By Milton Kirby | Abbeville, AL | December 2, 2025
On a warm September night in 1944, a 24-year-old Black mother from Abbeville, Alabama walked home from a revival service. Her name was Recy Taylor, and what happened next would echo far beyond the unpaved roads of Henry County. It would ignite a national outcry, embolden a generation of activists, and lay down one of the earliest steppingstones of the modern Civil Rights Movement.
Taylor’s kidnapping and brutal gang rape by six white men was not only an act of racial terror; it was a defining moment of resistance. And though Alabama’s all-white legal system refused to prosecute her attackers — even after multiple confessions — Taylor refused silence. Her insistence on justice, and the national movement built in her name, helped shape the path later traveled by Rosa Parks, Claudette Colvin, and the freedom fighters who changed America.
Recy Taylor
Mrs. Recy Taylor, 1944, credit: “The Rape of Recy Taylor” Courtesy of The People’s World/Daily Worker and Tamiment Library/Robert F. Wagner Labor Archives, New York University
In 2020, TIME Magazine retroactively named Recy Taylor its “1944 Woman of the Year,” an acknowledgment long overdue. She did not hold office, command an army, or lead a corporation. She wielded something more dangerous: truth, courage, and the refusal to surrender her dignity.
A Crime Meant to Silence — and the Woman Who Would Not Be Silenced
On September 3, 1944, Taylor walked home from Rock Hill Holiness Church with friends Fannie and West Daniels. A green Chevrolet circled them repeatedly before seven armed white men jumped out. At gunpoint, they forced Taylor into the car, drove her into the woods, blindfolded her, and raped her one after another.
Her friend Fannie Daniel immediately reported the kidnapping. Taylor was later found near the center of town by her father and a former police officer. Despite being traumatized, she insisted on reporting the assault to authorities.
Her courage produced immediate results — and an immediate backlash. The sheriff identified the car’s owner, Hugo Wilson, who confessed and named the other men involved. Instead of being arrested, he was allowed to go home.
The next day, the Taylor home was firebombed.
Rosa Parks Before Montgomery
The NAACP, outraged by the sheriff’s refusal to act, dispatched its best investigator: Rosa Parks, already deeply engaged in documenting sexual violence against Black women. Parks traveled to Abbeville, interviewed witnesses, and began organizing a national campaign.
Her work in the Taylor case became the blueprint for what she would later do in Montgomery.
Parks and other leaders formed the Committee for Equal Justice for Mrs. Recy Taylor, uniting voices likeW.E.B. Du Bois, Mary Church Terrell, Langston Hughes, and activists across the country. The national pressure pushed Alabama’s governor to order not one, but two grand jury hearings.
Both — all-white and all-male — refused to indict.
Yet the movement did not fade. It grew.
A Catalyst of the Civil Rights Movement
Decades before the world called Rosa Parks “the mother of the Civil Rights Movement,” Parks herself pointed back to Recy Taylor’s case as a catalyst. Historian Danielle L. McGuire later documented that the fight for Taylor marked the first major statewide campaign against sexualized violence toward Black women — and the roots of women-led resistance that shaped the 1955 Montgomery Bus Boycott.
Black women’s testimonies — often dismissed, ignored, or punished — became acts of political resistance. Recy Taylor stood among the bravest of them, risking everything to tell the truth.
Life After the Headlines
The assault left Taylor unable to have additional children and forced her family to live under constant threat. She separated from her husband, later moved to Florida for work, and ultimately returned to home in Abbeville as her health declined. Her only child, Joyce Lee, died in a car accident in 1967.
For nearly seven decades, the state of Alabama refused to acknowledge its failure. That changed in 2011, when the Alabama Legislature issued a formal apology — a victory made possible by the scholarship and activism that had resurrected Taylor’s story.
Taylor died on December 28, 2017, at 97 years old. She lived long enough to witness the world finally naming the injustice she endured.
Recy Taylor article in The Chicago Defender, credit: “The Rape of Recy Taylor” NMAAHC
Legacy: A Thread Woven Into America’s Freedom Story
TIME Magazine’s selection of Recy Taylor as “1944 Woman of the Year” reframed the era: history is not shaped only by presidents, generals, or magnates. It is also shaped by a sharecropper’s daughter who refused to be erased.
Her courage galvanized Rosa Parks. Her testimony inspired a movement. Her story helped change the national conversation around sexual violence, Black women’s rights, and dignity under the law.
Taylor’s life reminds us that all justice movements are connected. The Civil Rights Movement did not begin on a Montgomery bus in 1955. It began in places like Abbeville — under pecan trees, along dirt roads, in the voices of Black women who refused to be silenced.
Recy Taylor’s bravery laid the groundwork for the world we continue building today.
Seventy years after Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat, her quiet “no” still shows how organized, everyday courage can move a nation forward.
By Milton Kirby | Montgomery, AL | December 1, 2025
A quiet act that shook a city
Seventy years ago in Montgomery, Alabama, a soft-spoken seamstress made a choice that changed the course of American history.
On December 1, 1955, 42-year-old Rosa Louise McCauley Parks refused bus driver James F. Blake’s order to give up her seat so a white man could sit. Montgomery’s rules reserved the front rows for white riders and pushed Black passengers to the back. The middle seats, where Parks sat, were a constant battleground.
Three Black riders in her row stood up. Parks did not.
“I felt that, if I did stand up, it meant that I approved of the way I was being treated, and I did not approve,” she later said. She was not too tired from work; she was “tired of giving in.”
Police were called. Parks was arrested, fingerprinted, fined, and pushed into the machinery of Jim Crow justice. But what happened next turned one woman’s arrest into a mass movement.
The Montgomery Bus Boycott: 381 days of organized courage
Parks’ arrest hit a nerve in a city where Black riders made up about three-fourths of bus passengers but had few rights on board. For decades, drivers had ordered Black passengers to stand, even when seats were open. Many drivers carried weapons and had near-police authority on their routes.
