Last week, I had the privilege of attending the 8th annual Teaching Black History Conference hosted by Dr. LaGarrett King and the University at Buffalo. This year’s theme, “Black Boy Joy, Black Girl Magic: The History of Black Childhoods,” challenged educators to reimagine how Black experiences and historical narratives are taught in classrooms across the country. I arrived expecting to grow in my understanding of Black history pedagogy. I left with a revelation: Black history has a rightful place in the computer science classroom. As a computer science educator, I’ve long worked to make my teaching inclusive and culturally responsive. But this conference made something click. I began to imagine how powerful it would be to teach CS through the lens of Black historical contributions, cultural knowledge, and lived experiences. Black history isn’t just something to be taught in February — it can be a framework for making computer science education more relevant, more just, and more inspiring for all students. Take, for instance, the untold stories of Black tech pioneers like Dr. Clarence “Skip” Ellis, Dorothy Vaughan, and Mark Dean. Their legacies are not only worthy of recognition but can anchor entire units on programming, computing history, and innovation. Or consider using data science lessons to examine racial disparities, voting rights, or algorithmic bias — connecting technical skills to real-world issues students care about. Even a unit on web development could ask students to build digital archives or storytelling platforms celebrating Black heritage. What struck me most at the conference was how joy, identity, and history were centered — not as add-ons, but as essential. Imagine bringing that same energy into CS classrooms. Imagine students coding apps rooted in their communities, building with purpose, and seeing themselves in the discipline. This experience has sparked a shift in my approach. Moving forward, I want to intentionally design lessons that connect computer science to Black historical inquiry, cultural storytelling, and ethical reflection. Teaching Black history isn’t separate from teaching tech — it’s a way to liberate the code and bring our full selves into the work. To my fellow CS educators: the future of tech education can — and should — be rooted in justice, joy, and history. This conference helped me see that clearly.

Thirty years ago, the title “professional software developer” often came with a clear checklist: a degree in computer science, a job at a recognized company, and the ability to write clean code within a structured development team. The industry followed a predictable path—formal education, corporate employment, and adherence to established engineering principles. But the world of software has changed. Today, the barriers to entry have lowered, and the lines that once defined “professional” have blurred. Open-source contributors, freelance developers, self-taught coders, and startup founders now shape the industry alongside traditionally trained engineers. What matters more than credentials is the way you practice the craft. So, what does it mean to be a professional software developer today? It’s less about where you work or the degrees you hold—and more about how you approach the work: Discipline: You write reliable, maintainable, and secure code using sound engineering practices. Accountability: You take ownership of your work, whether for a client, employer, or open-source community. Collaboration: You engage with peers, seek feedback, and contribute constructively to projects. Ethics: You understand the broader impact of your software and respect privacy, security, and user well-being. Continuous Learning: You adapt, grow, and refine your skills to meet changing technologies and standards. Yes, formal education and company experience can enhance your skills and credibility. But neither is a hard requirement for professionalism. We now recognize that professionalism is a mindset—rooted in practice, responsibility, and ethical conduct. In a world where a developer in a garage can create software that changes industries, the definition of “professional” must reflect the reality of the craft, not just the pathway. Whether you’re coding for a Fortune 500 company or contributing to an open-source project from your basement, professionalism shows in the quality of your work, your commitment to your craft, and your accountability to the people your software serves. The industry’s evolution has opened the door for a broader, more inclusive definition of professional software development. And that’s a shift worth embracing.

As Black professionals in tech, we’ve proven we can code, design, lead, and innovate. But in an industry where knowledge is power and power drives equity, it’s time we shift our focus from participation to ownership . And in the world of software development, true ownership begins when you own the stack. Owning the stack means having a deep, working knowledge of the entire technology stack—from the front-end interfaces users see, to the back-end systems that process data, and down to the infrastructure that hosts, secures, and scales it all. It’s about understanding how things work from top to bottom—not just knowing how to build a piece of an application but being able to architect and deploy an entire system. Why is this important? Because ownership brings autonomy. If you only know how to code the UI, you're dependent on someone else to handle databases, cloud infrastructure, or deployment pipelines. But when you know how to connect the dots—how to integrate APIs, configure cloud environments, manage CI/CD, and build scalable apps—you’re no longer just a worker in someone else’s vision. You’re a creator. A founder. A technical leader. For Black technologists, this knowledge gap has long been part of the systemic barriers we face. Many of us weren’t exposed to full-stack thinking early in our careers or education. But today, with the rise of open-source tools, cloud computing platforms like AWS and Azure, and accessible online learning, the tools for mastery are within reach. We need to take advantage of these tools—not just for individual growth, but for collective advancement. Whether building your own startup, leading a product team, or mentoring the next generation, owning the stack puts you in a position of influence. It’s not just about getting the job—it’s about designing the systems, launching the platforms, and driving the future of technology. We must move from being consumers and coders to being builders and owners. So let this be a call to action: learn the whole stack. Master the front end. Understand the back end. Embrace DevOps. Get cloud-certified. Because when we own the stack, we own our future.

