Preamble:
As we find ourselves swept into the midst of the madness that is homecoming season, I find myself pondering this idea of “homecoming.” Stripped of its concerts, tailgates, cute outfits, and fleeting prospects of meeting new people, what does it really mean to come home? When I think of home I think of warmth– mama-cooked meals, big hugs, and that indescribable feeling of being welcomed with excitement. Yet, as I navigate my time at UNC, I often find myself struggling to locate that sense of home. Will I ever reach that feeling during my years on campus? And even more so, if I return in 10 or 15 years will I feel the warmth of belonging at a homecoming?
History:
The celebration of UNC alumni returning to Tarheel country has taken place since the 18th century. While elements of Homecoming were instituted at Carolina over the years, it would be another three decades of football playing before the parts came together into what we know now as Homecoming. However, at this time, Black students were not in attendance of the University. In fact, Carolina did not allow black students until 1951. Some of our professors were born before this so safe to say this is definitely crazy. Harvey Beech, James Lassiter, J. Kenneth Lee, Floyd McKissick, and James Robert Walker enrolled in the UNC School of Law following a court order that said that the Law School must admit black students. They become the first African American students at Carolina. Just 20 years later, Sheri Parks made history as the first African-American Homecoming queen, showcasing how quickly Black students began to leave their mark on campus. Yet, this milestone also highlights how disconnected the Black student body was from the university’s broader traditions, including homecoming. But with each new class of Black alumni, the desire to build space for themselves grew. In 1980, Angela Bryant ‘73, and the late Richard Epps ‘73, organized the first-ever Black Alumni Reunion, commonly referred to as BAR, bringing together approximately 60 alumni. This event has since blossomed into a significant gathering celebrating the resilience and accomplishments of Black Tar Heels across generations.
Reflection:
Reflecting on my own homecoming experiences, I felt empowered witnessing Ms. BJ Tillman crowned Homecoming Queen and Ms. Joann Obioma honored as our UNC Royal. It felt like a collective moment of pride for the Black student body. The events I attended, were refreshing moments to unwind, have some fun, and simply enjoy each other’s company, reminding me of the hard work we all put in both at UNC and beyond. We are constantly chasing dreams, excelling academically, and contributing to this institution in ways that aren’t always acknowledged. Yet, UNC, like many PWIs, still presents significant challenges for Black students. The University’s decision to cut funding for Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives has created an even greater strain. Without these resources, I find it ever more challenging to create safe spaces where we feel seen, supported, and valued. However, opportunities do exist to expand our presence on campus.
As I contemplate what it means to leave a mark at UNC, I find inspiration in the legacy of Black alumni. “The legacy of resilience, determination, and excellence that defines our Black alumni community is a source of inspiration and motivation,” says Dr. Rita L. Joyner, Chair of the UNC Black Alumni Reunion Planning Committee. The BAR, with events like the student-alumni dinner, exemplifies how Black alumni continue to uplift and support current students. This is the kind of homecoming we must strive to cultivate: a community where Black students and alumni can come together, not just to reminisce, but to actively shape the future of UNC.
With the aforementioned proposed, I am inclined to further express a deeper wonder about the current experiences of Black students at UNC. I wonder if the current cohort of black students has created a bond tight enough to withstand the test of time to ensure a lively and vibrant homecoming. Will our names and legacies remain beyond our graduation dates? How have we as a collective imprinted ourselves in the broader Carolina community? How do we do this despite being a minority? More pressingly, how do we find our home within an institution that increasingly seeks to silence and diminish the light that we create? I do not have an answer for the questions proposed but I do hope that these questions ignite conversations that can shift how we, as Black students, engage with and redefine our community.
In our celebrations of homecoming, let us also reflect on the work that lies ahead in ensuring that our community is not just a footnote in the university’s history but a driving force in its continued evolution.
