Nyah Johnson (’26), Staff Writer

When Claudine Gay was to become Harvard’s 30th president, I was elated. A win for one Black woman was a win for us all. Simultaneously, I remained cautious, fully aware of a world that often responded with apprehension when confronted with the prospect of a Black woman influencing change. I was unaware of how quickly this interrogation would come.
Within her six months, every move former president Claudine Gay performed was looked through a microscope. During her Congressional testimony, Gay remarked on the genocide occurring in Gaza, sympathizing with Palestinians who demanded freedom. As Black women, we understand that our liberation is tethered to the liberation of all marginalized peoples. However, Gay’s remarks ignited both political controversy and campus unrest, labeled as an inadequate response to antisemitism. Following this, the integrity of her scholarship was questioned, leading to racialized threats and attacks on her character. Numerous skeptics questioned her commitment to eliminating hatred and upholding tradition on Harvard’s campus. It is ironic. The essence of being both Black and a woman lies in an intimate understanding of how to combat and endure when your stories are mistold and when hatred is an everyday reality.
Claudine Gay’s resignation demonstrates the unbearable truth about the world and its inability to protect Black women and other women of color. There is rarely love, liberation, or protection for the times we make mistakes or oversights.
Dr. Gay is not the first woman of color to receive such scrutiny. As history continues to repeat itself, we have seen this time and time before. During her confirmation hearing, Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson was questioned not for her work in her previous offices but instead was slaughtered with microaggressions and demands to respond to irrelevant information. And at our own university, Nikole Hannah-Jones was denied tenure at UNC-Chapel Hill. Hannah-Jones’ accolades are numerous– three National Magazine awards, a Pulitzer, and, of course, her work in the New York Times, The 1619 Project. Because of her achievements, the Hussman School recruited Hannah-Jones, intending to appoint her as a tenured professor. Students and faculty, particularly within the Black community, were ecstatic and excited to learn from such an esteemed alum. Instead, the Board of Trustees acted in cowardice, denying Hannah-Jones such esteem and academic freedom. Their decision was unjust.
As we accept the news of Claudine Gay’s resignation, many, including myself, mourn the possibilities Gay would have brought forth had she been given the time. Instead, the world robbed her, stifling herself and her dreams. Too often, a Black woman is expected to be perfect; the slightest misstep can relinquish her successes and undermine her values. It is a reality that hits too close to home. When we ask for help, we are turned away. When we fall, we are ridiculed. As we grieve this loss of liberation, we find solace in our ability to continue fighting for ourselves, preserving our character and values. And as we move forward, we find hope knowing that we will continue to support and love each other.