“It is a truism that almost any sect, cult, or religion will legislate its creed into law if it acquires the political power to do so.” – Robert A. Heinlein
On the leafy campus of Fort Valley State University, a public historically Black college nestled in the heart of Georgia’s agricultural belt, students move between red-brick buildings unaware of the high-stakes political game that may soon determine the future of their education. But inside the administration building, university leaders are increasingly aware that without stronger state-level advocacy, the institution’s stability — and by extension, the broader future of public HBCUs — remains at the mercy of shifting political winds.
Across the American South and beyond, a growing number of education leaders, students, and advocates are sounding the alarm: As long as African Americans and allies lack consistent control over governor’s mansions, public HBCUs will remain structurally vulnerable — chronically underfunded, politically targeted, and institutionally marginalized.
This isn’t just about partisan ideology. It’s about structural power — and the long shadow of history.
A Legacy of Neglect
Public HBCUs were born of necessity and compromise. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, under the Second Morrill Act of 1890, Black land-grant colleges were established in states that refused to integrate their existing (white) institutions. These new colleges, often placed in remote or rural areas, were vastly underfunded from the start. For decades, states failed to provide them with equal appropriations, and even today, disparities persist.
A 2022 report from the U.S. Department of Education found that over a 30-year period, 18 public HBCUs across 16 states had been underfunded by more than $12 billion compared to their predominantly white counterparts. North Carolina A&T, the largest public HBCU in the country, was underfunded by an estimated $2.8 billion alone. Tennessee State University had to sue its own state legislature to recover an estimated $544 million in withheld land-grant funding.
“This isn’t just old news,” said Dr. Crystal Bailey, an education policy analyst and alumna of Prairie View A&M University. “It’s ongoing structural racism, playing out in annual budgets, capital funding decisions, and oversight boards.”
In many cases, governors hold substantial power over public universities, from appointing board members to approving capital budgets. For public HBCUs, this centralized authority means that their future can be profoundly shaped — or stymied — by whoever occupies the governor’s office.
Board Appointments: The Quiet Levers of Power
Consider Alabama. The state operates two public HBCUs: Alabama State University and Alabama A&M University. Both institutions rely on the Alabama Commission on Higher Education, which advises the governor and legislature. But the commission’s makeup is determined by gubernatorial appointments — appointments that have historically skewed white, wealthy, and disconnected from HBCU communities.
“Without representation, we are forced to constantly justify our existence,” said Dr. Frederick Lyons, a former trustee at Alabama State. “You don’t see Auburn or Alabama fighting for their legitimacy every few years.”
The same pattern exists across states like Mississippi, Louisiana, South Carolina, and even blue-leaning North Carolina, where Republican governors or legislatures have often pushed policies that defund or destabilize public HBCUs, even while publicly praising them.
In Florida, the board of trustees for Florida A&M University, the state’s only public HBCU, has been at the center of ongoing concerns. Though the university has achieved significant gains in enrollment and research activity, it remains subject to oversight by a board that critics argue lacks sufficient Black representation and community accountability.
“Boards are not benign,” said Dr. Amanda Reed, a governance expert at the Southern Education Foundation. “They decide which programs expand, who gets hired as president, and how to respond to crises. If the governor appoints people who see HBCUs as second-class, those biases become institutionalized.”
Political Targeting and Legislative Retaliation
Political hostility to HBCUs is not merely theoretical. In 2023, South Carolina State University, the state’s only public HBCU, faced intense scrutiny from legislators following a financial audit — scrutiny that advocates say would never have been applied with such intensity to Clemson or the University of South Carolina. Though the school’s leadership acknowledged some past mismanagement, the level of political backlash sparked protests from students and alumni.
“If we make a single misstep, they use it to call for our shutdown,” said Marcus Grayson, a senior at South Carolina State. “But PWI presidents can make million-dollar mistakes and get a bonus.”
