The Anthony Reeves Experience

When I arrived at the University of Tampa in the fall of 1987, I had no idea how much I would need community. Having grown up in a fairly integrated environment, I was unprepared for what it meant to be in a place where I was one of very few Black students. It wasn’t just about academics—it was about identity, belonging, and finding a space where I could feel seen. Despite the warm welcome I received, there was still something missing. I felt welcome, but not fully safe—not in a physical sense, but culturally. I wasn’t sure where I could be my full self. That changed the day I met Michael Hite, a Black upperclassman who introduced me to the Association of Minority Collegians (AMC). That single moment shifted the course of my college experience. AMC was more than a student group. It was a sanctuary. A place where I could laugh, vent, create, and most importantly—belong. Every Sunday, I sat in a room surrounded by students who looked like me, talked like me, and understood what it felt...

When I was growing up in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, I couldn’t wait to attend Southeast Middle School. In my hometown, it was the only middle school serving the entire area. That meant every student moving from sixth to seventh grade—regardless of which elementary school they attended—would end up there. Southeast Middle only served one grade: seventh. The year I attended, I had just turned 12, and I was absolutely thrilled. The school was big, it felt important, and I was finally part of something I had long looked forward to. There were no words to describe the excitement I felt. Like many small towns, the teachers at Southeast were often the same age as our parents—some even knew members of my family. That familiarity added to the comfort and the pride I felt just being there. But something unexpected unfolded. My mother had a large collection of photo albums and yearbooks, and I had seen many pictures of her from her high school years. Over time, I began to realize that many of thos...