The Morning Journal (Lorain, OH)
Bolden deserved better, and trend sadly remains
Amid the conversation in our country about racial injustice, Chris Lillstrung reflects on the story of Harvey trailblazer Lentie Bolden and his own experience and lessons being raised in a diverse community.
Coming to that realization alone in Division 28 of Evergreen Cemetery in Painesville in the spring of 2017 was frightening.
It was bad enough to learn about the racism he endured as a high school student-athlete.
It was compounded by uncovering the car crash that altered his life’s path, then the fact he died young.
But that moment of realization at Evergreen was the crescendo.
“Oh my god,” I said quietly. “He has an unmarked grave.”
Whether they’re from generations ago like Lentie Bolden was, familiar in our community or upbringing or unfamiliar at all, people of color deserve to be heard, respected, supported and valued.
With our country on edge after George Floyd’s senseless death, maximizing a platform has never been more vital.
There have been peaceful protests for the most part, along with agitators who damage in a clear attempt to sow divide and mar the point the protests are trying to convey.
The need for change is dire.
It may weave through sports, like Bolden’s narrative did.
It may not.
But the destination, having uncomfortable but necessary dialogue about racial injustice and inequality to spur solutions that are long past overdue, remains.
Detractors may say, “Stay in your lane,” or, “Stick to sports.”
With respect for others’ deeply held beliefs that may differ from my own ...
No, not this time.
Not for a cause this meaningful — and not when it hits so close to home.
Watching unrest and justified pleas for better treatment for people of color, Bolden came to mind because his struggle can and should be part of discussing systemic racism’s impact.
In 21 years at The NewsHerald, few of my stories have affected me as much as that one published in the summer of 2017 about Bolden, a Harvey standout football player from the 1930s.
As a reminder in case it’s needed, Bolden was, according to research, Harvey’s second-ever African-American varsity football player since the school opened in 1922.
Initially a running back, he was moved to tackle as a junior in 1936 and became a first-team all-conference selection. In July 1937, prior to what would have been his senior year, Bolden was a passenger in a car that was struck headon. The other car, according to a police report, had been stolen for a joyride. The driver of the car carrying Bolden was killed. Bolden was critically injured and never returned to Harvey.
He died in 1951 when he was only 32.
Throughout his football career, constantly and without regard, Bolden was referenced in newspaper accounts not so much for his prowess on the gridiron, but for his ethnicity. That descriptive phrasing of an African-American is considered racist today, as it should be.
Bolden’s story of bravery and perseverance was endearing not only as a journalist.
It was personal. Bolden is from my hometown of Painesville and went to my alma mater, Harvey.
His final resting place in Evergreen is a 15-minute walk from the house in which I was raised, in the community that instilled my principles.
Racial targeting is nothing new to any generation back home, from Bolden’s to the present day.
It could be argued Bolden’s challenge was more daunting, a decade before Jackie Robinson and nearly 30 years until the Civil Rights Act.
In the 1930s, Harvey was predominantly white, far from today’s laudable example of celebrating diversity and tolerance.
Amid a far less understanding society, how was Bolden treated in his own community as an AfricanAmerican?
And when Harvey traveled for football games, to communities with even less exposure to people of color, was it exponentially worse?
It’s reasonable to reach a pessimistic assumption.
The feedback to Bolden’s story was mostly positive but came with two anonymous letters. One informed me I was a racist for writing the story at all. Another informed me Bolden wasn’t a victim of racism because, paraphrasing, “That’s how people talked.”
That range of interpretation says a great deal about trying to discuss race in the present day.
As a 1998 Harvey graduate, I witnessed and heard about racism regularly.
It was heartbreaking because it wasn’t anyone unfamiliar. It was friends, extended family and neighbors.
Some of the stories have been shared in this space over the years.
The wrestler who insulted one of my best friends in high school, who is African-American, with a racial slur every time they competed. The opposing schools in the old Northeastern Conference who would denounce traveling to Harvey because they didn’t want to come what they termed as the “ghetto.”
The question in a student summit about what Harvey’s biggest challenge was in its own community and beyond and having to say out loud to peer approval, the answer was perception, despite us knowing in our hearts it was largely undeserved.
The first year at an Ohio Future Business Leaders of America state leadership conference in 1996 with our resurrected Harvey FBLA chapter. Other schools’ chapters stared at our boisterous melting pot as if we were a museum exhibit. It should be noted three years later, Ohio FBLA elected my aforementioned best friend as state president, but progress was needed in between.
You hope to change minds, but it’s impossible when minds are already closed.
Being a white person raised in a diverse community has been one of the great benefits of my life.
Regardless of our differences, we had a distinct bond. They had my back, and I had theirs. They molded me into a more cognizant human being, a better father, husband, adult and citizen.
They accepted me as an equal — and we would all be best served to reciprocate that beautiful trait.
It wasn’t all harmony, of course — diverse communities can’t entirely shed ignorance. Racism has, does and will exist back home.
For me, though, immersing in a sea of color was profound, a joy for which I’ll always be grateful.
In the fight against systemic racism, that journey makes several aspects true.
You are more likely to be angry, more likely to be angrier than most, more likely to be sympathetic and more likely to act and be an agent of change.
But it also makes you realize as a white person you could never truly understand being a recipient of racism. Anyone who believes otherwise is sorely mistaken.
You don’t have to be concerned about walking down the street, driving your car or going to work.
You don’t have to sit your children down and give them “the talk” about what to do in public as a person of color due to inherent risk.
You don’t have to endure, like I witnessed at a high school soccer match this past fall, a visiting side’s player who is Hispanic taunted by young people supporting the hosts demanding someone “check his papers.” The perpetrators scattered once they were outed, leaving disgust from all corners in their wake.
How ironic those with inflamed rhetoric and action tend to be cowards when reckoning arrives.
And that’s why it’s so important to act in dissent, especially when as a white person you can’t truly understand being a recipient of racism.
Four-time Division II hurdles state champion and 2019 Perry graduate Leah King was so moved by Bolden’s story, she and her family’s foundation raised money to give Bolden a headstone at Evergreen.
Knowing Bolden’s place as a trailblazer is preserved for all time in words and at Evergreen is an honor.
For Lentie Bolden. For George Floyd, Ahmaud
Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Eric Garner and far too many more.
For my eclectic group of friends from 1990s Painesville, some still there and others scattered across the world now, using their experience to shape their voice as adults.
For the diverse collection of student-athletes, families, coaches and administrators past, present and future in my high school sports work.
For my 7-year-old daughter and her generation that will take the lead one day.
For a society that strives for more commonality and equal privilege for all.
It may weave through sports like Bolden’s story did.
It may not.
But we can no longer stay silent and accept status quo anymore.
So use your voice. Listen. Peacefully protest. Donate. Set an example.
Once and for all, what needs to die is systemic racism, not human beings because of it.