Monthly Archives: September 2025

Dr. King’s Dream is Dead: African America Must Focus On Its Own Institutional Sovereignty and Survival

“I fear I may have integrated my people into a burning house.” – Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

By William A. Foster, IV

For my parents and grandparents not many years ago, it was the White Citizens Council, Ku Klux Klan, Bull Connor, George Wallace, and more. Today, it is MAGA, ICE, Donald Trump, Charlie Kirk, and more. African America long held out hope that we would be in someway accepted into America’s fabric. We contributed centries of free labor capital, centuries of cultural capital, and did it all under an umbrella of racial terrorism. This hope was held without so much as an apology or reparation. The Civil Rights Movement of which much of my family was a part of from my mother’s letter to Dr. King himself that now sits in the archives of Boston College to part of our family that was forced to relocate to Jamaica by the US government, likely Hoover’s FBI. They fought for equal protections and equal opportunities, but it was and has always been a fool’s errand. A group in power will never voluntarily relinquish that power and European Americans are no exception to that rule. The problem is and has always been that only African America was fighting for reconciliation. It has been a dance between two dance partners where one is constantly stomping on the feet of the other, stealing money out of our pockets as they swirl us around, and smiling at us while putting a knife nine inches in our back and pulling it out six inches while calling it progress.

As a child, my sister and I had the privilege of attending Wee Care, an African American primary school in Prairie View, Texas in the town where our family’s illustrious HBCU, Prairie View A&M University is located and where my mother has taught students, developed faculty, and served in leadership for almost five decades. Unfortunately for us, the school only went up to the first grade at which time my mother was forced to choose her “best” option. My mother’s best option was an overwhelmingly European American Catholic school in the heart of Tomball, Texas, at the time a fairly known small Texas town – with all of the small town Texas dynamics when it came to race. Only my second and fifth grade teachers were nice to me. One was really young and the other a hippy. In sixth and seventh grade at another predominantly European American Catholic school I would experience the first time being called the N word by a fellow classmate. Even in the resulting aftermath of the fight I was blamed by the principal for being violent. Imagine that. The African American private schools were limited and given the distance from where we lived almost impossible for my mother to change us to an African American school where we would be culturally safe. That though was not the whole story. You see my classmates through elementary in particular were thought to be lifetime friends, but in my later years I would learn a valuable lesson from a graduate program I would attend in Boston at a Jewish institution. Do not confuse friendship and loyalty. I am thankful to this day for the lessons from that institution because it opened my eyes to so much in the world of navigating power dynamics. It was in those lessons that I realized that many of my so called friends from elementary were also loyal to causes that would see me and my family back on a plantation if the winds blew in the right direction and they saw no moral or ideological conflict.

From that point on, I realized that what I must lean into is the institutional development of my own people. From African America to the African Diaspora and that the connectivity of our institutions would be our strength and saving grace. But alas, many of us still yearned for acceptance into PWIs, European American corporations even though we do not think of them as such that is exactly who they are owned by when you examine their ownership, and predominantly European American neighborhoods. To access whiteness is seen as progress and success. In every place we lived, I largely remember us always being the only African American family in the neighborhood. Something I know that none of my childhood “friends” ever thought about or crossed their mind. Their families would never move into an African American community and be the only one. They saw our spaces as hostile even though we have always been overly welcoming even to our detriment, but as I said being the only African American family in a predominantly European American community was often seen as “progress” for many in our community. It was a mistake, a violent psychological mistake that still harms many of us to this day. The same way Ruby Bridges, a six-year old child, had to be escorted by Federal agents into a school because we assumed the fight for desegregation was making America true to its values. We were wrong then and we have been wrong about what Ameria’s values actually are.

Dr. King said in his famous speech, “I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed. We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal. I have a dream that one day out in the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by their character. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; that one day right down in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today.”

