On the Edge of Legacy: Reflections From a Tougaloo Daughter

by Dr. Khirsten L. Scott

I arrived at Tougaloo College as a first-generation student with questions I didn’t know how to ask. What I found was a place that not only gave me room to ask them, but also taught me how to listen — to history, to community, to myself. That space became the foundation of my academic and professional life. And so, when I speak now, I speak not as a detached observer, but as someone who carries Tougaloo with me — in my research, in my writing, and in the way I lead.

Founded in 1869 in Jackson, Mississippi, Tougaloo College is a small, private historically Black college with an outsized legacy. Known for its pivotal role in the Civil Rights Movement and its deep commitments to academic excellence, social justice, and cultural stewardship, Tougaloo has produced generations of scholars, physicians, educators, artists, and activists whose impact stretches far beyond Mississippi, influencing national conversations on health, business, equity, and education. Tougaloo is, quite fittingly, a place “where history meets the future.”

What’s happening at Tougaloo right now is painful but not unfamiliar. Recently, the college’s faculty issued a formal vote of no confidence in its president, provost, and registrar. The concerns outlined — ranging from administrative opacity to misalignment with institutional mission — signal more than dissatisfaction. They speak to a fracture in shared governance and vision.

But this is not the first time the alarm has been sounded. In 2023, a coalition of alumni launched a petition calling for the president’s removal. That petition gained over 1,400 signatures and detailed declining enrollment, high staff turnover, and eroded campus trust. The critique then came from alumni, external but deeply invested. Now, two years later, it comes from within. This progression matters. It illustrates the multi-directional concern of those who have built, supported, and been shaped by the institution. It is a call not for sensationalism or blame, but for critical reflection and structural care. That this moment is unfolding so publicly reflects both a crisis of confidence and a demand for re-centering the shared mission that has sustained Tougaloo for generations.

Historically, HBCU leadership has been a complex and often contested space. In many cases, presidents have had to simultaneously act as fundraisers, cultural custodians, moral leaders, and political negotiators. HBCU leaders are not only managing institutions, but also carrying the weight of historical obligation and public expectation. At Tougaloo, the story of leadership is uniquely entangled with the institution’s founding by the American Missionary Association, its transition to Black leadership in the mid-twentieth century, and its legacy as a home for intellectual dissent and radical organizing during the Civil Rights Movement. These legacies complicate simple narratives of presidential authority and demand an ongoing dialogue about what it means to lead an institution shaped by and for Black communities.

Faculty governance has long played a critical role in maintaining the academic and ethical integrity of colleges and universities. At HBCUs, this governance takes on additional significance. Faculty are not merely employees; they are often mentors, community leaders, cultural stewards, and historians of institutional identity. When faculty issue a vote of no confidence, it is not only an act of critique — it is a deeply felt intervention rooted in love and responsibility. It says: we believe this place can be better, and we are willing to name what stands in the way.

In historically, predominantly white institutions, faculty governance is often framed as a technical or procedural matter. At HBCUs, it is fundamentally relational. It reflects the tight weave of trust, collaboration, and mutual investment required to sustain institutions that have never been fully resourced but have always been deeply necessary. Disregarding faculty voice in such a setting is not just poor management; it is a misreading of the
institution’s soul.

As a scholar currently writing a book entitled Black on the Edge: Writing, Resistance, and HBCU Survival Literacies, I’ve spent years studying the language, history, and emotional labor of historically Black colleges and universities. My work takes seriously the premise that HBCUs are not only educational institutions; they are cultural, political, and spiritual sanctuaries. They are also under immense pressure: financially, politically, and existentially. At a time when the value of Black institutions is still questioned in public discourse, the internal dynamics of those institutions become all the more crucial.

Tougaloo holds a unique place in that ecosystem. According to the book Stand and Prosper: Private Black Colleges and Their Students by Henry N. Drewry and Humphrey Doerman (Princeton University Press, 2003), Tougaloo College was the last of the private HBCUs to appoint a Black president, an indicator of how questions of leadership, legitimacy, and qualification have long been fraught. Today, the stakes of those questions remain high: Who gets to lead Black institutions? Whose credentials are deemed sufficient? And what does it mean to lead an HBCU in a time of ongoing and heightened scrutiny, economic constraint, and generational shift?

It is important to remember that HBCUs exist in the public imagination in complicated ways. They are praised during crises, spotlighted during Black History Month, and called upon to speak truth to power. Yet they are chronically underfunded, expected to do more with less, and burdened with constantly proving their relevance. In moments of internal crisis, these tensions become magnified. Public perception becomes a double-edged sword: visibility invites support but also surveillance. It is crucial, then, that the narratives about Tougaloo in this moment be shaped by those who know and love it most — students, faculty, alumni, and community members.

Despite the present crisis, Tougaloo continues to produce excellence: it houses a nationally recognized early college high school, boasts award-winning faculty, and maintains a network of alumni contributing to fields from medicine and literature to public service and education. But even the strongest legacy can be strained when its foundations are neglected.

So what now?

This is not the place for demands, but for invitation. I offer the following not as prescriptions, but as collective considerations born from love, from scholarship, and from a desire to see Tougaloo thrive:

• Host facilitated listening forums, not performative panels, but spaces for students,
  faculty, staff, and alumni to share their truths and be heard with care and intention.
• Commission an independent review of leadership structures and institutional
  climate, led by HBCU scholars and experts in shared governance.
• Launch a Presidential Legacy Series, inviting former presidents, board members,
  and alumni to publicly reflect on the evolving demands of HBCU leadership.
• Create intergenerational alumni-solidarity cohorts to document institutional
  memory and support student leaders in imagining just and sustainable futures.

If the board of trustees or other governing bodies find these ideas useful, I would be honored to support their facilitation. Not from a place of authority, but from a place of deep commitment.

Tougaloo is not simply a school I once attended. It is a place I still study, still love, and still believe in. We are at the edge again. But edges are not only places of fracture. They are also places of possibility.

Let us meet this moment with courage. And let us remember that the legacy we inherit is not fixed — it is made by what we choose next.

Khirsten L. Scott is a Tougaloo College alumna and professor at the University of Pittsburgh. Dr. Scott earned a master’s degree in composition, rhetoric, and English studies from the University of Alabama, and a Ph.D. in English, rhetoric and composition from the University of Louisville.