"Selling hope:" YWCA Director Jeanine Donaldson walks in family footsteps

ELYRIA — At 5 or 6 years old, Jeanine Donaldson walked door-to-door with her grandmother selling memberships to the NAACP. She didn't really know what her grandmother was doing, but one thing stood out. "The look on their face. The expression that they had. The word that comes to mind is hope," Donaldson said. "It's as if she was selling hope." From doorsteps in Sandusky to Oberlin College to the Elyria YWCA, history has followed Donaldson since she was a child. She grew up in Sandusky as the youngest of seven children. She lived in a big household, with her parents, siblings and grandparents. Her uncles were in the NAACP, her grandmother a membership secretary for the organization, and her brother-in-law organized a bus from Sandusky to the march for jobs and freedom on Washington in 1963. It was at Oberlin College, however, that Donaldson was exposed to social justice issues, taking her down a path that led to her becoming the executive director of Elyria's YWCA. "I don't know if I became a social justice warrior at Oberlin, or if that was already in me," she said. "I did grow up in a family where they didn't really talk about race relations, but they were very proud people. They made sure education was very prominent in my family. Religion was definitely prominent in my family. " Her Sandusky church played a central role in her education on Black history. Donaldson said it wasn't something people learned about in school. Donaldson attended Sandusky Second Baptist — a historic church in its own right. Seven former slaves and Black freemen formed the church in 1849. It played a role in the Underground Railroad with its prime location near Lake Erie. Donaldson's mother remembered when she had to attend another church because Second Baptist was under construction, and quietly piecing together its route. The pastor at Sandusky — who had attended a historically Black college and university — would refer to figures such as Langston Hughes, Booker T. Washington or Harriet Tubman. After the sermons, Donaldson would go to the library and learn about them. She carried that down to her children and others, organizing short skits at church about Black history. Donaldson said that's where her daughter learned about the 13th Amendment. "She remembers that from church; I remember from church," she said. "That's why the Black church is so important, the legacy of it." Donaldson's grandparents moved from Georgia to Sandusky. Her grandfather worked at a steel mill in Sandusky, and he ultimately moved his family up with him. Donaldson recalled her grandmother telling her stories about her experiences in Georgia. The Ku Klux Klan would ride up to her yard with her family inside the home. She would go outside with a rifle and shoo them away. Donaldson said her grandmother knew who was behind the white coverings — it was her own neighbors. Even when Donaldson's mother was in junior high and high school, she couldn't swim in the pools at school. Only the white children got to swim, while the Black children had to attend a study hall. Donaldson said she wishes she would have paid more attention to the stories they told her as a child. When she was a child herself, her family would go to Nashville, Tennessee, for vacation. Her father planned the entire route — they left at midnight, the trip would take eight hours with no stops along the way. The last place they could get gas was in Cincinnati — almost 300 miles from their destination. In high school, Donaldson became the first African American cheerleader at her school. Cheerleaders would often be the parks supervisors during the summer. At the time, there were not any parks in the African American community. The community protested, and received a park, although Donaldson said it was mostly in name only. There wasn't much green space and it was all gravel. There was a small sliding board and some swings, but that was about it. That was where Donaldson got her first job as a parks supervisor. It was her first up-close experience with disparities. She wasn't just the recreation supervisor, but did social services and mentoring for low-income kids who came to the park. Donaldson's love for social work began there, and her time at Oberlin College combined with her family's legacy reinforced her passion. "It just all kind of collided for me," she said. "I became the person I think I was meant to be." While attending college, she interned for the YWCA, and the rest became history. Donaldson ultimately became the executive director, and discovered history had once again found her. The Rev. Benjamin Mays, who was president of Morehouse College and considered to be a mentor to Martin Luther King Jr., once spoke at an annual YWCA meeting in Elyria. Then-Director Ona Holly housed Mays in her home, because no hotel in Elyria would take in a Black man. Donaldson wants to continue that legacy that her family, her church and the YWCA built before her. She has fought to ban sales of the Confederate flag at the Lorain County Fair because of the racism it represents. She has advocated for women through her role at the Elyria YWCA, and battled for racial justice. Donaldson wants more education and publicity around the Black history that's in Elyria. Donaldson's grandmother and mother modeled kindness and intelligence for her, Donaldson said. If someone was in need, they wouldn't hesitate to lend a hand. That has kept with Donaldson in her life. Her next step is to begin a racial equity center, and keep fighting for racial and social justice in Lorain County. Contact Laina Yost at (440) 329-7121 or lyost@chroniclet.com.