For years, students pursuing computer science degrees were told they were entering a golden age of opportunity. But 2025 is proving to be a stark reality check, especially for entry-level job seekers. Despite a growing tech economy, the road to employment for new CS grads has become more complicated than ever. Big Tech layoffs have not only continued into 2025 but have drastically reduced the number of entry-level opportunities. Entry-level roles are reportedly down over 50% from pre-pandemic highs, and the unemployment rate for recent CS grads is hovering around 6.1%—above the national average for new college graduates. The buzz around AI hasn’t helped either. According to industry leaders like Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei, nearly half of all entry-level tech jobs could be eliminated within the next five years due to automation and AI integration. Yet, the outlook isn’t all doom and gloom. While generalist software developer roles are under pressure, there’s a sharp rise in demand for specialists. Fields like artificial intelligence, cloud infrastructure, cybersecurity, and data science are booming. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics projects a 36% growth rate for data science roles and 17% for software developers through 2033. Cybersecurity experts continue to be in high demand as threats escalate and regulations tighten. So what does this mean for today’s CS graduates—especially Black and underrepresented students who already face systemic barriers? It’s time to rethink strategy. Degrees alone won’t cut it. The winners in this job market will be those who upskill with certifications in AI and cloud technologies, build strong project portfolios, and embrace networking and mentorship. Employers are increasingly relying on AI-powered hiring platforms, making tailored resumes and insider connections more critical than ever. Internships, community-based learning, and open-source contributions are now essential parts of a graduate's toolkit. The road ahead isn’t easy, but it's not impassable. For Black computer science graduates navigating this turbulent market, resilience, specialization, and visibility are key. Focus on skills that are in demand. Find mentors. Share your work publicly. The tech industry is evolving—and so must your approach to thriving within it.

For years, one of the biggest barriers to increasing Black representation in tech has been access. Many high schools—especially those in under-resourced, predominantly Black communities—simply don’t offer computer science courses. That’s where Microsoft’s TEALS (Technology Education and Literacy in Schools) program is making a difference. TEALS connects high schools with tech industry volunteers who co-teach computer science classes alongside the school’s teachers. Over a few years, the volunteers help train those teachers to eventually lead the classes on their own. It’s a sustainable, capacity-building model—not a quick fix. And it works. Since its launch in 2009, TEALS has supported over 100,000 students and trained 2,000+ teachers in more than 1,300 schools across the U.S. A 2016 research study published by the SIGCSE (Special Interest Group on Computer Science Education) showed that TEALS effectively transitions teachers from support roles to independent CS instructors over time. That means schools don’t just get temporary help—they gain lasting computer science programs. The program is also focused on equity. In the 2022–23 school year, 47% of TEALS students identified as Black, Latinx, or Indigenous. This matters. When students from historically excluded communities are given the opportunity to explore computer science early, they’re more likely to pursue it in college and beyond. And when they see industry professionals—especially those who look like them—volunteering in their classrooms, the idea of becoming a software developer feels far more real. As a Black software developer, I believe programs like TEALS are critical. They don’t just teach code—they build confidence, demystify tech careers, and create new pipelines into an industry that still struggles with inclusion. And for many students, TEALS is the first time they’re told: “You belong in this field.” We need more programs like this—ones that combine technical expertise with cultural awareness and long-term investment. TEALS proves that when we meet schools where they are and empower teachers from within, we can truly expand access to tech for the next generation.

In the world of software development, where structure, documentation, and best practices reign supreme, a new term has been floating around in developer circles: vibe coding . It’s not in the textbooks, and you won’t find it on a certification exam, but if you’ve ever written code just to “see what happens,” you’ve probably done it. Vibe coding refers to an intuitive, almost improvisational approach to writing code. Instead of spending hours planning architecture or writing detailed specs, a vibe coder jumps right in, guided by instinct, creativity, and flow. Think of it like freestyling in music — no roadmap, just rhythm, feeling, and the moment. This approach can be incredibly powerful. For one, it fosters creativity and rapid prototyping . Vibe coding helps you get ideas out of your head and into code fast. It’s ideal for hackathons, passion projects, or exploring new libraries where the goal is experimentation rather than polish. It also helps developers build confidence by trusting their intuition and learning through doing. But there are trade-offs. Vibe coding can lead to messy code, lack of documentation, and poor scalability . What feels right in the moment might break later under pressure. For teams, vibe coding without communication can cause confusion. And without tests or planning, refactoring becomes a nightmare. In short: it’s easy to accumulate technical debt when you're coding purely by vibe. So, should aspiring programmers embrace vibe coding? Yes — with boundaries . Vibe coding is a valuable skill, especially when learning or prototyping. It allows beginners to explore code without fear and builds fluency. But it should be balanced with good engineering habits : test your code, document your work, and learn when structure matters. Think of vibe coding as a mode — like switching from “plan” mode to “play” mode. It’s not a replacement for solid development practices, but a complement. When used intentionally, it can make you a more creative, confident, and adaptive programmer. So vibe on — just don’t forget to clean up your code when the music stops.

