February 2026
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Education Insights Center (EdInsights) or the California Education Policy Fellowship Program (EPFP).
Tangela Blakely Reavis, PhD
Associate Professor, Saint Mary’s College of California
Every February, Black History Month invites us to reflect not only on the past but on the notable accomplishments, inventions, and people who continue to shape Black life in the present. Black history is not only something to remember; it is something to learn from, embody, and carry forward, especially when institutions claim a commitment to Black student success.
In recent years, California has taken a significant step toward institutional accountability. In 2024, the state legislature introduced Senate Bill 1348, establishing the Black-Serving Institution (BSI) designation to formally recognize colleges and universities that demonstrate a commitment to Black and African American students’ access, retention, completion, and sense of belonging. The legislation acknowledges that Black and African American students were long excluded from higher education through racial segregation and discrimination and that, despite civil rights protections and efforts to remove barriers to access, significant inequities persist today.
To qualify for the designation, institutions must enroll at least 1,500 Black students or have a student body that is at least 10 percent Black or African American. The BSI designation identifies institutions that meet these criteria and publicly affirm a responsibility to support Black student success through a formal mission statement, a commitment to improve retention, time-to-degree, and graduation outcomes while reducing academic equity gaps among Black students in California. Sacramento State University was the first institution to receive this designation. In 2025, the designation expanded across the state with a growing number of campuses publicly identified as Black-Serving Institutions. Currently, two University of California campuses, three California State University campuses, 25 California Community Colleges, and one private institution hold the designation. This expansion comes at a critical moment, as efforts to support Black students in higher education have become increasingly contested.
Candace Jones
Vice President, Administrative and Business Services, Long Beach City College
EdD Candidate, Saint Mary’s College of California
Taken together, the legislation and its expansion represent more than a symbolic gesture. They reflect an explicit acknowledgment that Black students have been historically excluded from higher education and that institutions bear responsibility for addressing the barriers they face. Unlike many other Minority-Serving Institutions (MSIs), such as Hispanic-Serving Institutions (HSIs) or Tribal Colleges and Universities (TCUs), which have previously received federal funding and grants, the California BSI designation does not automatically come with funding. As a result, institutional commitment and how campuses choose to allocate existing resources become even more consequential. As part of the application process, institutions were required to substantiate their commitments by documenting how resources were currently allocated to support Black student success and demonstrating how those commitments would be advanced for the next five years.
Because the BSI designation does not automatically come with funding, public recognition as a BSI or enrollment thresholds alone cannot serve as the measure of whether institutions are truly Black-serving. This raises a more fundamental question: what does it take to effectively serve Black students? Leading HSI scholar and UC Berkeley professor Gina Ann Garcia calls for HSI institutions to move past the goal of simply enrolling large numbers of Latinx students and instead, authentically serve them through culturally affirming practices. Another answer lies in the long-standing legacy and practices of Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs).
HBCUs were founded primarily in the aftermath of the Civil War to provide educational opportunities for Black Americans who were systematically excluded from predominantly White institutions (PWIs). For more than a century, they have developed culturally affirming curricula and support structures that confront anti-Blackness by design, educating a disproportionate share of first-generation and low-income students. Although HBCUs account for just three percent of U.S. colleges, they produce roughly 20 percent of all Black college graduates and have educated the majority of the nation’s Black judges, doctors, and lawyers.
As a graduate of Spelman College, a Historically Black College for Women, I, Tangela Blakely Reavis, experienced what it means to be educated in an environment intentionally designed to affirm and protect Black students. Seeing myself represented in the classroom with Black faculty and mentors and among my peers expanded my understanding of what was possible, of who I could become, without imposed limits on my ambition or opportunities. I learned not only the intellectual traditions that reflected my lived experiences, but also how to navigate the world as a Black woman with confidence, prepared to enter spaces that had not been designed with me in mind. This environment supported my survival during college, and it also proved foundational to my survival—and success—more than two decades later. This kind of education does not merely support persistence but a legacy of liberation; it builds Black students for the long term, equipping them to navigate and challenge inequitable systems well beyond graduation.
This piece is co-authored with Candace Jones, a senior administrator at a California community college who did not attend an HBCU but played a central role in writing her institution’s BSI application. Engaging in that process required translating the historical legacy underlying the designation into concrete institutional language—raising questions about what it truly means to serve Black students with intention and accountability. Together, we make visible the gap between institutional claims and lived experience, suggesting how the language of being “Black-serving” can, without intentional accountability, drift toward performance rather than genuine action.
If California’s Black-Serving Institutions are serious about carrying this legacy forward, the question is not whether they can replicate HBCUs, but whether they are willing to act with the same clarity of purpose. Being Black-serving must extend beyond student enrollment or public designation and shape how institutions operate day-to-day. This includes confronting anti-Blackness, embedding racial equity in organizational practices and routines, holding senior leadership (not just those in diversity-facing roles) accountable for Black student outcomes, and intentionally supporting Black faculty and staff, whose labor, care, and leadership are essential to creating affirming learning environments. Without this level of intentionality, the designation risks becoming another well-meaning label and a vehicle for maintaining the status quo, rather than a vehicle for liberation.
Black History Month reminds us that progress has never come simply from recognition, but from sustained struggle and collective responsibility. At a moment when Black history, DEI efforts, and equity-centered initiatives are being rolled back across the country, California’s expansion of the Black-Serving Institution designation offers a meaningful counter-narrative—one rooted in action, accountability, and the belief that Black students deserve institutions designed for their success.