The dream is dead. It was a dream that required two parties to reconcile their past with only one willing to do so while suffering the brutality that has persisted since 1619. Dr. King’s speech was given on August 28, 1963 and two weeks later on September 15, 1963, the KKK bombed 16th Street Baptist Church and killed four African American girls: Addie Mae Collins (age 14, born April 18, 1949), Carol Denise McNair (age 11, born November 17, 1951), Carole Rosamond Robertson (age 14, born April 24, 1949), and Cynthia Dionne Wesley (age 14, born April 30, 1949). My mother was born in 1949. It could have easily been her. There are countless African American deaths at the hands of racial terrorism that we will never know about. The Red Summer of 1919 when the most African Americans (on record) were lynched. An entire Civil War just decades prior was waged over whether or not the United States should or should continue to be a country rooted in the slave economy. The complexity by which the North and South were guilty of profiting from – looking at you Harvard and others and have never rectified. The bloodshed, terror, and violence has been endless and it has not receded.

“I wouldn’t give it no more thought than wringing a cat’s neck! And there ain’t a court in Mississippi that’d convict me for it.” Frank Bailey’s, a character in Mississippi Burning, quote in regards to killing African Americans. This is and has been America’s attitude towards African America in its entirety. Not just individuals, but our institutions and communities as well. The underfunding of HBCUs or the burning of countless towns from Rosewood to Tulsa, our death and demise is sport and entertainment. African America has constantly believed that we could appeal to the morality of fellow Americans and “Christians”. We could work hard enough and show them our humanity. Imagine us thinking we need to prove to them we were hard working, civil, or human. It is both comical and insulting. But like many centuries ago, we have since the end of the Civil Rights Movement returns to working hard for everyone but ourselves and our institutions. That time needs to be over and we need to return to the principles and efforts that built towns like Rosewood, Greenwood, 100 HBCUs, 100 African American boarding schools, and over 500 African American owned hospitals. It is time to abandon any hope that peace can be achieved. Our sovereignty and survival is all that matters going forward. There are no more olive branches to be had. Not even from those that call themselves moderates or liberals because far too often we have seen them fall silent or pushed us to assimilate into spaces that did not empower us, did not provide institutional ownership to us, and often were spaces that were paternalistic and just as hostile to us as their conservative cousins. No, there are no more olive branches to be had because our survival depends on it.

Dr. John Henrik Clarke, a noted Pan-African historian, and someone who I consider an unofficial mentor said that any African American who is looking to devise a plan must look at our communities as nation-states and therefore must consider these fundamental pillars:

How will my people be housed?

How will my people be educated?

How will my people be fed?

How will my people be defended?

The answers to these questions can no longer be grassroots, they have to be institutional and they have to be thought about in a way that recognizes that our sovereign nation-state is adjacent to an adversary who has and will invade us. It is not a question of if they will, but when will they because they have so many times before. Unfortuantely, we cannot ask Dr. King what his thoughts about his “Dream” for America would be today because at the age of 39 he was assassinated. He was assassinated three years after his contemporary Malcolm X was assasinated and five years after Medgar Evers was assassinated in his driveway. Medgar Evers just two months before the “I Have A Dream” speech would take place. He was not blind to what America was for African America and he was certainly not blind to how our adversaries saw us or the lengths they were willing to go to in order to silence us. For the last 50 plus years since Dr. King’s passing African America has tried to make a peace that we should now see is not possible. It is time for the Dream Redefined and that dream should start and stop with actions that provide for the institutional sovereignty and survial of African America period.

Give Black App: A Digital Gatekeeper For African American Philanthropy & Institutional Capital

“We must invest in ourselves. Without our own institutions, we will always be at the mercy of others.” – Mary McLeod Bethune

In the long arc of African American economic life, a recurring pattern emerges: the institutions most critical to our survival are consistently starved of capital, while the broader society thrives off of our labor, culture, and creativity. From Reconstruction-era mutual aid societies to the undercapitalized HBCUs of today, the struggle has never been whether African Americans are generous, but whether that generosity is systematically directed into institutions that can build durable power.

The Give Black App, founded by David C. Hughes, Alexus Hall, and Fran Harris, positions itself at this inflection point. It is not simply an app but a digital strategy—one attempting to reshape the flow of African American philanthropy and donations by curating, centralizing, and amplifying support for Black-led institutions.

The Context of Underfunding

African American nonprofits receive disproportionately less funding compared to their White counterparts. A 2020 Bridgespan study found that unrestricted net assets of White-led nonprofits were 76% larger than those of Black-led nonprofits, while revenues were 24% higher. These disparities compound over time. For HBCUs, the story is even starker: the endowments of all 100+ HBCUs combined is less than 1/10th of Harvard University’s alone.

