It's official. As of April 28th, I've obtained my Master of Urban Planning!!!!! It was a short journey, bumpy at times, but worth all of the trouble. Even though I'm still figuring out future plans and living locations, I have no regrets on completing my degree when I did. God told me to move, and while the job market looks bleak, I have kept my spirits high. That and I still have an unfaltering support system.
I successfully completed my Masters by 25 and while I don't feel a day past 22 (eh, maybe 23), it really is true what people say about time going by quicker than normal after a certain point in life. Without going into something that sounds like a quarter-life crisis rant, looking at the past, most of the memorable events happened as a college student. I cherish those memories and love reconnecting with old friends to reflect on our adventures and mishaps. Even graduate school carried great memories. While I was a little stubborn when it came to making friends as a grad student (I was quite content with the wonderful friends I already had), grad school was a time where I did most of my traveling- Philadelphia, Miami, Atlanta, Boston, DC, New York, and Pittsburgh. Thankfully, I had a friend that helped me get through grad school without me losing my mind from being surrounded by people that I felt I didn't connect with. Being a HBCU graduate, the experience was new to my friend, but she fit in very well with our colleagues and was a well-liked, actively involved student. Nonetheless, even with her adapting to a different environment, it was a place that she said she couldn't see completing her undergraduate.
After listening to her recount her experience at a HBCU, and actually visiting the campus myself, I could see why she would feel that way. At her alma mater, she felt a connectedness to both the students and the staff. She described how there was a huge emphasis placed on black achievement and culture. On her campus, while sororities were active, there was no need to join one because "sisterhood" was intertwined in everything from campus activities to dorm life. In visiting the HBCU campuses in Atlanta during homecoming weekend, I was able to see some of the things she talked about in person. I remember reading an article in high school labeling Atlanta the "Black Mecca" and though some question that title today, it was still amazing to see these black college students that had successfully graduated and started careers. In my friend's circle alone, there was a principal, a business executive, and a doctor. Quite impressive for women that had not yet made it into their 30s. More than anything, it was a breath of fresh air to be around people with the same culture, the same drive and ambition, and the same determination to make a name for themselves in the world.
So do I regret going to a PWI (predominantly white institution)? Absolutely not. At times, I wish I could have felt what it was like to attend a HBCU, even if only for a week. I'd be lying if I said that curiosity still isn't there. You're talking to someone whose first exposure to both college life and Greek life was "A Different World." I thought my life as a college student would play out exactly like that in the show. It wasn't until high school that dreams of maize and blue pushed me to turn in an application to attend one of the top 12 universities in the world. But this has nothing to do with rankings. To say that I'm glad that I attended a PWI because it'll "help better prepare me for non-diverse work environments" is also a stretch seeing that the HBCU graduates I know adjusted quite well in non-diverse environments and have no stories to report on working with "The Man."
I respect HBCUs and their histories, and they do have AMAZING
histories. However, the reason I have no regrets in attending a PWI is because it was a challenge that actually drew me closer to my culture and history. I went to a diverse middle school, but was one of only ten black students in my high school. I didn't learn black history in middle school and had to host my own Black History Bowl in high school for students who couldn't even tell me who Harriet Taubman was. Arriving at Michigan, I had more people that I could identify with unlike high school, and this was good for me given what I went through. If you read my past blogs, you'd find that it's been somewhat of an identity crisis over the years. The struggle to fit in with wealthier girls in middle school when I knew it was not financially feasible for my parents morphed into something different by 2005. High school meant dealing with an entirely new complex. It was listening to stereotypical jokes and watching people emulate black people they watched on television or "in the 'hood" where their families owned stores. This did NOT go for every student at my school, but I'd be lying if I said many classmates had their own interpretation of black people are and what we do. One classmate considered me her "best friend" but told others that I would not be allowed in her house.
College presented a new playing field and brought the relief that I didn't have to change Christina and ignore my history in order to fit in. I can admit that I was disappointed in some of the stereotypical jokes made towards black people at my high school. Some I let slide in the name of popularity. It's not to say that I arrived on campus and turned into a modern day Angela Davis, but I embraced my race more and learned to not be ashamed of my culture, nor where my family came from and our socioeconomic status. I can't speak much to what the climate of the campus is now, but I do know that as an undergraduate, I admired the people and events that celebrated our history and emphasized connectedness and support on a campus where African Americans are few. Furthermore, attending a PWI was a challenge, and in my opinion, a bigger challenge than that of attending a HBCU. The Campus Explorer website provides a number of reasons why a person should attend a HBCU. For example:
Going to an HBCU makes a statement. Some students feel empowered by attending a university that has a history of fighting for African-American students' rights to higher education.
While it is a true, I feel more empowered to attend a university where blacks were not allowed and the first African American woman was not admitted until 60 years after U-M's founding. It is a
challenge to sit in a classroom of 200, be the only black person, and feel behind in what you're learning because you may not have received the same education as others around you. It is a
challenge to have to prove your worth to others because they feel you were admitted on Proposal 2, and Proposal 2 alone.
Again, therein lies the question: if you had to do it all over again, would you have went to a HBCU?
No. While I admire all HBCUs, I'm perfectly content with picking the school that I did. I grew to appreciate my history and developed a love for my people in a way I hadn't before. I created friendships with not just black students, but Caucasian, Latino, Indian, Asian, and was able to learn about their culture and teach them mine, this time dispelling any negative stereotypes or preconceived notions they may have had about African Americans. Most importantly, not only did I graduate, but I graduated twice, and proved to the naysayers and bigots on campus, both past and present, that no law, racial slurs, or threats could keep me from getting my
degrees and becoming a fierce, educated, and PROUD black woman.
