It’s our responsibility to participate in an active and ongoing process of learning, unlearning and relearning.
In this episode, we focus on how Black student-athletes are pushing for change in the Athletic Department.
Sadly, one of my favorite months of the year is coming to an end. Black History Month, a month that celebrates the legacies of prominent Black people and their efforts to pave the way for future Black generations, has amplified my own consciousness and pride in my identity.
The Association of Black Students continued their 2020 Black History Month programming series, Feb. 25 in the Orchid Room, with the third annual “Black Talks, Black Thoughts,” which offered students and faculty the opportunity to give a 10 minute presentation on any topic of their choosing.
In the second part of our two-part series on key moments in Washington University’s Black history, we will examine events from the 1968 publication of the first Black Manifesto through the present day.
Four years ago, Student Life published “Invisible on Campus,” a five-part series focusing on the fight for Black undergraduate representation and inclusion at Washington University, both historically and in the present day.
In addition to showing the stories of Black people through the ages, this year’s production of Black Anthology centered around how people choose what art to create.
Despite the publicity, no one outside of Black Anthology’s executive board knows what the show is about.
“Jackie and Me,” the new coproduction between the St. Louis-based Metro Theater Company and Edison Theatre, Washington University’s on-campus theater, opens with the main character, Joey Stoshack, addressing the audience and filling them in on his secret power—he can travel back through time when he touches a baseball card.
My skin tone is a shade in between a raw umber and chocolate brown. On most forms, I am guessing for demographic purposes, I am Black/African American. Since elementary school, I have had this notion that February is a month for Black History. This year, as I grasp at threads to try and understand my identity, I find myself a bit perplexed.
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