Latest news with #MorehouseCollege
Yahoo
2 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
A Morehouse student Was Lynched in 1930. Why the College Gave Him a Posthumous Degree.
I still remember the call from Allison Bantimba, former leader for the Fulton County Remembrance Coalition, a community remembrance project focused on healing and learning from the legacy of racial terror through reconciliation. Her voice carried the kind of reverence that comes when you're about to be invited into sacred work. 'We have another lynching victim to remember,' she said. 'And I'd like you to take the lead on this remembrance because of your connection and reverence to Atlanta's history.' Within minutes, the file arrived in my inbox. I opened the report, and as I read, I felt my heart break — but not for the reason you might think. This wasn't the first lynching report I'd received — I've read many over the years — but Dennis Hubert's story was different. Like Warren Powell, who was just 14 years old when he was lynched in East Point, Georgia, in 1899, Dennis was a child to some and a young man to others. Dennis was 18— a divinity student at Morehouse College. A son and grandson. Full of potential and deeply rooted in a family that believed in education, faith, and service. His lineage reached back to Hancock County, to Camille and Zak Hubert. I dug deeper. I spoke with the family. I continued the work virtually when the world shut down during the pandemic. We hosted remembrance gatherings, and kept his story alive. On the night of June 15, 1930, Dennis had gone to the playground at Crogman School in Atlanta's Pittsburgh neighborhood — a segregated school where his mother was the principal. What happened next was as senseless as it was brutal. A group of seven white men accused Dennis of offending a white woman. There was no proof. No investigation. No mercy. They beat him in front of children, and then one of the attackers pulled out a gun and shot him in the head. He died there, his young life extinguished by hatred. In his memory, I stood at the site where he was murdered and collected soil. In 2021, a year later, we erected a historical marker at that exact spot. I tended to his grave at South-View Cemetery. I cried in silence and with the community. And recently, I cried again — but this time, they were tears of joy. On the rainy morning of May 17, 2025, Morehouse College called Dennis T. Hubert's name during its 141st commencement ceremony and posthumously awarded him a Bachelor of Arts in Religion. His great-nephew, Imam Plemon El-Amin, walked across the stage and accepted the degree on his behalf, 95 years after his death. Photo Essay: Morehouse Graduation Celebrates Brotherhood and Excellence Morehouse College President David Thomas called Hubert a 'son of Morehouse, a martyr of justice, and what history now sees as the Trayvon Martin of the 1930s in Atlanta.' It was more than a degree. It was an act of reclamation. El-Amin recalled an Islamic concept, telling CNN: 'There are three things a person leaves behind after their death: their charity, knowledge, and family members who pray for them.' It was a warm thing, watching El-Amin stand on that stage, the weight of his great uncle's name resting in his hands like a promise kept. The moment pulled at memory—slow and deliberate—as if the past was not behind us but seated beside us. Through paper and paint, archive and altar, the community and Morehouse stitched a brother back into the world for the Hubert family. Not gone. Not forgotten. Just waiting to be remembered the right way. Later that day, I laughed with the family at the president's reception. We exchanged hugs with professors like Karcheik Sims-Alvarado, Myrick-Harris White, Stephane Dunn and students who had also fought to see Dennis honored in this way. We celebrated because this wasn't just a symbolic gesture. It was a long-overdue homecoming and acceptance into the Morehouse brotherhood. Read More: Morehouse College Names F. DuBois Bowman New President I felt, in those moments, the long arc of justice bending — not fast, not easy — but bending toward our babies and their becoming. Some say, 'Dennis should have lived a full life.' I say he did. Sharing his story over the years, Dennis was able to symbolically preach from pulpits, walk with his community, and even watch his Morehouse brothers graduate over the years. Dennis has a legacy — a legacy that calls us to remember, resist forgetting, and restore the dignity that was taken. And we, his community, will continue to carry it forward. The post A Morehouse student Was Lynched in 1930. Why the College Gave Him a Posthumous Degree. appeared first on Capital B News - Atlanta.
