The Power of HBCUs in Advancing Black Excellence in Computing

Dr. Kai Dupe • April 4, 2025

Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) have long been cornerstones of educational opportunity and empowerment for African Americans.

This post was inspired by my recent visit to the campuses of HBCUs such as Morehouse and Fort Valley State University as part of the UNCF Portfolio Project HBCU Tour that my son participated in this week. Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) have long been cornerstones of educational opportunity and empowerment for African Americans. In the field of computer science—where representation still lags—HBCUs are doing critical work to bridge the gap, cultivate talent, and foster a more diverse and equitable tech industry.

Top HBCUs like Howard University, North Carolina A&T State University, Spelman College, Morehouse College, and Morgan State University are producing some of the most capable and innovative minds in tech today. These institutions are not only offering rigorous computer science programs, but they are also embedding culturally responsive teaching, mentorship, and industry connections that empower students to thrive in a system that hasn’t always been inclusive.

Faculty at these schools are leading the charge. Dr. Kinnis Gosha at Morehouse College directs one of the nation’s largest Black undergraduate research groups in computing. I met Dr. Gosha at a conference last year in Portland. He is doing great work. At Howard, Dr. Gloria Washington’s work in affective computing is reshaping how emotion and identity are recognized in tech. Spelman’s Dr. Andrea Lawrence and Dr. Brandeis Marshall have inspired generations of Black women in computer science through research, advocacy, and ethics-focused tech education.
Beyond academics, HBCUs have cultivated influential alumni like Paul Judge (Morehouse), a cybersecurity entrepreneur and venture capitalist; Dr. Ayanna Howard (Spelman), a world-renowned roboticist; and Kamau Bobb (NC A&T), a former Google director of STEM strategy.

What makes HBCUs uniquely powerful in this space is their ability to nurture both technical excellence and cultural confidence. Students graduate not only with knowledge of algorithms and data structures, but also with a deep understanding of how technology intersects with race, equity, and justice. This grounding helps shape a new generation of Black technologists who are equipped to build, lead, and critique the technologies shaping our world.
As the tech industry grapples with persistent diversity gaps, it’s clear that HBCUs are not just participating in the conversation—they are leading it. Supporting, investing in, and partnering with these institutions isn’t just about equity—it’s about innovation and the future of computing.

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Stepping onto the campus of Morehouse College this past weekend for Admitted Students Day was more than a visit—it was a moment of reflection. As I watched young Black men walk with purpose across the yard, I found myself asking a simple but profound question: What would it have been like for me to study computer science here? My journey into computing was shaped in environments where I was often the only Black man in the room. That reality brings with it an unspoken weight—the need to prove you belong, the awareness of being watched, and sometimes, the quiet isolation that comes with underrepresentation. Standing at Morehouse, I realized that this burden is not a given. It is a condition of the environment. At Morehouse, the environment is different by design. Here, Black men are not anomalies—they are the standard. I imagined what it would feel like to learn algorithms, data structures, and software development in a space where my identity was not questioned but affirmed. Where excellence is expected, not in spite of who you are, but because of it. As a computer science professor, I understand the academic rigor required to succeed in this field. There is no shortcut through recursion, no bypass around debugging, no substitute for disciplined problem-solving. But what struck me during my visit is how much context matters. When students are free from the psychological burden of proving they belong, they can redirect that energy toward mastering the material. They can collaborate more openly, ask questions more freely, and take intellectual risks without fear. I also thought about legacy. At Morehouse, students walk the same grounds as Martin Luther King Jr.. That kind of history does something to a person. It raises the bar—not just academically, but personally. It invites students to see their education not just as a pathway to a career, but as preparation for impact. Leaving campus, I felt inspired—but also reflective. I cannot rewrite my journey, but I can appreciate what spaces like Morehouse offer the next generation. For a Black male pursuing computer science, it is more than a degree. It is an opportunity to develop skill, confidence, and identity in alignment. And that combination is powerful.
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If you walk into most computer science classrooms today, you might assume that computing has always been a male-dominated field. As someone who has spent decades in the industry and now teaches the next generation of developers, I can tell you—that assumption is not only common, it’s historically inaccurate. In the early days of computing, many of the first programmers were women. Ada Lovelace is widely recognized as the first computer programmer, having written what we would now call an algorithm for Charles Babbage’s Analytical Engine. Fast forward to the 1940s, and women were programming some of the first electronic computers, including ENIAC. These were not peripheral roles. These women were solving complex computational problems, often inventing programming techniques as they went (Abbate, 2012). So what happened? From a systems perspective, the answer is not mysterious—it’s structural. In its early stages, programming was considered clerical work. It required precision, patience, and attention to detail—qualities that, at the time, were socially assigned to women. But as computing became more central to business, government, and innovation, its status changed. What was once seen as routine work became prestigious and lucrative. And when that shift happened, the demographics shifted with it. By the 1980s, we see a clear inflection point. Personal computers entered the home—but they were marketed primarily to boys. This created an early access gap that translated into confidence, experience, and eventually career pathways. At the same time, hiring practices and workplace cultures began to favor men, reinforcing a feedback loop that pushed women out of the field (Hicks, 2017). Over time, the narrative changed. Computing was no longer something women had built—it became something they were seen as entering late. But that narrative is not just incomplete—it’s a distortion. Understanding this history is not about nostalgia; it’s about accuracy. When students learn that women were foundational to computing, it reshapes how they think about the field. Diversity is no longer framed as a modern intervention—it is recognized as part of computing’s original DNA. In my classroom, I’ve seen what happens when students encounter this truth. It disrupts assumptions. It broadens participation. And perhaps most importantly, it changes who students believe belongs in this space. So, if women were the original programmers, what happened? Part of the answer lies in systems—education, marketing, hiring, and culture. But another part lies in storytelling. The stories we tell about computing shape who feels invited to participate in it. As educators, technologists, and leaders, we have an opportunity—and a responsibility—to tell that story more accurately. References Abbate, J. (2012). Recoding Gender: Women’s Changing Participation in Computing. MIT Press. Hicks, M. (2017). Programmed Inequality: How Britain Discarded Women Technologists and Lost Its Edge in Computing. MIT Press. Evans, C. L. (2018). Broad Band: The Untold Story of the Women Who Made the Internet. Portfolio. Shetterly, M. L. (2016). Hidden Figures. HarperCollins.