics, Produce Party flyer, September 2026

Swayne Field re-opened Friday in Toledo’s Englewood neighborhood, carrying a nearly $3 million city investment, a ribbon and a grand-opening banner. Much of the African American community felt disrespected despite the dire need for access to affordable, nutritionally rich and culturally significant food.  

Sonia Flunder-McNair decided to throw her own celebration in response — three food trucks, a DJ, same neighborhood, same weekend, same hours, and a caption that reads less like an invitation and more like a verdict: “Sometimes ‘they’ forget about us but ‘WE’ will lift us up.” 

When the city doesn’t call your name, you make sure somebody does. That was the point;

The Ones Already Here

Flunder-McNair has grown food and run wellness programs out of her Woodland Avenue urban farm for years, partnering with the city itself on land-bank projects and with the University of Toledo on community health work. David Johnson built Johnson Produce Market out of a truck into a central city institution that has fed this neighborhood since 2007, through the years the big grocers packed up and left. Thomas Jackson spent three central-city lots and 20 months in court proving his own backyard produce wasn’t a public nuisance — after the City of Toledo prosecuted him for growing it. An appeals court threw out his conviction in 2018. By 2024, the U.S. Department of Agriculture was touring his beds near Auburn Avenue, calling his work a model for the nation’s food system.

Each of these three have provided a strong template for addressing Englewood and Junction’s food-access problem. They needed the city to get out of the way, or better yet, to walk alongside them. For years, it did neither.

The Bridge Toledo Already Had

Instead, the city signed a nearly $3 million contract with Al Peake & Sons and Daughter Too Food Service. This Toledo food distributor has moved product in the city since 1949 and opened the Swayne Field Pop-Up Produce Market at the refurbished Swayne Field Shopping Center.

Roslyn Clemens, the city’s chief of housing and neighborhood sustainability, told The Blade the market would give residents “greater access to affordable, nutritious food in a welcoming setting close to home.” Nobody disputes exactly that, and Al Peake’s 50 years of grower relationships are a real asset. None of that is the problem.

What the city already had — and didn’t use — was Sonia, Johnson and Jackson themselves. I’ve been asking Toledo for a bridge like this since 2015. Not a pop-up — an inclusive healthy food overlay district, a zoning tool that would guarantee our neighborhoods lasting access to nutritious, affordable, and culturally significant food, built with the people already feeding this community instead of around them. That proposal has been slow-walked for over a decade. 

Toledo’s food policy manager, Mara Momenee, spent three hours back in March gathering Toledo growers to help shape exactly this kind of decision. The city already partners with SONIA Organics on land-bank work. Every mechanism this city needed to bring Sonia, David Johnson and Thomas Jackson into a $3 million investment already existed before Swayne Field’s plans were drawn. None of it touched this project. Sonia learned about a market built to solve the problem she’s already solving the same way the rest of us did — from a newspaper.

Bridge, Not Bypass

Al Peake & Sons isn’t wrong for taking this contract. The city is wrong for handing it over without an inclusive, equitable second call — choosing corporate infrastructure over Sonia’s years on Woodland Avenue, over Johnson’s truck-turned-institution, over Jackson’s decade fighting the city’s own courts to prove his soil wasn’t a crime.

Martin Luther King Jr. saw this same choice in Montgomery’s empty buses in 1955. The boycott was never really about one bus company — it was Black Montgomery deciding where its dollars would and would not go. Passive acceptance, he wrote, is complicity with injustice. 

 Black America carries $2.1 trillion in buying power and still owns just 3.4 percent of the nation’s employer businesses — money moving through our hands on its way to other communities. The typical Black family holds 15 cents of wealth for every dollar the typical white family holds. That gap did not happen by accident. It happened by choices, made over and over, one Swayne Field at a time.

Some in this community are already calling for a boycott of Swayne Field. I am adding my voice to it. Not out of spite toward Al Peake & Sons, and not forever — until the City of Toledo recognizes the growers who were already doing this work and brings them in as full partners, not an afterthought. 

Shop Sonia’s tables, Johnson’s stand, and Jackson’s beds — and keep shopping them after the cameras leave. Ask Swayne Field when it plans to do the same for the growers left out. 

Spend your money like you know the difference.

Contact Rev. Donald Perryman, PhD, at drdlperryman@centerofhopebaptist.org

Opinion: Colonized: The Economics of Criminal Justice

By Rev. Donald L. Perryman, Ph.D.

The Truth Contributor

“The dark ghettos are social, political, educational, and — above all — economic colonies.” — Kenneth B. Clark

Every office in Lucas County found a way to tighten its belt this year — except the two that already eat first and eat most.

