Andrew Reginald Hairston

One year later, I reflect on a day that stands out in infamy – November 8, 2016. This piece also appears on Advancement Project’s Medium page.

The cool breeze of a brisk November Tuesday felt familiar. Oddly enough, it provided a warm and welcomed form of energy. After an exhausting election season, the country seemed poised to deliver a clear and decisive message that rebuked bigotry and hatred — at least in my mind. I ventured to my polling place in Columbia Heights in Washington, D.C., and eagerly awaited the opportunity to vote in another presidential election. A few hours passed, and I soon found myself in the middle of a surprisingly normal work day.

 
I refreshed the New York Times application on my phone more than a few times over the course of eight hours. Each time ended in a sigh of relief — the expected victor maintained a steady lead as the polls closed. My optimism about the expected results imparted a sense of calm balance. I left my office with a colleague to watch the election returns at another friend’s home. We laughed, broke bread and prepared to celebrate the election of the country’s first woman president — a victory that would ostensibly establish the security of the first Black president’s legacy. The air of joviality quickly transitioned into one of ominous solemnity.

 
We moved to a viewing party at a nearby restaurant; things started to feel more peculiar as the growing number of red counties registered in my mind. Around 9:30 p.m., the horror fully settled into my psyche. We journeyed to one more destination with a fleeting feeling that the initial returns were a fluke. Each passing second came with a growing sense of dread.

 
I caught a Lyft to my house with a numbness spreading through my body. I slept fitfully and eventually woke up at 3:30 a.m. to the official notification — fear and ignorance prevailed. I tried to make sense of it but it defied any logic that existed. The shock translated to pain as I walked to my office and passed numerous Black and Brown children with melancholy and heartbroken looks on their faces.

 
It’s certainly been a draining and infuriating 12-month period. Even in the midst of personal accomplishments, such as joining Advancement Project as a staff attorney, the frustration grows in intensity with each new hateful policy proposal or tweet. All of it has created an intriguing paradox. I am honored and excited to be where I am in my career. However, I also recognize the tremendous amount of work that is being created by this administration’s stark racism and the rebuilding that must occur, regardless of when this regime concludes.

 
During these troubling times, I hold strongly to faith, family and community. I remain grounded in the fact that the ongoing fight for justice existed prior to the current administration and will continue after it is out of power. I pledge to be resolute, attentive and innovative as I confront unrelenting civil rights challenges. I also commit to not back down from supporting local communities and amplifying the voices of the marginalized.

 
I am in the freedom fight for the long haul.

Forgive my silence for the past few months – life’s transitions often fall into and flow through one another. After an excellent year at the Lawyers’ Committee for Civil Rights Under Law, I joined Advancement Project as a staff attorney last month. Orientation gave way to a staff retreat, reunions, introductions and engaging work. I love my job, but time slips away swiftly from week to week. And, of course, there’s the physically taxing process of registering the daily horrors that emerge from the Trump Administration.

Most recently, I worked with my colleagues to write an amicus brief for Husted v. APRI, a case before the Supreme Court during the October 2017 Term. The matter concerns the National Voter Registration Act and whether a state can essentially remove a voter from its rolls for not voting. The brief supports the A. Philip Randolph Institute; it argues that Ohio’s history of voter suppression, particularly vis-a-vis Black and Brown voters, causes the inactivity that the state uses to kick voters off of the rolls. I’m immensely proud to stand along side other voting rights advocates, and I count it as an incredible honor to have worked on such a brief so early in my legal career.

With securing the right to vote in mind, I look forward to moderating a panel in Denver next week for the Fall Conference of the American Bar Association’s Young Lawyers Division. The event will focus on the rise of suppressive tactics in election administration, and it will include the perspectives of a Colorado state representative, a law professor and two voting rights advocates in Denver. I hope the panel will provide an avenue for a rich strategic discussion in the midst of a perilous political climate.

