on Black Graduation Ceremonies

Over 100 Black students marched into an auditorium this weekend swaying in time to the beat of drums, the mundanity of “Pomp and Circumstance” absent, replaced by the powerful and moving sounds of African drumming. It was an occasion of vibrancy and creativity, each graduate adding his or her own touch with the spirited swaying of his or her shoulders as they filed into the crowded room. It was a celebration of Bachelors, Masters, Doctors of Philosophy, and Medical Degrees. It was Stanford University’s Black Graduation Ceremony.

As I sat through my little brother’s BGC and scanned the crowd of smiling family, friends, and mentors, I was overwhelmed with pride. Sharing the joy in my heart that my baby brother’s graduation held, was the feeling of knowing I was standing in a room in which I felt deeply linked to each and every other person around me.

BGCs are held throughout the country to honor the achievements of black students, including at my alma mater, Vanderbilt University, and my sister’s, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, and Indiana University where she obtained her JD. Given the statistics that still paint a dismal picture of low graduation rates among Black students, the achievements are indeed significant, and should be celebrated.

Some criticize the tradition of BGCs as separatist. But as the Assistant Dean of Students and Director of Stanford University’s Black Community Services Center said as she opened up the ceremony, BGCs are about “congregation, not separation.” The members of the audience, who were not all White nor all American born, congregated to celebrate the success of Black students. It was a subset of the celebratory weekend, with most students, if not all, also attending university-wide commencements and departmental ceremonies.

BGCs symbolize different things for different individuals. For me it was about seeing what is so integral to my identity reflected back. As a student attending a predominately white institution, I often felt like I was on the sidelines. On the evening of my BGC, I stood on the stage front and center in honor of both my achievements and my culture. At that moment, I knew every part of me was being affirmed.

For some, it’s about tradition and celebrating the collective experience, from the donning of the Kente Stole to the singing of the Black National Anthem, Lift Every Voice and Sing, a standard for most BGCs.

And still for others it’s about celebrating the feat of managing to achieve at a predominantly white institutions, triumphant in the face of adversity.

In the midst of celebration, there’s insulation from the negativity of those who are critical of the place these ceremonies have in 2009. If you have participated by gracing the stage or simply sitting in the audience, you’ll realize that the experience is indescribable. And when done right, these events, as my baby brother put it, are nothing short of spectacular.