But let’s start with the good: Lucas County is safer than it’s been in 30 years. Homicides are down 18 percent. Shootings are down almost 30 percent. And when the Lucas County commissioners asked every county office to cut 13 percent, or at minimum hold flat, most of them did. 

The prosecutor and the sheriff both more than pushed back — saying the demand itself was out of line. And next year, for the first time, the county’s community funding line — the grants to those on the ground keeping people safe — isn’t shrinking. It’s gone.

Everybody Cut Back But Them

Public budget filings plainly show that 70 percent — a full 70 cents of every general fund dollar in Lucas County — goes to the criminal justice system. Nobody’s disputing that this isn’t necessary and important work. What’s troubling, though, is the assumption that the system is owed whatever they ask, while everybody doing the actual work of catching people before they fall through the cracks gets told there’s nothing left.

Prosecutor Julia Bates asked for $371,000 more than last year. Sheriff Mike Navarre wants a 10 percent larger budget, another almost $5 million. His staff got nine percent raises last year. He’s back asking for six percent more, while community organizations doing violence and other prevention work that actually move the declining crime numbers — are told, “Sorry. We can’t help you.” 

Meanwhile, caseworkers at Job and Family Services who hold the actual floor together — the people families call when the lights are about to get shut off, or when your Big Mama raising three grandkids can’t stretch a SNAP benefit that already tells her what she can and can’t buy. Federal cuts have shifted a fifth of SNAP funding nationally onto states, projected to cost Ohio hundreds of millions a year. Ohio’s own budget already cut food program funding by a quarter. None of that shows up as a line item — it shows up as a caseworker carrying more files than the job was designed for, working through lunch just trying to keep the families already in crisis from disaster because of personnel cuts or unfilled job vacancies. 

The Common Pleas Court, which actually met its target, only by eliminating six positions and cutting weekend drug testing. Yet, the Board of Lucas County Commissioners still must find roughly $4 million to keep administering SNAP and cash assistance to the 69,000 residents who depend on them, after Washington cut its share of a cost the state and county used to split. 

Even then, JFS and community organizations didn’t demand more this year. They’re doing more with less. They are asking, in effect, to keep doing the job with the tools they already have — while the criminal justice system asks for a raise nobody else is getting. 

A Matter of Entitlement

The criminal justice apparatus has become its own economy: contracts, overtime, equipment, new hires, growing every year whether crime rises or falls. Yet, the funding ask still gets larger. From where I sit, there’s only one word for that. Entitled. The sheriff traded a two-year-old Jeep for a brand-new personal-use Ford Explorer this year—a mere drop in the bucket of its fifty-million-dollar budget. But small numbers like that never sit in the departments that have to go without. 

Meanwhile, the folks catching kids before the streets do and rescuing families one missed payment from going hungry — they’re being cut out or asked to hang on by a thread, while the system calling itself the last line of defense asks for millions more.

That’s not fair, and it ain’t right!

The prosecutor and sheriff will get their day at the microphone September 15. Let them make their case. But somebody needs to ask why the community folks doing the critical work on the ground are forced to fight over crumbs while the folks carrying the gavel and wearing badges are asking for heaping seconds.

Psychologist Kenneth Clark called our community a colony someone always profits when a system is built to extract instead of invest — to take from our plate so somebody else’s already crowded pantry stays full.

The only question left is whether our community keeps paying it quietly.

The community needs to show up to the public hearing on September 15. Bring both your voice and your anger. 

Contact Rev. Donald Perryman, PhD, at drdlperryman@centerofhopebaptist.org

The Lucas County Commissioners have asked all departments which cannot meet the 13 percent budget cut to present their case to the Commissioners at the regularly scheduled meeting starting with the September 15 session – 11 a.m. to 1 p.m.

Sisters 4 Unity hosts the Fourth Annual Communities Against Gun Violence March and Unity Day

By Dawn Scotland

The Truth Reporter

Sisters 4 Unity held its fourth annual Communities Against Gun Violence March and Unity Day at Smith Park Saturday, August 22. The free community event featured food, music, games, community resources and more in a day of remembrance for Issac Carpenter, Jo’Von Porter, Christopher Kinnebrew and Treasure Wiley who were lost to gun violence.

The Sisters 4 Unity organization was formed in December 2022 out of love, legacy, tears and unity. The organization is led by four mothers, Abena Rowland, LaShawnda Kinnebrew, Jannell Ector and Aviance Hill, who have all experienced the insurmountable pain of tragically losing their sons to gun violence and were determined to take action against the senseless precious lives being taken from us daily.

Ector emphasized the importance of this year’s event “This is the fourth annual community day and its very special for us, because we have four sons, which is what started this. So we are out here representing our four loved ones,” she stated.