Despite African America’s estimated $1.8 trillion in annual buying power, only a fraction is captured by its own institutions. Much of African American giving remains individual-to-individual or church-centered, providing immediate relief but not the kind of long-term institutional scaffolding needed to compete with White or global capital. Platforms like Give Black attempt to redirect that generosity into a framework where dollars reinforce permanence.

Building the Infrastructure of Giving

Give Black’s strength lies in infrastructure, a word often overlooked in philanthropy. The app operates as a digital gatekeeper, cataloguing Black-led nonprofits and enabling donors—whether individuals, alumni associations, or grassroots organizations—to find and fund them with ease.

This may seem simple, but its implications are profound. In an environment where discoverability is one of the greatest barriers for Black-led organizations, Give Black centralizes attention. For the countless nonprofits that lack robust marketing budgets, development officers, or national visibility, the app provides a seat at the table they would otherwise be denied.

The team itself reflects intentional design. Hughes, a Morehouse and Prairie View alumnus, carries the academic gravitas to engage institutions; Hall, with a background in cybersecurity and software sales, grounds the platform’s technical operations; Harris, a lifelong advocate of Black love and economic empowerment, provides the cultural grounding and marketing voice. Alongside them stand directors rooted in community engagement, finance, athletics, and science. Together, they represent a cross-section of African American life that mirrors the very community the app seeks to serve.

Philanthropy Meets Technology

Unlike GoFundMe or Benevity, which serve broad audiences, Give Black narrows its focus: African American-led institutions. This specificity is both its greatest strength and its potential vulnerability. By making African American philanthropy visible and trackable, the app attempts to normalize institutional giving within the community itself.

African American donors, long used to personal giving—funeral funds, tuition help, emergency assistance—are now asked to see their dollars not just as charity but as investment. An app that allows for transparency, accountability, and impact measurement may finally bridge the gap between intent and sustained institutional support.

Technology also democratizes giving. Younger generations, accustomed to digital wallets and mobile donations, are unlikely to write checks or mail contributions. By existing where they already transact, Give Black normalizes philanthropy as part of daily life. With proper marketing, it could serve as a digital equivalent of the collection plate—except one that sends dollars to Black think tanks, schools, health clinics, and endowment foundations rather than solely to Sunday offerings.

The Role of Fran Harris

Much of the initial confusion about Give Black’s leadership arises from Fran Harris’s name. She openly jokes about it—she is not the Fran Harris who was a WNBA champion or Shark Tank winner, though many assume otherwise. Instead, she distinguishes herself as someone whose “entire life has been about Black love and economic empowerment.”

That distinction matters. Whereas celebrity often drives visibility in African American philanthropy, Harris positions herself not as a star but as a steward of a broader vision. Her work focuses on the storytelling and cultural marketing needed to align African American giving with institutional capital. In a sense, her humor in addressing the name confusion underscores the seriousness of her actual role: grounding the app’s message in authenticity rather than celebrity.

The Gaps in the Strategy

Despite its promise, Give Black faces hurdles. First, fundraising expertise at the highest level appears limited within the core team. Major philanthropy is an industry of its own, requiring seasoned development officers capable of cultivating seven- and eight-figure gifts. Without this, Give Black risks becoming a platform for small-dollar giving—important, but insufficient for closing institutional capital gaps.

Second, technological depth must match ambition. While Hall’s cybersecurity background provides operational credibility, scaling a fintech-style platform requires CTO-level leadership. Issues of compliance, data integrity, and user trust are not optional—they are the foundation of sustainability.

Third, policy and compliance matter. Donations intersect with financial regulations, nonprofit law, and IRS oversight. To become the definitive gateway for Black giving, Give Black must not only build a sleek front end but also a back-end architecture that can withstand regulatory scrutiny and instill donor confidence.

Where the Opportunities Lie

The greatest opportunities for Give Black lie in institutional self-reliance.

