Letter to black mit 2024

message for 2020 Black Convocation

Dear Class of 2024,

There are two things I want to talk to you about.

One is about my personal journey and the lessons I’ve learned that hopefully are useful to you. The second is the task ahead of your class which is unique compared to the 21s, the 22s, and the 23s, and arguably any other MIT Class since the early 20th century. So first, when I was a prefrosh, I was headed to live in Chocolate City, I wanted to be Course 20, pre-med and I knew extracurricularly at the very least I was going to be active in the Black Students’ Union. I came from a predominantly white school and knew what it was like to live in a space where those who looked like me, especially in my classrooms, were far and few. I had even lived in a dorm where this feeling of being what they call a “minority” was exacerbated by racism. I never wanted to feel like that again and thus chose to quite literally live and work with my people at MIT. The truth is the only thing I really knew about myself when coming to MIT was that I wanted to heal people and I wanted to be among and advocate for BlackMIT. But, I was naïve and impressionable by my peers and society to feel that I needed to know what Course I wanted to be, or what I wanted to do with my life or at the very least what I wanted to do with my MIT degree since I was a prefrosh.

The truth is we are all very young. Most on this Zoom with less than 20 years of life. And so, Class of 2024, you are going to come up against similar questions that force you to ask yourself what you’re doing here and I want you to know that above the academic rigor, above the social dynamics, above the professional and post-graduate opportunities, the most worthwhile thing you are learning here at MIT, is more about who you are. I don’t think I’m alone in saying that MIT placed me in a wealth of challenges and how I responded to each and every challenge revealed where I was in my own growth process into what I’ve learned is more important than being a student, more important than being an instrument in someone’s company—it was my growth into being what I am first—a human being seeking purpose. Since being at MIT, I’ve taken a lot of what was, for me, exploratory courses like MIT & Slavery, Designing the First Year Experience, and Woke Literature. I’ve stepped into leadership within the Black community, the undergraduate community, my fraternity, and have built relationships with colleagues in staff, faculty, administration, and The Corporation. I’ve even paused my time at MIT to work on a presidential campaign. My MIT journey is a testament to listening to who I was becoming and making sure I was giving myself the experiences that I needed to grow along the way. It was not an easy process, by any means, but when you know you’re doing what is best for you in that moment it brings peace and helps you find that thing called purpose.

So, Class of 2024, my wish for you is that in this semester, in this year before you, and the years journey ahead of you, especially during this time where your graduation may not have been what you hoped, nor your college application process, nor the world you hoped to enter into finally as a college student, I want you to let all of that frustration go. Let it go. The ignition of those experiences are long behind you now. And I don’t ask you to let it go and not grab hold of something. I want to instead grab hold of the opportunity that is now before you to use MIT and all its wealth and resources to learn more about yourself than you were able before you came here. You are MIT now and the world knows exactly what that means, especially when they eventually see your brass rat. But what does being MIT mean to you? What will you allow it to mean while you are here? I did not have answers to these questions as a prefrosh, and so I don’t expect you to have answers either. But during your time here don’t forget to ask yourself along the way so you can take full advantage of the opportunity you now have.

I am re-entering into the MIT community from my leave. I am coming back with a new outlook on the direction of my life, yet the foundation—that I want to heal people and that I want to be among and advocate for BlackMIT—is unchanged. Today, I am Course 8 and Course 21L and I am a writer focusing on writing what will be my first novel. Being a writer, to me, is the most important responsibility I have (after being a son, a brother, and a grandson) and becoming a writer has been one of the toughest roads for me to navigate, tougher than 5.12 and some of us know exactly what that feels like. Writing for me is hours upon hours upon hours of writing about myself, about the world, about truth and trauma. Waking up early, going to sleep late, sometimes not writing at all, just staring at the page struggling to find the words to express what my mind‘s eye sees. But, what you’ve gained in MIT is really a boot camp for life. You will learn how to grind. You will learn how to fall and yes you will learn how to get back up again. Allow your journey to be about pursuing your purpose. As you learn more, allow yourself to grow and that means allowing yourself to gain clarity and change paths if necessary. Like Toni Morrison said, “If you want to fly, you’ve got to give up the shit that weighs you down.” And sometimes this proverbial shit is your prefrosh plans.

I mentioned before, that the task ahead of you is unique to your class. And in the MIT fashion, we all have work to do and 24s, you, are no different. I really want you all to understand what it means for you to have joined BlackMIT, because the truth is MIT used to not allow people who looked like us to earn degrees. 24s, you have joined a school operating on land stolen from its First Peoples and a school that facilitated the American institution of slavery with research to improve its “efficiency”. MIT’s founder and family held enslaved people and one traveled with him from Virginia to MIT. And as time passed into the late 19th century, when MIT did let us enter into the Institute, we were only allowed to be custodial and dining staff. And later when they did allow us to earn degrees, the first Black students saw the MIT yearbook and the student newspaper layered with images of white supremacist cartoons and dehumanizing photos. And yet, they overcame challenges, earned degrees, taught students, practiced medicine and law, founded schools, started businesses, brokered peace, researched nature, and created knowledge for the world. This is the origin story of BlackMIT.

And so, the task at hand for you it would seem 24s is to take this context with your experiences and teach us, your upperclassmen, what community can mean during this time. Your task is imaginative in nature, it will demand us to do things we may not be doing, it will make us reevaluate who knows best and what we are here for, nevertheless your presence, Class of 2024, is a gift to this community already. For by mere existence you have forced us, your upperclassmen, to imagine a greater sense of what it means to be a part of this community. Especially, when we are unable to connect in the ways we have connected before or in these times heal in the ways we have healed together before. However, you, Class of 2024 are the only members of this Black community today who know what it is like to integrate into MIT while it is yet physically foreign to you. You, Class of 2024, are navigating a unique experience that offers insight into how we can be a Black community that thrives during this pandemic. Think about what this means for your role, 24s. Because, our ability to be there for your class like we want to demands you to tell us what you think. So, we need you to speak up. We need you to be involved in this community. We need you to tell us when things are working, and tell us when they are not working. We need you to question what we are doing and if it’s the best path forward. We need you to respect the experiences of your upperclassmen by holding us accountable to representing you and your desires at and for MIT. I won’t sugarcoat it, this family is just like any other. It gets real with the disagreements, hard lessons, and accountable moments; just like it gets real with the solidarity, celebrations, and genuine friendship.

So, 24s, you’re coming through CoVID-19 and here you are with us. I wish for you to reflect that you are indeed here. You are MIT. And all of us can share with you how it is the people that make MIT what it is, even more than the physical location. I want to end with the words of our ancestor who ascended last week and has inspired many of us here, Chadwick Boseman: “Savor the taste of your triumphs today, don’t just swallow them all whole without digesting what is actually happening here. Look down over what you conquered and appreciate what God has brought you through.” Welcome to BlackMIT!