“We are here in the community and we want to bring a peaceful and a healing event. Bring the entire family out. We are here for you. We are boots on the ground. If we can will do anything we can to help a victim, a survivor, or change one person’s mind so that no other family feels what we go through every day,” she continued. 

Abena, Aviance, LaShawnda and Jannell stand to bring about advocacy, change, policy, education, compassion, communication, and above all else, assist with preventing further violence. Together all four mothers united with the Sisters 4 Unity volunteers from all walks, work bravely to support survivors and victims while aiding in the fight to stop violence in the community.

The mission of the group is to stir courage, amplify voices, and kindle solace for survivors and victims of violence, while forging a path toward a safer future.

The march began at 10 a.m. at Scott Park with events continuing until 3 p.m. Those who marched included local officials, community members, organizations, dance troops, car clubs and the families of those who have been lost to gun violence in the community. 

Ector shared a message from Sisters 4 Unity: “Stop and think. Three seconds can change the trajectory of your life and everyone else’s around you. Please remember, when these things are happening, it’s not just the victim that is victimized it is also the victim’s family. Then your family. So you should stop and think,” she shared.

To learn more about the organization visit their social media page on Facebook. 

Opinion: Black Naval Hero? That’s Wokeism!

By Lafe Tolliver, Esq

Guest Column

     Well, for all of you present day Black Republicans (an anachronism?) you must be shouting for joy that the Navy, under the racist auspices of Pete Hegseth who disdains anything that remotely smacks of Black Americans being seen as authentic Americans, is up to his old tricks.

      This time, Petey, behind the scenes, is testing the waters of not naming an aircraft carrier after the naval hero, Doris (Dorie) Miller, whose heroic actions at Pearl Harbor brought him the honor of being the first Black American to be awarded the Naval Cross for bravery.

     If you do not know the name, Google it. A movie, starring Cuba Gooding Jr., was made about his heroic struggle against racism in the 1940’s where Black men served as mess servants and janitors on naval ships.

     Just so happens that smothering racism did not drown out his spirit of being, “all he could be” while serving in subservient roles.

     Doris Miller, who had never fired a anti-aircraft weapon, put on his Superman cape when his ship was attacked by Japanese fighter planes and rushed to the desk and manned a battle station gun system and shot down a marauding Japanese plane.

    Risking his own life for others, Doris Miller took his oath of service seriously and ran to the gunfire from his mess quarters and took up arms against the invading planes.

      No one told him to…no one ordered him to…Doris Miller, with a sense of patriotism; with pride in his uniform and country, saw the urgent need and answered the call.

     When the dust settled and the Navy and then the public heard and saw what this Black man did, the sentiment against Blacks serving in the Navy suddenly turned in their favor. 

     Of course, it was not until Truman signed the executive order in1948 that the armed forces were desegregated, but Doris Miller’s unhesitating commitment to the battle was a hot plate against the rabid racists of his day who said Blacks were not mentally fit for combat.

     Now Petey Hegseth wants to excise that important history from the annals of American combat history by suggesting, out loud, that the aircraft carrier should be possibly named for a 34-times convicted felon, an adjudged sexual abuser and a man who repeatedly lies about the results of the 2020 Election and every other matter.

     By now, you know that odious name: Trump. Trump, a five-time draft dodger due to “bone spurs” in his feet, has pined for a ship to be named after him and do you think that at his age of 80, he would defer to the ship being named after a real war hero?

    Answer: do chickens have lips?…do snakes have hips?

This debate as to the naming of this ship started during the first Trump administration when Doris Miller’s name was the accepted for the new battleship aircraft carrier…but fast forward to the present.

    Trump, who even has visions of being on Mount Rushmore, and is now engaged in a series of building projects that have or will bear his name (if not stopped) has not said no to his name being swapped in for Doris Miller.

    What an effrontery to the memory of Doris Miller and his living family members to see racism being allowed to dictate the course of past Black History.

     But…this is what those who decry D.E.I. and “wokeism” want all along and that is to kneecap any historical record that places front and center the accomplishments and exploits of people of color.

     Petey Hegseth, the former Fox News commentator and who plays a soldier on television, is intent on erasing all of the Black history he can from his vantage point as Secretary of Defense (n.k.a. Secretary of War).

If you want to protest this outrageous act of historical regression, you can contact the Navy at: Office of the Secretary of Navy, 1000 Navy Pentagon, Room 4D652, Washington, D.C. 20350.

    Let them know that you stand with Dorie Miller being honored with his name on that aircraft carrier.

Contact Lafe Tolliver at lafe5x@gmail.com

Toledo Faith Leaders Sign Covenant in Support of Education and Central State University

By Fletcher Word

The Truth Editor

Education matters. Higher education matters and higher education within the halls of our HBCUs matters a great deal to the Black community.

