I come from New Orleans, one of the Blackest and most culturally rich cities in America—a place where history, perseverance, and community are woven into everything we do and are.

Growing up in a city that raised icons of music, art, and activism, I learned early that excellence and Blackness were never mutually exclusive; they’re inextricably bound. My choice to attend an HBCU was an extension of that truth.

My educational journey began at The Learning Workshop, a preschool founded by my grandparents, Richard and Oretha Haley, both civil rights freedom fighters who built the school specifically to educate Black children. From the start, I was surrounded by the brilliance of Black educators who saw potential as a responsibility, not an exception. By age four, I was not only ready for kindergarten but could recite all three verses of “Lift Every Voice and Sing.”

Later, I attended Saint Augustine High School, a cornerstone of Black male education and a place where discipline, scholarship, and brotherhood weren’t just ideals—they were expectations. St. Aug instilled in me a deep sense of pride, purpose, and faith in the power of Black-led institutions. It showed me that spaces built by and for us could cultivate brilliance and confidence without compromise. That foundation made my decision to attend an HBCU feel inevitable.

When it came time for college, as a National Achievement Scholar, I had options—including Ivy League schools offering prestige and opportunity. But I knew prestige meant nothing if the environment didn’t nurture my spirit or feed my soul. I didn’t want to spend four years proving I belonged.

The HBCUs I attended offered something the others couldn’t: academic rigor within a community that understood the nuances of my experience as a young, Black, and Queer man in America. I wanted to learn in classrooms where our history wasn’t an elective, where professors saw my potential before I did, and where success was measured not just by individual achievement but by how I uplifted my community.

Attending Howard University and Xavier University of Louisiana gave me that and more. They sharpened my intellect, deepened my purpose, and affirmed that my identity was not a limitation but a source of power. These schools taught me how to merge academic excellence with cultural grounding—to not only succeed but to serve.

For me, HBCUs have always been more than schools. They are cultural incubators, leadership laboratories, and sanctuaries for generations of dreamers and doers. My grandparents—one an alum of Southern University at New Orleans, the other a professor at Florida A&M University—taught me that education is not just a personal achievement but a collective investment.

Coming from New Orleans, a city that has survived hurricanes, neglect, and systemic inequities, I understand what it means to thrive in the face of adversity. That same spirit lives within every HBCU—the resilience, the brilliance, the unshakable belief in our own potential.

Choosing an HBCU wasn’t just about attending college—it was about continuing a legacy that began long before me and will continue long after. I wanted to add my own chapter to that beautiful Black story, to contribute to the living archive of our excellence.

I chose an HBCU because I believe in, and am now a testament to, the transformative power of Black education.

Peace be the journey.