Worries of Racial Discrimination on a Campus Where 4 of 5 Students Are White

Administrators at the University of Missouri told a student organization that it could not proceed with a “Black 2 Class Block Party” because the event qualified as “unlawful discrimination.” Is it possible that students who are not Black complained of being denied access to the annual event in prior years? Probably not. This cancellation is one of numerous examples of how institutions are attempting to comply with the Trump administration’s anti-DEI agenda, as Inside Higher Ed reporter Jessica Blake noted in an article last Friday.

U.S. Department of Education data shows that during the 2023–24 school year, 79 percent of undergraduates on the University of Missouri’s flagship campus were white. Black students were just 5 percent of the undergraduate student body. Put differently, nearly 19,000 students were white and fewer than 1,200 were Black. Numerically, there are not and have never been enough Black students there to create a climate of exclusion for their white counterparts. The same is true among professors—last school year, only 33 of 1,027 tenure-track faculty members at Mizzou were Black, according to statistics published online by the university’s Office of Institutional Research.

Given these demographics, it seems implausible that collegians in the minority have enough power to routinely and unlawfully discriminate against their peers who comprise the majority. This could be confirmed via systematic analyses of discrimination complaints submitted to the university in recent years. When disaggregated by race, the data is unlikely to show that it is overwhelmingly white students who most often experience racism. Surely few, if any, complaints are about encounters with discrimination at Black student organization events.

Activities like Mizzou’s annual welcome-week block party are important for Black students, as most will be expected to successfully navigate spaces where they are the only or one of just a few persons from their racial group in every course they take, sometimes in their entire academic majors. Some will be the lone Black students who live on their residence hall floors. In these and other spaces, too many will be met with racial stereotypes, microaggressions and, at times, explicit racial violence. Black student organization events afford them opportunities to meet others who can affirm their sense of belonging at the institution. They may also meet other Black students who can teach them how to navigate campus environments that are anti-Black and otherwise racist.

The inclusion of “Black” in its title is what made this year’s block party suddenly and presumably discriminatory. Like historically Black colleges and universities, Black culture centers, and African American studies courses, Black student organization events have neither historically nor contemporarily been proven to be spaces that exclude people from other races. Mizzou and universities like it are considerably more likely to find evidence of racial discrimination in predominantly white sorority and fraternity recruitment and member-selection activities, as well as at parties on frat row, than at a student organization event that amplifies black culture.

As previously noted, 5 percent of Mizzou undergraduates are Black. Noteworthy is that Black men are 2 percent of the student body, yet NCAA data shows that they comprised 62 percent of the football team and 56 percent of the men’s basketball team there last academic school year. Despite generating millions of dollars in revenue for the university, these student athletes and their same-race peers are not allowed to have events that have “Black” in the title.

“Black college football and basketball players are the most powerful people of color on campus,” I wrote in a Washington Post article 10 years ago. At that time, Black student athletes at Mizzou threatened to skip a football game that would have resulted in a loss of more than $1 million in revenue. This threat was in response to institutional inaction on racism that Black collegians had long experienced there. Within days, the system president and the chancellor of the Columbia campus both resigned.

Football and basketball players are as powerful there today as they were a decade ago. They can indeed resist anti-DEI efforts that disadvantage them and other students of color. But should they do so in response to a canceled welcome-week block party? Yes, because that one seemingly insignificant event is emblematic of a more expansive demonstration of anti-Blackness on their and other campuses at this time.

The elimination of culturally resonant programs, centers and institutes, and offices denies Black students access to valuable relationships and resources that bolster their first-year transition experiences, sense of belonging, classroom and out-of-class engagement, academic performance, and retention. Some of the most enduring and transformative advancements for Black collegians in U.S. higher education emerged from student activism. Student athletes, student organization leaders and everyday students who are Black, along with allies and supporters from other racial groups, ought to refuse to allow anyone to mischaracterize activities and spaces as discriminatory just because “Black” is in the title.