Local faith leaders came together on Thursday, August 20, at the Historic Third Baptist Church to sign a Covenant Supporting Excellence in Education. Specifically, the faith leaders acknowledged the historical importance of Ohio’s only public historically Black college or university – Central State University – and the critical importance that particular institution has had for the local community over the decades.

We publicly affirm our wholehearted support of the Central State University Day [Weekend] Initiative.

The faith leaders covenant creates a path forward for continued collaboration among Toledo’s faith community, schools, non-profit organizations, community institutions and Central State University to support students and to help them recognize the opportunities that institutions such as CSU can offer.

We pledge to encourage our congregations to celebrate education as both a spiritual calling and a community responsibility.

Central State has encountered some financial challenges in recent years. Last year, the Ohio Department of Higher Education put CSU on fiscal watch, citing multiple financial discrepancies. It was the third time since 2005 that Ohio’s only public HBCU was placed on a fiscal watch. 

This past academic year, CSU cut 16 faculty positions in order to comply with Advance Ohio Education Act requiring public universities to eliminate programs that have graduated fewer than five students over a three-year period – the majority of the cuts were in the humanities department. 

Those reductions followed a cut of 33 staff positions and seven faculty jobs in 2025 after having been placed on fiscal watch  by the Ohio Department of Higher Education.

The covenant initiative has been organized primarily by Robert Smith and the African American Legacy Project, along with Third Baptist Church, Toledo Public Schools, Owens Community College, HOPE Toledo and UMADAOP of Lucas County.

 We will actively encourage students, parents, grandparents and families to consider Central State University and the life-changing opportunities made possible through higher education.

“By signing this covenant we are demonstrating our commitment to education, opportunity, leadership and the future of our youth,” said Ronald Rice, chair of the Third Baptist Church Board of Trustees.

Before the covenant was signed, attendees heard from several faith leaders, including Rev. John Jones, executive director of HOPE Toledo, and a graduate of Central State University. Jones graduated 30 years ago form CSU and, keeping it in the family, his daughter graduated in 2025.

Central State “is near and dear to our hearts,” he told his audience. 

“Our community used to have a very strong pipeline to Central State,” he continued. “We are going to rebuild that pipeline.”

Noting that CSU is “in many ways under attack,” due to the nation’s “current leadership that has decided that HBCUs are not critical,” Jones stated that indeed “HBCus are the most critical educational aspect of our community.”

Jones asked the attendees to consider doing two important things in the future involving HBCUs. First, “you find every single young person you can and get them here on the 26^th.”

Second, “you tell every single soul that Central State University is alive and getting better.”

The covenant signers included: Dr. Warren Marshall, DDS, Junior Warden, All Saints Episcopal; Pastor Charles Jones, Christian Temple Baptist Church; Bishop A. Culp, Pastor Emeritus First Church of God; Min. Pamela Y. Knox, Third Baptist Church; Bishop James M. Williams, Sr., End Time Christian Fellowship; Bishop Marjorie Holt, Bethesda Christian Center; Rev. John C. Jones, Christian Temple Baptist Church; Pastor Clifton R. Kilpatrick, Warren AME; Bishop Robert S. Davis, First Church of God; Pastor John Walthall, Mt. Ararat MBC; Trustee Ronald Rice, Third Baptist Chairman of the Trustee Board; Pastor Williams C. Foster, Sr., Indiana Avenue MBC; Bishop Randall Parker III, Canaan Manifested Word Church.

We pledge to work together to establish Central State University Day [Weekend] as a lasting annual tradition that celebrates scholarship, leadership, service, unity and hope for future generations.

Opinion: They’re Looking for Fighters

By Rev. Donald L. Perryman, Ph.D.

The Truth Contributor

“Call it progressivism, socialism, or radicalism — call it whatever you want. The language people are listening to is: we want relief, we want fair share, we’re stretched and it hurts.”  – Toledo political observer 

Toledo is watching two races at once — one in Washington, one at home — and asking the same question about both: do we want the heir apparent, or do we want a fighter?

The Same Question, Nationally

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is already positioning for a presidential run in 2028. Quietly, Toledo’s political class is doing the same thing with names already circulating. 

Sociologist Tressie McMillan Cottom, writing in the New York Times, argues AOC figured out what broke every woman presidential candidate before her — and decided not to play that game. She ditched the boxy power suit and carefully managed persona and showed up as herself. A girl from the Bronx. Fighting hard and on her own terms.

Two Toledo political observers confirmed that this city is hungry for that same posture.