On the organizing side of my work, I’m excited to attend the March for Black Women on September 30th. Far too often, the voices of women, trans folks, and non-binary & gender non-conforming people are met with unwarranted vitriol and skepticism. I intend to always stand in solidarity with ALL Black people, and I urge myself & other Black men to listen attentively and provide support wherever its needed. If we don’t, we risk feeding the toxic patriarchy that resulted in 45’s election. (for more context, see, e.g., one of Damon Young’s latest VSB posts) Most importantly, I pledge to trust Black women, now and always.

To conclude, though it’s an excellent time in my life professionally, I recognize the sheer exhaustion that so many folks are experiencing during this time in the United States. I certainly count myself as a member of that group. More thorough reflections are forthcoming on my perspective as Black man living during the authoritarian reign of the First White President. For now, I intend to keep settling into the new job, writing, organizing and tirelessly fighting for justice. All these actions are both necessary, cathartic and freeing.

Proud to support my high school colleague, Janice Bonsu, and her teammates at The Millennial Moment. I urge you to visit their website for more information on this fascinating project. In the meantime, check out my letter by clicking on the link below:

Millennial Moment Letter – Hairston

This piece originally appeared in Diverse Issues in Higher Education on February 2, 2017.

Even though my formal education is finished, I still find myself conversing about my college choice in various circles frequently. These casual dialogues often pose some form of the same question.

Did you always know that you wanted to attend a historically Black college or university (HBCU)?

My answer remains fairly consistent.

Yes, for me, it was not a matter of if I was going to attend an HBCU; it was a question of which HBCU I was going to attend.

My response then triggers unforgettable memories from my earlier years. The lush grass on the rolling hills of Alcorn State University. A powerful address by Julian Bond on the campus of Shaw University. The infectious, familial spirit that characterizes Clark Atlanta University. A fitting tribute to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. at Morehouse College.

I reflect on these veritable institutions and marvel at their mere existence. Most of them were established as the United States attempted to rebuild after the Civil War. A number of them opened their doors to eager students, regardless of race or gender, and they fashioned their missions to be grounded in principles of justice and equality. They quickly learned how to fulfill their goals without the necessary financial resources to do so. The result has been a rich history that has greatly influenced the story of America.

On a personal level, HBCUs have paved the path for me to occupy my current role as a civil rights attorney in Washington, D.C. My great-grandmother served as the switchboard operator for Alcorn in the early part of the 20th century, and she earned her baccalaureate degree from the same institution. Her daughter, my 90-year-old grandmother, received her primary, secondary and undergraduate education from Alcorn and sent each of her thirteen children to the school. Within 35 years of one another, my mother and sister studied chemistry in Alcorn’s hallowed halls. My father capitalized on the lessons he learned at Winston-Salem State and Shaw to become a community-oriented businessperson and compassionate preacher. A number of aunts, uncles and cousins also happily call themselves HBCU alumni.

All of their experiences and sacrifices culminated in my enrollment at Howard University in 2009. I counted it as an incredible honor to be able to continue the legacy of HBCUs through my own journey. As I walked across Howard’s famous yard for the first time, I stopped to consider the contributions of my forebears and other family members to that moment. My gaze turned from Frederick Douglass Hall to Alain Locke Hall, and a simple smile formed on my face. My expression emerged from a sincere recognition of my responsibility to uphold and further the HBCU narrative. Seven and a half years later, that brief period on the yard continues to serve as daily motivation for my work at the Lawyers’ Committee for Civil Rights Under Law.

As a legal fellow and staff attorney in the organization’s Educational Opportunities Project, I am currently working on a civil case, representing the Coalition for Equity and Excellence in Maryland Higher Education, to ensure that Maryland fulfills its constitutional duty to desegregate its four HBCUs. These schools, Coppin State University, Bowie State University, Morgan State University, and the University of Maryland Eastern Shore, along with the 101 other HBCUs in the United States, extend the opportunity to acquire a postsecondary education to many who would otherwise be unable to access one.

