I recently received a letter from the UA National Alumni Association (NAA) asking me to make a donation. I’ve regularly received similar letters since I graduated with my bachelor’s degree in 2011. In the past, I’ve declined to donate purely for fiscal reasons. (My degree was in secondary education; Google “teacher strike” if you aren’t sure what that meant for my salary upon graduation.)

I’m now a doctoral student at The University of Alabama, so maybe it’s the fact that I’ll soon have spent an entire decade of my life as a student here that I recently started to open, read and even consider these requests for donations. However, even though I could now afford to make a small contribution, and even though I now feel sentimental enough to possibly do it, I will not be donating. Here’s why.

The NAA offers several categories of scholarships, one of which is called “member-based.” This category includes the Alumni Heritage Scholarship and the Alumni Scholar Award. A requirement for each is that the recipient must be the child or grandchild of a person who holds a degree from the University. On its website, the NAA gives its threefold purpose for these scholarships: recruit children and grandchildren of graduates of The University of Alabama, send a clear signal to UA graduates that “we want your children,” and provide a tangible Alumni Association membership benefit for UA graduates.

In short, the purpose of NAA member-based scholarships is to continue the legacy and tradition of the University. What the NAA does not consider is that not all legacies are welcome inheritance. And not all traditions should be celebrated, particularly in places with such troubling histories as our university.

The first African-American student at the University, Autherine Lucy, was not admitted until 1956. Due to the threat of violence, Lucy only attended classes for three days before being suspended indefinitely. Then in 1963, Gov. George Wallace stood in the doorway of Foster Hall with armed state troopers to prevent Vivian Malone Jones and James Hood from entering. The two African-American students therefore had to be escorted by National Guardsmen, who were temporarily federalized by President John F. Kennedy. Hood transferred to another college after only two months due to the intense, emotional and psychic stress of attending classes on a hostile campus. In 1965, Jones become the first African-American to earn a degree from the University.

Some fairly simple math (2019 minus 1963 plus 18) reveals that it is very likely that many current and prospective UA students’ grandparents were of high school graduating age at the time of the infamous stand in the schoolhouse door. The denial of admission to potential African-American graduates until 1963 – as well as the hostility, discrimination, intimidation, threats and violence suffered by admitted African-American students in the following years – means that many grandparents of current and prospective African-American students were prohibited or otherwise prevented from attending and graduating from the University. In this way, and many others not detailed in this column, the explicit discrimination and racism of past UA policies and practices live on in NAA member-based scholarships.

In the prophetic words of Wallace, “Segregation today, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever.”

A column was recently published in The Crimson White in which the columnist argued: “Those blaming their failures solely on privilege need to hold themselves more accountable.” To this I respond: Those attributing their successes solely to their “hard work, dedication and patience” need to hold themselves more accountable to the reality of racism, discrimination and privilege in both the past and present.

This means interrogating the claim that “you will find few career fields or academic settings headed only by those who are privileged,” in reality, one finds few career fields or academic settings not headed by those who are privileged. (For a quick accountability session, scroll through the faculty directory of the College of Engineering, or Google the demographic statistics of Fortune 500 CEOs and the members of the U.S. Senate.)

For the NAA, holding oneself accountable means revamping the process of awarding scholarships in a way that acknowledges and accounts for the University’s racism in the past and present. This could take the form of ending member-based scholarships entirely. Or it could take the form of reallocating some of the funds for member-based scholarships to create additional scholarships specifically for first-generation college students as well as others specifically for children and grandchildren of graduates from historically black colleges and universities in Alabama.

The current system of member-based NAA scholarships operates on the same flawed post-racial logic as the recent calls to end affirmative action at Harvard University and the recent calls to stop whining about privilege here on our campus. It is a logic that assumes that the election of a biracial president meant the end of racism. It is a logic that assumes that the integration of the University meant equality at the University. It is a logic that denies the legacy of racism but simultaneously promotes the legacy of white privilege. Until the Alumni Association comes to terms with the reality of that legacy, I will not be making a donation.