Historically Black Or Historically Harmful?
Exposing harmful traditions of HBCU culture.
Kulture Magazine
While attending my older brother’s graduation from Morehouse College, and witnessing the mass of joyous Black people gathered in one setting, my 8th-grade self knew where I’d spend my next four years after high school– that was until I realized my brother attended a men’s college.
Thankfully, he introduced me to a nearby institution that he believed would fulfill my college desires. As soon as I was told about Spelman College, I began my research on the institution and was excited to leave Brooklyn, New York’s concrete jungle after high school. I ended up being accepted into Spelman at the most inconvenient time: May 2020. However, by 2022, as quarantine measures, mask mandates, and curfews eased in the Atlanta University Center (AUC), I started to get a clear view of the HBCU experience.
Aesthetically Harmful
Being at the number one HBCU in the country, I anticipated nothing less than excellence on Spelman’s campus– happy and ready to have experiences like never before. Instead, I was confronted with harsh living conditions, social pressures, and the complex portrayals of Black joy. It was an interesting experience for me, as I not only encountered and witnessed these elements of the HBCU experience at the AUC, but I was also studying them in my coursework (as expected of an English major).
“Aesthetics then is more than a philosophy or theory of art and beauty; it is a way of inhabiting space, a particular location, a way of looking and becoming. It is not organic,” says bell hooks in “An Aesthetic of Blackness—Strange and Oppositional.” This reading helped me contextualize both my decision to attend Spelman and my experience at the AUC.
I began to overlay hooks' concept of aesthetics onto the YouTube videos, website descriptions, and smiling faces that had initially captivated me about the AUC. I entered Spelman with expectations of encountering walking embodiments of the photos of girls with Spelman gear and the Instagram highlights showcasing a tight-knit community of educated Black students. My younger self assumed these aesthetically pleasing moments would parallel kindness, pro-Blackness, and acceptance within the AUC.
Expectations vs. Reality
Courtesy: Joshua McKnight/Pexels
Coming from a high school with limited extracurricular activities and a focus on preparing students solely for New York State schools, I was unaware of the sociopolitical dynamics typical of the HBCU atmosphere.
I believed that instructors withholding opportunities from students due to biases, students going unrecognized for their notable projects, and social divides based on upbringing were issues confined to my adolescent past. However, I encountered these situations in an environment that promised to promote inclusivity, community, and support, regardless of background or socioeconomic status.
In all of this confusion, reading bell hooks helped my 19-year-old self grasp the inauthenticity of aesthetics and, consequently, the misfortunes I faced during my time as a Spelmanite.
Repercussions and the Importance of Sharing Experiences
I recall finally coming to terms with the realization that the AUC wasn't the optimal environment to meet my authentic needs and began to frame my experiences to gain a deeper understanding of the underlying issues.
As mentioned earlier, I was able to learn concepts that I’m able to apply to my own life, which has been valuable in understanding my place at my HBCU. I learned about Kimberle Crenshaw’s concept of intersectionality—an analogy of how various social categories can lead to unconventional discrimination and/or disadvantages in society. This term deeply resonated with me because I navigated the complexities of being a first-generation Guinean-American, with dark skin, no familial legacy, and a transfer student at Spelman. These characteristics challenged the traditional norms of Spelman, an institution for African-American women, rooted in brown paper bag tests, prides itself in admitting legacy students, and has very limited resources for transfer students.
HBCUs place a strong emphasis on preserving their traditions, but what occurs when those traditions fail to accommodate the diversity within the African Diaspora? This includes students with immigrant family upbringings and students from low-income backgrounds. HBCUs were created to serve as safe spaces for Black people wishing to pursue higher education, not just those who fit a particular aesthetic or subjective standard, yet they contradict their very purpose by creating divisions in treatment among Black students.
In coming to terms with the consequences of aesthetics, I was at ease to learn that I wasn't alone in experiencing moments of bewilderment within HBCU culture. TikTok videos about HBCU bullies, bad roommates, and elitism provided a huge moment of relief for me because I saw equivalent instances at Spelman.
I asked a few students about their experiences at their HBCUs. One student who attended North Carolina Agricultural and Technical State University and transferred to Howard University shared that they did not have positive experiences with making genuine friends.
“I think being a transfer prohibited me from making genuine friends. Everyone already had their friend groups and their cliques so it was hard to fit in. I also experienced a lot of fake people who really only wanted to be your friend if you had status (ex: lots of Instagram followers, money, etc). There’s still a lot of genuine people at Howard, but the school definitely has an elitism problem.”
—S.J (22)
Going from one HBCU to the next and not encountering your tribe of genuine friends can be disappointing and have more damaging impacts than people can imagine. HBCUs boast about fostering strong communities for their students, but when this fails to materialize, it can result in a "dysfunctional" HBCU experience. In some cases, campus administration exacerbates rather than alleviates these issues. Seeking insight from someone with a similar intersectional background, I questioned my older brother about his comfort level in confiding in campus administration. He candidly shared the reality of seeking "help" while attending Morehouse.
“A lot of administrators at my time focused on who they deem worthy [of helping] rather than creating a community on campus that pushes an effort to help each other.”
—A.B (32)
This, unfortunately, happens across different HBCUs, and @Mashairoman’s TikTok video serves as a prime example. Mashai shared her distressing experience of seeking assistance from administrators following an unsafe living condition. She detailed the reports she filed with Morgan State University regarding her roommate, and expressed her frustration with the university's lack of action. Mashai's experience underscores a troubling trend where institutions fail to address student concerns adequately.
This hierarchy of worthiness not only highlights HBCU administrators’ failure to fulfill their roles as supportive resources for all students, but it also mirrors the very struggles students aim to escape when seeking refuge within HBCU environments. Many HBCU students seek four years or more of sanctuary from the harsh realities of a world that often exploits Black individuals. However, when issues persist or worsen within the confines of HBCU campuses, it forces individuals to reconsider their decision to attend or even regret choosing an HBCU altogether.
In Order to Change the Narrative, You Need to Change the Reality
With the abundance of donations received by Howard University, Spelman College, and HBCUs across the country, these schools have ample resources to afford reform. This may involve implementing targeted support programs, advocating for policies that promote affordability and accessibility, and creating a campus culture that values diversity, inclusion, and social justice. HBCUs must evolve to reflect empowerment for all students.
Spelman College’s motto A Choice to Change the World, demonstrates the school's ability to move away from harmful traditions. So when refined or inclusive standards of being Black at an HBCU emerge, maybe the aesthetic will match the experiences of all students.