An HBCU Timeline Cleanse

Attending Howard University changed my life.

I decided to apply to The Mecca during my junior year at the University of New Mexico (UNM), an institution with less than 3% African American student population. And while UNM was never my first choice (hello parentals), I’ve come to appreciate my experiences there, many of which have positively changed the trajectory of my life (hello husband).

Still, something was missing. So, in March of my senior year, when I checked my mail and saw a letter addressed to me from Howard’s Graduate School, I was ecstatic. I’d been accepted to the Mass Communications and Media Studies Program, and little did I know, my life’s path would be forever changed once again.

I attended Howard during a time many on Threads have called “the golden era for Black Millennials.” The Obamas moved into the White House shortly after I came to DC, and the subsequent in the area were filled with Black excellence, happy hours, memorable nights on U Street, and the sense that I, a Black woman still figuring out her professional journey, could accomplish anything I wanted. All these experiences were rooted in my studies and the legacy of Howard.

I’d eventually earn two of my three degrees from Howard University. I have experienced firsthand many of the challenges that often plague HBCUs. But you know what else I’ve experienced at a PWI with approximately 3% Black student population? Being the only one in a class of 200 that looked like me. Being looked at to provide the “Black perspective” on whatever topic was being discussed. Never feeling like my experience was centered and, in some cases, intentionally ignored in the curriculum.

I even tried to return to a PWI for my doctoral studies. Five schools (some of them Ivy League institutions) denied my admission, with one saying that while my application was compelling, they didn’t have any faculty that could support my research interests. Read: No one here cares about your Black research. While I appreciated their [racist] candor, one thing became apparent: higher education wasn’t built for us, so I needed to be in a place that would not only support me but affirm me throughout my journey.

Now, as a faculty member, the Howard community has consistently uplifted me through my professional journey. Whether it be to remind me of my brilliance when I’m in rooms that are less than supportive, or to merely serve as a mirror, reminding me that our issues matter and scholars and professors like me are essential in dismantling the system that was built to destroy us.

Much of the current online debate around HBCU dress codes or Howard’s disenrollment fiasco is merely a snapshot of the role these esteemed institutions have played in our culture. We need to be reminded of the value HBCUs bring, especially during our current polarized environment. Now, this is not to make excuses or justify the valid critiques of HBCUs. Yes, you can still hold these institutions in high regard and still expect excellence – both can be true. That critique, however, should always be rooted in the memory that HBCUs have provided for us in ways that no other institution has. They were designed specifically to provide higher education for Blacks when white people felt like we were inferior.

As a Black woman in higher education, where Black women make up only about 4% of faculty nationwide, I have the privilege of teaching my Black research to Black students in a space built for Black people.  Our stories matter. Our culture matters. Our institutions matter.

So. Let’s collectively agree to reserve the rest of our HBCU online commentary to raving about the upcoming season of the newest iteration of “A Different World,” shall we??