NABJ condemns President Donald Trump’s decision to deny access to MS NOW journalists and his threat to exclude CNN and Politico because of coverage he dislikes. The role of journalists is to hold power accountable on behalf of the American people. Government officials cannot reward reporting they find favorable with access, or withhold access as punishment for journalists who have scrutinized or criticized them. This retaliation is a threat not only to the news organizations being targeted, but to every journalist working to report independently and without fear of government reprisal. The White House belongs to the American people, and they have a right to know what their government is doing. Journalists must be free to ask difficult questions and report the answers. A free and independent press is not a privilege granted at the discretion of any president. It is a cornerstone to a healthy and functioning democracy. The First Amendment can never be optional.

Based on reporting by Texas Metro News.

By Marc H. Morial

National Urban League President & CEO

New York City’s troubling decline in reading scores, despite one of the most ambitious literacy reform efforts in the nation, is a wakeup call for the entire nation.

Across the country, reading achievement continues to decline. Nearly 40 percent of fourth graders read below the basic level and roughly a third of eighth graders are reading below basic, the highest share ever recorded.

Taken together, these numbers reveal a national literacy crisis that threatens economic opportunity, educational equity, and our nation’s future competitiveness.

Reading is not merely another subject in school. Reading is the foundation upon which all learning rests. A child who struggles to read struggles to learn history, science, mathematics, and civics. A young person who cannot effectively read and analyze complex information faces barriers to college completion, workforce success, and informed participation in our democracy.

That is why the growing literacy crisis is fundamentally an opportunity crisis. Behind every percentage point is a child whose future opportunities hang in the balance. Persistent achievement gaps mean that Black and Latino students continue to bear a disproportionate share of the consequences when reading instruction falls short. If we are serious about economic mobility and educational justice, literacy must be at the center of the conversation.

For more than two decades, many schools embraced Balanced Literacy approaches that sought to cultivate a love of reading by putting books in students’ hands and encouraging independent reading. The approach was well-intentioned, but too often foundational skills instruction, particularly phonics and decoding, suffered.

The evidence is increasingly clear that explicit, systematic instruction helps more children become successful readers. States and school districts that are embracing these principles deserve credit for moving in the right direction. But millions of students are already in middle school, high school, and even college struggling to read complicated texts, analyze difficult arguments, and complete entire books.

What is our plan for them?

Too many students arrive in high school lacking the reading stamina necessary to engage deeply with literature, history, or complex informational texts. College professors increasingly describe students who struggle with lengthy assignments that previous generations navigated more comfortably.

To be clear, Balanced Literacy alone cannot explain these trends. Increased screen time, constant digital distractions, shortened attention spans, and the dominance of algorithm-driven content all influence students’ reading habits and learning experiences.

Yet recognizing these factors cannot become an excuse for inaction.

Instead, it should compel us to think more broadly about literacy.

The challenge before us is not simply helping children sound out words. It is helping them develop the capacity to wrestle with complex ideas, sustain attention, evaluate evidence, and build knowledge through reading. It is helping them become informed citizens and lifelong learners.

And that requires a comprehensive, systemic strategy.

We need high-quality literacy instruction beginning in early childhood settings and extending throughout elementary school. We need to strengthen early intervention so that struggling readers receive support before learning gaps become entrenched. We must carefully examine the quality and effectiveness of programs serving our youngest learners, including Head Start and other early childhood initiatives.

At the same time, we need a national commitment to literacy recovery for older students. Districts and states should be developing evidence-based strategies that help adolescents strengthen comprehension, vocabulary, knowledge-building, and engagement with complex texts. Students who fell behind during the pandemic and those who continue to struggle deserve intensive support, not lowered expectations.

We should also have serious conversations about the role of technology in children’s lives. Restricting unnecessary screen exposure, particularly in the early grades, should be part of a broader effort to rebuild reading habits and attention spans that support learning.

More concerning than the decline in reading scores is the absence of a clear, large-scale strategy to address the growing crisis. Every year that a struggling reader falls further behind increases the likelihood that they will face lifelong educational and economic disadvantages.

The recent reading results from New York City are a warning. The national NAEP results are an even louder one. Together, they tell us that incremental change is not enough.

We know more about how children learn to read than ever before. We know that literacy is the gateway to opportunity. What remains to be seen is whether we have the collective will to act with the urgency this moment demands.

Our children cannot afford for us to wait.

Based on reporting by Jackson Advocate.

Peter Magubane was more than a photographer. He was a witness, storyteller, historian and courageous chronicler of one of the most turbulent periods in South African history. Born on January 18, 1932, in Vrededorp, Johannesburg, and raised in Sophiatown, Magubane discovered photography as a young boy after receiving a Kodak Brownie camera. That simple camera would eventually become his instrument for documenting the lives, struggles and determination of Black South Africans. He died on January 1, 2024, at the age of 91, leaving behind one of the most important photographic archives of South Africa’s apartheid era.

Magubane’s professional journey began at Drum magazine in 1954. He initially worked as a driver and messenger, but his ambition was to become a photographer. Under the mentorship of Drum’s legendary chief photographer Jürgen Schadeberg, Magubane developed his skills and began photographing major political and social events. His first significant assignment involved covering the 1955 African National Congress convention. From that point forward, photography became his way of documenting a country undergoing enormous change.