In the wake of Microsoft’s recent layoffs—where nearly 6,000 employees lost their jobs—LinkedIn has been flooded with posts expressing sympathy, solidarity, and support. On the surface, this seems like a heartening show of empathy from the tech community. But for many of those who were actually laid off, these posts aren’t comforting—they’re frustrating. The disconnect stems from the fact that a large portion of these messages come from people who are still employed. Often, the tone of these posts centers the poster’s own emotional experience—“I survived the layoffs, but it’s been tough,” or “I’m so grateful to still be here.” While those feelings may be genuine, they can feel tone-deaf to someone who’s facing the loss of income, health insurance, and career stability. There’s also a rising concern about virtue signaling. Posts filled with heartfelt language but void of any actionable support—like job leads, referrals, or offers to review resumes—can feel more like personal brand-building than meaningful solidarity. Some laid-off employees report reaching out to posters offering “help,” only to be met with silence. The disappointment runs deep when gestures of support turn out to be more about optics than assistance. Even well-meaning encouragement, such as “This is a time of growth and opportunity,” can land poorly when the reality for many includes rent payments, visa concerns, and limited safety nets. Toxic positivity doesn’t erase the fear and uncertainty that come with a layoff. So what does real support look like? It’s quiet. It’s direct. It’s tangible. Reposting a former colleague’s “open to work” post. Making an introduction to a hiring manager. Offering to be a reference. Or simply reaching out privately to ask, “How can I help?” For those eager to show solidarity, the advice is simple: shift the spotlight away from yourself. Center the person who’s impacted. And if you post publicly, follow through privately. In times like these, empathy matters—but action speaks louder than words. Especially on LinkedIn.

Breaking into the tech industry can be challenging, especially for underrepresented groups. For African American software developers, the journey is often shaped by a unique blend of cultural, social, and systemic factors. These five books offer insight, encouragement, and practical tools to help navigate the path from learning to thriving in tech. 1. The Pragmatic Programmer by Andrew Hunt and David Thomas This classic is a must-read for any software developer. It’s packed with practical advice on coding, debugging, and problem-solving that goes beyond any single programming language. For aspiring Black developers, the focus on craftsmanship and lifelong learning can be incredibly empowering when striving for excellence in a competitive field. 2. Black Software by Charlton D. McIlwain McIlwain's book is a powerful historical and cultural exploration of how African Americans have shaped—and been shaped by—digital technology. It offers a deep look into Black contributions to computing and online activism. This context can help developers see themselves as part of a long, often overlooked legacy in tech. 3. Clean Code by Robert C. Martin Writing clean, maintainable code is a core skill for any developer. This book provides timeless principles that help beginners develop solid coding habits. While technical, it also promotes professionalism and discipline, which are essential in environments where Black developers may feel pressure to outperform to be recognized. 4. So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo Although not a tech book, Oluo’s work is essential reading for understanding the dynamics of race in professional spaces. For Black developers entering largely white-dominated tech teams, this book provides tools to navigate and challenge bias while maintaining mental health and confidence. 5. Cracking the Coding Interview by Gayle Laakmann McDowell This is a technical bible for anyone preparing for software engineering interviews. It demystifies the hiring process at top companies and provides hundreds of programming questions with solutions. It's especially useful for African American candidates seeking a competitive edge in a system that often lacks diversity. Final Thoughts Knowledge is power. By reading widely—both technically and culturally—African American developers can not only sharpen their skills but also build resilience, find inspiration, and advocate for greater representation in tech.

If you’ve ever applied for a job and been left hanging by a recruiter, you’re not alone. Many job seekers, especially in tech, education, and other professional fields, have stories of being ghosted, receiving vague messages, or encountering a complete lack of follow-up. It’s a frustrating experience—especially when you’re putting your best foot forward. So why does this happen? One of the main culprits is volume. Recruiters at large companies may be juggling hundreds of candidates at once. In that kind of environment, thoughtful communication often falls by the wayside. Instead of providing updates, many default to silence or canned responses, simply because they don’t have the bandwidth for more. Another factor is the lack of training. Not every recruiter is skilled in communication or candidate experience. Some are early in their careers, or are working on a contract basis, and may be focused more on hitting targets than building relationships. That transactional mindset can lead to rushed, impersonal interactions. There’s also the issue of shifting priorities within organizations. Hiring plans can change overnight—budgets get frozen, managers decide to restructure teams, or positions get canceled altogether. When that happens, candidates are often left in limbo, and recruiters may not follow up, simply because the opportunity no longer exists. Internal communication breakdowns are another common issue. A recruiter may want to keep you updated, but if the hiring team doesn’t provide timely feedback, they’re left with little to say. Rather than reach out with incomplete information, they say nothing—leaving you guessing. Finally, some recruiters simply adopt a numbers game approach. They engage only with the top candidates and let the rest fall through the cracks. But job seekers notice. In a world where reputation matters, how recruiters treat candidates reflects not just on them, but on the companies they represent. The truth is, professional communication should be the standard, not the exception. Job seekers deserve transparency, respect, and timely updates—even if the news isn’t favorable. If you’re navigating the job market and encountering this kind of behavior, know that it’s not a reflection of your worth. Keep showing up with professionalism and clarity. And when you find a recruiter who treats you with respect—build that relationship. They’re out there. And they make all the difference.