New York Times
5 days ago
- General
- New York Times
4 Ways to Trick Yourself Into Taking a Walk
I love a meandering walk, but sometimes I need a little motivation to get up and go. Lately, I've been tempting myself outside by visiting a dove that's nesting in my yard: Every morning, I check to see if her eggs have hatched. Once I've got my sneakers on and left the house, I tend to keep walking. Rob Walker, author of 'The Art of Noticing,' said that when he walks, he likes to impose a mission or build a framework around it to add a little novelty and engagement to an activity that is 'literally pedestrian.' 'Otherwise, you can easily end up on your phone, or in your head where all you do is ruminate over the deadline that you're missing or the smartass remark that someone made to you,' he said. 'And there could be dragons walking around and you wouldn't notice them.' It's worthwhile to do whatever it takes to stay on the path, because the benefits of regular walks are well-documented. Walking lowers the risk of many health problems including heart disease, anxiety and depression, and diabetes, said Stacy Imagbe, an assistant professor of kinesiology at Morehouse College. And you don't need to do 10,000 steps a day, either; even 4,000 daily steps have been shown to have benefits. If you need some motivation, here are some of Walker's more creative ways to take a walk. Get outside and tune into the sounds around you, Walker said. 'We're so visually oriented that we miss a lot of things that are happening to our other senses,' he said. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Yahoo
27-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Lynched at 18, College Student's Legacy Lives On as Nephew Accepts His Degree 95 Years Later: 'Martyr of Justice'
In June 1930, Dennis Hubert, a sophomore divinity school student, was killed in a racially motivated attack at a playground Almost 100 years later, his nephew, Imam Plemon El-Amin, gratefully accepted his honorary posthumous bachelor's degree 'People are conscious of his life, which means he's still alive," El-Amin said Nearly a century after an 18-year-old Black college student was lynched at a Georgia playground, his nephew has accepted his honorary posthumous bachelor's degree. Dennis Hubert, a sophomore divinity school student, received the posthumous degree from Morehouse College, a historically Black college in Atlanta, on Sunday, May 18, CNN and FOX affiliate WAGA reported. His nephew, Imam Plemon El-Amin, whom he never got the chance to meet, gladly accepted Hubert's Bachelor of Arts degree in religion. During the graduation ceremony, David Thomas, the university's president, described Hubert as a 'son of Morehouse, a martyr of justice, and what history now sees as the Trayvon Martin of the 1930s in Atlanta,' according to CNN. The college and El-Amin did not immediately respond to PEOPLE's requests for comment. For El-Amin, now 75, the moment was important to his family and resonated with a common sentiment in Islam: a person who dies leaves nothing behind except for their good deeds, knowledge and loved ones who pray for them. 'Many prayers were said in his name,' El-Amin told the outlet about the ceremony. 'Many people remembered him and were informed about his life and his legacy, and so the knowledge was there, as well as the charity of him sacrificing his life so that we would be more conscious of the value of young life and the value of human life, but also the value of justice.' On June 15, 1930, Hubert had spent the day at his mother's and grandmother's houses before going to the playground of Crogman School, a segregated school for Black children. He was in the area for less than 15 minutes before seven white men came up to the college student and accused him of insulting a white woman, according to the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI). They began attacking him, despite Hubert saying he knew nothing about their allegations. 'What do you want of me? I have done nothing,' a witness recalled the young man saying. 'Without investigation, police involvement, or trial, one of the white men held a gun to the back of Dennis Hubert's head and shot him at point blank range in front of at least two dozen witnesses,' wrote the nonprofit organization, which was founded by lawyer Bryan Stevenson to end mass incarceration and fight against racial injustice. The fatal attack was part of a wave of racially motivated killings during that era in the United States, especially in the south. There were more than 4,000 lynchings in the south between 1877 and 1950, the EJI reported. After Hubert's death, which reverberated through the county because his family was so well known, the seven men were arrested — an unusual occurrence at the time. Two days after the men were denied bail, the home of Hubert's father, a beloved pastor, was intentionally burned to the ground, and a Baptist church that was attempting to raise money for the rebuilding and support the men's prosecution was tear-gassed. 'A few days later Dennis's cousin, Rev. Charles R. Hubert, narrowly escaped an attempted murder,' the EJI wrote, adding that the chapel for Morehouse sister college, Spelman College, 'was attacked by night riders who threw stones and shattered the Chapel's lamps.' Despite the witnesses who saw Dennis's murder, the seven men involved were acquitted and were convicted of lesser offenses. Never miss a story — sign up for to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer, from celebrity news to compelling human interest stories. 'One defendant received 12-15 years imprisonment for voluntary manslaughter, while the defendant who confessed to firing the fatal shot received a sentence of just two years,' according to the nonprofit. Almost a century after the Hubert family was terrorized — and lost a promising son — they are grateful he is finally recognized. 'Ninety-five years later, people are conscious of his life, which means he's still alive,' El-Amin said, according to CNN, 'though not here with us physically or in body, but his life, his will, and he is providing inspiration for those of us left behind.' Read the original article on People