The Toledo Field

Wade Kapszukiewicz just won a historic third term in November 2025 — the first Toledo mayor to serve three consecutive four-year terms, his current term running through 2030. But serious political actors don’t wait for election cycles to begin positioning. AOC has been laying groundwork for 2028 for over a year without ever formally declaring. 

Toledo’s corridors work the same way. The names already circulating suggest Toledo’s political future is being imagined right now, well ahead of any formal race. And should political dominoes fall — a congressional opening, a statewide opportunity — even the mayor himself could be in play. 

City Councilman Sam Melden has been identified as the heir apparent from the Kapszukiewicz progressive regime. Councilman Nick Komives may also throw his hat in the ring. State Representative Elgin Rogers has the profile and the relationships. His current situation? It’s complicated — pulled over for reportedly driving 42 in a 45 zone in a rural Republican County at one in the morning. However, the facts are still unfolding, and as one observer put it, “initial facts are not always the final facts.”

Lucas County Commissioner Anita Lopez, who is Hispanic, carries executive experience at the county level and has run for mayor before. She knows the terrain. City Council President Vanice Williams has the name recognition and the political relationships. Lisa Sobecki, president of the Lucas County Board of Commissioners, is also a potential candidate. Toledo has had women mayors before — including Paula Hicks-Hudson. The question is whether the moment calls for one again — and whether any of these women are ready to fight for it.

One observer named the problem with the male side of the field directly: “They don’t seem to take a stand in what they have — a style where they’re going to go to the next thing.” Somebody, he said, needs to plant a flag. The electorate is not waiting for someone to work up to it. It is waiting for someone to show up ready to scrap.

What the Electorate Is Actually Saying

Another observer filled up recently. Eighty dollars for a tank of gas. “That’s a lot of money for people. That’s just the fact.” Health care costs keep rising with no plan to bring them down. Small businesses are suffering. Public schools are being defunded. Food systems are deregulated. “It’s coming home to roost.”

The second observer placed the moment in historical context. “The conservative overreach is waning. People are seeing that the policies being administered today are based primarily on race and secondarily on class. More people are struggling and getting fed up. The pendulum has already started to move.” 

The observer then cut straight through: “The language people are listening to is: we want relief, we want fair share, we’re stretched and it hurts.”

The Fighter Trend

Toledo’s political observers are naming it independently, and the national picture confirms it. Candidates who are “not afraid of the smoke” and who show up ready to scrap are the ones gaining ground. 

AOC understands this nationally. Toledo’s next standard-bearer, whenever the moment arrives, had better understand it locally.

The electorate has already decided. It wants a fight.

The only question left is who answers the bell. 

Contact Rev. Donald Perryman, PhD, at drdlperryman@centerofhopebaptist.org 

Candice Harrison Makes History at the Rotary Club of Toledo

By Asia Nail

The Truth Reporter

Candice Harrison knows what it means to walk through a door that once seemed out of reach.

She also knows something even more important: once you get through that door, you should not be the person who quietly closes it behind you.

This year, Harrison became the first Black person and only the sixth woman to serve as president of the Toledo Rotary Club, a milestone that carries more weight than a title printed on a business card. For Harrison, it represents possibility. It represents progress. And perhaps most importantly, it represents an invitation.

“I hope this is only the beginning,” Harrison says.

Not the first and last.

The first of many.

Her election comes after another history-making chapter. Harrison recently completed her term as the first Black woman to serve as president of the Toledo Press Club. Now, she carries those lessons into Rotary, an organization with a long history in Toledo and an even longer tradition of service.

A First That Opens the Door

But Harrison, director of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion at SSOE, is not walking into the presidency unaware of what awaits her.

Rotary’s leadership structure gave her time to prepare. She first served as vice president, then president-elect, before stepping into the presidency. Along the way, she worked alongside other presidents and learned the organization from the inside.

“You get an opportunity to work under a couple of presidents, you know, just to kind of learn the ropes,” she explains.

That preparation matters.

Because leadership is rarely about stepping onto a stage and suddenly knowing what to do. More often, it looks like watching. Listening. Asking questions. Learning where the light switches are before someone hands you the keys.

Harrison understands the responsibility that comes with those keys.

Her experience with the Toledo Press Club taught her that leadership is not simply about holding a position. It is about protecting the organization, respecting its members and honoring the standards that came before you.

She brought that mindset to Rotary.

“With Rotary, it’s that on a much larger scale,” she makes clear.

There is a legacy to honor.

There are expectations to meet.

And there is history to acknowledge.

When History Becomes Responsibility

Harrison remembers that there was a time when people of color were not members of Rotary. The fact that she eventually became a board member and now its president is not something she takes lightly.

“There was a time I wouldn’t have been able to do that,” she stresses.

That sentence carries the weight of generations.