This time, the community pushed back.
The Women’s Political Council quickly circulated tens of thousands of leaflets calling for a one-day bus boycott on the day of Parks’ trial, December 5, 1955. Black residents walked, carpooled, and paid Black taxi drivers instead of riding city buses. Courtroom benches were full. Bus seats were nearly empty.
That same evening, thousands crowded into Holt Street Baptist Church. Local ministers and organizers formed a new group, the Montgomery Improvement Association (MIA), and chose a young pastor, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, as president.
Rosa Parks – Don Cravens – Getty Images
They voted to keep the boycott going. Day after day, for 381 days, Black residents of Montgomery walked miles to work and to school. Volunteers ran car-pool systems. Church parking lots became dispatch centers.
The city tried to break the movement. Parks lost her job as a seamstress. Her husband, Raymond, was fired as well. Leaders were arrested and threatened. A grand jury declared the boycott illegal. Still, people kept walking.
In federal court, a separate case, Browder v. Gayle, challenged bus segregation directly. In November 1956, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that segregation on Montgomery’s buses was unconstitutional. On December 20, 1956, the court’s order took effect. Dr. King called off the boycott. The next day, Black riders boarded buses and sat wherever they chose.
A quiet “no” had turned into a landmark victory that propelled the national Civil Rights Movement.
Years of organizing before the bus ride
The popular story often begins with a tired seamstress on a December afternoon. But Parks’ courage was not sudden. It was built over years of steady, often dangerous work.
Parks joined the Montgomery chapter of the NAACP in 1943 and soon became its secretary. She attended meetings, took notes, and listened. She and her husband were active in the local Voters League, struggling to increase Black voter registration at a time when poll taxes, literacy tests, and intimidation kept almost all Black citizens from the rolls.
Parks herself tried three times to register to vote before finally succeeding in 1945.
As NAACP secretary, she helped investigate violent crimes that white authorities preferred to ignore. In 1944, she took on the case of Recy Taylor, a Black woman from Abbeville who was kidnapped and gang-raped by white men. When local juries refused to indict the attackers, Parks and other activists organized the Committee for Equal Justice for Mrs. Recy Taylor, building one of the strongest national campaigns against racial and sexual violence in that era.
She also worked for justice in the case of Jeremiah Reeves, a Black teenager accused of raping a white woman and later executed.
In the summer of 1955, just months before her arrest, Parks attended training at the Highlander Folk School in Tennessee, an interracial education center where activists studied nonviolent protest and community organizing. That experience, she later said, helped strengthen her resolve.
By the time she sat down on that bus in December 1955, Rosa Parks was not just a seamstress. She was a seasoned organizer who understood both the risk and the power of civil disobedience.
Roots of resistance: family, school, and early Jim Crow
Rosa Louise McCauley was born in Tuskegee, Alabama, on February 4, 1913. Her parents, James and Leona McCauley, separated when she was young. Rosa and her younger brother, Sylvester, were raised mainly by her mother and maternal grandparents near Montgomery.
Her grandparents were formerly enslaved people who believed fiercely in racial equality. They kept a shotgun by the door and refused to shrink from white terror. Growing up in their home, Parks learned both the fear and the pride that came with resisting injustice.
She attended the laboratory school at Alabama State College, an unusual opportunity for a Black girl in the 1920s. Later, she worked to complete her education, earning her high school diploma in 1933 at a time when only about 7% of Black Alabamians had finished high school.
During World War II, Parks worked at Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery. On base, the buses were integrated, and she could ride alongside white co-workers. Off base, she had to return to segregated city buses. That painful contrast, she later said, “opened her eyes” to the unnatural cruelty of Jim Crow.
In 1932, she married Raymond Parks, a barber and early NAACP activist. With his encouragement, she returned to school and deepened her activism. Their small home became a place where politics and community strategy were regular topics at the kitchen table.
The personal cost—and new beginnings in Detroit
The boycott’s success came at a high cost for Parks and her family. In addition to the firings and constant threats, she and Raymond struggled to find work in Montgomery afterward. The city that had celebrated her as a symbol elsewhere often treated her as a troublemaker at home.
In 1957, the couple moved north to Detroit, Michigan, looking for safety and opportunity. Even there, they found neighborhoods divided by race and an economy that still treated Black families unfairly. Parks continued her work quietly—speaking, organizing, and supporting local struggles against school segregation, housing discrimination, and police brutality.
From 1965 to 1988, she worked as a staff assistant for U.S. Congressman John Conyers Jr. Her desk in his Detroit office became a quiet but powerful bridge between local residents and the halls of Congress. Through this job, her influence reached into the federal government and helped shape responses to civil rights issues in the North as well as the South.
Building leaders: The Rosa and Raymond Parks Institute
In 1987, Parks co-founded the Rosa and Raymond Parks Institute for Self-Development. The institute focuses on youth leadership, voter education, and teaching civil rights history. Its “Pathways to Freedom” programs take young people on bus tours through key civil rights sites, helping them see that history is not just something in a textbook—it is written by ordinary people who refuse to accept injustice.
By then, the nation had begun to give Rosa Parks the honors her work deserved. She received the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1996 and the Congressional Gold Medal in 1999. Textbooks called her the “mother of the modern Civil Rights Movement.” For many schoolchildren, her story became their first lesson in civil disobedience.
Inspiring new movements: from Montgomery to disability rights
Parks’ influence did not end with racial desegregation. Her example helped later generations see public transportation as a stage for justice.
In 1984, in Chicago, disability rights activists from the group ADAPT rolled their wheelchairs in front of city buses to protest the purchase of hundreds of new vehicles without wheelchair lifts. Like Parks, they were demanding the right simply to ride. Their actions helped build support for accessible transit and laid groundwork for the Americans with Disabilities Act.
