By Carla Thomas
The Truth Contributor
On October 5, 2026, I attended the Toledo City Council Housing, Community Development and Public Health Committee meeting regarding the Swayne Field/Al Peake pop-up.
The meeting initially unfolded the way I believe a public meeting should. Council members asked questions, and Roslyn Clemens, City of Toledo chief of Housing Neighborhood Sustainability, and city staff answered them. Some answers were provided, while inconsistencies and unanswered questions remained.
Community members expressed different perspectives. Some appreciated having fresh produce available. Others questioned the use of public money, the exclusion of local Black farmers and the economic opportunities that were lost.
The explanations surrounding the Al Peake contract, the RFP process, the pilot program and the city’s decision-making raised more questions than answers. Some questions received only partial answers, while others seemed to be sidestepped altogether.
At some point, we have to recognize that an explanation is not the same as clarity, explanations are not accountability, and simply providing an answer does not mean the public has been given the truth.
We can keep asking questions but, in reality, city officials aren’t going to tell us everything or admit to more than they’re willing to acknowledge. As the meeting continued, another issue became apparent, one that deserves just as much attention and speaks to a much bigger problem within our Black community.
When Representation Becomes Regulation
This was the first council meeting following the Al Peake pop-up controversy, and residents came prepared to share their experiences, raise concerns and ask questions.
During the discussion, one councilwoman strongly criticized the administration’s handling of the situation, questioned its transparency, and said it “should never have happened.” She spoke about accountability, declaring, “I represent them (pointing to the audience). I don’t represent me, I represent them. They vote for me they’re holding me accountable.” These were the concerns residents had come to see addressed, and it was important to hear an elected representative raise them.
Chief Clemens responded by acknowledging the mistake, asking for trust and pointing to her revitalization work and commitment to the community. She discussed the shopping-center renovation, efforts to recruit a grocery tenant and plans to bring urban farmers together to help shape future efforts.
The councilwoman then praised Clemens’s work on projects such as the Grand, the Driggs and Southland and said she supported her wholeheartedly. And in the same breath, she turned toward the audience, admonishing community members to set aside egos, stop being negative, stop posting “the mess” on Facebook and “move forward.” This happened before residents had even been given the opportunity to speak. To me, it felt more like we were being chastised than an opportunity for the community to be heard.
Nobody is questioning Chief Clemens’s entire body of work. The concern is the Al Peake pop-up. She may have done wonderful things for this city, and one mistake shouldn’t erase those accomplishments. But neither should those accomplishments erase what happened at Swayne Field or be used as a reason to move forward without accountability.
We don’t expect city officials to be perfect. But when mistakes are made, we deserve answers and accountability, not just apologies and promises to do better. And no matter how much good someone has done, that doesn’t relieve our elected representatives of their responsibility to hold them accountable.
And who gets to decide that all the good one person has done outweighs the harm someone else has experienced?
Moving On at Whose Expense?
Urban farmer Sonia Flunder-McNair’s comments were a powerful reminder that no one gets to decide when someone else’s pain, frustration or concerns are no longer worth discussing, or when it’s time for them to move forward.
Flunder-McNair described nearly 10 years of work in local food initiatives, collaborating with city personnel and working to expand food access. She spoke about the time, resources and preparation she has invested, including her ability to accept certain farmers-market benefits and her efforts to obtain SNAP approval.
She described being treated as though she wasn’t qualified to participate in the Swayne Field market opportunity before anyone had even asked about her qualifications. She questioned why the city could commit approximately $15,000 a week to an outside operator instead of investing in the people already doing that work in our community.
Years of work, meetings, relationships and investments in your own community. Then an opportunity comes along involving the very work you’ve been doing, and you’re left out while someone from outside the community is brought in. She called it a slap in the face.
And we’re supposed to call that a communication mistake and move on?
How can there be reconciliation when the people who were harmed don’t feel they’ve even been heard? When people feel dismissed, they often keep raising the issue, not because they want conflict, but because the issue hasn’t been resolved for them. Then their persistence gets labeled negativity, when what they’re actually seeking is acknowledgment and accountability.
Moving forward requires answers, transparency and accountability. Without those things, we’re at a standstill. Communication breaks down, concerns remain unresolved and no real progress is made.
The Institutional Mindset We Need to Examine
The handling of Swayne Field exposed something bigger, a dynamic that unfolds in our community time and time again, but nobody wants to call a thing a thing.
I’ll call it The Institutionalization of Black Authority. The Institutionalization of Black Authority is when Black people who have attained institutional authority now feel the need to manage, correct or discipline other Black people on behalf of the institution rather than using their position to challenge the institution about the community’s concerns.
We attend meetings seeking answers about city government, law enforcement and decisions affecting our community. Yet somehow, our actions become the issue. Our Black-on-Black crime becomes the issue. Institutionalized Black authority turns our own community’s shortcomings against us, as though we have to be perfect before we have the right to demand accountability. We’re told to extend grace, understand the institution’s position or move forward, even when the concerns that brought us there haven’t been resolved. The people raising concerns become the ones being corrected.
I’m not saying every Black official operates this way, or that they must agree with every Black constituent, and I’m not saying that we as a community don’t have our own issues to confront.
But here in Toledo, our civic circles are small and interconnected. We worship together, belong to the same sororities and fraternities, serve on boards together, belong to the same social organizations and develop friendships. None of that is wrong. But those connections can complicate accountability.
Familiarity can lead to dismissiveness. Those in authority may become so comfortable with their relationships that they stop taking legitimate concerns seriously. And those same relationships can weaken accountability. We hesitate to question decisions or challenge people we know because we don’t want to damage relationships or opportunities.
A question becomes an attack. Criticism becomes disloyalty. Asking for transparency becomes choosing a side. And now, the conversation is no longer about what happened, but who you know.
To our elected officials, here’s what you need to understand: Community members are not privy to your career aspirations, your longstanding relationships, the loyalties you’re trying to preserve or the pressures that may influence your decisions. What we do know is that when decisions affect our livelihoods, neighborhoods, businesses and opportunities, we have every right to raise concerns, ask questions and expect to be heard.
The city’s actions surrounding Swayne Field and the Al Peake pop-up reopened historical wounds of exclusion, discrimination and systemic barriers that have long denied Black people economic opportunity and advancement. Our ancestors fought too hard to have our voices heard, only to have people focus on how we express our frustration instead of what’s causing it.
This is not an indictment of any one official. It’s an opportunity and invitation for the Black community to examine how we exercise authority, how we respond to one another, and whether our behavior advances or hinders our collective progress.
Questions Worth Considering
Perhaps it’s worth asking ourselves:
What are our representatives doing with the power entrusted to them?
Are they opening the door wider so the community can be heard?
Are they turning toward institutions and demanding answers?
To those who have gained positions of authority, remember the communities you came from and the people you’re supposed to serve. Guard against becoming so comfortable within the institution that you begin defending it against the very people who are looking to you for representation and accountability.
The Swayne Field/Al Peake controversy may have brought us to this moment, but it cannot be where the conversation ends. Let it be the catalyst for something bigger: a community willing to examine how we exercise power, how we treat one another, and how we hold our institutions accountable, not just when controversy erupts but long after the controversy dies down.
Contact Carla Thomas: thecarlathomas@gmail.com