It is easy to look at a milestone and see only the person standing in the spotlight. Harrison sees the people who were standing outside the room before the invitation ever came.

That may be why she refuses to treat being “the first” as a finish line.

She sees it as a beginning.

“I hope this opens the door for more women, more people of color, African-American, Hispanic,” she shares. “That this is now a barrier that has been removed.”

That is the kind of leadership that changes more than a resume.

It changes what other people believe is possible.

A young Black woman watching Harrison step into the Rotary presidency may never know how many conversations, decisions and years of service led to that moment. She may simply see a woman who looks like her sitting at the head of the table and think, “Maybe I can sit there too.”

And sometimes that is how history moves.

Quietly.

One example at a time.

Leadership Is More Than a Title

Harrison also believes organizations have to do more than say they want diversity. They have to create spaces where people actually want to belong.

Rotary, she says, has been intentional about attracting younger members and people from different backgrounds. But recruitment is only part of the equation.

“You can welcome people, but if the things that we present them with are not interesting, they’re not going to want to join,” she says.

That is a powerful distinction.

A welcome sign means very little if the room does not feel welcoming once someone walks through the door.

Making Room at the Table

For Harrison, evolution means asking who is at the table but also asking what they experience once they arrive. Are younger professionals given meaningful opportunities? Are people of color able to see themselves reflected in the organization? Are new members encouraged to do more than simply add their names to a roster?

Harrison wants people who will work.

Rotary gives more than a handshake and a membership card. Through its foundation, the organization provides more than $100,000 in grants annually to the community, while members also participate in hands-on volunteer service.

Her message to people who may have an outdated picture of Rotary is simple: Come see for yourself.

Come See What’s Possible

Visit a Monday meeting. Look at the work. Learn Rotary’s history. Decide whether there is a place for you.

She believes many people may be surprised by how much the organization has changed.

That openness matters, particularly when Harrison thinks about Toledo’s Black business community and the possibilities that exist when established organizations connect with entrepreneurs, professionals and emerging leaders.

Leave the Door Open

But perhaps the most compelling part of Harrison’s leadership philosophy has little to do with Rotary at all.

It has to do with knowing when to pass the baton.

Harrison speaks candidly about the future.

“One day I’m going to step out of the mix,” she says. “I’ll retire, and I won’t be able to serve in the same ways I do today.”

That realization has shaped how she leads now.

“If you want to have servant leaders, you have to start preparing them now.”

There it is.

The heart of her philosophy.

Leadership is not ownership.

It is stewardship.

You hold the position for a season. You do the work. You make it stronger than you found it. Then you make sure someone else is ready to carry it forward.

That means giving younger people real opportunities instead of keeping them on the sidelines until they have accumulated enough years to make everyone else comfortable.

Harrison points to her own actions as an example.

When she received a Milestones Award, her employer purchased a table specifically so 10 high school girls could attend the event and hear the stories of accomplished women.

She wanted them in the room.

Not someday.

Now.

She carries that same philosophy into Rotary, where younger members are being given opportunities to lead committees and gain the experience that can eventually prepare them for board service and, perhaps one day, the presidency.

Harrison looks beyond age and career stage, focusing instead on whether someone is willing to serve and lead.

The question is whether they respect the mission and are willing to do the work.

What We Leave Behind

That may be the most important lesson in Harrison’s story.

The door does not open simply because someone wants it to.

But once it opens, someone has to decide whether or not to hold it for others.

Harrison is doing exactly that.

Her presidency is historic, but she does not seem interested in spending her term admiring the history.

She wants to build on it.

She wants Rotary to continue evolving. She wants people who may have once looked at the organization from a distance to reconsider. She wants younger professionals to see leadership as something they can grow into. And she wants the next person who breaks a barrier to understand that they do not have to break it alone.

“I hope people will give Rotary a chance to continue to evolve and don’t give up before it gets there,” Harrison says.

That sounds like advice for more than an organization.

It sounds like advice for all of us.

Stay open.

Stay consistent.

Keep moving.

And when you finally reach the room you once wondered if you belonged in, do not just take your seat.

Look around.

Find someone behind you.

Then pull out a chair and make room for them beside you.

Learn more about the Rotary Club of Toledo, its community work, membership and upcoming meetings. 

We’ve Prayed. Now What?

By Carla Thomas

Truth Contributor

We are living in perilous times. I honestly can’t remember a time on this earth when we weren’t; however, every time something bad happens, the same declaration for more prayer is made.

Another shooting. Pray. Another family struggling to keep a roof over their heads. Pray. Another child lost to violence. Pray.

Prayer is beautiful and necessary. It give us strength and hope. It centers us when the world feels like it is falling apart. It’s understood why people turn to prayer when they are scared, hurting, angry or simply don’t know what else to do.

