The South That Never Fell

At the end of the Civil War, this great nation of ours found itself at a crossroad. Slavery was abolished and with it came the ushering in of a new way of life for those who owned and those who were once owned. As such, Americans began aggressively repairing the fractures that divided the land and ultimately resulted in the four bloodiest years in American history. Those efforts focused on two major pillars: civil rights and industrialization, both falling under the reconstruction umbrella. Both sides had their marching orders and went about the business of rebuilding this more perfect union, but while the confederacy fell in defeat, factions have always maintained that …

The South would rise again.

But there was another South.

A South that never fell.

A South that needs no rising, needs no rebirth, no second chance or revenge. It holds no grudges. Instead, it holds a beauty and pageantry that has a life of its own, evoking cultural pride and school spirit, with a level of fandom that has to be lived, not seen, to be believed. It’s like fine wine, getting better with time and each year that passes surpasses the year before. You don’t have to be an alum. You just have to be alive and once you’ve experienced it, the life you live will never be the same. What is it you ask … it’s HBCU football …

The other South that never fell.

Before the SEC, there was the SWAC

Southern football has been defined by the SEC, the conference with storied programs that regularly contend for the national championship. We all know the names, darlings of the sport, dominating the airwaves while capturing the imaginations from one coast to the next. They produce first rounders, all-pros, and busts in Canton, but the SEC, storied though it may be, has never been the only game in town.

Nor was it the first.

Long before the SEC, there was the SWAC: a conference comprised of Black Colleges and HBCUs that welcomed minority minds looking to further their education and lay foundations for richer, fuller lives. Schools like Grambling State, Jackson State, Prairie View, and Texas Southern to name a few, combined to create a Black college powerhouse. The SWAC became a place of acceptance, of hope, and open arms in a world that wasn’t always welcoming to Black students … including those of the SEC where vestiges of the cruelest parts of the South of days gone by still lingered.

Borne out of necessity with meager beginning and often representing the only option open to a Black child. Borne out of the audacious thought that descendants of slaves deserved the right to become scholars. They deserved the right to become leaders in a world where their ancestors worked, in the words of Malcom X, “from can’t-see to can’t-see” … these institutions lit the pathway to greatness … and along the way something special developed…

A love affair.

Between students and schools.

Between communities and teams.

Yes, a love affair. That’s the best way to describe the relationship between HBCUs and its people. Love, in the truest sense of the term: more authentic than the support you’ll find in other places, deeper than a fandom, unwavering even during the darkest day. The kind of love that says winning is sweet but if you lose, I’ll be there until the bitter end.

… yeah, that kind of love.

Always More Than a Game

HBCU gamedays are more than games: they’re celebrations. Celebrations where generations step back in time, adorned by aged letterman jackets and sweaters —aged but in a way that makes them all the more special. They don’t come alone, no they bring the next generation … the ones who will carry on these time-tested traditions once their days have ended, but until they do … every chance they get, they’ll be there … with personal nostalgias and experiences, memories that others may have forgotten, but they’ll never forget. On gameday all those sweet things are graciously placed in one big pot and out of it flows even more nostalgia … more experiences … new memories that fill their hearts until they meet again. It is beyond beautiful …

… and then there’s the band.

Halftimes in other stadiums, other parts of the South, other games in other parts of the country, are made for personal breaks, runs to the concession, stretching, and preparing for the second half of the game. But at an HBCU game … halftimes are sacred, reserved for numbers done by world-class performers who will one day go on to be scholars and leaders … but for that brief moment in time, those precious 20 minutes where the day stands still, they’re the greatest show the planet has to offer.

Unconditional Love

 In this age of NIL, transfer portals, and big dollars, there’s something about the pureness you’ll find when two HBCU rivals square off. The crowd follows the score, but you can throw out the records because while winning and losing count, what counts more is the spirit of love that fills each stadium, home or away. NIL, transfer portals, and big dollars can’t be ignored … but there are some things money can’t buy … some things you can’t put a dollar sign on … things like HBCU football.

Maybe that’s why, in a generation where college football spends so much time and energy searching for the next big thing, HBCU football never has to. It knows what matters and more importantly, it knows who they are.

They’re the South that never fell.

Driven by a love …

… that never fails.

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Further Reading: Forty-Million-Dollar Slaves by William C. Rhoden

If you're interested in further exploring the impact of HBCUs, their role in Black independence, and their rise in popularity which offset forced exclusion from predominantly white institutions, Rhoden's critique is an excellent read.