By Stacy M. Brown
Black Press USA Senior National Correspondent
There are moments in history when a single act of generosity reveals the moral decay of an entire nation. MacKenzie Scott’s $38 million gift to Alabama State University, the largest in its 158-year history, is such a moment. It is not merely a financial transaction, nor the casual benevolence of the wealthy. It is a moral indictment against a society that has grown indifferent to the suffering of its Black citizens, against a government that starves their schools, and against a class of newly rich who have forgotten the communal obligations of success.
Dr. Quinton T. Ross Jr., the university’s president, called it a defining moment for Alabama State, and indeed it is. His words ring with the gratitude of those who have built excellence in the face of deprivation. “Ms. Scott’s generosity affirms Alabama State University’s reputation as a catalyst for excellence and innovation in higher education,” he said. But her act is more than affirmation. It is a resurrection, and a call to remember that Black institutions remain the crucibles of America’s moral and intellectual power. In recent weeks, Scott has dispersed her fortune with quiet conviction. Seventy million to the United Negro College Fund to strengthen endowments across thirty-seven member schools; sixty-three million to Morgan State University, her second gift to that campus in less than five years; and one hundred and one million combined to Morgan State and the University of Maryland Eastern Shore in a span of days.
Her giving, unshackled by stipulations or vanity, stands in luminous contrast to an era defined by greed and indifference. The plutocracy that dominates modern life often extracts from the many to enrich the few. Scott reverses that equation. She does not donate to dominate. She gives to repair. Her wealth, born of corporate conquest, has become the instrument of restoration. It stands as a redemption, perhaps, of what that very system has broken. One cannot ignore the symbolism of her actions. At a time when the federal government withholds support from historically Black institutions, when affirmative action has been dismantled, and when diversity programs are vilified, a white woman from the highest ranks of privilege has become the single most consistent benefactor of Black education in the nation. It is as though she has seen, from her rarefied vantage point, what America refuses to see: that the progress of its Black citizens is not a charity, but the measure of its own civilization.
Yet even as she gives, others remain silent. The silence of Black wealth resounds across the land. It is a silence that mocks the very principles of uplift once preached from our pulpits and classrooms. Attorney Benjamin Crump’s call to the wealthy—“If you’ve been blessed, you got to pass the blessing on”—echoes unanswered. The great sons and daughters of our race who have ascended to fortune, those who built empires on the faith of our people, turn their eyes away from the institutions that birthed them. They forget the hands that lifted them from obscurity. They forget that their wealth is not solely their own, but part of the moral economy of a people who have suffered together and triumphed together. The Black Press, like the HBCUs, stands as an unbroken monument to endurance. It has spoken truth through lynchings, wars, and betrayals. Yet it now faces extinction not from white suppression alone, but from the neglect of its own. “If the Black Press falls,” Crump warned, “so does the record of our struggle, our triumph, and our faith.”
Scott’s philanthropy, then, is not simply about money. It is about memory. The moral memory of a nation that has forgotten the debt it owes to those it once enslaved and now ignores. In her giving, she restores something elemental, the belief that one’s prosperity is meaningless if it does not lift others. W.E.B. Du Bois wrote of the “double consciousness” that afflicts the Negro in America, the struggle to see oneself through the eyes of a world that despises you. Today, the irony is reversed. America must learn to see itself through the eyes of those it has wronged. MacKenzie Scott, for all her privilege, seems to have glimpsed that truth. She gives the impression that she has looked into the soul of the republic and found it wanting.
Her actions do not absolve the sins of this nation. They reveal them. And in revealing them, they offer a path, not of atonement, but of accountability. For every dollar she gives to rebuild a school, there are a thousand more that others with power might give but will not. One woman has chosen conscience over complacency. The question that remains is whether the rest of America—Black and white alike—will choose to follow her example or remain comfortable in the quiet decay of its own moral poverty.