Their protest echoed Parks’ lesson: organized, nonviolent disruption can force a city—and a nation—to confront who is left behind.
Final honors and a living legacy
Rosa Parks died in Detroit on October 24, 2005, at the age of 92. In death, she received an honor no woman in U.S. history had ever received before: her body lay in honor in the rotunda of the U.S. Capitol. Thousands lined up in silence to pay their respects.
Today, buses, schools, streets, and museums bear her name. But her deepest legacy lives in something smaller and harder to measure: the courage of ordinary people who refuse to “give in” when the rules are unjust.
Each year, walkers trace the short route from Dexter Avenue King Memorial Baptist Church to the Rosa Parks Museum in Montgomery. The distance is only a few city blocks. The meaning stretches across generations.
It is a reminder that one woman’s quiet “no,” backed by years of organizing and a city willing to stand with her, can bend the arc of history—and still speaks to struggles for justice today.
Dear Shadow Ball: I have a feeling that I am going to learn some things. Is third baseman Judy Johnson (a 1975 Hall of Fame inductee) a male or female? David Nivens, parts unknown … I should note that Mr. Nivens has supplied two questions thus far and I very much appreciate both … this column exists for only one purpose and that is to answer your questions on Negro League baseball history. To that end, I need your help … if you are reading this column and enjoy it and want it to continue and you don’t already know everything about Negro League history … then please submit a question on any aspect of Negro League history.
– players, teams, events, and more – Your questions are the lifeblood of Shadow Ball—they shape where we go next. Your participation is important and appreciated. Submit your questions to shadowball@truthseekersjournal.com.
Dear David: I have a feeling that I am going to learn some things also. Judy Johnson, like Dolly King, Connie Johnson, Bunny Downs, Bonnie Serrell, Beverly Boanes and Judy Gans, was very much a man. All these fellows were Negro League baseball players. William Julius Johnson was nicknamed “Judy” due to a resemblance to another player with that nickname – “Judy.” Why that player, Robert Edward Gans, was called “Judy” is a question for another day when I figure it out.
Last week’s Shadow Ball Significa question What was the name of Atlanta’s most prolific franchise (in terms of years in the league) in the Negro Leagues? Since this question has stood unanswered for a month, I am going to provide the answer – the Atlanta Black Crackers.
The Atlanta Black Crackers were founded in 1919 as the Atlanta Cubs and lasted, active most years, until their demise in 1943. They were members of the Negro Southern League, later the Negro American League and played as an independent. They never won a pennant.
The Shadow Ball Significa Question of the Week: What Georgia native was the first African American to hit a home run in Yankee Stadium?
Ted Knorr
Ted Knorr is a Negro League baseball historian, longtime member of the Society for American Baseball Research’s Negro League Committee, and founder of the Jerry Malloy Negro League Conference and several local Negro League Commemorative Nights in central Pennsylvania. You can send questions for Knorr on Negro League topics as well as your answers to the week’s Significa question to shadowball@truthseekersjournal.com or Shadow Ball, 3904 N Druid Hills Rd, Ste 179, Decatur, GA 30033
Please consider supporting open, independent journalism – no contribution is too small!
Chit Chat Atlanta Tours celebrates a breakthrough month with national and international visitors, new cultural experiences, and rising demand as the company opens bookings for the holiday season.
By Milton Kirby | Atlanta, GA | November 19, 2025
October was a breakthrough month for Chit Chat Atlanta Tours. Visitors from London, Ireland, North Carolina, California, Connecticut, Florida, Pennsylvania, and Texas spent the month exploring Atlanta’s rich history, food, and culture through the company’s signature guided experiences. The wave of national and international guests signals significant momentum for the fast-growing tour company as the holiday season approaches.
A Powerful Journey Through Black History
One of the month’s most memorable moments came during the Black History & Civil Rights Tour. Guests learned about the 1906 Atlanta Race Massacre and then met Fabian, the visual artist behind the striking mural honoring the massacre’s victims. For a group visiting from London, the encounter offered a rare, personal connection to the people who continue to preserve Atlanta’s story through art.
Holiday Bookings Now Open
With demand rising, Chit Chat Atlanta Tours is now welcoming groups, families, organizations, and solo travelers to reserve holiday experiences. Tours are available throughout:
Thanksgiving Week
Christmas and Winter Break
New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day
The company offers options for history lovers, foodies, students, corporate groups, birthday travelers, and visitors from around the world.
Chit Chat Atlanta Tours says its mission is simple: share the stories, culture, landmarks, and hidden gems that make Atlanta one of the most influential cities in the nation.
Victor Hart Sr., longtime NAACP leader and Gifford advocate, devoted his life to dignity, justice, and community progress. His decades of service transformed opportunities for generations.
By Milton Kirby | Vero Beach, FL | November 17, 2025
A Life of Service Remembered
In Gifford, the measure of a person’s life is often found in the work they leave behind. It’s written in the stories people tell, the hands a leader lifts, and the ground a man helps steady when everything around him feels like it might shake loose. That is the kind of life Victor Hart Sr. lived — steady, humble, unbending in his love for people.
Hart, the longtime president of the Indian River County NAACP chapter, is remembered for walking with humility but speaking with a purposeful voice to provide opportunities for others. He died on November 13 at the age of 94.
From Cat Island to Gifford
Victor Hart, Sr.’s journey from his birthplace in 1931 in Old Bight Settlement on Cat Island in the Bahamas to Gifford in 1953 is a testament to his resilience and determination. He arrived in Florida with a fifth-grade education and a fruit picker’s job but quickly came to understand the hard lines of segregation in his new home.
He remembered an early trip to Orlando, when he wanted a sandwich and was told he wasn’t allowed to go through the front door.
“Well, I didn’t know there were two kinds of people,” he said. “So I just went on through that door. And I kept doing that.”
