I’ve always viewed education as a vehicle for progress and mobility. I understood that the best opportunity for both socioeconomic advancement and career fulfillment would have to be accompanied by a collegiate education.
While today I am a staunch advocate for historically black colleges and universities (HBCUs), ironically, HBCUs weren’t a consideration in my application process during high school. I wasn’t aware of the significance of the HBCU experience, and while I respected its dynamic history, I couldn’t have fathomed the indelible impact it would have on my life.
At HBCUs, Black excellence is not an outlier. Black excellence is a norm. HBCUs serve as pillars of heritage, progress and accountability, and to witness this magic transpire on a daily basis is to witness a wonder of this world.
I’m a native Alabamian and I’ve lived in Alabama my entire life, but when considering colleges, I was ready for something new. However, during my junior year of high school, my mother’s health began to decline. I believed she would get well, but graduation came, and I was still her caregiver. There was no way I was going to leave her side, so, Alabama it was.
Alabama A&M University became my choice. While they made it possible and financially manageable through scholarships, my college experience was far from easy.
I spent sophomore through senior years working two part-time jobs while maintaining a 4.0 GPA. I was a member of Alabama A&M’s Honors Program, served as president of our poetry club for two consecutive years and was named “Mr. Social Work” in our Social Work Association. I was pushing through all obstacles until the biggest life-changing challenge happened.
