Postlude: Homecoming

Growing up in a neighborhood anchored by the University of Arkansas at Pine Bluff and surrounded by a family of proud HBCU graduates, I experienced homecoming long before I fully understood what it meant. It was the sound of marching bands echoing down Main Street. It was Black style at its finest, a fashion show that could rival any runway. It was impromptu step shows erupting spontaneously with cheers. It was the best tailgate cooking, filling the air thick with the scent of barbecue ribs and fried fish that could outshine any five-star restaurant. There were the voter registration booths set up beside these tailgates with political candidates shaking hands and making their rounds. Music blasted from every direction, with each quarter-mile revealing a new decade of sound. It was the sight of alumni returning with pride and the way my family and neighbors carried themselves, with dignity rooted in a shared history of resilience and excellence.