“Where I come from in the Bahamas, all people needed to know was that my name is Victor Hart,” he explained. “That’s who I was. In the Bahamas, we had lived as one.”
Challenging Barriers, Opening Doors
Those experiences pushed Hart toward a life of challenge and service. Though he did not first see himself as a civil rights figure, he later reflected, “I had never thought of myself as a civil rights worker — but I guess that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.”
Back in 1961, he recalled, “I got a crew together and I said, ‘Fellas, I don’t know what the law is all about in this country, but I’m not going to go around to the back.’”
From that determination came the Progressive Civic League in Gifford and the county’s NAACP chapter. Hart was the first to organize both.
“It was tough in those days,” he said. “You couldn’t just ride around — you had to go in groups.” Organizing offered some measure of safety and a collective voice.
Over the years, Victor Hart Sr.’s humble yet unflinching leadership was instrumental in bringing significant improvements to Gifford. His efforts led to the delivery of clean water, paved roads, streetlights, medical and community centers, the Gifford Youth Achievement Center, and the park that now bears his name.
A Father Who Lived His Values Out Loud
Hart’s public work was matched by the example he set at home.
“My father was a warrior. He was a fighter. He was a fighter to the end,” said his daughter, Vickie Hart-Brant. “My daddy was my hero. Daddy just understood so much.”
She described him as well-read and highly intellectual, noting that he kept up with the issues by reading five newspapers. Education, she said, was very important to him.
Hart instilled his values in his children. Hart-Brant remembers riding with him as he used a loudspeaker to remind people to vote. The family helped give rides to polling locations, joined parades, and took part in events to promote the community.
He taught them the art of negotiation and the importance of respecting others, regardless of their disagreement. His motto, she said, was simple: “I can disagree with you, but I don’t have to be disagreeable.”
He also insisted on integrity in his civic work. Hart-Brant recalled that he never took a penny from anyone. “My daddy financed his own work. His integrity was intact. He sacrificed to help promote and advocate for the people of Gifford. He loved the people of Gifford,” she said. “He was a God-fearing man. Faith and his family were the two most important things in his life.”
A Calming Presence in Difficult Times
County Commissioner Deryl Loar, a former sheriff, worked closely with Hart during difficult moments and witnessed his influence firsthand. Everyone called him “Chief.” “That was the respect that he commanded,” Loar said.
Hart had a calming effect on the community, even during times of racial tension. After the murder of George Floyd, when emotions and frustration ran high, Hart’s voice and presence helped steady Gifford.
“There were several instances when there could have been unrest, absent Victor Hart, Sr. calming the community,” Loar said.
A Legacy Etched Into a Park and a Community
The community’s respect and gratitude for Victor Hart, Sr.’s work were formally recognized in 2017, when Gifford Park on 43rd Avenue was renamed the Victor Hart Sr. Community Enhancement Complex. The well-attended ceremony made history: it was the first Indian River County-owned facility to be named for a person of color. This recognition is a source of pride for the entire community.
Victor Hart, Sr. Community Enhancement Complex.
The well-attended ceremony made history: it was the first Indian River County-owned facility to be named for a person of color.
The people of Gifford had long considered Hart an icon. Now there is a permanent and very visible testament to the esteem he earned through decades of work.
Tony Brown, Hart’s hand-picked successor as NAACP president, put it plainly: “When you mention an accomplishment in Gifford, you cannot get too far away from Victor Hart.”
According to County Commissioner Bob Solari, who made the motion to rename the park, “Few people have done so much for the community with so little personal benefit. He’s been working at it daily for almost 60 years.”
Today, the 39-acre Victor Hart, Sr. Community Enhancement Complex includes athletic fields, a large playground, the Gifford Aquatic Center, the Gifford Youth Achievement Center, basketball and tennis courts, a football field, a lighted Little League field, picnic pavilions with grills, restrooms, walking trails, fitness equipment, and parking areas. It operates daily from 7 a.m. until sunset and provides a safe and engaging environment for families and children.
Victor Hart Sr Community Enhancement Complex – Courtesy Indian River County
Pets, alcohol, open fires, and camping are not allowed within the park, underscoring its role as a community space focused on recreation, safety, and connection.
‘It Feels Good… Now Somebody Says Thank You’
In 2013, Hart was honored with a living memorial at Historic Macedonia Church in Gifford. At age 82, he sat on a bench engraved with his name, alongside County Commissioner Bob Solari. The bench and accompanying plaque were placed outside the church at 2800 45th Street, across from Gifford Middle School.
“It feels good; people don’t usually do anything for me,” Hart said at the time. “Now somebody says thank you; at least they let me know they appreciate me.”
For the people of Gifford, the appreciation had been there all along — in clean water, paved roads, streetlights, community centers, youth programs, and a park that carries his name. For nearly 60 years, whenever something significant changed for the better in Gifford, it was almost always the result of Victor Hart’s work.
Please consider supporting open, independent journalism – no contribution is too small!
By Milton Kirby | Prince George’s County, MD | November 14, 2025
Bowie State University has received the largest single donation in its 160-year history — a $50 million unrestricted gift from philanthropist and author MacKenzie Scott. The announcement marks a major moment for Maryland’s oldest historically Black university and one of the fastest-growing institutions in the state.
The gift follows Scott’s earlier $25 million donation to Bowie State in 2020, bringing her total investment to the university to $75 million. Leaders say the unrestricted nature of the gift gives Bowie State the flexibility to expand scholarships, strengthen academic programs, and build long-term financial stability.
President Aminta Breaux said she was moved to tears when she learned of the gift. “I was truly at a loss for words… I was overjoyed. I was so overcome,” she said. Breaux noted that many of the university’s students are high-need, and the donation will significantly close financial gaps for those who require the most support.
MacKenzie Scott – Courtesy Vogue
“This gift has the ability to touch so many lives,” Breaux said. “Higher education is the pathway to upward social mobility for our students.”
