Why Mizzou’s actions pushed me to reconsider future visits to campus | Opinion
On March 25, I was a presenter at the University of Missouri’s annual Journalism Day conference for high school student journalists from throughout the state. Hosted by the Missouri Interscholastic Journalism Association, that wasn’t my first time speaking at the event known as J-Day. But it might be my last — at least for the foreseeable future.
As a show of solidarity with Black students and other minority scholars at Mizzou, I am seriously considering declining future J-Day invites — and that is no slight against the wonderful people that organize the yearly gathering or the students, journalists and other professionals that take part.
Because I grew up in St. Louis, I’ve always had a soft spot for Mizzou. Although I attended the University of Central Missouri for college, I consider MU the mecca in this state for what I love best: journalism. As a native Missourian, I have a rooting interest in the school’s success. At J-Day, I always look forward to meeting hundreds of student journalists from all walks of life. At this year's conference, I spoke to students about the impact well-reported, well-researched, hard-hitting opinion writing can have on local communities. The next day, I received an email from a high school student in attendance.
She wrote: “I attended J-Day at Mizzou on Wednesday (I was in your first session, you complimented my Cardinals shirt) and wanted to personally thank you for your time speaking to the other students and I. I was very inspired hearing your story and could feel your passion for your work in the way you spoke of it. I keep recalling how you responded when someone asked how you dealt with any hate being a Black man who writes opinion stories and you mentioned your hashtag, ‘built for this.’ It reminded me of the quote attributed to Joan of Arc, ‘I am not afraid, I was born to do this.’ Again, thank you for your time. I hope this overtakes any nasty hate mail you get.”
I thanked the student for the encouraging words and wished her well on her road to whatever path she chose for her future. I would hate to miss out on any further opportunities to inspire or light a fire under young people.
Because of interactions like that, I agonized over this decision. Until Mizzou becomes a more welcoming and tolerant place for all young people, I cannot in good conscience continue to travel to a campus that has shown a pattern of hostility toward minority students in recent years.
Powerful decision-making bodies
Leadership at Mizzou — I’m looking at you, UM System President Mun Choi — leaves me with no other alternative. I won't pretend that my own outrage will mean much to Choi or the board of curators who hired him and just last year extended his contract to 2031.
Nor am I naive enough to think that the Republican-led Missouri General Assembly, which controls the purse strings of public universities all over the state, gives two cents about the angst some of these young students may feel at a predominantly white institution such as Mizzou.
These powerful decision-making bodies have taken their collective lead from President Donald Trump and declared war on anything related to diversity, equity and inclusion in Missouri. Much like Trump’s declaration to end DEI at the federal level, Gov. Mike Kehoe’s executive order banning DEI from all state agencies has led to Mizzou and other public institutions in the state to toe a company line that is harmful to underrepresented student groups.
Why I’m reconsidering
Over the past few years, Mizzou has made several decisions that have left me with little recourse but to take a personal stance:
- Just recently, the Legion of Black Collegians and four other minority affinity groups have all been stripped of their annual designated funding. Starting in July, none will be recognized as university-sponsored organizations any longer.
- The Legion of Black Collegians is a student-led group organized in 1968 to protest white students at a MU football game waving the Confederate flag during the playing of “Dixie,” a racially insensitive pre-Civil War song originally written for a minstrel show. The next year, Mizzou classified LBC as a student governing body.
- Decades after that watershed moment, Mizzou is seemingly going backward by reducing the organization's funding and standing as a student government entity. These changes will affect Latin, Asian, Indigenous and LGBTQ students, too. No marginalized groups were seemingly spared, and that is disappointing in so many ways.
- Mizzou is the state’s flagship university. It has a rich history, although one tainted by a racist past: MU kept renowned Kansas City journalist Lucile Bluford from attending its famed J-school as a graduate student because she was Black.
- Al Abram, Mizzou’s first Black scholarship student athlete and my grandfather’s brother-in-law, did not enroll until 1958, long after Kansas State University broke the conference the schools shared color barrier in 1949.
- And no one should forget the racial tension on campus that led to the 2015 student-led protests and the eventual resignations of the university’s president and chancellor.
- More recently, in 2024, Choi signed off on scrapping Mizzou’s diversity, equity and inclusion division amid pressure from state lawmakers.
- About a month later, school leaders forced the Legion of Black Collegians to change the name of its annual picnic for new and returning students called the Welcome Black BBQ.
- Just one year prior, a right-wing student club leader used a racial slur to make light of the murder of Black people — and the school did nothing. Citing First Amendment protections, Mizzou decided not to discipline the student.
In a more just world, school officials would protect the rights of every student instead of systematically dismantling the very organizations that sprang up to support marginalized groups at Mizzou. Until progress occurs on that front, I highly doubt you’ll see me at future J-Day conferences on campus.
This story was originally published April 9, 2026 at 1:47 PM.