Meanwhile, in Mississippi, where Jackson State University has become a cultural symbol due to its high-profile football program, legislators repeatedly floated proposals to merge the school with another university — a move widely interpreted as an existential threat.
The pattern is consistent: When political control rests outside of HBCU-aligned leadership, the institutions are perpetually vulnerable to budget cuts, leadership overhauls, program consolidation, or worse — forced closures.
The Cost of Political Disempowerment
Political power in America is measured not only by electoral outcomes but by institutional control. Governors shape the ecosystem of public education through appointments, policy priorities, and budget proposals. For HBCUs, a hostile or indifferent governor can stall progress for years.
Georgia offers a cautionary tale. Despite Atlanta’s status as a Black cultural and political capital, neither Fort Valley State University nor Savannah State University — both public HBCUs — receive the kind of consistent strategic investment seen at the University of Georgia or Georgia Tech. Advocates blame the state’s long history of Republican governors and legislative dominance for perpetuating unequal treatment.
“We are effectively invisible in the eyes of the Board of Regents,” said one Savannah State administrator, who requested anonymity. “We are treated like vocational schools, not research institutions.”
In contrast, Maryland provides an example of what political alignment can achieve. Following a 15-year legal battle over program duplication and underfunding, the state settled a historic $577 million lawsuit in 2021, promising transformative investment in its four public HBCUs. The move, widely credited to strong advocacy from Black lawmakers and a Democratic governor, set a new precedent.
“We didn’t just protest,” said State Senator Charles Sydnor, a key proponent of the legislation. “We gained power — and we used it.”
What Control of the Governor’s Office Could Mean
With growing demographic shifts, several Southern states may soon be within reach of Black or progressive political coalitions that could flip governorships. But for many, control remains elusive.
“Until we hold the keys to executive power, our public institutions will always be subject to someone else’s agenda,” said Dr. Nia Harmon, a political scientist at Florida A&M. “Control of the governor’s mansion means control of boards, budgets, policy direction, and symbolic legitimacy.”
That control could mean:
- Increased operating and capital funding for aging infrastructure and new academic programs.
- Strategic appointments to governing boards that reflect HBCU constituencies.
- Protection against program duplication by nearby PWIs.
- Expanded partnerships with state agencies for workforce pipelines, research funding, and land-grant implementation.
- Clear directives to departments of education and commerce to integrate HBCUs in state economic development strategies.
A Call for Strategic Political Engagement
Despite the urgency, few HBCU advocacy organizations focus explicitly on gubernatorial politics. Instead, the focus has traditionally been on federal grants or philanthropic donations. But many experts say this is a strategic error.
“If we don’t build the power to elect governors who understand and prioritize HBCUs, then we are playing defense forever,” said John Newsome, a political consultant who has worked with candidates in Georgia and Virginia.
Some are heeding the call. In states like Texas and North Carolina, coalitions of alumni, students, and civic groups are mobilizing to influence state-level politics. Prairie View A&M University’s alumni association, for instance, has launched a PAC to support HBCU-aligned candidates across the state.
“We can’t be passive anymore,” said Trina Morrison, the PAC’s chair. “We need to put our votes and our dollars where our interests are.”
The Long Road Ahead
Back at Fort Valley State, Professor Karen Wiggins teaches a political science class that delves into the history of Black political disenfranchisement. But recently, she has added a new module: the modern battle for control of HBCU governance.
“Our students need to know that their education is political,” she said. “Not in a partisan way, but in a power way. Who runs the state runs the universities.”
That power can mean the difference between a fully funded science center and another decade of deferred maintenance. It can mean the difference between being a research engine and a regional afterthought. And ultimately, it can mean the difference between survival and closure.
“The truth is, no amount of alumni donations can make up for structural disempowerment,” Wiggins said. “We need governors who believe in our mission — or better yet, governors who come from our institutions.”
Until then, public HBCUs will remain on unstable ground — hopeful, resilient, but always in danger.
Correction: A previous version of this article misstated the year of the Maryland HBCU settlement. It was 2021, not 2020.
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