Brent Swinton, Bowie State’s vice president for philanthropic engagement, called the donation “transformational,” saying it will inspire additional donors and help fuel new opportunities across the university.
Scott, who has given more than $1.7 billion to higher education and nonprofit organizations in recent years, has made large investments in several historically Black colleges and universities nationwide. Her support places Bowie State among a select group of institutions experiencing major increases in private philanthropy.
Bowie State is already in a period of growth, offering more than 30 undergraduate majors, over 21 master’s programs, 18 specialty certificates and three doctoral degrees in fields ranging from cybersecurity and nursing to business, education and STEM.
University officials say they plan to direct a large share of the funds toward student scholarships, faculty development, research expansion and new academic initiatives. Additional details are expected as planning continues.
The gift also increases the university’s ability to make long-term investments that strengthen the student experience — including campus modernization projects, expanded support services and new industry partnerships.
A deeper look at Bowie State’s long history shows why this moment carries such meaning for the institution.
Bowie State’s roots trace back to January 9, 1865, when an organization known as the Baltimore Association for the Moral and Educational Improvement of the Colored People opened a school inside the African Baptist Church at Calvert and Saratoga streets. The association, formed by 46 businessmen, lawyers, clergymen and Quakers, was committed to educating Maryland’s newly emancipated Black citizens.
One of its strongest advocates, Joseph M. Cushing, openly criticized the state for refusing to fund education for Black residents, predicting that Maryland would someday be forced by public opinion to do so. The first school—known as School No. 1—offered basic education courses. Teacher-training classes were added in 1866, and by 1867 the institution expanded with support from the Freedmen’s Bureau and Quaker donors.
The state took control of the school in 1908, renaming it Normal School No. 3. A move to Bowie soon followed, with Maryland purchasing a 187-acre tract of farmland to establish a new campus that opened in 1911. Don Speed Smith Goodloe became the first Black principal to lead the school.
Through the 1920s and 1930s, the curriculum continued to grow, transitioning from the Maryland Normal and Industrial School at Bowie to the Maryland Teachers College at Bowie in 1938. Liberal arts programs were added throughout the 1960s, and the state officially renamed the school Bowie State College in 1963.
Graduate education began in 1969 with the creation of the Master of Education program. Bowie State continued its rise through the 1970s and 1980s, and in 1988 the institution transitioned to Bowie State University. On the same day, it became part of the newly formed University System of Maryland.
The university gained national attention for its work in science, technology, engineering and mathematics. In 1995, Bowie State won an 11-year, $27 million NASA/NSF award, becoming one of just six national Model Institutions for Excellence in STEM.
Today, Bowie State ranks among the nation’s leading comprehensive universities, preparing students to thrive in a rapidly changing, highly technological world. The new $50 million gift strengthens that mission, linking a 160-year legacy of resilience with a future defined by opportunity and innovation.
With expanded scholarships, stronger academic programs and broader research capacity, Bowie State is positioned to open doors for generations of students who will carry the institution’s legacy forward.
Philander Smith University received a record $19 million unrestricted gift from philanthropist MacKenzie Scott, boosting scholarships, campus upgrades, student success efforts, and long-term HBCU sustainability.
By Milton Kirby | Little Rock, AR | November 14, 2025
Philander Smith University (PSU) has received an unrestricted $19 million gift from philanthropist MacKenzie Scott. It is the largest single donation in the university’s 147-year history. University leaders say the contribution strengthens academic programs, student support, and long-term planning for the historic Little Rock HBCU.
A Gift with Full Flexibility
The donation is unrestricted, giving the university freedom to direct funds where they are most needed. That flexibility allows PSU to respond quickly to student needs, expand programs, and improve facilities without donor-imposed limits.
A Historic Institution with a Unique Mission
Founded in 1877, Philander Smith University is a small, private, historically Black liberal arts institution related to the United Methodist Church. It offers four undergraduate degrees — the Bachelor of Arts, Bachelor of Science, Bachelor of Business Administration, and Bachelor of Social Work — along with a Master of Business Administration (MBA).
The university’s mission is to graduate academically accomplished students who are grounded as advocates for social justice and committed to changing the world for the better.
PSU is also the only United Negro College Fund member institution in Arkansas, serving students of all backgrounds regardless of race, religion, sex, national origin, or ethnicity.
Leadership Responds
President and CEO Dr. Maurice D. Gipson said the contribution marks a major step forward.
“This gift is a resounding vote of confidence in our mission and our momentum,” Dr. Gipson said. “It positions us to invest boldly in student success, facilities enhancement, and programs that prepare the next generation of Philander Smith leaders.”
MacKenzie Scott – Courtesy Vogue
Why This Gift Matters
HBCUs often operate with smaller endowments and historic funding inequities. Rising costs and enrollment shifts have increased pressure on many campuses. PSU leaders say the unrestricted gift will support scholarships, strengthen the endowment, and modernize facilities — areas essential for long-term growth.
Research shows that large, flexible donations like Scott’s can boost retention, expand academic offerings, and stabilize financial planning at HBCUs.
Scott’s Growing Impact on HBCUs
Since 2020, Scott has reduced her Amazon stake by 42 percent, selling or donating about 58 million shares. She is still worth more than $35 billion today, even after donating more than $19 billion through her philanthropic platform, Yield Giving. Created in 2022, Yield Giving supports thousands of organizations focused on education, equity, disaster recovery, and community advancement.
Her focus on large, unrestricted gifts has made her one of the most influential philanthropic partners for historically under-resourced institutions.
Scott’s donation to Philander Smith continues her record of large contributions to historically Black colleges and universities. Over the past five years, she has made significant gifts to institutions such as Prairie View A&M University, Bowie State University, North Carolina A&T University, and others.
These gifts have helped HBCUs build endowments, expand programs, and stabilize campuses that operate with far fewer financial resources than many predominantly white institutions.
