In the ongoing war over historical memory and cultural narrative, one of the most critical battles surrounds the nation’s Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs). As of late, organizations such as the American Civil Rights Project, the Manhattan Institute, the Federalist Society, and the Heritage Foundation have called federal funding supporting HBCUs (and other Minority Serving Institutions) into question, arguing that this type of race-based support is discriminatory.

Their arguments beg the question: Why are HBCUs serving a predominantly Black student body? The answer – HBCUs were born of exclusion due to discrimination and segregation perpetuated by whites. Yet, HBCUs are fueled by resilience and a deep commitment to racial uplift. They have long been misunderstood by those who neither know their history nor appreciate their purpose. Too often today, they are described by critics—ironically and incorrectly—as “segregated,” rather than what they truly are: radical responses to racism and sites of unapologetic Black intellect and excellence.

This mischaracterization is no accident. It results from a larger strategy—a backlash that has followed every movement toward racial justice in American history. The false framing of HBCUs as outdated, racially segregated, or unnecessary has been a tool of narrative control, one that aims to erase the ongoing value and necessity of these institutions.

To flip the script, we must first confront the truth: HBCUs exist because Black students were systematically denied access to higher education for generations. These institutions were not created to separate, but to serve and educate Black people during a time when others would not. They emerged in the late 19th century, often under the most challenging conditions, offering rigorous education, spiritual grounding, and professional preparation to formerly enslaved people and their descendants. Over time, they became engines of upward mobility, producing teachers, doctors, lawyers, engineers, artists, professors, and activists who would transform their communities—and the country overall.

Today, HBCUs enroll less than 10% of Black undergraduates but produce roughly 16% of Black college graduates. They graduate a disproportionate number of Black STEM Ph.D.s, public school teachers, and individuals who end up solidly in the Black middle class. In a time of increasing attacks on diversity, equity, and inclusion programs and the teaching of African American history, HBCUs are more than relevant—they are revolutionary. They are places of truth-telling and cultural preservation, where Black students can learn without justifying their presence.

But flipping the script is not just about correcting historical inaccuracy—it is about imagination. It is about Black people reclaiming the power to define themselves, their institutions, and their impact. We must uplift the stories of students who thrive at HBCUs, the faculty who mentor with purpose and commitment, and the alumni who lead and act with conscience. We must insist that the legacy of HBCUs is not one of separation, but of freedom to learn. They have never discriminated and continue to be open to all students.

Narrative justice is a form of reparative justice. It is a way to honor the past while building a more inclusive and honest future. HBCUs are not relics—they are reminders of what it means to resist erasure. They represent the intellectual, cultural, and spiritual capital of Black America. Sharing their stories is recognizing their role in education and the ongoing struggle for freedom and equality. Federal support of HBCUs is an investment that shapes the nation while simultaneously owning up to our past atrocities toward Black Americans.