One clear pathway is through alumni networks. HBCU alumni giving rates remain in the single digits, compared to 20–30% at elite PWIs. If Give Black positioned itself as the official conduit for alumni donations, it could help double or triple those rates over time. That alone would shift millions into endowments and operating budgets across the HBCU ecosystem.

Another opportunity lies in membership-based organizations—from professional networks to civic associations. Instead of dues going solely toward programming, portions could be funneled into long-term institutional giving through Give Black, creating a culture of collective philanthropy.

The Pan-African Diaspora represents yet another opening. African and Caribbean communities abroad are increasingly connected digitally. Give Black could expand to become a Pan-African philanthropic bridge, enabling solidarity between African Americans and global Black communities. Diaspora donors, often seeking trustworthy channels for giving, could find in Give Black a centralized, transparent platform.

Finally, the most transformative opportunity is to integrate endowment-building features directly into the app. Too much African American giving is trapped in the cycle of operating expenses. By redirecting portions of donations into permanent capital funds, Give Black could help institutions create reserves that outlast political climates and economic downturns.

Lessons from History

The urgency of Give Black’s mission must be seen against history. During the early 20th century, White-controlled philanthropy dictated the survival of many HBCUs. Institutions like Hampton and Tuskegee often relied on Northern industrialists whose donations came with ideological strings attached. The absence of African American-controlled philanthropic infrastructure meant dependency—and dependency always meant vulnerability.

Today, African American institutions still operate under the shadow of that dependency. Foundation funding remains racially skewed, and government support is often politically weaponized. Give Black, by offering a decentralized and community-driven alternative, challenges that cycle.

But history also warns: movements that lack discipline or scale are easily absorbed or ignored. Just as the Negro Leagues produced baseball talent but lacked the capital to maintain independence, so too can African American philanthropy generate excitement but fail to sustain institutional life if it is not channeled strategically.

The Verdict

Give Black App is not merely a digital donation tool. It is a test case: can African America leverage technology to redirect its wealth into its own institutions? The team’s composition, heavy in HBCU roots, marketing authenticity, and community engagement, suggests it understands both the stakes and the culture.

Still, the app must avoid the trap of becoming a feel-good project without measurable institutional outcomes. Its long-term success will be determined by whether it can:

  1. Secure partnerships with HBCUs, alumni associations, and membership-based organizations.
  2. Develop deep fundraising and compliance infrastructure.
  3. Normalize institutional giving across African American households.

If it does, Give Black could evolve into a cornerstone of African American institutional development—a kind of digital Freedman’s Bureau, redistributing not charity but power.

For African America, the stakes could not be higher. In an era where White nonprofits sit on multibillion-dollar endowments, while Black nonprofits scrape for survival, the question is not whether we are generous. It is whether our generosity is building the kind of institutions that ensure survival for centuries, not just survival for today.

Give Black, if scaled with vision and discipline, may finally provide the infrastructure to answer that question with a resounding yes.

HBCU B-Schools’ Leadership Still Embarrassingly Lacking In HBCU Alumni

The most difficult thing in life is to know yourself. — Thales

By any reasonable historical standard, Warren Buffett’s rejection by Benjamin Graham is more than a quaint anecdote; it is a powerful parable about institutional loyalty and long-term economic strategy. Graham, the father of value investing, turned away the future Oracle of Omaha not because Buffett was unqualified—far from it—but because he had a principle. Graham hired exclusively European American Jews at a time when Wall Street’s doors were locked tight against them. It was his quiet resistance to systemic exclusion and a way to build a parallel institution that could compete and thrive. Graham wasn’t interested in assimilation; he was focused on insulation, independence, and empowerment. The same cannot be said about the leadership structure of Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs), particularly their business schools.

A decade has passed since a comprehensive review was last undertaken on the leadership of HBCU business schools. One would hope that the intervening years would have ushered in a renaissance of internal cultivation—an era where HBCU alumni, steeped in the culture, history, and mission of these institutions, took the reins of their business schools. That hope remains, for the most part, unrealized. Instead, many HBCU B-schools continue to be led by individuals who are not products of these institutions, and in many cases, are fundamentally disconnected from the unique economic and cultural needs of the African American community.

