My sophomore classmates and I celebrated Declaration Day this past April. After we declared our majors, we gathered on Cannon Green, and took pictures in front of our department banners. Needless to say, it was a beautiful way to finish the Spring 2024 semester.
Declaring African American Studies was filled with several plot twists. I initially came to Princeton as a prospective English major. Yes, I was that voracious reader who spent hours immersed in fictional worlds. As I got older, I would write as a form of activism at my predominantly White high school. It only made sense that if I wanted to pursue writing full-time, an English degree was the way to go.
That all changed when I took my first African American Studies/Philosophy class, “Race, Racism, and Racial Justice,” with Professor Lidal Dror my first year. We would discuss whether race is a social or biological concept. We would read about long standing racial justice issues like reparations, affirmative action, and racial profiling, all of which further informed my activism. I walked away from every lecture eager to continue these difficult, yet necessary conversations with my classmates.
One must take five African American Studies classes to complete the certificate. But I knew five classes wasn’t enough to satisfy my thirst for Black knowledge. I wanted to go all the way – Junior Paper, Senior Thesis, Senior Colloquium – because the field became my special interest.
Additionally, the Undergraduate Board of Advisors (which I am now a part of) inspired me. Despite majoring in the same field, they were committed to different paths. One student merged their interests in race and computer science through her independent work. Another student aspired to be a photographer. And still another student wanted to work at a museum. At that moment, I realized that I would not have to choose between my academic and creative work. The African American Studies department would hold space for me to merge the two together, so I can produce the best independent work possible.
As much as I loved the department, I made a brief detour to Anthropology in Fall of my sophomore year. I thought my parents – who thought African American Studies would leave me unemployed – would find it more acceptable. Although I did well in my Anthropology class, the readings did not excite me compared to my African American Studies readings. I was not looking forward to doing fieldwork, either, which is required for the Anthropology Senior Thesis.
More than anything, I missed studying my special interest. Returning to the African American Studies department feels like returning home. No matter how many times I switched my major, the professors and students have always welcomed me back with open arms. And just like the books I read as a child, our readings gave me a new purpose as a writer: to tap into Black joy, love, healing in my work. My department is just the beginning.