Homecoming and the Reality of Black Faces in White Spaces

When Beyoncé released Homecoming: A Film by Beyoncé on Netflix, it sparked a wave of reflection about my own college experience. As the first Black woman to headline Coachella, she could have leaned into the festival’s typical aesthetics—boho fashion, flower crowns, and indie vibes—but instead, she brought elements of HBCU culture to the stage. In doing so, she highlighted the importance of Black spaces and representation in predominantly white environments.

Dreams of an HBCU Experience

During my junior year of high school, I went on a college tour of Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) in the Washington, D.C., Maryland, and Virginia area. According to the Higher Education Act of 1965, HBCUs were established to provide educational opportunities for African Americans at a time when they were excluded from white institutions. Many of these schools date back to the mid-1800s, forming a legacy of academic excellence and cultural significance.

One of the schools on the tour was Howard University, one of the most well-known HBCUs. Howard has been home to a long list of notable alumni, including Toni Morrison, Chadwick Boseman, Thurgood Marshall, Taraji P. Henson, and Debbie Allen. Seeing the campus and learning about its history, I imagined myself as a student there.

I had always pictured going to school away from home, but more than that, I envisioned attending an HBCU. The culture surrounding these institutions had been familiar to me for years—through family stories, films, and sitcoms. The energy of HBCU life, from the marching bands and step teams to Greek life and traditions, was something I had always wanted to be a part of.

My mother is a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc., and Greek life was a visible part of my upbringing. I had conversations with friends as early as middle school about the possibility of pledging one day. While Black Greek-letter organizations exist at predominantly white institutions (PWIs), the experience of pledging at an HBCU carries a different weight and tradition.

Navigating White Spaces

Despite my interest in HBCUs, I ultimately attended a PWI. My entire educational journey—elementary, high school, and college—was spent in predominantly white institutions. I started at a private Catholic elementary school, then moved on to an all-girls Catholic high school, before attending a private Jesuit college. While my elementary school had a relatively diverse student body, my high school had only 12 Black girls in my graduating class of 105.

For many Black students in predominantly white spaces, there’s a balancing act—being hyper-visible yet overlooked. There’s the awareness of being the only Black person in the room, an experience that is rarely shared by our white counterparts. There are times when we feel pressure to tone down aspects of our identity to fit in, and other times when our Blackness is expected to be performative.

By the time I was choosing a college, I felt torn. There were constant debates online about the experiences of Black students at PWIs versus HBCUs. Some believed that attending a PWI meant gaining access to greater resources and networking opportunities, while others argued that choosing a PWI over an HBCU was a betrayal of cultural solidarity. This tension made me question my decision. I initially planned to transfer after my first year, hoping to have the HBCU experience I had always wanted.

But one year turned into four, and before I knew it, I was preparing to graduate from the same PWI I had once planned to leave.

Looking Back

In many ways, attending an HBCU would have been a culture shock for me, despite growing up in a Black household. I was familiar with the traditions and the history, but I had spent my entire academic career in predominantly white spaces. Transitioning into an environment where Blackness was the norm rather than the exception might have required an adjustment period.

My experience at a PWI was not without its challenges. There were moments when I felt ignored, when my voice wasn’t valued in classroom discussions, and when I witnessed microaggressions firsthand. I overheard non-Black students using the n-word and saw them compare their spray tans to the natural skin tones of Black students.

Black women are among the most educated groups in the United States, yet we often find ourselves questioning whether we belong in certain spaces. Michelle Obama reflected on this in her Princeton thesis, writing, “My experiences at Princeton have made me far more aware of my ‘Blackness’ than ever before. I have found that at Princeton, no matter how liberal and open-minded some of my white professors and classmates try to be toward me, I sometimes feel like a visitor on campus; as if I really don’t belong.”

Although my college experience didn’t align with what I once imagined, it shaped my understanding of race, education, and identity. Watching Homecoming reminded me of the spaces I longed for, but it also reinforced the importance of creating space wherever I am. Whether in an HBCU yard or a PWI classroom, Black students continue to redefine what it means to exist, succeed, and thrive in academic spaces.