Looking Forward
For Philander Smith University, the $19 million donation is more than a financial boost. It represents trust in the school’s mission, momentum for new initiatives, and an opportunity to deepen its impact on Little Rock and the region.
The gift provides stability and room for growth as PSU prepares the next generation of students and community leaders.
MacKenzie Scott gives North Carolina A&T a historic $63 million gift, boosting its research goals, student success, and endowment as the university advances toward national R1 status.
By Milton Kirby | Greensboro, NC | November 14, 2025
North Carolina Agricultural and Technical State University has received the largest single gift in its 134-year history — a record-setting $63 million investment from philanthropist and author MacKenzie Scott.
The announcement marks a major moment for the nation’s largest HBCU. It also deepens Scott’s relationship with the university, following her $45 million gift in 2020, which brought her total support to $108 million.
MacKenzie Scott – Courtesy Vogue
Chancellor James R. Martin II said the latest contribution demonstrates Scott’s trust in A&T’s mission and growing national prominence.
“No investor in higher education history has had such a broad and transformational impact across so many universities,” Martin said. “North Carolina A&T is deeply grateful for Ms. Scott’s reaffirmed belief in our mission and for the example she sets in placing trust in institutions like ours to drive generational change through education, discovery and innovation.”
A National Leader Rooted in History and Excellence
North Carolina A&T stands as one of the nation’s most dynamic universities — a land-grant research institution, a cultural pillar, and America’s largest HBCU for seven consecutive years. It is also the #1 producer of degrees awarded to African Americans in North Carolina and the leading HBCU STEM institution in the country.
The university’s diverse and global community includes students from across the nation and six continents, upheld by a tradition of excellence and alumni who hold influential roles in government, industry, and academia.
Photo by Milton Kirby – NC A&T – Murphy Hall
A&T’s achievements include:
66 patents issued from faculty and student research
A growing number of spin-off and start-up companies
The top public HBCU business school in the country
National recognition for engineering, agriculture, and science excellence
In recent years, the university has experienced rapid expansion. Enrollment surpassed 15,000 students in Fall 2025, and A&T opened major new facilities, including the $90 million Engineering Research and Innovation Center and a new 450-bed residence hall. Four new academic centers of excellence also debuted in the past year.
This foundation of growth sets the stage for Scott’s latest gift — and what it will help the university achieve next.
Fueling A&T’s Path to Research Leadership
Scott’s investment aligns directly with Preeminence 2030: North Carolina A&T Blueprint, the university’s strategic plan guiding its push toward the Research 1 (R1) Carnegie Classification — the highest level of research activity in the country.
The funding strengthens A&T’s capacity in key areas where it already leads, including:
Engineering
Agriculture and environmental sciences
Life and health sciences
Data science
Artificial intelligence
“This is an investment in A&T’s capacity to solve society’s most pressing challenges,” Martin said. “It will accelerate our momentum as a research and innovation powerhouse, ensuring that A&T continues to lead at the intersection of technology, human progress and social transformation.”
Supporting Students, Expanding Research, and Strengthening Generational Wealth
Because the gift is unrestricted, A&T can deploy resources where they will have the most impact — from bolstering student success and faculty recruitment to advancing interdisciplinary research.
The timing is pivotal. A&T’s endowment exceeded more than $202 million as of June 2024, the largest among all public HBCUs and one of the fastest-growing university endowments in the Southeast. Only a decade earlier, the figure stood below $60 million.
With Scott’s latest investment, the university’s endowment is projected to surpass $300 million, bolstering long-term stability and supporting competitive research portfolios, scholarships, and expanded federal and industry partnerships.
Board of Trustees Chair Gina L. Loften ’90 said Scott’s investment will have a lasting impact.
“On behalf of the North Carolina A&T Board of Trustees, I extend our deepest gratitude to Ms. Scott for her extraordinary gift,” Loften said. “This transformative investment will strengthen our capacity to fulfill A&T’s mission of exemplary teaching, innovative research, and service that lifts communities.”
At six years old, Ruby Bridges walked through a hateful mob into William Frantz Elementary, turning a school day into a turning point for America.
By Milton Kirby | New Orleans, LA | November 14, 2025
A Little Girl at the Center of History
On November 14, 1960, a six-year-old girl in a starched dress and white shoes climbed the steps of William Frantz Elementary School in New Orleans. Four federal marshals flanked her — two in front, two behind — as a screaming mob hurled slurs, objects, and threats.
Her name was Ruby Nell Bridges.
That short walk into first grade changed the course of American history.
Born on September 8, 1954, in Tylertown, Mississippi, Ruby came into the world just months after the U.S. Supreme Court issued its landmark Brown v. Board of Education decision, declaring segregated public schools unconstitutional. Her early life, however, bore no resemblance to a legal victory. She grew up on a sharecropping farm, the eldest of five children born to Abon and Lucille Bridges, in a system designed to keep Black families poor and trapped on the land.
When Ruby was four, her parents left that world behind, moving to New Orleans in search of better work and a better future. Her father found a job as a gas station attendant. Her mother took night work to help support their growing family. Ruby helped watch her younger brothers and sister and walked a long way each day to an all-Black kindergarten, even though an all-white school sat just five blocks from her home.
That distance — five blocks that might as well have been a different country — became the line she was asked to cross.
A Test Meant to Exclude, and a Mother Who Said Yes
By 1960, under pressure from federal courts to comply with Brown v. Board, the Orleans Parish School Board tried a different tactic: administering an entrance exam for Black children. The test was designed to be difficult, with the hope that few, if any, would pass. If the children failed, white officials hoped, they could claim integration just wasn’t “practical” and delay it even longer.
Ruby’s father wanted no part of it. He feared exactly what would come — trouble, backlash, danger. Her mother, Lucille, saw something else: a chance for her daughter to get a stronger education and, just as important, to open a door “for all African-American children,” not just her own.
