Why are Black men disappearing from HBCUs?

By Markus Flynn
Minnesota Spokesman-Recorder
https://spokesman-recorder.com/

Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) have long been the launchpads for some of our nation’s greatest leaders and thinkers like Du Bois, King, Marshall. But today, a quiet trend threatens that legacy: Black men are vanishing from these campuses.

The New York Times published an article titled, “At Black Colleges, a Stubborn Gender Enrollment Gap Keeps Growing.” At Howard University, Black men now make up just 19% of the student body, the same percentage as non-Black students. Across all HBCUs, Black men account for only 26% of students, down from 38% in 1976.

This isn’t just about HBCUs. It signals a deeper, more systemic issue. As a Black male college graduate and now the leader of an organization that recruits Black men into colleges, I wanted to add my thoughts to the conversation.

First, this isn’t a Black male problem. The National Center for Education Statistics (NCES) shows us that women are outpacing men in college enrollment rates for every racial group. Second, this isn’t a college problem; it starts much earlier.

In “Of Boys and Men,” author Richard Reeves argues boys face developmental challenges in traditional schooling. Their brains develop differently; impulse control is lower, and sensation-seeking is higher. These factors influence boys’ relationships with school. They are suspended more, overrepresented in special education, and more likely to struggle with reading.

These gaps start early and compound over time. And when disparities hit, they hit Black boys harder. As the saying goes, “When white America catches a cold, Black America catches the flu.”

So while this is not unique to Black men, the structural, societal and peer influence they face is. That’s where I want to focus.

Structural influence

On their first day of school, Black boys often step into systems not built for them. Elementary schools are 89% female-led. Black boys rarely see themselves. And in many classrooms, their curiosity is misread, their brilliance overlooked, and their behavior disproportionately punished.

A 2016 Yale study showed teachers watched Black preschool boys for misbehavior, even when none occurred. That unconscious bias shows up in real outcomes: Black children are 18% of preschoolers but 48% of suspensions.

Beyond the classroom, structural inequality shapes school quality. Redlining and housing segregation have concentrated Black families in underfunded, segregated districts. This not only affects preparation, it erodes belief. And when Black students do dream of college, many are burdened by debt. 

Two-thirds of Black college students are first-generation. Their average family income is $41,000, compared to $103,000 for continuing-generation peers. HBCUs, often underfunded themselves, struggle to offer competitive scholarships. That funding gap is no accident. According to NPR, the federal government underfunded HBCUs in 16 states by $12 billion. 

Societal influence

My favorite Malcolm X quote is, “The media’s the most powerful entity on earth…because they control the minds of the masses.” When he said those words, media influence was already strong, but in today’s world that influence has multiplied tenfold.

The media shapes how we see ourselves. For Black boys, representation is narrow. In sports, music and entertainment, Black men are not just visible — they’re celebrated. In school, those same boys often feel invisible — or worse, targeted.

So when Black boys say they want to be athletes, YouTubers, or influencers, it makes sense. We are most visible, most praised, and most marketable when we’re in entertainment. That visibility sends a message. And unfortunately, it’s one of the most consistent messages our boys receive about themselves. 

The lack of varied aspirational images for Black men affects society’s expectations and their own. Few forces are more powerful than the images we see of ourselves. 

Peer influence

When I read the NYT article, I texted my 16-year-old cousin: Why do you think so few Black men go to college? He said, “A lot of guys just want to do what they see other guys doing.” That hit home.

By 7th grade, I was two years ahead in math. But when I reached high school, I hid it. I didn’t want my peers to know. There was an unspoken script, and I didn’t want to stand out, even in ways that should’ve been celebrated.

As a classroom teacher, I saw that same dynamic playing out every day. For many of the boys I taught, fitting in with their peers outweighed nearly everything else. While this isn’t unique to Black boys, when you factor in the structural and societal pressures that already distance them from academic spaces, peer culture can further reinforce the idea that college simply isn’t for them. 

The path forward

As executive director of Black Men Teach, I know one solution is getting more Black male teachers into classrooms. Representation in media matters, but representation in real life matters more. When Black boys see Black men leading, it plants seeds of possibility. 

Schools say there’s a shortage of Black male teachers. But there’s not a shortage of Black men. If we value our boys, we must build mentorship pipelines that bring college-educated Black men into classrooms.

We also need to remove the barriers that make Black boys feel like they don’t belong in advanced academic spaces. One or two breaking through isn’t enough; we need to shift the culture by ensuring Black boys make up a representative sample of those classes. 

And finally, schools must celebrate Black boys’ academic achievement with the same energy they give to athletics. Pep rallies for GPAs. Assemblies for scholarships. Posters for student leaders and science fair winners. Black boys can’t be celebrated more for their athletic prowess than for their academic ability. 

This isn’t just about college enrollment. It’s about rewriting the narrative of Black boyhood to include possibility, pride and purpose. It’s about a fully actualized Black future, and we can’t get there without our boys.

This work isn’t just for educators. It’s for all of us who believe in the promise of Black boys.

We must act now.

Markus Flynn is the executive director of Black Men Teach, a local nonprofit dedicated to building pathways for Black men to embrace careers in education. For more information, visit www.blackmenteach.org.