We've Never Been Here Before Lesson Nine: Enslaved Here. Enrolled Here.

2 days ago

6 min read

I’ve been talking to people.

A lot of people.

One of the things I promised myself when I came to graduate school was that I wasn’t going to stay in my little corner.

And in a relatively short amount of time, I’ve talked with people from what feels like everywhere.

Different countries.

Different cultures.

Different ages and stages of life.

Different careers.

Different languages.

Different reasons for being here.

Probably almost every time zone on the globe. 😂

Our stories are different.

Our journeys here are different.

But somewhere in these conversations, we keep circling back to the same thing:

We cannot waste this. Not waste it as in don’t skip class. It’s deeper than that. It’s this unspoken feeling that we need to make this opportunity count.

For some, it’s about family sacrifice.

For others, it’s being the first.

For some, it’s leaving a country, a family, a career, or everything familiar to pursue something bigger.

And for many of us whose racial, ethnic, or cultural histories include people who were denied access, freedom, education, opportunity, or even the ability to determine the direction of their own lives, there is another layer.

Our ancestors.

We know we didn’t just wake up one morning and arrive here.

Somebody came before us.

Somebody sacrificed.

Somebody worked.

Somebody prayed.

Somebody survived.

Somebody dreamed about possibilities they would never personally experience.

And now...

here we are.

For me, as a Black woman in America studying at Harvard, that history hits differently. Because there were people enslaved here. People of African and Indigenous descent were enslaved by Harvard leaders, faculty, and staff. Enslaved people lived and worked on this campus, serving presidents and professors and helping sustain the institution and its students. Harvard’s own research has documented those connections to slavery and the buying and selling of enslaved people.

And now...

I am enrolled here.

I study here.

I question here.

I take up space here.

I will graduate from here.

Whew.

Sometimes I really have to sit with that:

Enslaved here.

Enrolled here.

That isn’t a cute play on words for me.

That is history meeting my present.

And sometimes, I feel the weight of it.

I sacrificed too much to be here not to make the most of this opportunity.

My family sacrificed.

People whose names I know sacrificed.

People whose names I will never know sacrificed.

And somewhere in the admissions process, somebody looked at my application and said:

Accept her.

Me.

At 50 years old.

After more than 26 years as an educator.

After careers, moves, starts and stops, wins, losses, grief, changes, dreams that worked and some that didn’t.

Somebody said:

Accept her.

There is no coincidence in that for me.

I believe I am supposed to be here at this point and time.

So yes, there is a part of me that says:

I sacrificed too much to be here not to master it.

But these conversations with my classmates are making me think about something else, too.

How do we honor the sacrifice without being crushed by the pressure?

Because there is a fine line between purpose and pressure.

I want to make the most of this opportunity.

That’s purpose.

I am not allowed to struggle because too many people sacrificed for me.

That’s pressure.

I want to honor the people who came before me.

Purpose.

I have to be perfect because I represent everybody who looks like me.

Pressure.

And whew...

That is a lot to put in one backpack.

Mine already has a laptop, chargers, snacks, and entirely too much reading in it. 😂

Maybe honoring our ancestors doesn’t require perfection.

Maybe it requires presence.

Use the library.

Talk to the professor.

Meet the person from a country I’ve never visited.

Ask the question.

Challenge the idea.

Let somebody challenge mine.

Use the resources.

Build the relationship.

Try something new.

Get something wrong.

Change my mind.

Rest.

Laugh.

Learn.

Be here.

Because what good is finally gaining access to the room if I spend my entire time inside it worrying about whether I’ve done enough to deserve the seat?

I’m already here.

Now I need to experience it.

Learn from it.

Grow through it.

And use what I gain from it.

That brings me to something else I’ve been thinking about.

We talk a lot about paving the way.

But what if somebody already paved part of the way for you?

Maybe our assignment isn’t always to create an entirely new road.

Sometimes our job is to keep the way paved.

Protect it.

Widen it.

Repair the cracks.

Tell somebody else where the entrance is.

Hold the door open.

Share what we learned.

And when we finally reach the place where somebody else’s pavement ends?

Start laying some of our own.

Maybe that’s legacy.

Not:

I must succeed because my ancestors suffered.

But:

Because they lived, endured, dreamed, resisted, worked, prayed, and survived, I have possibilities they did not have.

My responsibility is to live those possibilities fully. And leave more possibilities behind me.

💭 Reflection

I’ve been thinking about the people who made my here possible.

Not only the people whose names I know.

The people whose names I may never know.

The ones who endured.

The ones who sacrificed.

The ones who prayed.

The ones who opened doors, paved roads, and created possibilities they may never have experienced themselves.

So I’m asking myself:

What does it actually mean to honor them?

Is it perfection?

I don’t think so.

Maybe it’s being fully present in the opportunities their lives helped make possible.

Now think about your own here.

Who helped make it possible for you to be where you are today?

And are you honoring what they gave you—or carrying so much pressure to make them proud that you’ve forgotten to experience what they made possible?

📝 Homework

This week, I want us to do more than think about the people who paved the way:

Name them.

Write down at least three people who helped make your current life possible.

They might be ancestors.

Parents.

Grandparents.

Teachers.

Mentors.

Community members.

Or perhaps you don’t know their names at all.

Beside each one, finish this sentence:

Because of you, I can __________.

Then there’s one more part.

Ask yourself:

Who will one day be able to say, “Because of you, I can...” about me?

Now do one thing to keep the way paved for them.

Make the introduction.

Share the resource.

Open the door.

Send the opportunity.

Mentor someone.

Tell somebody what you learned.

Reach back.

Or simply remind someone:

There’s room for you here, too.

💬 Share Out

This one deserves more than “Great post!” in the comments.

Finish one of these:

Because of those who came before me, I can __________.

Because I was here, someone coming behind me will be able to __________.

I want to hear the names.

The stories.

The families.

The countries.

The cultures.

The communities.

Because one thing these conversations with people from around the world are teaching me is this:

Our histories may be different, but none of us arrived at our “here” completely on our own.

So maybe this is how we honor the road.

We walk it.

We experience it.

We don't allow the pressure of making history to keep us from living the moment we're actually in.

We keep the way paved.

And when the pavement ends?

We build the next stretch.

For me, right now, that means sitting with something that still takes my breath away:

Enslaved here.

Enrolled here.

I study here.

I learn here.

I take up space here.

I will graduate from here.

And I intend to be fully present for every bit of the here in between.

Until next time, keep learning, keep growing, and remember... we’ve never been here before.

Author’s Note: Harvard has publicly documented its historical ties to slavery, including the enslavement of people of African and Indigenous descent by Harvard leaders, faculty, and staff and the labor of enslaved people on campus. Readers who want to explore that history can visit Harvard & the Legacy of Slavery⁠. https://legacyofslavery.harvard.edu/

Benita C. Gordon is an educator of more than 25 years, leading classrooms, launching schools, and innovating through microschools. We cheer her on as she enters the Harvard Graduate School of Education to earn her Master's Degree in Educational Leadership, Organizations, & Entrepreneurship, and we look forward to great things ahead! This piece was originally published September 12, 2026, cross-posted here with permission. You can reach out to Benita here.