They argued. They prayed. And in the end, Lucille convinced Abon to say yes.
Out of all the Black children who took the test in New Orleans, only six passed. Three were assigned to McDonogh No. 19 Elementary. Ruby Bridges would be the only Black child sent to William Frantz — and the first Black child to integrate an all-white elementary school in the Deep South.
The court orders stated that the schools would open in September. Louisiana politicians responded with delay, stalling integration with every legal trick they could find. It took until November 14, 1960, for the judge’s order to finally break through.
That Monday morning, federal marshals drove Ruby and her mother the five blocks to William Frantz. In the car, the marshals calmly explained how they would walk around her to shield her from danger. Ruby, who had grown up watching parades and Mardi Gras crowds, thought the screaming crowd outside the school might be some celebration.
It was not.
Inside the School, Alone in a Classroom
White parents rushed to pull their children from the building as soon as Ruby walked in. Every teacher but one refused to teach while a Black child was enrolled. That first day, Ruby and her mother never made it to a classroom at all; they spent the day in the principal’s office while chaos raged outside.
On the second day, a young white teacher from Boston, Barbara Henry, came to meet her.
“Good morning, Ruby,” she said with a smile. “I’m your new teacher.”
Henry was the only educator willing to teach Ruby that year. Every other child assigned to her class was withdrawn or transferred, leaving Ruby as the single student in a first-grade room built for many. For the rest of that school year, Mrs. Henry taught her one-on-one — phonics, numbers, reading, writing — often sitting side by side at tiny desks rather than standing at the front of the room.
Outside the classroom, hate tried to make its presence felt daily. A white woman waved a Black baby doll in a coffin. Another threatened to poison Ruby, prompting the marshals to insist she only eat food brought from home. She could not go to the cafeteria. She couldn’t play outside during recess. Even to use the restroom, she had to be escorted down the hallway by federal marshals.
And yet, every day, she walked through that mob “like a little soldier,” Charles Burks, one of the marshals who escorted Bridges, later recalled. She did not cry. She did not turn back. Her resilience in the face of such adversity is a testament to the strength of the human spirit.
The Cost — and Quiet Courage — of One Family’s Decision
The Bridges family paid a steep price for that walk to school. Their sacrifices, both personal and financial, are a stark reminder of the toll that the fight for equality can take on individuals and families.
Ruby’s father lost his job at the gas station. The family’s regular grocery store refused to serve them. In Mississippi, her grandparents were turned off the land they had sharecropped for 25 years because of “the trouble” their granddaughter was causing in New Orleans. Under that kind of pressure, her parents’ marriage strained and eventually broke apart.
But the story was not only about hostility. Some white families chose to keep their children at William Frantz. A Methodist minister, Lloyd Anderson Foreman, walked his five-year-old Pam daughter through the mob, telling reporters, “I simply want the privilege of taking my child to school.” A neighbor gave Ruby’s father a new job painting houses. Others babysat, watched the family’s home to deter threats, and even walked behind the marshal’s car as Ruby traveled to school. These acts of solidarity show that change is possible, even in the face of deep-seated prejudice.
Child psychiatrist Dr. Robert Coles, disturbed by what he saw on the news, volunteered to counsel Ruby during that year. He met with her regularly at home, trying to understand how a child could carry such a burden. Years later, he would write The Story of Ruby Bridges for children and support the Ruby Bridges Foundation with his royalties.
Through it all, Ruby’s mother urged her to lean on faith. “If you’re afraid, pray,” she told her daughter. Ruby began praying on the way to school and, in time, even prayed for the people screaming at her. Years later, she recalled one morning when her teacher saw her lips moving as she walked through the crowd.
“Were you talking to them?” Mrs. Henry asked.
“No,” Ruby said. “I was praying for them.”
Life After the Mob, and the Work That Continues
By the time Ruby reached second grade, the mobs had thinned, the marshals were gone, and other Black children had quietly entered the school. Mrs. Henry, who had stood with her in that first, lonely year, was not invited back. The city, and much of the country, seemed eager to forget that ugly chapter.
Ruby finished elementary school at William Frantz, graduated from an integrated high school, and built a life in New Orleans. She studied travel and tourism, worked for years as a travel agent, married Malcolm Hall, and raised four sons. For a long time, she rarely spoke about what had happened when she was six.
That changed in the 1990s, when reporters, scholars, and schoolchildren began to ask: What happened to the little girl in Norman Rockwell’s famous painting, The Problem We All Live With? The painting, based on her walk into William Frantz, shows a small Black girl in a white dress, escorted by marshals past a wall splashed with a racial slur and a smashed tomato.
By then, Ruby had returned in a quiet way to William Frantz, volunteering as a parent liaison and helping families navigate the school system. She also reunited with Mrs. Henry after more than three decades. The two women, one Black and one white, one from New Orleans and one from Boston, picked up an old connection that had never really faded.
In 1999, Ruby founded the Ruby Bridges Foundation, dedicated to “the values of tolerance, respect, and appreciation of all differences.” As she often says, “Racism is a grown-up disease, and we must stop using our children to spread it.”
She has spent the years since speaking at schools, churches, museums, and universities, telling a new generation what it means to be the child at the center of a nation’s battle over who belongs in its classrooms.
The Other Three Who Walked That Morning
Ruby Bridges was not the only child who climbed into a federal marshal’s car on November 14, 1960. That same morning, just a few blocks away in the Lower Ninth Ward, three other six-year-old girls — Leona Tate, Gail Etienne, and Tessie Prevost — stepped into history as well.
Together with Ruby, they are known as the “New Orleans Four,” although for decades their story was eclipsed by the spotlight that was placed almost solely on Bridges.
These three children integrated McDonogh No. 19 Elementary School, a traditionally all-white school that had resisted the Supreme Court’s Brown v. Board ruling for six long years. Like Ruby, they passed the same deliberately difficult entrance exam meant to keep Black children out of white classrooms.
