CINCINNATI — Calei Chenault runs to the table, holding a paintbrush in one hand. She catches the glue dripping off of it with her other hand. Then, she leans over a cardboard box and tries to cover up a rip in purple construction paper.
“You can’t even see it,” Calei said.
Phyllis McKinley puts her arm around the young girl.
“Pretty lady. How old are you?”
McKinley grins at the answer: 8.
“I’m 10 times that,” McKinley said. “I’m just about 80 years old.”
WATCH: Historic Black group gives Avondale students a history lesson
McKinley, who grew up in Memphis, Tennessee, remembers riding on the back of the bus and drinking out of separate water fountains.
“Down through the years, we’ve been ignored. But we were the pioneers for a lot of things,” McKinley said. “It’s important that our younger generations are aware of our place in history.”
That’s part of the reason she’s here, inside the Cincinnati Federation of Colored Women’s clubhouse in Walnut Hills.
“We need your energy,” McKinley said. “We old people need your energy.”
She's addressing a group of students from Avondale. They're here to help the women's group decorate large cardboard boxes. Because they're collecting old pill bottles from senior facilities and other businesses around the Tri-State. Once collected, the group sends them to Matthew 25: Ministries, where they’re melted and turned into mats for use after disasters or for people who are experiencing homelessness.
For members of the oldest Black women’s organization in the country — founded even before the NAACP — this effort is about more than recycling. It's a chance to talk about Black history and continue making an impact, more than 121 years after this club was founded in Cincinnati.
“We still have the same issues,” said Shelia Rollinson, one of the group's members. “There’s still work to be done in the community. And that’s why we’re here — to help do that work.”
Sandra Jones Mitchell thanks the students for coming. The longtime member of Avondale's community council can't stop smiling as she shows me around.
“This house is a historical landmark,” Jones Mitchell said. “The walls, if they could only talk.”
She's a former president here. And Jones Mitchell is working at the same table as Damonie Ziggers, who describes himself as the little CEO of Avondale’s Youth Council. He’s 12.
“We wouldn’t be here right now if they didn’t fight for us. But they did,” Damonie said. “And that’s why we’re here for them.”
