His students looked at one another and then to him as if they required guidance from the old man. As if they were privy to this conversation. “We don’t have a Black Student Union,” Williams said with suspicion.

“We do now, and I’m running late to their first meeting.”

“Are you their advisor then?”

She sighed. “Well let’s see, the two other black full-time faculty members already have enough on their plates, so that leaves the one black professor of the English department.” Victoria rolled the idea around in her head. “And according to the students, no other professor wanted to take the helm even though it only requires signing forms for expenses.”

The PhD students coughed and shuffled their feet in response. Williams raised a silver brow as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Very good of you,” he said in a terse voice.

“I’d love to stay and continue this engaging dialogue regarding diversity in higher education, but the students need me,” Victoria said with a sweet smile. “You remember what it was like catering to undergraduate students, right Kenneth?”

She moved around his small pack of lackies and raced down the hallway until she exited the building. After a short and almost dignified jog to the Student Union building, in her skirt and heels, Victoria made it just in time. Nearly forty students packed the small room. Victoria was equal parts thrilled and saddened at the thought of so many black students in one space. On one hand, they were finally a collective, on the other hand, it was disgraceful how desperate they were to form a safe space.

Her literature student, Maya, had asked her to act as a faculty advisor back in August. When Victoria had said yes, she’d promptly pushed it out of her mind. She thought that Maya would simply forget and move on. But the plucky sophomore was more serious than Victoria presumed. She’d recognized Pembroke’s problem right away and had set about fixing it.

“Dr. Reese,” Maya cried from the front of the room. She was a petite young woman who wore a black blazer over her Black Lives Matter T-shirt, her hair styled in a curly neon green mohawk with jagged lightning bolts shaved on either side. Had Maya been Victoria’s age, she could have been a part of The Write Bitches group. “Over here!”

Victoria squeezed past the students who were relegated to standing room only and made it to the front.

To her shock, Maya flashed a beaming smile and hugged her tightly. “Omigod, thank you for coming to the first meeting.”

When she was released, Victoria let out a surprised laugh. “Of course.”