But what I’m trying to understand is this: When there is a call for more prayer after a tragedy, what are we expecting prayer to do? Are we praying for comfort and peace to help us through what has happened, or are we praying for something to actually change? And if we are praying for change, what are we expecting that change to look like, and how do we expect it to happen?

Black people have been praying for a long time, and yet the world around us seems to be getting progressively worse. Here we are in 2026, and Black people are still being lynched, as in, found hanging from trees. Black people across this country are still being harassed and killed by police. We still have the police called on us for simply existing in spaces where someone decides we don’t belong. And now, we are watching pieces of our history being erased. At the same time, our own communities continue to struggle with violence, poverty, a lack of resources and opportunities, and the effects of generations of neglect.

We’ve prayed through slavery, Jim Crow, poverty, discrimination, violence and loss.

We, as a people, stay praying.

It’s so easy to say, “I’m praying for you” or “We need to pray more.” But prayer isn’t supposed to be the end of our responsibility. It should be preparation for the action that comes after.

God works through us, as us. That is my belief. We are His hands, feet, eyes, ears and mouth in this world.

When we say, “Pray for our city,” are we also going to show up at city council meetings? Are we willing to hold our city leaders accountable?

When we are praying for God to feed the hungry, are we willing to buy the food?

When we pray for God to comfort the hurting, are we willing to sit beside them?

When we pray for justice, are we willing to speak up when something is wrong?

We keep praying, “God, fix this,” when maybe our prayer should be, “God, what can I do to fix this?”

If it’s important enough that we need to ask for prayer, then it’s definitely important enough for us to take action. Prayer without a corresponding action is an excuse to do nothing.

Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. understood that prayer and action had to go together. In his Letter from Birmingham Jail, King made it clear that we can’t just sit around waiting for things to get better. He was a minister. He was a man of faith. But he also understood that change requires people willing to do the work. He called those people “coworkers with God.”

King prayed, but then he marched. He preached, but then he organized. His belief in God did not excuse him from confronting injustice. It compelled him to confront it.

And he wasn’t just calling out individuals. He was calling out the church, too.

Are our churches just talking and praying about what people are going through, or are they actually showing up and doing something about it?

That question isn’t just for churches, but nonprofits, community organizations, government, elected officials, and every one of us.

It is easy to say, “we need to pray for our community.” It is harder to walk into that community, listen to the people who live there and commit ourselves to doing something about what they are facing.

Prayer is supposed to give us the strength and courage to do the work, especially when the work is hard. But prayer can’t take the place of our responsibility to do something.

When we say, “I’m praying for you” or “We need to pray,” maybe we should start adding, “Now what can I do?”

Prayer and action are not an “either/or.” They work together.

Jesus didn’t just pray. He acted. He fed, healed and served the people. And His ultimate act was laying down His life.

So pray without ceasing, but after you pray, listen. The answer to prayer is never going to be a miracle falling from the sky. Ever. It’s going to be an assignment.

From the Plow to the Pulpit: John W. Williams and a Lifetime of Answering God’s Call

By Asia Nail

The Truth Reporter

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At 82 years old, John W. Williams, DMin, has no plans to stop.

Not while there is still work to do.

Not while there are people who need a word of encouragement, young people who need guidance, families who need prayer, and generations still waiting to hear what God can do with a life surrendered to His purpose.

A Calling, Not an Accomplishment

For 47 years, Williams has stood behind the same pulpit at Eastern Star Missionary Baptist Church. Along the way, God entrusted him with two more congregations, New Zion Baptist Church in Buffalo and Memorial Baptist Church, about 10 minutes away from New Zion.

He doesn’t describe the journey as an accomplishment.

He describes it as an assignment.

“It’s an opportunity to share the Word of God with the people of God,” Williams testifies. “For these 47 and a half years, the Lord has allowed me to stand in one pulpit. I’m grateful for that.”

That gratitude runs through everything he does.

Williams grew up on a farm in Holland Grove, Arkansas, a community that had a population of about 761 when he was growing up. His mother came from a family of 14 children, seven sisters and seven brothers.

Work was not something his family discussed as a virtue.

They lived it.

His mother rose at 4 a.m. to prepare breakfast. By 6, when there was enough daylight to see the cotton, the children were in the fields.

“Hard work is good for the spirit,” Williams says.

His father was a preacher, and Sundays belonged to church. Sunday school. Morning worship. Home for a meal. Back to church by 5 p.m.

And there was a rule at the family table: nobody ate until everyone was there and the blessing had been prayed.

Those lessons followed Williams into adulthood.

