What I’ve Learned About Blackness and Belonging At My HBCU
"Most importantly, I realized that belonging isn’t about being the ‘best.’ It’s about showing up as you are and accepting that you deserve to take up all the space you can.”
Growing up as a Black girl in a small, predominantly white town in Indiana, my identity often felt like an uncomfortable spotlight. In classrooms where I was one of the few, (if not the only), Black students, I constantly navigated disguised microaggressions and in-your-face racism that was harder to ignore. My childhood was an act of trying to fit in with my white peers while yearning to be seen for more than just my hair or my skin color.
It wasn’t until I traded my familiar Midwest cornfields for the warm embrace of Spelman College that I began to understand the complexities of belonging and self-worth that come with growing up.
Coming to an HBCU from an area that didn’t even have any was an awakening of self. At Spelman, I stepped into a community where being Black wasn’t a rarity but the norm. Here, every face I passed on campus radiated confidence and brilliance almost blindingly. It was both exciting and intimidating. For the first time, I wasn’t “The Black girl.” I was just me.
Yet, with the freedom of being surrounded by people who looked like me came new challenges. Surrounded by a sea of accomplished Black women—entrepreneurs, activists, future doctors, and lawyers—I found myself questioning my place. Was I smart enough or talented enough to stand eye-to-eye with these girls who’ve accomplished everything I’ve ever dreamed of doing?
This nagging feeling had a name: Imposter Syndrome. It whispered that my small-town achievements weren’t enough, and I was only here by some fleeting stroke of luck.
Nevertheless, Spelman had a way of forcing me to unpack everything I’d ever thought about my worth. In my classes, I learned to speak up, even when it felt uncomfortable. I didn’t have to stifle my opinions for the comfort of my white peers. Discussions about race and racial disparities didn’t feel uncomfortable or difficult to have, and I started to examine myself outside of a self-pitying lens.
Most importantly, I realized that belonging isn’t about being the “best.” It’s about showing up as you are and accepting that you deserve to take up all the space you can.
At Spelman, I’ve also grappled with the concept of who “belongs.” The world often paints a very specific picture of Blackness, and even within our community, those lines can blur. Coming from a predominantly white environment, I sometimes worried I wasn’t culturally aware enough to connect with my peers.
I stumbled over my feet for weeks learning the Tamia Line Dance, stumbled over my words learning “Dreams And Nightmares,” and I didn’t understand a lot of cultural references. My Indiana upbringing shaped me, and I feared this cultural difference might distance me from classmates and even friends.
I learned that the beauty within HBCUs comes from the diversity of Blackness. From city girls to country kids, Afros to silk presses, trap lovers to jazz enthusiasts, we all have a place here.
As a sophomore now, I’m still unlearning years of doubt and second-guessing. Some days, the weight of imposter syndrome feels lighter; other days, it sits heavy.
But when I walk through Spelman’s gates, I’m reminded that I have started a legacy far greater than myself.
Being at Spelman has shown me that belonging isn’t a gift someone gives you; you must claim it for yourself. And in doing so, I’ve discovered that my voice, shaped by both pain and pride, has a place not just here but anywhere I want to go.
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