(BALTIMORE – May 23, 2025) – Eight days apart. That’s all that separates my daughter’s graduation from Coppin State University and mine from Morgan State University. Two generations. Two degrees. Two historically Black colleges and universities — both in the heart of Baltimore.
For me, this is more than a personal achievement. It’s legacy. It’s healing. It’s redemption. It’s God.
When I first set foot on the campus of Morehouse College, I had no idea my mother would be gone just two years later. She gave everything so I could attend what I still consider the greatest HBCU in America. Morehouse didn’t just educate me — it saved my life. Just a month into my freshman year, I got the news that Darryl Motley — a neighborhood icon, someone we all looked up to — had been killed in an alley off Warwick Avenue, just a block from Coppin. It shook my community. Back home, drugs were destroying lives. Dope and coke had flooded our neighborhood. Promising athletes were being swallowed up by the streets, turning into dealers. Being a kingpin was the goal for too many.
Meanwhile, I was in Atlanta, surrounded by Black excellence, in a space that felt safe and empowering — a whole new world. Those two years at Morehouse transformed me. I met students from all over the country who looked like me, talked like me, but dreamed bigger. I never imagined that journey would eventually lead me to complete my education at two more historic institutions: Coppin State and Morgan State.
Now, my daughter N’yinde and I are part of a beautiful, divine alignment: I walk across the stage at Morgan, and she does the same at Coppin — eight days later.
N’yinde graduating means her mother and I — and her entire village — have another victory. It means she’s got a foundation, a sense of purpose, and hopefully a fire to keep going. I pray she knows deep in her soul that she’s not alone, that her ancestors — Donald and Lillie Glover, Mary Murray, Joaquin Calderon, Sam Glover, Flossie Rivers — are proud. This moment gives her a fighting chance. And maybe it gives her daughter the same. That’s how this works: one degree becomes a bridge for another. She majored in Early Childhood Education. Add this to her entrepreneurship since age 16, and we have a young woman who is already working on purchasing her first home.
Our story is not unique — but it is powerful. Baltimore is home to two of the most influential HBCUs in the nation. Morgan State University has grown into a city within a city — the result of decades of leadership and vision, from Dr. Earl Richardson to Dr. David Wilson. Coppin, too, is transforming the West North Avenue corridor, with the support of local and state leadership and the tireless work of people who believe in the potential of West Baltimore.
We’re both graduates now — from institutions that were built to uplift Black people at times when America tried to deny our humanity, our intellect, our ambition.
This isn’t just about finishing school. It’s about breaking patterns. It’s about what my daughter will pass on to her daughter. It’s about being present, as a father, as a man, as an example.
Chris Rock said it best — a father’s job is to keep his daughter off the pole. I know that’s blunt, but I understood the weight of it: so many women are hurting because of absent or wounded fathers. I told my daughter I never want to be the source of her pain. I want to be the source of her power.
And I had to model it.
I returned to school later in life, like so many of us do. I was 28 when I went back to finish my bachelor’s. I met Patricia Njenga at Coppin — she was taking care of her two younger sisters and averaging 22 credits a semester. I thought my 20-credit load was heavy until I met her. She inspired me. She made me dig deeper. We were both in the Ronald E. McNair Post-Baccalaureate Achievement Program established by Dean T. J. Bryan. That program challenged me and made me respect Coppin and what it means to my community.
Education is everything. It’s freedom. It’s power. It’s survival. Our ancestors learned to read by candlelight — when it was illegal to even teach them. That spirit lives in me. No matter what I’ve faced — ugly days and darker nights — education gave me a way forward.
Finishing my master’s just shy of 60 isn’t just a milestone — it’s a whole new chapter. I’m walking with more clarity, more confidence, and more conviction. I have zero time for foolishness. I’m living my purpose unapologetically now. And while I’m looking ahead — possibly to a Ph.D. at the University of Baltimore — I know this isn’t about titles or letters behind my name. It’s about building my business, growing my impact, and honoring the people who paved the way.
The classroom — whether at Coppin, Morgan, Morehouse, or beyond — is sacred.
If you’re reading this and you haven’t finished your degree, look into Morgan’s Morgan Completes You program. https://www.morgan.edu/mcy It was a godsend for me.
Because eight days apart, my daughter and I walked across stages that represent so much more than just graduation.
We walked for our ancestors.
We walked for our legacy.
We walked so our babies can run.
