Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service invites community members to submit opinion pieces of 500-800 words on topics of interest to central city Milwaukee. To send a submission for consideration, please email info@milwaukeenns.org. The views expressed are solely those of the authors.
Dear Black Students Entering College This Semester:
First and foremost: congratulations. You are stepping into a new chapter of your life—one shaped by ambition, resilience, and the dreams of those who came before you. You’ve earned your place in higher education, and your journey is something to be proud of.
You’re entering college during a pivotal time in U.S. history. It is a moment of cultural reckoning, political tension, and social transformation. Conversations around race, identity, and belonging are louder than ever, even as some try to silence them. In this context, your presence in the classroom is not only important—it’s radical.
Whether you’re walking onto a campus built centuries ago with traditions that never imagined you in mind, or entering the storied legacy of an HBCU (Historically Black Colleges and Universities) where Black brilliance has always been the standard, know this: You belong.
If you’re attending a PWI (Predominantly White Institution), there may be moments where you feel invisible or hyper-visible. You may be one of a few—or the only one—in a classroom, in a major, or in a conversation. You might find yourself having to explain, educate, or justify your existence. It can be exhausting. It can be isolating. But never let anyone make you feel like a guest in a space you’ve earned the right to be in.
If you’re attending an HBCU, you are entering sacred ground. You’re stepping into a tradition rich with pride, purpose, and community. But that doesn’t mean the road will be without challenges. The pressure to represent, to succeed, to be more than your own dreams can be heavy. Even in places built for you, growth can be uncomfortable but necessary.
No matter where you are, know this:
Some will try to see you only through the lens of struggle.
Some will frame you as a victim before even learning your name.
Some will try to define you by imagined trauma or statistics.
But you are not a narrative that others place on you.
You are not a teaching moment. You are not a charity case.
You are more than a lesson in diversity.
You are a whole person—with joy, brilliance, depth, and power.
A powerful legacy
You come from a legacy of Black educators and barrier-breakers—people who refused to let the gates of knowledge stay closed.
You walk in the footsteps of Mary McLeod Bethune, who founded a school with $1.50 and a fierce belief in Black girls’ futures.
You walk in the footsteps of Carter G. Woodson, who gave us Black History Month because he knew our story had to be told.
You walk in the footsteps of Septima Clark, who taught that literacy was power and built schools that trained civil rights leaders.
You walk in the footsteps of Marva Collins, who refused to let a broken system define her students’ potential.
You walk in the footsteps of Charles Hamilton Houston, who used law and education as tools to dismantle segregation.
And alongside these giants were countless, nameless Black educators in one-room schoolhouses and segregated public schools—teachers who worked underpaid and overburdened, yet held high standards and higher hopes.
They organized fish fries, bake sales, and church drives to raise money for textbooks, chalk, desks, and coal for the stove.
They secured Rosenwald grants to build safe schools when the government would not.
They taught generations of Black children not just how to read—but how to stand tall, how to think critically, how to believe in themselves even when the world refused to.
Black excellence in education is not new—it is ancestral. It is global. It is living in you right now.
So here’s what I want you to carry with you:
You don’t need to shrink to make others comfortable.
You don’t need to prove your worth. You are already enough.
Your identity is not a burden—it is a source of strength.
Rest is your right. Joy is your right. Boundaries are your right.
You deserve to be challenged without being erased.
Find your people. Find your mentors. Find your peace. Speak up. Ask questions. Start something. And when it feels like too much, remember: you are not alone, and you are not the first to walk this road. You are surrounded—seen and unseen—by those who are rooting for you.
There will be days of doubt, but there will also be days of deep, liberating joy. You’ll laugh, create, lead, learn, and become someone even greater than who you imagined.
So walk into this semester with your head high, your mind open, and your spirit grounded. Whether your path leads through marble halls or red brick campuses, you are making history simply by being here.
You are seen.
You are needed.
You are loved.
And you are carrying forward a legacy that cannot be undone.
With pride, solidarity, and belief in your power,
Dr. Burrows
Cedric Burrows is an associate professor of English at Arizona State University. Before working at ASU, he served as an associate professor of English at Marquette University. His research focuses on cultural rhetorics, specifically Black rhetoric and its interpretations by mainstream culture.
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