HBCU Homecomings, part 2.

"The great will be great."

~ my daddy, circa 1988

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I kept trying to move past this topic but I couldn't. So forgive me for lingering a bit longer in the HBCU homecoming high. Admittedly, it has taken my mind off of elections and debates and the unfortunate things that are being said and done surrounding that.

Plus. I ran into several people who admitted to me that I'd cracked open a code that they'd wondered about for a long time. Like, what goes on at these schools and why would anyone choose one of them in the first place? Like what exactly IS the deal with these fraternities and sororities that black people are still pledging allegiance to even though they've been out of school forever? All of that.

And so.

Since I'm still on the HBCU homecoming hype (and I have some more really awesome photos to share with you) I decided to follow up with a part 2 on HBCUs and the homecoming experience connected to them. I hope you don't mind. If you do, check back next week -- I promise to have something medical here waiting for you.

Okay.

So, check it. There are roughly 105 historically black colleges and universities in the United States. I say "roughly" because anything you get from Wikipedia should have such a disclaimer, shouldn't it? Anyways. Being from California, making the decision to go to a HBCU means that you're also making the decision to go far away from home. Why, you ask? Because as I said in the last post, the closest HBCU to California is in Texas. Or Oklahoma? Shoot. I have to go and check a map real quick to make sure.

Okay. So I'm OK with that statement since Oklahoma is literally right on top of Texas which makes them equally far from California. (Get it? OK? Hee hee.) But seriously though. . . .that isn't by accident. It's all a part of the history behind these institutions.

The vast majority of historically black colleges were started for the education of blacks in the post civil war era. There are a few exceptions like Lincoln University in Pennsylvania and, I think, Wilberforce University in Ohio (where my residency roomie went!) which were both founded in 1854. This makes sense considering that nearly all of the rest of the schools are in former slave territories and that Pennsylvania and Ohio had free men and women even before emancipation. So yeah. This is why you don't really see any HBCUs out west. And why any Cali girl wanting that kind of experience needs to be ready for the shock of humidity, snow or both.

I was one of those Cali girls.

I was always pretty certain that I'd attend an HBCU. Of course, my parents didn't force me or demand that I did, but some part of me always imagined myself in that environment. No one around me talked "down" about them or made them out to be anything other than wonderful, nurturing places of higher education. And while I can't say that I was always sure that TUSKEGEE was the place for me, one thing I can tell you for sure is that the homecoming weekend at Tuskegee is what 100% sealed the deal.

In the fall of 1987, I was a senior in high school and a varsity cheer captain. I was on my academic 'A' game, had nailed the SAT, and was held in high regard by many of my teachers and counselors. Even though I was competitive for schools closer to home and some even further, I'd told my parents that I wanted to go to an HBCU and they didn't object. But being the marcher to my own drum that I tend to be, I was pretty firm that that HBCU would NOT be Tuskegee. (Yawnity-yawn-yawn!) Dad said, "That's cool" as did my mom--but to be a good daughter I, of course, applied there just to say I did.

Well. My school of choice? Oh. I will admit it clearly that my best friend and I had decided that we'd both go to Spelman College in Atlanta, Georgia. No question. So my parents being the wonderful parents that they are planned a trip down South for me to visit Spelman (and to stop by Tuskegee to see my brother and the rest of our family while we were out there.)

Mmmm hmmm.

So we land in the ATL on a Thursday night and decide to "go ahead and drive to Tuskegee" to see family and to "go to Spelman and the Atlanta University Center before we leave."  I was looking forward to seeing my brother, my grandparents and my cousins, so this wasn't a hard sell. Plus, I had visited Tuskegee as a child. I knew that place. I'd been there and I'd done that. So as far as that doing anything to dissuade me from my firm decision against following the family tradition, I wasn't worried in the least.

And so. We get to my grandma's house late that night, put down our bags and climb under the covers of the guest room beds. (JoLai was a junior in high school and was there for the trip, too.)

I woke up to the sound of drums. Drums from a drum line and people chanting. I opened my eyes and wondered what the hell was going on. What was going on is that my grandmother lives a block from the Alumni Bowl where the football games are played. And where the band practices before games. Yes. They were practicing before a game alright. And that game just so happened to be the homecoming game.

Mmmm hmmm.

Maaaaan. I got hoodwinked. Bamboozled. Run amuck. My dad took me to Tuskegee on what could have possibly been the most cloudless homecoming ever--next to the one I just left. And did I mention? By the time I came downstairs, my brother had come over with his girlfriend at the time who just so happened to be a Delta. A Tuskegee Delta.

Now. Let's just be clear. My sister-in-law, Fran (also a Tuskegee alum) is the perfect woman for my brother and is the most awesomely awesome-sauce sister-in-law ever. Not to mention gorgeous, smart and ridiculously talented. So please don't get any of the following things twisted when I tell you of this former girlfriend of Will's.

Okay, so check it. So this 1987 girlfriend was not only super model gorgeous, she was also smart as all get out and super-duper nice. Especially nice to the kid sister of her first year Vet School boyfriend. So nice, in fact, that she schlepped me onto campus from my grandmother's house that bright sunny Friday and right into the thick of things with her and all of her Delta sorority sisters. Man, oh man. I will never, ever forget the sight of "the yard" that day. Fraternities and sororities singing. Pledgees standing at attention with solemn faces. Music playing from speakers and just. . . energy. I swear it was like a scene out of Spike Lee's "School Daze" and I was just waiting for him to jump out of the bushes to yell "CUT!"