Yahoo
25-05-2025
- Yahoo
A Black 18-year-old college student was lynched on a playground 95 years ago. His nephew just accepted his posthumous degree
As Imam Plemon El-Amin stood on stage at Morehouse College in front of hundreds of people, donning graduation regalia his uncle Dennis Hubert never got to wear, all he could think was that Hubert would never be forgotten – even 95 years after he was killed. Hubert, an 18-year-old African American divinity student at Morehouse College, was lynched in June 1930 by a mob of seven White men on the playground of a segregated Atlanta school. Last Sunday, the historically Black all-male college where Hubert was a rising sophomore awarded him a posthumous Bachelor of Arts degree in religion. At the commencement ceremony, Morehouse President David Thomas called Hubert a 'son of Morehouse, a martyr of justice, and what history now sees as the Trayvon Martin of the 1930s in Atlanta.' El-Amin, who never met Hubert, says the moment reminded him of an Islamic saying: There are three things a person leaves behind after their death – their charity, knowledge and family members who pray for them. 'Many prayers were said in his name,' El-Amin said about the ceremony, where the 75-year-old accepted the posthumous degree on his uncle's behalf. 'Many people remembered him and were informed about his life and his legacy, and so the knowledge was there, as well as the charity of him sacrificing his life so that we would be more conscious of the value of young life and the value of human life, but also the value of justice.' El-Amin's family has had 'a long tradition' of a 'connection with Morehouse,' he said, with multiple generations graduating from the institution. Ten men in his family graduated from Morehouse and seven women graduated from its sister school, Spelman College. 'I was proud of Morehouse to give Dennis the honor, and I'm quite appreciative,' El-Amin said. 'The whole Hubert family is really appreciative of that.' Hubert's family had well-established roots in the community: his father was a prominent preacher and his mother was the principal of the elementary school where Hubert was killed, according to El-Amin. 'For one of their promising children, who (was) a rising sophomore at the Morehouse College to be murdered just in cold blood … at that time, 1930, is saying that there (were) no human rights given to the people of Georgia,' El-Amin said. Hubert was one of at least 38 lynching victims killed in Fulton County between 1877 and 1950, according to the Equal Justice Initiative. In Georgia, nearly 600 African Americans were lynched in that period – the second highest number of lynchings in any state. 'When we begin to address this history, when we begin to try to create remedies for the harm and suffering that terror violence and lynching violence created, I think we lay a path down that will help us move forward, which is why I was so pleased that Morehouse decided to award a degree posthumously to Dennis Hubert,' said Bryan Stevenson, the executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative. Like many lynching victims, Hubert was a young man with a bright future ahead of him. When he was killed, the student had been the driver for John Hope, the first Black president of Morehouse. 'This is a recognition of Dennis as not only a human being, but also as someone that had made his mark and was beginning to make his mark at Morehouse, and was not able to make his full mark here in the city or in life, but that people have a high regard for him,' El-Amin said. Less than 15 minutes after Hubert arrived at the Crogman School for Negroes that fateful evening on June 15, 1930, several White men attacked Hubert, falsely accusing him of insulting a White woman. 'What do you want of me? I have done nothing,' Hubert told the mob before one of the men shot him point-blank in the back of the head in front of two dozen witnesses. Hubert's killing sent shockwaves across the community, and the men were soon indicted in connection with his killing – accountability that was rare during that period, according to the Fulton County Remembrance Coalition. The defense argued the killing was 'justifiable homicide' because of the alleged insult. 'The African American community was pushing for justice, and they did get some things that were first in terms of justice between Black and White folk,' El-Amin said. Two days after the men were denied bail, the home of Dennis Hubert's father, Rev. G. J. Hubert, was burned to the ground, according to the coalition. When a Black Baptist church held a fundraiser to rebuild the home and support prosecution of the men, a White mob bombed it with tear gas. Days later, Dennis Hubert's cousin, Rev. Charles R. Hubert, escaped an attempt on his life, and the Spelman College chapel was attacked, according to the coalition. The men were acquitted of murder charges, and only two were convicted of lesser offenses, according to the coalition. One man received a sentence of 12 to 15 years for voluntary manslaughter, while another who confessed to firing the fatal shot received a sentence of just two years. El-Amin's mother, who was 12 when her brother was killed, scarcely spoke about Hubert because of the pain his loss had wrought. 