When white America is scared, Black schools get threatened

Bomb threats at several HBCUs were another chapter in threats against Historically Black Colleges and Universities.

Howard University in 1942 (John Collier Jr. via Library of Congress)

By Daryn Dickens

The day after conservative influencer Charlie Kirk was shot and killed at Utah Valley University,

Historically Black Colleges and Universities—including Alabama State, Virginia State, Hampton University, Southern University, Clark Atlanta University, Spelman College, and Bethune-Cookman University—were forced into lockdowns or put under shelter-in-place orders after receiving threats.

At Virginia State, students huddled in dorms as police and federal agents swept campus buildings. At Southern University, classes and daily life came to a halt as students were told to shelter in place.

Officials said there was no direct link between Kirk’s death and the threats to HBCUs. But the timing was impossible to ignore. A conservative figure is killed at a mostly white campus, and suddenly Black campuses are under threat. To many students, alumni, and advocates, the pattern was clear. When America enters crisis, HBCUs are often pulled into the crossfire. It is another reminder of how anti-Blackness is built into the imagination of this country.

This is not new. Since their creation, HBCUs have faced hostility. They were born of necessity because Black students were not welcome at white schools. From arson attacks during Reconstruction, to FBI surveillance of student activists in the 1960s, to a wave of bomb threats in 2022, these schools have been under attack not because of wrongdoing but because of what they symbolize: Black education, independence, and self-determination.

That history makes the recent lockdowns feel less like isolated events and more like part of a long chain. The FBI admitted the threats were hoaxes, but the damage was done. Students missed classes. Parents received panicked phone calls. Communities were shaken. For students, the message felt the same: You are not safe here.

As the Congressional Black Caucus said in a statement, the threats were “a chilling reminder of the relentless racism and extremism that continues to target and terrorize Black communities.” Kirk had built much of his career on framing colleges as places of indoctrination. He argued that students who challenged conservative views were not engaging in debate but spreading dangerous ideas. HBCUs were not the center of his activism, but they stood as living examples of what his supporters criticized. They are unapologetically Black, politically active, and advocate for social change. In today’s climate, that makes them easy targets. The result is a dangerous cycle. A tragedy at a white institution becomes an excuse for hostility toward Black ones. It is not rooted in logic but in fear, power, and symbolism.

Howard University, Forbes’ No. 1 HBCU in the nation, did not go into lockdown, but safety alerts were sent out. Students were told to be cautious, even though no direct threats had been made against the school.

These schools have never been allowed to exist without disruption. And yet, they continue to raise generations of leaders, thinkers, and organizers. Even hoax threats leave scars. They create anxiety, they cut into learning, and they remind students that simply pursuing education as a Black person is still dangerous.

The danger is not only in the threats themselves but in how they are used. Throughout history, crises at HBCUs have become excuses to increase surveillance, expand police presence, or justify new restrictions. Instead of addressing racism, Black spaces get more tightly controlled. Black students face ever more monitoring, harsher rules around protest, and attempts to weaken the value of their institutions.

The threats that followed Kirk’s murder, whether connected or not, are part of a long pattern of fear used to limit Black advancement. But HBCU students carry the lesson their predecessors passed on: They are not alone, and they are not powerless.

Now the responsibility rests on federal agencies, lawmakers, and communities to act. Congress must secure funding to strengthen campus safety, expand mental health services, and support academic opportunities at HBCUs. Protection should look like stronger hate-crime enforcement, increased security resources, and a commitment to shaping a national narrative that values and defends HBCUs. And the public must stand with HBCUs as spaces of learning and freedom.

Because history makes one thing clear: HBCUs are targeted because they matter. They nurture brilliance, they cultivate resilience, and they embody resistance. No act of violence, real or threatened, will erase their legacy.

Daryn Dickens is an honors history major and sports administration minor at Howard University. She interned this summer for the PGA TOUR under Corporate Partnerships.

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