Without Pell Grants, Black Students Lose More Than Tuition

For many Black students, college is where truths are learned, relationships are forged, and futures are reimagined. That means access to higher education through federal aid programs like Pell Grants isn’t just about earning a degree — it’s also a pathway to racial healing.

Defined as strengthening relationships, repairing harm, and fostering connection toward a future where all are valued, racial healing is deeply intertwined with the college experiences of students who rely on financial aid.

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Nearly 60% of Black undergraduates rely on Pell Grants, compared to 33% of white students. For historically Black colleges and universities, where 70% of students use Pell Grants, funding cuts could devastate enrollment. Without that funding, Black students lose access to professors, classrooms, organizations, and peers who expand their horizons and validate their histories. They miss out on new, nurturing communities and platforms to advocate for equity.

Proposed cuts to Pell Grants and other financial aid jeopardize the opportunity to be in this setting. Dr. Quortne Hutchings, assistant professor in Higher Education and Student Affairs at NIU, warns that shifting education funding to states risks creating “a patchwork system” that deepens inequality. 

I asked three Black Pell Grant recipients at Northern Illinois University how their educational journeys have contributed to their healing, and what they might have lost without college access. 

Name: Yanni Brown
Year: Senior
Major: Political Science

Yanni Brown, a first-generation college student, credits Pell Grants with making his education possible. “Without Pell Grants, I wouldn’t be here,” he says.

For Brown, college has been a space to confront systemic inequities while forging connections across differences. “In my political science courses, we dissect policies that disproportionately harm Black communities. But we also collaborate on projects that reimagine solutions. That dialogue — rooted in respect — is healing.” 

Brown emphasizes that campus organizations like the Black Student Union have provided a sanctuary for solidarity.

“These spaces let us share our stories and advocate for change. Without them, I’d feel isolated, like my voice didn’t matter.”

He worries that cuts to Pell Grants would deny future students these opportunities. “If you can’t afford college, you miss out on networks that empower you to challenge inequities. That’s how cycles of harm persist.” 

Protecting these programs isn’t just policy, Brown says. It’s a commitment to a healed and equitable future. “We can’t afford to go backward,” he warns

Name: Tanayia Williams
Year: Sophomore
Major: Undeclared

Tanayia Williams, who relies on federal loans and Pell Grants, sees college as a transformative environment for personal and collective growth.

“At NIU, I’ve met professors who look like me and classmates who understand my struggles. That representation matters — it tells me I belong here,” she explains. 

For Williams, racial healing manifests in small, daily interactions.

“In my dorm, we’ve had tough conversations about race. It’s uncomfortable sometimes, but it builds empathy. If I weren’t in college, I’d never have that.”

She fears losing federal aid would strip Black students of these formative experiences. “Healing starts when you feel valued. But if costs push you out, you’re stuck in communities where racism goes unaddressed. How do you heal then?” 

Name: Sydney Johnson
Year: Senior
Major: Education    

Pell Grant recipient and student activist Sydney Johnson says financial aid opened doors to spaces where racial identity is celebrated.

“Without Pell Grants, I wouldn’t be here — period,” Johnson says. Growing up in a predominantly Black neighborhood where college felt out of reach for many, they note that “Healing from systemic harm isn’t just about individual therapy or reconnecting with heritage — it’s about access. My family couldn’t afford those luxuries, but here, Black student groups like the African American Cultural Center remind me daily of the power and beauty in our community.” 

For Johnson, these spaces are transformative. “In high school, I internalized so much negativity about Blackness. At NIU, collaborating with peers who share my struggles — and professors who reflect my identity — has rewritten that narrative. My mom worked two jobs just to keep us afloat. She never had this chance to reclaim pride in who we are.” 

They tie this to broader justice: “Pell Grants aren’t just about covering tuition. They’re about funding our ability to heal collectively. Without them, we lose the networks that help us dismantle internalized racism and build futures where Black joy isn’t an exception — it’s the foundation.” 

As Johnson puts it, “Taking away these programs isn’t just a budget cut. It’s a step backward from justice.” 

Quentin Brown is one of Word In Black’s four Racial Healing Youth Ambassadors.