'He was probably her protector and her person that she looked up to,' El-Amin said. But when she grew older and El-Amin became her caretaker, his mother would often call him 'Dennis,' which was 'quite moving' for El-Amin. Though Hubert died 20 years before his nephew was born, the tragedy scarred the family for generations. Growing up as the only son in his family, El-Amin said his mother worried about him because she couldn't bear to lose another family member. Other family members moved out of Atlanta to escape the trauma. They were among more than six million Black people who fled the South to escape racial terrorism between 1916 and 1970, according to the coalition. While Hubert's death traumatized El-Amin's family, he says he's comforted by his faith. 'Life doesn't stop with death and … God rewards those who are oppressed and those who are unjustly murdered,' he said. Part of the tragedy of Hubert's lynching was a lack of awareness surrounding his story among Morehouse graduates until only recently, several alumni said. Michael Tyler, a 1977 Morehouse graduate, said he doesn't 'believe that any of my classmates, or anybody during our generation, was aware of what had transpired with Dennis Hubert.' A few years ago, Tyler learned of Hubert's story when he visited an exhibit memorializing him at the National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery, Alabama. Sean Jones, a 1998 graduate who serves as president of the Atlanta branch of the Association for the Study of African American Life and History, discovered that piece of his school's history in 2021, then called for a discussion of it at the next alumni meeting. As a board member of the Fulton County Remembrance Coalition, Jones constantly advocated for the college to formally recognize Hubert and educate both students and alumni about his story. 'It's personal, it's painful, and … oftentimes it's a scary thing, because some persons have nightmares about it once they hear this kind of history,' Jones said. 'But it is something that must be discussed, must be highlighted.' The lack of awareness about the tragedy – even among Morehouse graduates – made the college's tribute that much more meaningful, Tyler and Jones said. 'It was extraordinarily significant and compelling, and something that I am exceedingly proud of my alma mater for doing – telling a story that had not been told in the public domain as it needed to be,' Tyler said. With the long-overdue recognition, '(Hubert's) memory will continue to inspire a new generation of Morehouse Men to serve with courage, speak truth to power, and uphold the ideals of equity and moral leadership in their respective callings,' a Morehouse College spokesperson said in a statement. Morehouse had approached El-Amin about the decision to award Hubert a degree a year and a half ago and initially planned to recognize Hubert last year, he said. Morehouse's faculty and students had nominated Hubert for the honorary degree, according to the college president. 'We remember the son who should have become a man here. We remember the voice that would have preached liberation. We remember the dreamer who was never given the chance to dream aloud,' Thomas said at the ceremony. El-Amin believes the school's decision to honor Dennis was influenced by the work of the Fulton County Remembrance Coalition and the Equal Justice Initiative to memorialize Hubert along with other lynching victims. The organizations in 2021 collected soil from the site of Hubert's killing – now the Crogman School Lofts apartment complex – and placed a marker there in his honor in 2022. A group of Morehouse students who attended the 2022 commemoration joined hands, encircled the memorial marker and sang the 'Dear Old Morehouse' hymn in Hubert's honor, Tyler recalled. 'Ninety-five years later, people are conscious of his life, which means he's still alive, though not here with us physically or in body, but his life, his will, and he is providing inspiration for those of us left behind,' El-Amin said. Such memorials may help educate future generations and prevent the return of past injustices, community members said. They're especially important today 'when there's such a hostility in some spaces to learning the history of struggle and violence against Black people,' Stevenson, of the Equal Justice Initiative, said. 'We can see that those very, very terrible times are not that far away and can easily come back,' El-Amin said.
Time Magazine
20-05-2025
- Business
- Time Magazine
Robert F. Smith
Finance billionaire Robert F. Smith's best-known act of philanthropy came in 2019 when he made a $34 million promise during a commencement address at Morehouse College to pay off the student debt of that year's 396 graduates. Since then, the Vista Equity Partners founder and CEO has continued to center his giving—$265 million over the past decade—on education, housing and health care initiatives that lift up communities of color. Through his Fund II Foundation, Smith has created internXL, an online platform of 30,000 STEM students, mostly of color, that 300 partner companies use to find job applicants. Other ongoing programs include the Student Freedom Initiative, which offers low-cost loans and other financial assistance to students at historically Black colleges and universities and other minority serving institutions and grants to the Susan G. Komen Foundation and Prostate Cancer Foundation to reduce disparities in health care outcomes for Black people. Smith, the first Black person to sign the Giving Pledge, has no plans to change the focus of his giving despite the anti-diversity push in Washington, believing the country is better off when everyone is healthier, better educated and more capable of economic success. 'That isn't a race thing,' he says. 'That's a fact thing.'