I am so proud to be an HBCU alumnus, and I consider it a distinct privilege to be working on an HBCU desegregation case as a newly minted lawyer. A true testament to the tenacity of HBCUs is their ability to adhere to the spirit of their missions and continually fortify the American narrative with fewer resources than predominantly White institutions (PWIs). I am undoubtedly a beneficiary of this indelible characteristic of HBCUs.

From elementary school children learning about Thurgood Marshall to high school seniors reading the poignant prose of Toni Morrison, the current and historic relevance of HBCUs is readily apparent. As young people steadily mobilize around social issues such as policing reform, these institutions will undoubtedly continue to provide intellectually engaging spaces that equip students with the tools to achieve positive societal change.

I will personally strive to preserve and protect the legacies of these formidable institutions so that, one day, several generations from now, young HBCU students can smile, while reflecting on the role that countless HBCU alumni, and a smaller number of civil rights attorneys, played in creating those students’ reality.

This piece originally appeared in AFRO News on February 2, 2017. 

On January 9, 2017, the remedial phase of The Coalition for Equity and Excellence in Maryland Higher Education, et al. v. The Maryland Higher Education Commission, et al. kicked off in Baltimore. This lawsuit, originally filed by the Lawyers’ Committee for Civil Rights Under Law and Kirkland & Ellis LLP in 2006, alleged that the state of Maryland had failed to dismantle the vestiges of segregation at its four historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs). Using the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, as well as Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the plaintiffs asserted that the four HBCUs in Maryland – Bowie State University, Coppin State University, Morgan State University and the University of Maryland Eastern Shore – remained unconstitutionally segregated.

The current proceedings entail an evidentiary hearing that will ultimately address what remedies must be put in place to comply with the memorandum opinion issued by Judge Catherine Blake in October 2013; the court found that the state of Maryland had violated its constitutional obligations and maintained segregation in its higher education system. This case potentially represents one of the most significant developments in higher education desegregation jurisprudence in the past three decades. It could create an avenue for a number of beneficial programs to flow to the HBCUs throughout the nation, particularly those that are state-supported. Of particular note, the litigation finds itself in the midst of an on-going societal debate concerning the relevance of HBCUs.

To provide some background, the Higher Education Act of 1965 grants the designation of HBCU to any postsecondary institution ‘that was established prior to 1964, whose principal mission was, and is, the education of Black Americans.’ There are currently 105 HBCUs in the United States. Geographically, these institutions primarily span across the American South and Midwest. Their locations range from Texas to Alabama, from Oklahoma to West Virginia, and from Florida to Maryland.  An HBCU is also located in the U.S. Virgin Islands.

A large number of the nation’s HBCUs were founded in the century between the end of the Civil War and the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. In the latter half of the nineteenth century, they mainly served as training grounds for preachers and teachers. A host of HBCUs extended the gift of a postsecondary education to both women and men as soon as they began educating students. In the twenty-first century, though the nation’s 105 HBCUs represent less than 3% of the colleges and universities in the country, they enroll 11% of America’s Black college and graduate students.

Since their founding, HBCUs have played a significant role in defining the economic and cultural position of the United States in the global community. According to a study conducted by the National Center for Education Statistics ten years ago, the economic impact of HBCUs was $10.2 billion in 2001. The same study notes that, with regard to output (revenues), the nation’s HBCUs would rank 232^nd on the Forbes Fortune 500 list of the largest companies in the United States. In the decade since the report was issued, this impact of HBCUs has undoubtedly grown in magnitude.

Despite the positive contributions of HBCUs to American society, numerous challenges remain in their paths that hinder their ability to achieve their full potential. Arguably, the most notable among these modern tests is a national conversation concerning the role of these institutions in a steadily shifting educational landscape. Take my alma mater, Howard University, for example – a troubling letter released by the then-Vice Chair of the Board of Trustees nearly four years ago, though inaccurate in its prediction that the university would close in three years, continues to shed light on the struggles experienced by a number of HBCUs, including Howard. Especially in Maryland, an extensive history of second-hand, state-sanctioned treatment experienced by the state’s four public HBCUs established persistent barriers to their ability to adequately compete and culminated in this lawsuit, which quickly approaches its eleven-year anniversary.

