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In this chapter, I trace instances of meaning-making through fragments of two interviews. Using restorying and the construction of parallel stories to interpret resonances across the participants' stories and my own stories of experience, I draw strong personal connections with elements of each semi-structured interview. In a revisitation of the narrative threads of identity, community, and change, the image of Black women as literacy educators who co-construct meaning in and out of the classroom is rendered.

Since the mid-1800s, Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) have been educating a majority of Black Americans. These 105 institutions serve more than 300,000 undergraduate, graduate, and professional students from diverse backgrounds, various socio economic levels, and academic achievement levels. And, it is important that they continue on this challenging journey of addressing the unique needs of the HBCU student by becoming more efficient and focused on their program offerings with minimal state support and shrinking federal funding. Further, systems mandates, board governance, affirmative action, and civil unrest oftentimes camouflage the historic role of the HBCU. Questions arise as to the relevance of these historic institutions when the student, faculty, and staff demographics begin to shift in an effort to compete for the quality and quantity of students enrolling at majority institutions. It is imperative that we continue having crucial conversations surrounding the essence of this challenge. Diversity is our strength and a reality that should not be ignored. What better institution to exemplify inclusive excellence than a HBCU? This chapter will address how these historic institutions can continue to celebrate their legacy while embracing the rich dimensions of diversity, equity, and inclusion.

In his March 1986 article in Newsweek, Russell Watson exposed “Queen Imelda” Marcos's life of indulgence as the Philippines' First Lady in the opening paragraph:Three thousand pairs of shoes, size eight and a half. Five shelves of unused Gucci handbags, still stuffed with paper, price tags still attached. Five hundred bras, mostly black, and a trunk full of girdles, 40 and 42 inches around the hips. Huge bottles of perfume, vats of Christian Dior wrinkle cream, a walk-in-safe littered with dozens of empty jewelry cases. When the palace of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos was opened to the public as a museum last week, foreigners and Filipinos alike gawked at what the former First Lady had left behind. “It was the worst case of conspicuous consumption I have ever seen,” said an American visitor, Rep. Stephen Solarz. “Compared to her, Marie Antoinette was a bag lady.” (Watson, 1986, p. 14)