So. Freakin'. Awesome.

The next day? The game. I had never been to a Tuskegee Homecoming game and this? This was crazy. I could not, could not, could not get my mind around all of it. I kept wanting someone to pinch me, to tell me that all of this was part of a movie set and not real at all. But it was. It all was.

I was able to visit some of the academic buildings and even got a formal tour by a university ambassador (which I later became.) I wanted to fight the magnetic pull of my heart to this place but I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried.

When we finally made it to Spelman College on a rainy Monday morning, it simply couldn't compete. And certainly I know from visiting my high school best friend who indeed went to Spelman, that Monday visit in no way gave Spelman a fair chance. (In fact, during my Tuskegee years we both enjoyed each other's homecomings VERY much. . .ha ha!) 

There wasn't a sorority legacy in our family already, so I guess I can say the Delta thing in our family started with me. (Deanna pledged five years after me in an alumnae chapter.) Okay. So I'll admit that Will's 1987 Delta girlfriend had a lot to do with me initially being enamored by Delta women. Particularly Tuskegee Delta women. Once I came back from that trip, I learned a little more. I paid attention to some things that I hadn't noticed before. Turns out that some of my favorite adult role models (in Jack and Jill, etc.) were members of Delta Sigma Theta, too. By the time I set foot at Tuskegee, my mind was made up.

And so.

I guess you can see why homecoming at Tuskegee holds such a special place in my heart. It's tied to the moment I knew that I'd make that place my alma mater. It's tied to my first yearnings to be a Delta woman. And now? I guess it's a part of who I am.

This past homecoming underscored all of that more than most years I can remember--although most have been awesome. Something about the energy. . .the all of it. . . .was so reminiscent of that fateful autumn in 1987. That unforgettable time that I got my first taste of the HBCU experience . . . .and the homecoming traditions wrapped snugly inside it.

I even found myself wondering this year. . . .was there a high school girl somewhere watching me and my linesisters feeling just as inspired as I did in 1987? Were those thunderous drums speaking to the spirit of a pre-teen who'd been dragged along with their parents?

Did our tight hugs and loud songs plant a seed in someone, somewhere? And you know? I couldn't help but think after looking at those images and reading those words again. . . .did those images perhaps give a high school student clicking through on the internet second thoughts about whether or not they could indeed still be all they can be--even if they chose one of these 105 schools?

Maybe it left them imagining themselves a part of life long friendships and sisterhoods. The kind that would make them yearn to come back from far away places like New York and Denver and Los Angeles and San Diego. Year after year.

Maybe someone narrowed their eyes and scratched their head. . . and for the first time wanted to know more about who they themselves are and what all this history could mean to them. Just maybe hearing all of this and seeing all of this piqued their interest. . .piqued it enough to really and truly explore this "different world" that had always seemed surreal outside Cosby sitcoms.

Or maybe it's none of that. Maybe someone somewhere just liked hearing about it because it opened a window into a different culture. Maybe. And maybe it reminded someone that joy is joy and friendship is friendship--no matter what.

 

my linesister, Falona, at Homecoming 2012

Falona's parents and my parents at Homecoming 2012 (Poopdeck went to high school with them, too!)

Maybe.

Because this experience? It was more than just about higher education. It was about tapping into a part of your soul that some people who look like me spend their whole lives trying to run from. Or even just get okay with. 

I think my experiences at Tuskegee and Meharry helped me to be alright with me. And my culture. Which, if you ask me, is the best and only way to get alright with other people and their cultures.

Half the battle in life is just getting okay with who you are. At least that's what I think.

Me? I had a choice. I know for sure that I could have gone to a large majority institution that any and everybody has heard of and that wouldn't require any long explanation whatsoever. I know that. And not for one second do I criticize or question any person (particularly those of color) who did choose such a school. In fact, I'm proud of anyone who is doing their thing and trying to get a higher education.

Dad introducing his grandsons to the President of Tuskegee University, Dr. Gilbert Rochon

But you know what? I'm so proud that I grew up in an environment and a household where an HBCU was even a consideration. A consideration for a valedictorian like my sister JoLai or a salutatorian like my sister Deanna. A consideration for two other accomplished children who ranked sixth in their high school classes like my brother Will and me. I'm proud that my parents and grandparents painted a picture of these institutions for us not as "last resorts" or "places where black folks used to go" but as places smart, vibrant and promising young people like us should consider worthy of our talents . . . . and places that we could, would, and should feel at home.

But most of all? I'm proud that I listened to my father that day when he told me that "the great will be great." Proud that with each and every thing I accomplish as a professional. . . not one but two historically black institutions can stand to their feet, point at me and say, "We made her."

Because they did.

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Happy Thursday. (And happy homecoming to all my friends heading up to Hampton University this weekend. Make it count!)

They made me. And I'm proud of it.

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Kimberly Manning, MD, FACP, FAAP

Associate Professor of Medicine

Emory University School of Medicine

B.S. Biology, Tuskegee University, 1992

M.D., Meharry Medical College, 1996

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