Personally, as an HBCU alumnus, these on-going debates often register in my mind. When I reflect on the legacy of HBCUs, I not only consider the supporting role that I play as a young civil rights attorney, but also the contributions of a host of family members, friends and colleagues to the ever-evolving narrative of HBCUs. Though they have traditionally been provided with fewer resources than their counterparts, these institutions perform and deliver under pressure. As the remedial phase of this litigation unfolds, I hope many will contemplate the past and present threads of the HBCU tapestry, such as David Wilson and Kamala Harris, and conclude that HBCUs are indeed relevant and worthy of commensurate investment.

A condensed version of this piece appears on Advancement Project’s blog – Just Democracy. 

“Mr. Hairston, can we get extra recess?”

The familiar inquiry entered my eardrums as the day neared completion. After a few persistent attempts from several classmates, the child who posed the question at this particular point must have known that I was about to acquiesce.

“Alright. Let’s all line up.”

The children bolted to the door and awaited further instruction. The day quickly wrapped up after the second-grade class and I got outside. After I made it back to my house, I had time to reflect on the previous two weeks. A couple of thoughts simultaneously entered my mind; the first concerned my dire need to start packing for DC, and the other centered around my commitment to substitute teaching for a two-and-a-half week period.

As this point, I was preparing to return to the nation’s capital to serve as a summer legal intern for Advancement Project – a national, multiracial civil rights organization. About three weeks prior, I became fully aware that I would have approximately a month between my last law school final of the spring and my first day of work. I wanted to spend my time constructively, as well as make a few extra dollars to support myself in DC for two months. My mother informed me of an opportunity to serve as a substitute teacher, and I concluded that such a job would be good preparation for my time in DC.

Substitute teaching proved to be an incredibly rewarding personal and professional endeavor, albeit challenging at times. As mentioned earlier, I primarily embarked upon the journey because one of Advancement Project’s programs focuses on education reform; I wanted to obtain first-hand insight into the state of public education to better inform the work I would be doing for the summer.

The experience reminded me that children are incredibly brilliant and creative. They require and deserve educators who are deeply invested in their well-being and development. Although the school year was nearly over when I started, I constantly saw enthusiasm and curiosity from the children I met over the course of a ten-day period. As an added note, I considered it an honor to serve in the role of substitute teacher as a Black man working in predominantly Black elementary schools.

With all of this knowledge in mind, I boarded a plane to Washington and prepared for a nine-week internship with Advancement Project. My passion for social justice issues originated during my time as an undergraduate at Howard University, and I felt honored to work at an organization that focuses on racial justice, if only for a couple of months. The first day arrived, and I enthusiastically ventured to the office. After going through a short orientation and meeting some of the staff members, I knew I made the right choice.

One of the benefits of working at the organization was the amount of responsibility and guidance that the staff attorneys provided to my colleagues and me. Advancement Project hosted six legal interns over the course of the summer, and each of us worked closely with the lawyers in the Ending the Schoolhouse-to-Jailhouse Track, Voter Protection and Immigrant Justice programs. It was incredibly fulfilling to work in an intellectually challenging and innovative space that is dedicating to dismantling racial discrimination in the United States.

Admittedly, there were several incredibly difficult moments during the summer. In fact, several emotionally challenging incidents occurred back-to-back. McKinney, Kalief Browder, Charleston, and Sandra Bland are just a few examples of what proved to be a bloody summer. Proclamations of ‘Black Lives Matter’ resonated as loudly as ever, but KKK rallies in the South quickly answered those declarations with great vitriol and hatred. Amid this intensely divided racial climate, economic inequality, criminalization of young people and under-resourced schools continued to plague communities of color throughout the country.