The appointment of deans and senior faculty from predominantly white institutions (PWIs) is often lauded as a move toward “excellence” or “best practices.” The coded language of meritocracy is a familiar refrain—best person for the job, regardless of background. But this belief, as commonly practiced within HBCUs, is a convenient myth. It sidesteps the structural disadvantages HBCU graduates face in academia and business, and reinforces a dependency on external validation and leadership.

The consequence? A business education ecosystem within HBCUs that remains divorced from the very communities these schools are intended to serve. There is no pipeline, no incubator of internal talent, no clear strategy to empower HBCU alumni to lead, govern, and shape the next generation of Black business leadership.

Institutional Amnesia

In failing to privilege their own alumni in leadership selection, HBCU B-schools suffer from what might be called institutional amnesia. There is little effort to study and replicate the success of institutions that have prioritized internal development. Jewish, Catholic, and even Mormon institutions have all built robust networks by leveraging internal cultural capital and aligning institutional leadership with community objectives. HBCUs, by contrast, often appear to suffer from an inferiority complex that manifests in a relentless pursuit of PWI credentials as a proxy for excellence.

Even when HBCU alumni are in the pipeline, they are frequently passed over in favor of candidates whose resumes boast affiliations with Ivy League or flagship public institutions. The irony is rich and troubling: HBCUs, which claim to be dedicated to the uplift of African Americans, routinely reject their own in favor of the very systems that have historically excluded them.

The Data Tells the Story

Of the 85 accredited HBCU business schools and departments (based on the latest available data), fewer than 20% are led by HBCU alumni. Of that number, fewer than half have received their undergraduate and graduate education at an HBCU, further diluting the institutional knowledge that could be reinvested back into the system.

By contrast, 75% of business school deans and department chairs at Ivy League universities hold at least one degree from an Ivy League institution. This underscores the importance these institutions place on continuity, network loyalty, and internal cultural capital.

Lack of a Succession Strategy

The dearth of HBCU alumni in leadership roles is not merely a matter of optics—it is a strategic failure. The absence of a deliberate succession plan, where institutions identify, mentor, and elevate their own talent, weakens the intellectual and operational spine of HBCU B-schools. When young Black scholars and students do not see themselves reflected in positions of power within their own institutions, the implicit message is that their ascent must take place elsewhere.

Anecdotes abound of promising scholars who, having been educated and initially employed at HBCUs, eventually decamp to PWIs for better pay, prestige, or professional development. When those same scholars become leaders elsewhere, their institutional loyalty rarely circles back. The brain drain becomes self-perpetuating.

Cultural Incongruence and Strategic Drift

Leadership from outside HBCUs is not inherently problematic. However, leadership that does not understand or prioritize the mission-specific challenges and opportunities of HBCUs can lead to strategic drift. The market-driven nature of business education already pushes HBCUs to chase prestige metrics that are often defined by PWI standards—AACSB accreditation, international rankings, publication quotas. Yet these metrics seldom align with the needs of the African American community.

Who is building a curriculum around cooperative economics? Who is training students to start, fund, and grow businesses in historically Black neighborhoods? Who is leading research on Black entrepreneurship, Black banking, and financial exclusion? These priorities require not just academic competence but cultural commitment—something often missing in leadership that has not been formed within HBCUs.

The Cost of Outsourcing Leadership

The preference for external hires is also an expensive habit. Recruitment searches for deans can cost upwards of $250,000 when executive search firms are engaged. The revolving door of short-term leadership appointments, another consequence of weak institutional loyalty, creates instability in fundraising, student recruitment, and faculty morale.

Moreover, the indirect costs are enormous. When leadership lacks vision rooted in the mission of HBCUs, partnerships are misaligned, fundraising strategies are tone-deaf, and entrepreneurial ecosystems are underdeveloped. Business schools are economic engines, and the failure to connect them authentically to the community they serve is a missed opportunity of staggering proportions.

What Would Graham Do?

The story of Benjamin Graham and Warren Buffett is not merely about individual relationships; it is a case study in institutional integrity. Graham’s commitment to his community was not performative. It was strategic, values-driven, and unapologetically intentional. He understood that talent alone was insufficient. It had to be nurtured, protected, and positioned within the community’s own institutions.

