When Andres Martin stepped off a bus in the Louisiana heat with everything he owned in two duffle bags, he didn’t know what the next four years would hold. All he knew was that this — walking toward Grambling State University’s Frederick C. Hobdy Assembly Center — was a new beginning.

“I didn’t know how I was going to afford it,” he said. “But God had a different plan for me.”

What came next would change the trajectory of his life: the mentorship of a professor who refused to let him quit, the community that lifted him through self-doubt, and the belief that his story — like so many others at historically Black colleges — was proof of what resilience can create when nurtured in the right environment.

Born in Waterbury, Connecticut, Andres spent his childhood in two culturally rich neighborhoods. “My circle was mostly built around football,” he said. “The guys I played with from Pop Warner through high school became like brothers.”

The communities that shaped him were “family-oriented and tight-knit,” he said, “but like anywhere else, people took different paths.”

He saw firsthand how opportunity wasn’t evenly distributed. “Community support was strong on the field,” he said, “but academic guidance wasn’t always as accessible. I had heart and talent, but I had to learn how to navigate systems that weren’t built to guide me.”

Those early lessons left him determined — and self-aware. “They didn’t break me,” he said. “They built my understanding of loyalty, and that community is not a convenience — it’s a responsibility.”

Andres was raised by his mother — “an incredible, resilient woman” — who modeled faith and perseverance. “She did everything she could to uplift me,” he said. “She preached purpose, not prosperity.”

Since she hadn’t gone to college, higher education wasn’t always the focus at home. “College wasn’t a common topic in our household,” he said. “We talked about working hard, building character, finding stability.”

It wasn’t until his cousin mentioned college late in his senior year that he began to see it as possible. “That moment shifted everything,” he said. “But I didn’t have confidence or faith yet. The idea of enrolling in college felt impossible.”

Everything changed after graduation when Andres moved to Dallas to live with his aunt. “She took me on my first HBCU tour — Prairie View A&M, Texas Southern, and Grambling State,” he said.

At each stop, he saw something that mirrored possibility. “I saw professors and students walking with purpose,” he said. “For the first time, I saw myself in that world.”

When Grambling accepted him, the words on the admission letter — “Congratulations, you have been admitted” — meant more than they appeared. “What I read between those lines was: We got you. You belong here,” he said.

Then came the message that sealed his decision: ‘Welcome to Grambling, the place where everybody is somebody.’

“That line hit different,” Andres said. “It made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t before. The warmth of the staff, the energy of the students — they believed in me long before I did.”

He’d also been accepted to Texas Southern and Prairie View, but Grambling stood out. “It felt like promise,” he said. “Like purpose. Like the home I’d been searching for.”

The first day on campus was emotional. “It was a mix of uncertainty and determination,” he said. “I was drenched in sweat, walking across campus with two duffle bags and no idea how I’d make it all work.”

But after registering for classes and receiving his dorm keys, something shifted. “I remember walking toward Attucks Hall,” he said. “There were welcome parties, music, laughter — people embracing each other. That’s when I knew this wasn’t just about education. This was about coming alive again.”

Grambling, he said, is “a family you didn’t know you needed, wrapped in a legacy you didn’t know you were inheriting.”

“From day one, you’re not just a student — you’re part of something bigger,” Andres said. “From the Divine 9 to the marching band to spontaneous student events, everything connects you to the heartbeat of the Black experience.”

He laughs as he describes the soundtrack of campus life: “You could be walking to your 9 a.m., and the band is rehearsing a ’90s R&B classic in the distance. It’s joy and excellence coexisting.”

By his first semester, Andres’s GPA had dropped to 1.9 — and so had his confidence. “I thought writing would take me out,” he said. “I was depressed and ready to give up.”

Then his English professor, Ms. Bonner, handed him back a paper that made his heart sink — and asked six words that would change his life: “Do you know where the writing center is?”

“I started going religiously,” he said. “They helped me turn my thoughts into words. That 1.9 became a 4.0 my next semester.”

Those writing skills became the foundation for his professional life — as a Program Manager, Executive Director, and now, the #1 Bestselling author of the children’s book series “HBCU Night.”

After earning his degree from Grambling, Andres pursued graduate studies at Howard University — the next chapter in his evolution.

“Grambling gave me belief,” he said. “Howard gave me structure.”

At Howard, he sharpened his business skills — learning to write grants, develop proposals, and build the nonprofit infrastructure for his “HBCU Night” initiative, which introduces young students to the culture and legacy of historically Black colleges.

“Walking on Howard’s campus gives you a sense of pride just from the alumni legacy alone,” he said. “But Grambling gave me the confidence that I belonged in those rooms to begin with.”

If you ask Andres why he’s so passionate about HBCUs, his answer is both personal and profound.

“I came in broken, holding onto depression like it was part of my identity,” he said. “Grambling welcomed me with grace and conviction, like they already saw the version of me I was struggling to see.”

“That’s what makes HBCUs special,” he continued. “They don’t just educate you; they invest in you. They see your potential before you do, and they refuse to let you waste it.”

For students still deciding where to go, Andres offers a challenge: “Ask yourself — do you want to attend college, or do you want to be transformed by it?”

He pauses, then smiles. “Because at an HBCU, you’re not just a number. You’re family. You’re legacy. You’re the next chapter of a story that began long before you — and will continue because of you.”