The Price of Belonging: My HBCU Debt Two Decades Later

Growing up in Baltimore, Morgan State University represented a sanctuary of Black excellence amidst the violence of my neighborhood. By the time I reached college age, I was fixated on finding that same sense of community. I ignored my guidance counselor’s advice to keep my options open and applied exclusively to Clark Atlanta University. The acceptance letter arrived in 2006, but the joy was brief; the $25,000 annual bill for tuition, housing, and fees far exceeded my scholarships. My mother cosigned the loans, locking me into a cycle of debt that persists today.

The reality of the campus experience rarely matched the promise of the school’s motto, "Find a way or make one." I spent my undergraduate years navigating bureaucratic hurdles, standing in endless financial aid lines, and struggling with outdated technology. While I watched friends at Georgia State University access state-of-the-art media studios, my department at Clark Atlanta suffered from severe equipment shortages that blocked students from hands-on learning. I found community and confidence under the guidance of Black professors, yet the lack of institutional investment was impossible to ignore.

Now, as a parent to a seven and nine-year-old, my perspective has shifted entirely. I no longer view the HBCU experience as a prerequisite for success or a necessary gateway to Black excellence. My children have access to that world through their own environment and history. When they reach college age, I will insist they prioritize return on investment: academic rigor, robust internship pipelines, and modern facilities. I am grateful for the person Clark Atlanta helped me become, but I refuse to let my children inherit the financial cost of my own nostalgia.