African American leaders in education, particularly those responsible for HBCUs, must ask themselves: what kind of ecosystem are we building? Do we merely seek validation from the same institutions that denied us access for generations? Or are we committed to the difficult, often thankless work of institution-building?

The answer may well determine the fate of HBCUs in the 21st century.

A Call to Action

First, HBCU business schools must create formal succession pipelines for leadership from within their own alumni networks. This includes mentoring programs, leadership fellowships, and internal promotion tracks that incentivize long-term engagement.

Second, boards of trustees and presidential leadership must reexamine hiring criteria. Cultural alignment and mission understanding must be weighted as heavily as academic credentials.

Third, HBCUs should begin benchmarking themselves not against Harvard or Wharton but against institutions that have successfully used internal leadership to drive community outcomes. The benchmarks for success must be redefined to reflect mission, not mimicry.

Finally, alumni must hold their institutions accountable. Donations should come with expectations for institutional integrity. If alumni are good enough to fund these schools, they are certainly good enough to lead them.

HBCU B-schools sit at the intersection of education, economics, and cultural preservation. Their leadership must reflect that complexity. The time for apologetic hiring practices and external validation is over. It is time for HBCUs to know themselves—and to trust themselves enough to lead from within.

African America’s August 2025 Jobs Report – 7.5%

Overall Unemployment: 4.1%

African America: 7.2%

Latino America: 5.3%

European America: 3.7%

Asian America: 3.6%

Analysis: European Americans’ unemployment rate was unchanged from July. Asian Americans decreased 30 basis points and Latino Americans increased 30 basis points from July, respectively. African America’s unemployment rate increased by 30 basis points from July.

AFRICAN AMERICAN EMPLOYMENT REVIEW

AFRICAN AMERICAN MEN: 

Unemployment Rate – 7.1%

Participation Rate – 69.8%

Employed – 9,893,000

Unemployed – 753,000

African American Men (AAM) saw a increase in their unemployment rate by 10 basis points in August. The group had an increase in their participation rate in August by 190 basis points, there highest participation rate in the past five months. African American Men gained 270,000 jobs in August and saw their number of unemployed increase by 30,000.

AFRICAN AMERICAN WOMEN: 

Unemployment Rate – 6.7%

Participation Rate – 61.4%

Employed – 10,260,000

Unemployed – 739,000

African American Women saw a increase in their unemployment rate by 40 basis points in August. The group increased their participation rate in August by 30 basis points. African American Women gained 13,000 jobs in August and saw their number of unemployed increase by 45,000.

AFRICAN AMERICAN TEENAGERS:

Unemployment Rate – 24.8%

Participation Rate – 29.3%

Employed – 590,000

Unemployed – 195,000

African American Teenagers unemployment rate increased by 310 basis points. The group saw their participation rate increased by 10 basis points in August. African American Teenagers lost 24,000 jobs in August and saw their number of unemployed also increase 25,000.

African American Men-Women Job Gap: African American Women currently have 367,000 more jobs than African American Men in August. This is an decrease from 624,000 in July.

CONCLUSION: The overall economy added 22,000 jobs in August while African America added 260,000 jobs. From Reuters,”The warning bell that rang in the labor market a month ago just got louder,” Olu Sonola, head of U.S. economic research at Fitch Ratings in New York, said in reference to the U.S. labor market. “A weaker-than-expected jobs report all but seals a 25-basis-point rate cut later this month.” Fed Chair Jerome Powell had already reinforced rate cut speculation with an unexpectedly dovish speech at last month’s Fed symposium in Jackson Hole.”

Source: Bureau of Labor Statistics

A Legacy Reclaimed: Why SUNO and Dillard University Should Jointly Acquire the Amistad Research Center

When we control the archives, we control the memory. And when we control the memory, we control the meaning.” – Dr. Tera W. Hunter

The Amistad Research Center, one of the most significant archives of African American, ethnic minority, and social justice records in the United States, is facing a financial crisis that threatens its very existence. With nearly 40 percent of its federal funding cut and widespread staff layoffs already in effect, the Center is at a critical juncture. Rather than see it wither under institutional neglect or be absorbed into organizations disconnected from its cultural roots, a powerful and historically grounded solution stands within reach: a joint acquisition by Southern University at New Orleans and Dillard University.

