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To Miss Carver - Miss ASU

To Miss Carver - Miss ASU

What arose in me hearing what happened to Aarin Carver - Miss ASU (2-24)

We must all be accountable—administrators who make policies, faculty who co-sign silences, alumni who champion traditions without change, and students who inherit the mantle.

There is a persistent narrative —systemic and dangerously normalized — that women in leadership roles, particularly Black women, are inherently limited in their capacity to balance responsibility and sustainability. This narrative distorts our leadership into a performance rather than a process. It suggests that we cannot govern, grow, serve, study, nurture, and lead all at once. This is not only false; it is harmful.

Balancing life as a student is preparation for leadership in the real world. There will always be roles we are learning, skills we are sharpening, and obstacles we are navigating. But students should not be forced to choose between studies and service. The inconsideration and structural limitations placed on them—especially young women—are not the burdens they should be carrying while developing the tools to lead this world forward.

If we focus on the “student” in student leadership — the civic learning, emotional development, and policy fluency — we begin training real leaders, not just institutional mascots.

I get bloody hell for this theology.

The sacred purpose that birthed our HBCUs ….to raise nation-builders, freedom fighters, thinkers, and spiritual visionaries….has, in many spaces, been watered down to resume lines and dress rehearsals for capitalism. Pockets of preservation begging for an identity that lies right in the faces and spirits of the young people that are there. Eyes gleaming for a reason to love themselves and soar in all directions.

…. HBCUs were not designed to produce corporate drones, to be recycled through offer letters and layoffs; they were designed to produce leaders, game changers, and heart-centered individuals as well.

Student leaders aren’t just event planners or spokespersons for institutional pride. They are policy influencers, bridge-builders, campus, and community advocates, and they deserve protection, not punishment. When our young people's leadership is questioned or denied, especially at an HBCU—a place meant to protect, nurture, and grow us—something is deeply broken.

In my own student leadership experience, I often leaned into the student portion of the title. That was the critical part — the learning, the growth, the ability to balance coursework with advocacy, vision with action. I remember being closed off from roles and opportunities — only to watch male counterparts be met with no such restriction.

This is how limitations manifest: not only in policy but in perception. In unequal expectations.

Often, these young people are tasked with political appearances, school and community events, interviews, and committee representation — the work of a public servant, but without the rest or reinforcement.

Their faces are pinned to buildings and websites, celebrated in captions and headlines — yet rarely is there equity, or even a conversation about what that visibility truly costs.

If we’re serious about developing young leaders, especially women, the conversation around equity must evolve. It must include real compensation, structural flexibility, and holistic protections for student leaders.

Who gets to decide what balance looks like? Who gets to determine the weight of leadership on the shoulders of a young Black Woman, in this American system? And who, in their right mind, would ask her to carry that weight alone? At that age?

To HBCU leadership: Stop asking Black women to lead without pay, without mental health support, without protection. Leadership should not cost our young people their peace.

To alums and donors: Push for policy change. Don’t just celebrate when we succeed—stand up for us when we’re under attack. Question large donations from strangers.

To current students: Create safety among yourselves. Ask how your peers are doing. Refuse to normalize burnout and complacency.

To everyone who says they love Black Women: Prove it.

The Millennial Activist

The Millennial Activist

You are Black History.   Be Black.  Be Historic.

You are Black History. Be Black. Be Historic.