During the summer, I came into the office every day and loved it. It became strikingly evident that Advancement Project’s lawyers had honed their legal acumen by studying the appropriate legal doctrines and thoughtfully engaging members of the communities in which they worked. I admired their brilliance and sought to emulate their well-crafted outreach strategies.

Historically, summer 2015 was an incredible time to be in the District of Columbia. The Supreme Court handed down groundbreaking cases that legalized same sex marriage, adopted the disparate impact standard for housing discrimination cases and upheld key provisions of the Affordable Care Act. Additionally, due to some research we were conducting at the Library of Congress, my colleague and I were present when Obergefell v. Hodges was decided. In keeping with my undergraduate tradition, I attended the traditional Fourth of July celebration on the National Mall, and the patriotism almost felt tangible.

However, as I watched the astoundingly ornate fireworks, my heart became heavy. I thought about how the work I’d been doing illuminated the myriad threats to democracy that exist across the nation. North Carolina was the first place to come in mind because I was preparing to travel there with a litigation team from Advancement Project. The historic trial of NC NAACP v. McCrory was scheduled to begin in a week and a half.

As the time for our departure grew closer, I became more and more reflective. North Carolina holds a special place in my heart. My father and his brothers were born and raised in Winston-Salem. My sister and I were also born in the city. We eventually moved, but the warm memories continued to grow as the years passed. My parents made it a point to take my sister and me to North Carolina each year when my paternal grandmother was living. Two of my uncles and their families still live in Winston-Salem.

My colleague and I arrived in Winston-Salem on a Saturday night, and a surreal feeling flowed through my being. As we checked into the hotel, it hit me that I was indeed back in my birth city. Additionally, I started to fully process our purpose for being there. We were preparing to fight a racially discriminatory voting law, enacted by the NC General Assembly, in federal court.

The case garnered national attention. Citizens from across the country descended upon Winston-Salem for the first day of the trial on July 13, 2015. I sat in the courtroom and witnessed the historic opening statements of the lawyers for the plaintiffs. I watched the compelling testimony of Rev. Dr. William Barber, the president of the NC State Conference of the NAACP. The entire day deftly portrayed the landscape of discrimination that had been created by HB 589.

After court adjourned on Monday, my bosses, colleague and I joined thousands of protesters who came to Winston-Salem for another installment of the now-famous Moral Mondays. In the fashion of the Civil Rights Movement, people walked through the streets and loudly proclaimed their opposition to state-supported discrimination. The amount of energy I felt in the space was incredible.

I eventually heard Rev. Dr. Barber speak for a second time that day, and he boldly expressed his belief that this moment is our Selma. It’s a hard reality to process, but he is absolutely right. At a time when people of color are still disproportionately subjected to poor education, substandard housing and few opportunities for economic advancement, that declaration conveyed the importance of the gathering. All Americans must unite, as we did in North Carolina, to combat the structural racism that persists in this country.

I can’t adequately express how empowering it was for me to return to the place of my birth to continue the fight started by my forebears. I took great pride in standing with the citizens of North Carolina for such a noble cause. I constantly thought of the brave men and women who perished as they sought for people of color to simply be recognized as human beings across the globe. The names and faces of Fannie Lou Hamer, Bayard Rustin, Ella Baker and Stokely Carmichael are permanently inscribed in my mind; their voices and stories push me to continue along the arduous road to freedom, even when it becomes incredibly difficult.

I am humbled by the opportunities that arose during this unparalleled internship. The staff members at Advancement Project assiduously supported me as I dedicated my efforts to fulfilling the organization’s mission. I counted it as a privilege to witness the inner workings of Advancement Project’s effective combination of social media engagement and zealous legal advocacy. I will use the lessons I learned during the summer to continue the struggle for true justice and equality. I am thankful for what can only be described as an unforgettable summer.