“You’re here because you belong here. Now channel the confidence of a mediocre White man.”
I whispered those words to an HBCU journalism student whose hands were shaking as she looked up to address Vice President Kamala Harris and Keisha Lance Bottoms in the White House’s mock briefing room. Moments later, her nerves gave way to sharp, well-researched questions. Watching her and her fellow HBCU students rise to the occasion confirmed what I’ve long believed: talent has never been the problem. Access is.
During my time as White House director of African American media, one of the initiatives I was proudest to create brought HBCU journalism students into the White House to interview senior administration officials.
The goal was never to give them a tour. It was to give them access.
Because once you ask a question of the first Black vice president of the United States or sit where history is reported every day, you begin to see yourself as the professional you’re training to be. You’re not only building your resume but the confidence to command any room you step foot in.
Throughout my career on Capitol Hill and the White House, I met brilliant young people with endless potential. What they lacked was someone willing to open a door.
Those advantages have often been passed through family connections, alumni networks, and professional circles. If you weren’t born into those networks, you often missed out on information that others inherited.
It was never a coincidence when a colleague’s last name was the same as a well-known Democratic donor or a friend of the President himself.
My colleagues and I would joke about the “nepo babies,” but it wasn’t a laughing matter because these were the people who had access to information, networks, and influential relatives willing to explain the unwritten rules of a game we’d never been invited to play.
As students prepare to head back to campus, they’re often told to earn good grades, join organizations, and build a résumé.
All of that matters.
But students can’t pursue opportunities they don’t know exist. They can’t build relationships with people they’ve never met. They can’t imagine themselves in rooms when they can’t find the door.
Source: Why Access Is the Real Back-To-School Challenge for Black Students
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