That morning, federal marshals arrived at each girl’s home to escort them to their first day of first grade. As the car approached McDonogh 19, the girls heard a roaring crowd and — being New Orleans children — assumed it was Mardi Gras.
Gail Etienne, seen being escorted by a U.S. Marshal (Courtesy of the Historic New Orleans Collection)
But what awaited them was no parade.
In front of the school, white protesters beat garbage-can lids, waved signs, and screamed hatred so loud and vicious that it startled even the federal escorts. “If they could get to me, they’d kill me,” Etienne later said. “At six years old, I’m wondering what I could have done to make people react this way.”
Within minutes of their arrival, every white student was pulled out of the building. The McDonogh Three sat outside the principal’s office as children streamed out around them. By day’s end, they were the only three students left in the school.
For their safety, the windows were covered with paper. The girls were unable to use the lunchroom. Their teacher, Mrs. Meyers, a young white woman from New Orleans, created a refuge for them — teaching lessons, offering comfort, and letting them jump rope and play hopscotch in the hallways instead of going outside.
Their courage came at immense cost, just as Ruby’s did. Their presence helped force open New Orleans’ schoolhouse doors and contributed to the moral and political momentum that later fueled the 1964 Civil Rights Act.
Today, their legacy is newly recognized:
• Leona Tate now owns the McDonogh 19 building, converting it into a civil rights museum through the Leona Tate Foundation for Change. • Tessie Prevost, who later spent decades working quietly at the LSU School of Dentistry, passed away July 6, 2024, her contribution finally receiving the attention it long deserved. • Gail Etienne continues to speak publicly about that day she mistook the mob for a Mardi Gras crowd — childhood innocence shattered in seconds.
Their bravery — alongside Ruby Bridges’ — reminds the country that school desegregation was never the work of one child alone. It was carried by four 6-year-old girls who faced mobs, terror, and abandonment to open the doors of American education.
From Desegregation to the DEI Backlash
Ruby Bridges’ walk into William Frantz Elementary helped open the doors of American public education. My own mother later rode buses into newly integrated schools in Southern California, part of that first generation of students who tried, in good faith, to build classrooms that truly reflected the country around them.
Within a single lifetime, many of those gains are under new attack.
School districts are banning books that deal honestly with race. Diversity, equity, and inclusion programs are being dismantled or defunded. Legal and political campaigns promise a return to a colorblind “meritocracy” that looks suspiciously like the old order in new clothes.
The mobs outside Ruby’s school carried signs and shouted slurs. Today’s fights often come wrapped in legal language and policy briefs. But at the heart of the struggle is the same question: Who gets to belong, and on what terms?
Ruby’s, Leona’s, Gail’s, and Tessie’s Mandate for Our Moment
Ruby Bridges was not an activist when she first climbed those steps. She was a child who loved jump rope, softball, and her younger siblings. The same was true for Leona, Gail, and Tessie — little girls thrust into a national confrontation over who deserved an equal education.
Their bravery was theirs. The consequences were theirs. And the mandate they carried is now ours
Today, as elders of the civil rights generation, Ruby, Leona, Gail, and the late Tessie Prevost leave behind a truth America must confront: schools can still be places that either bring children together or tear them apart.They opened the doors. They set the example. They showed the cost.
The question, now as then, is whether the country is willing to honor that sacrifice — in our school boards, in our policies, in our public memory, and in the stories we teach our children.
Their walk was not just a moment. It was a mandate.
Their walk into William Frantz and McDonogh 19 did not end segregation everywhere. It didn’t erase racism. But it drew a clear line between the world we inherited and the world we’re still trying to build.
The question now and then is whether the country has the will to honor it — in our policy fights, in our school districts, and in the stories we choose to tell our children about what happened on those steps in New Orleans, and why it still matters.
Prairie View A&M University receives a record $63 million gift from MacKenzie Scott, boosting scholarships, research, and long-term growth in one of the largest HBCU donations ever.
By Milton Kirby | Prairie View, TX | November 14, 2025
A Record-Breaking Moment for PVAMU
Prairie View A&M University has received the largest single gift in its 149-year history — a $63 million unrestricted donation from philanthropist and author MacKenzie Scott.
The university announced the news on Thursday, calling the investment a powerful vote of confidence in Prairie View’s mission, leadership, and rising research profile.
This new gift comes five years after Scott’s earlier $50 million donation. Together, her support now totals $113 million, marking one of the most significant philanthropic commitments ever made to a Historically Black College or University.
MacKenzie Scott – Courtesy Vogue
A Boost for Students, Research, and the Future
President Tomikia P. LeGrande said the gift is “defining and affirming,” and will accelerate the university’s long-range plan, Journey to Eminence: 2035.
The university plans to expand:
Scholarships and student support services
Faculty research and innovation in areas like artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, agriculture, public health, and space science
The timing aligns with a major milestone — PVAMU’s largest-ever enrollment of 10,106 students.
Why Unrestricted Funding Matters
Scott’s giving style sets her apart: she allows universities to decide how best to use the funds. PVAMU leaders say that flexibility is crucial for sustained excellence, especially as many HBCUs continue working to close long-standing funding gaps.
A Rising Star Among Public HBCUs
Prairie View A&M, part of the Texas A&M University System, has sharpened its focus on high-impact research in recent years.
University officials say the gift will:
Help strengthen PVAMU’s position as a national research institution
Expand opportunities for first-generation and low-income students
Support community and workforce development across Texas
What Comes Next
President LeGrande said the gift is not only a celebration but a call to action: “This investment amplifies the power and promise of a Prairie View education.”
To honor that promise, PVAMU plans to track and report measurable outcomes tied to student success, faculty advancement, and research impact.
With one of the largest philanthropic boosts in HBCU history, Prairie View A&M now enters a new chapter — one marked by momentum, vision, and opportunity.
