By Bobby R. Henry Sr.
Revisiting Florida A&M University for homecoming felt like turning the pages of a yearbook.
Every familiar face brought back a chapter. There were the happy times, the friendships, the growth, and the successes. There were also the hard times—the disappointments, the failed classes, and the lessons we sometimes had to learn twice. All of it was part of growing up.
Then the band struck up a familiar tune, and the emotions came rushing through like champagne released from a freshly opened bottle.
For a moment, the years disappeared.
That is the beauty of an HBCU homecoming. You return to a place, but you also return to a feeling. You remember who you were, recognize how far you have come and give thanks for the people who helped you along the way.
Then tragedy interrupts, and the words come almost before you can catch your breath:
“Oh, no. Not at homecoming.”
On Saturday, October 24, gunfire erupted near Florida A&M University’s Bragg Memorial Stadium following the homecoming football game. Eleven people suffered gunshot wounds, and another person was injured while fleeing. Six of those injured were minors. (apnews.com)
Authorities arrested a 15-year-old in connection with the shooting. Police said a fight preceded the gunfire and investigators believed none of the victims was an intended target. The investigation continues. (people.com)
Children. Families. People gathered near a celebration.
Behind every number is someone whose life has been interrupted, someone whose family has been frightened, someone who may now hear a loud noise and remember the moment everything changed.
For the wider HBCU family, that heartbreak has become painfully familiar.
On October 3, 2023, five people were wounded in a shooting that interrupted homecoming week at Morgan State University in Baltimore. On October 12, 2024, gunfire near Tennessee State University’s homecoming celebrations in Nashville left one person dead and nine wounded. (weaa.org, abc7chicago.com)
A week later, on October 19, 2024, a shooting during Albany State University’s homecoming weekend killed De’morian Daniels and wounded four others by gunfire. Another person was injured while trying to escape. Then, on November 10, a shooting during Tuskegee University’s centennial homecoming weekend killed an 18-year-old and left 16 others injured, including 12 wounded by gunfire. (gbi.georgia.gov, toronto.citynews.ca)
The sorrow continued in 2025. Jaliyah Butler, 19, was killed during South Carolina State University’s homecoming on October 4. On October 25, gunfire during homecoming festivities at Lincoln University in Pennsylvania killed one person and wounded six. (sled.sc.gov, apnews.com)
These incidents happened in different places and under different circumstances. Their timing and locations do not establish a common motive. Yet each left people struggling to reconcile a treasured celebration with violence.
Our HBCUs deserve to be known for the lives they build. Their students, alumni, employees and neighbors deserve to celebrate safely.
As I think about homecoming, I keep returning to that yearbook.
With each passing year, we discover another face we will never see in the stands again.
“She’s no longer with us.”
“He’s gone, too.”
We pause over a photograph. We remember a voice, a laugh, a handshake. We wish we had stayed a little longer during the last conversation.
The pages begin to feel like sand moving through an hourglass. We can turn the glass over, but we cannot turn life back. We cannot begin those years again.
We can savor the memories. We can also take better care of the people still here to make new ones.
That means telling our friends we love them while they can hear us. It means checking on one another after the crowds leave. It means taking threats seriously, helping young people resolve conflict without violence and supporting the work needed to make our gatherings safer.
Prayer belongs in that work. So do prevention, responsibility and accountability.
There is still so much life at homecoming.
You see it rejuvenated in the faces of children. You hear it in their laughter. You watch a new generation discover the music, the pride and the sense of belonging that brought you back.
Those children deserve the chance to grow old enough to return with children of their own.
Some games we win. Some games we lose. Through the joy and pain, we learn how precious it is simply to be present.
Life is a collection of moments, and none comes with a promise that we will have another just like it.
Enjoy the homecoming. Take the photograph. Make the call. Hold the embrace a little longer.
And when, in the fullness of time, our homecomings give way to homegoings, may the friends who shared our joy be there to comfort those we leave behind.
Until then, let us do everything we can to keep one another here.