From the Classroom to the Pulpit

Williams became a schoolteacher in Indianapolis before God moved him “out of the classroom into the pulpit.”

The transition was not a departure from teaching. In many ways, it was an expansion of it.

John Williams, DMin, understands preaching as teaching, leadership as service and ministry as something that requires knowing why you were called.

“I didn’t want to major in my mind and have a minor in my major,” he reflects. “I knew that God had called me to preach.”

That clarity has carried him through nearly five decades.

His guiding Scripture has been John 9:4: “I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.”

He has taken those words seriously.

Williams has served his congregations across hundreds of miles. New Zion is more than 300 miles from Eastern Star, yet the distance never became an excuse. His churches gather together three or four times a year, building fellowship across geographic lines.

Recently, 14 couples renewed their marriage vows during one of those gatherings.

For Williams, ministry is not simply standing behind a pulpit on Sunday morning. It is cultivating relationships until strangers become family and church members become generations.

“You only pastor with permission,” he explains. “People have to give you permission to be their leader, be their pastor, be the watchman of their soul.”

There is humility in that statement.

He does not claim ownership of the people God gave him. He considers himself a steward.

When the Assignment Gets Hard

His own life has required stewardship.

Williams has survived two strokes. He spent more than 30 days in the hospital and more than a year in rehabilitation. He returned with 98 percent of his ability to function.

Then he kept preaching.

He still travels regularly, sometimes flying every other week. He has spent 35 years serving in Buffalo, New York, and says that in all those years, he has only had to miss one trip because of weather.

“The Lord has blessed me with an automobile, trains that run daily, airplanes that fly to destinations and what have you,” he notes. “So if you want to do something, God has already made the way. You just have to be willing to go and do it.”

That is the voice of a man who has spent his life refusing to confuse obstacles with stop signs.

His faith is equally practical when he talks about young ministers.

“Know that you’ve been called by God, sent by God, and make sure you find out your assignment,” Williams says.

Then he offers his simplest counsel: “You’ve got to love God, love His Word, love His people and then enjoy what you’re doing.”

And when church leadership becomes difficult?

“Don’t fight people in your church,” he cautions. “Love them. Pray for them. God will bless you.”

Passing the Faith Forward

His vision for the future extends beyond his own ministry.

Williams worries about young people growing up without the family structures and spiritual foundations that shaped him. He remembers family meals, church every Sunday, parents teaching children how to work, how to conduct themselves and how to care for one another.

Times have changed.

But Williams insists the Word has not.

“The Word of God is the same as it was yesterday, today and forevermore,” he emphasizes.

That conviction is why he believes every generation has a responsibility to teach the next.

Psalm 145 calls believers to make God’s works known “from one generation to another.” Williams wants to see that happen, not merely through sermons, but through lives lived as examples.

His message is ultimately about legacy.

Not fame.

Not buildings.

Not titles.

Faith handed down. Wisdom shared. A young person is shown the path before they have to find it alone.

Williams often returns to Joshua 1:8, reminding believers to keep God’s Word close, meditate on it and live by it.

Then he says something that may be the summary of his entire life:

“I don’t want to do anything else other than preach and teach and tell people about what is required of us as human beings.”

From the Plow to the Pulpit

From the cotton fields of Arkansas to the classroom, from the classroom to the pulpit, from illness back to ministry, Dr. John W. Williams has continued to work the assignment God gave him.

That journey will soon live beyond the pulpit and the memories of those who have walked alongside him. In March 2026, Williams authored From the Plow to the Pulpit, a forthcoming book that traces the road from his humble beginnings on an Arkansas farm to a lifetime devoted to preaching, teaching and serving God’s people.

The title is more than a name on a book cover. It captures the arc of a life shaped by hard work, faith and purpose. The hands that once worked the cotton fields would eventually hold the Bible, and the lessons learned before sunrise on an Arkansas farm would become lessons carried into the pulpit for generations.

His book offers another way for Williams’ testimony to reach beyond the congregations he has served: a written reminder that sometimes the seeds planted in childhood take decades to reveal just how much they were meant to grow.

Still Working the Works

Perhaps that is the greatest lesson of 47½ years.

A calling does not always make the road easy.

Sometimes it simply makes you willing to keep walking it.

As Williams looks toward whatever God has prepared, he remains grateful for the journey behind him and willing for the journey ahead.

“I’ve been young, but now I’m old,” he says, echoing Psalm 37. “I’ve never seen the righteous forsaken.”

Then, with the quiet confidence of someone who has lived what he preaches, he added:

“I’m just grateful.”

After nearly five decades of ministry, that may be the most powerful testimony of all.

Follow Pastor John W. Williams on Facebook for live messages, weekly sermons, ministry updates, and highlights from his 47 years of service.