This would not be a rescue it would be a return. Amistad was originally founded in 1966 at Fisk University and moved to Dillard in 1969, where it remained for nearly two decades. The Center thrived during its years at Dillard, deepening its collections and community relationships before relocating to Tulane University in 1987. That move, while promising better resources and facilities, ultimately distanced Amistad from the very community and institutional ecosystem that had nurtured its growth.

Southern University at New Orleans, founded in 1956, has long been an anchor for working-class Black families in New Orleans. Its commitment to public access, social justice, and Black advancement makes it a natural co-steward. Notably, Florence Borders, one of the most influential archivists in the history of Amistad, served as Senior Archivist at the Center from 1970 to 1989 before continuing her career as head archivist at SUNO. Her career trajectory embodies the institutional and intellectual bridge between Amistad, Dillard, and SUNO, a legacy that can now be cemented through a shared act of reclamation.

A joint venture would allow both HBCUs to leverage their complementary strengths. SUNO brings the infrastructure of a public institution and a clear mission focused on access and equity. Dillard offers private fundraising agility and deep roots in the liberal arts and cultural production. Together, they could create a sustainable governance structure that allows the archive to maintain its independence while benefiting from shared resources. Each university could contribute faculty, staff, research infrastructure, and development expertise toward a unified vision that ensures Amistad’s collections remain accessible, curated with cultural sensitivity, and protected against predatory acquisitions or institutional sidelining.

The benefits for students and faculty would be transformative. Internships, research assistantships, and practicums tied to archival collections would offer unparalleled experiential learning. New certificate programs in archival science, public history, and digital preservation could emerge positioning both institutions as national leaders in archival education. Amistad’s holdings over 15 million items, including manuscripts, oral histories, art, and periodicals could drive the creation of entire departments and interdisciplinary research clusters focused on African American, Afro-Caribbean, Latinx, Indigenous, and diasporic studies.

The public-facing impact of such a joint acquisition is equally significant. New Orleans, a city with a long history of being a crucible of Black culture and resistance, would gain a consolidated Black archival institution that serves not only scholars but communities. Cultural tourism centered on rotating exhibitions, lectures, and historical installations could add economic and civic value. A jointly governed Amistad Center could partner with local schools to support history education, oral history collection, and family archive projects embedding itself in the civic life of the region.

There are also compelling financial reasons for this move. A high-profile acquisition effort would attract major philanthropic interest, particularly among donors looking to support racial equity, archival preservation, and HBCU development. Foundations like Mellon, Ford, and IMLS have historically supported Amistad and similar institutions, but their funding often becomes more robust when institutional alignment and long-term sustainability are demonstrated. By crafting a visionary joint ownership model, SUNO and Dillard could access deeper grantmaking relationships while also launching a national endowment campaign to stabilize the archive permanently.

To be successful, the joint venture would need clear governance. A dedicated board composed of SUNO and Dillard faculty, independent scholars, archivists, community leaders, and Amistad staff should be established. This board would be responsible for curatorial direction, budget oversight, and public engagement ensuring the Center’s founding mission remains intact while also adapting to contemporary challenges and technologies.

This acquisition would signal a new paradigm in Black institutional development. It would show that HBCUs are no longer waiting to be invited into the rooms where decisions about cultural memory are made. Instead, they are building and owning those rooms. The quiet transfer of African American cultural assets into majority white institutions especially under financial duress has been a persistent form of cultural dispossession. What SUNO and Dillard can demonstrate is that reclamation is possible. That ownership, not just stewardship, is the future.

This opportunity will not wait. ARC’s financial instability is already endangering collections and community access. Every day that passes without an institutional intervention increases the risk of fragmentation, inaccessibility, or outright closure. The time to act is now—not just for preservation, but for power.

Together, Southern University at New Orleans and Dillard University can redefine what it means to protect and elevate Black history. They can transform the Amistad Research Center from a vulnerable institution into a fortified intellectual fortress. They can move us from crisis to control, from neglect to legacy.

This is more than a proposal. It is a blueprint for Black institutional sovereignty. History is watching. And it is offering a chance to write the next chapter not just about the past we preserve, but the future we intend to build.