The South Africa that Magubane photographed was governed by apartheid, a system that legally enforced racial segregation and discrimination. For Black South Africans, everyday life was shaped by restrictions on where they could live, work and travel. Magubane did not limit himself to photographing politicians or famous leaders. He photographed ordinary people—children, workers, families and communities—giving the outside world a visual record of what apartheid meant in everyday life.

One of the defining moments of Magubane’s career came in 1960, when he photographed the aftermath of the Sharpeville Massacre. His photographs helped bring international attention to the violence surrounding resistance to apartheid. He also photographed the 1956 women’s anti-pass march, the Rivonia Trial involving Nelson Mandela and other activists, and numerous other events that became part of South Africa’s historical record.

Magubane paid an enormous personal price for his work. In 1969, he was arrested while photographing protesters outside Pretoria Central Prison. He was subsequently held in solitary confinement for 586 days. After his release, the apartheid government placed him under a banning order that severely restricted his ability to work and move freely. Yet the restrictions did not convince him to abandon photography. Instead, they demonstrated just how powerful the authorities believed his photographs could be.

In 1976, Magubane documented the Soweto Uprising, when thousands of Black students protested against the apartheid government’s education policies. His photographs captured young people confronting police violence and became some of the most internationally recognized images of the uprising. Despite the danger, Magubane continued photographing what was happening around him. His work transformed individual moments of protest into permanent historical evidence that could not easily be erased.

His creativity was matched by his determination to get the picture. Because authorities restricted photographers and attempted to prevent journalists from documenting certain events, Magubane sometimes concealed his camera in unusual places, including a hollowed-out Bible, bread and other objects. These methods allowed him to continue working when openly carrying a camera could attract police attention. His photographs demonstrated that documentary photography sometimes requires not only technical ability but extraordinary courage and resourcefulness.

After Nelson Mandela was released from prison in 1990, Magubane entered another important chapter of his career. He became Mandela’s official photographer and documented the transition toward democracy, including significant moments surrounding South Africa’s first democratic election and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The photographer who had spent decades documenting resistance now had the opportunity to photograph a country moving toward a new political era.

Magubane’s legacy extends far beyond the individual photographs he made. He published numerous books, exhibited internationally and received major honors, including an honorary Doctor of Literature from the University of Cape Town in 2010. His photographs remain part of the historical record because they show not only the brutality of apartheid but also the humanity, resilience and determination of the people who lived through it.

Peter Magubane ultimately demonstrated the extraordinary power of photography. He understood that a photograph can preserve a moment long after the people who witnessed it are gone. His camera recorded injustice, resistance, suffering, courage and eventually freedom. For photographers today, his life offers an enduring lesson: photography is not simply about making beautiful pictures—it can also be about seeing clearly, standing close to history and making sure that important stories are never forgotten. Magubane’s photographs gave South Africa a visual memory, and his life’s work reminds every photographer that sometimes the most important picture is the one that history needs someone brave enough to make.

Based on reporting by The Positive Community.

WASHINGTON — Among the more than 100 policy forums and brain trusts at this year’s Congressional Black Caucus Foundation Annual Legislative Conference was a conversation about influence itself: who has it, and what they do with it.

"Platforms & Purpose: A Conversation With Black Men Leveraging Their Reach" brought together actor and activist Kendrick Sampson, Rep. Jasmine Crockett, media personality Jason Lee, singer Eric Benét and rapper and radio host Yung Joc. The session looked at how entertainers, creators and elected officials can turn public attention into real-world change.

The panel took place at the 55th Annual Legislative Conference, a five-day event in Washington that began Wednesday. This year’s theme is "Rooted, Ready & Rising," and the conference coincides with the CBC Foundation’s 50th anniversary. CBCF President and CEO Nicole Austin-Hillery has said the gathering is meant to "combine celebration with purpose," while taking up issues including voting rights, economic opportunity, education, health disparities and criminal justice.

That mix of celebrity and policy is a long-running feature of the conference, which brings lawmakers, advocates, entrepreneurs, students and entertainers into the same rooms. The panel’s premise reflects a broader question as creators reach audiences that rival traditional media.

A career built on both stage and street

Sampson is a natural fit for that conversation. The Houston native is known for television and film work, including HBO’s Insecure, and for his activism off screen. He co-founded BLD PWR, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit that combines entertainment, education and activism.

The organization says its mission is to "reimagine and realize the liberated future we know our people deserve." It works to mobilize entertainment-industry figures and organize communities around racial, gender, immigration, economic and environmental justice, mental health and wellness, and opposition to state violence. BLD PWR emphasizes storytelling and community healing, and it centers the voices of Black, Indigenous and other marginalized communities.

What to watch

The conference runs through Sunday at the Walter E. Washington Convention Center. Details on sessions and registration are available through the CBC Foundation.

Based on reporting by Columbus Times.

Ask someone outside of Louisiana what they know about Southern University, and there is a good chance the conversation will eventually lead to HBCU culture and the Human Jukebox. And rightfully so. The Human Jukebox has earned its reputation through generations of hard work, discipline and excellence. It represents more than halftime entertainment; it is part of the heart of Southern University and HBCU culture. But after the Jukebox, what comes next? That is where Southern has a public relations problem.

Southern University is home to a nursing school that was named Best Nursing School in the United States by Nurse.org for the second consecutive year in 2026. The program also reported a 100% first-time pass rate on the 2025 American Academy of Nurse Practitioners certification examination. Accomplishments like those should be just as inseparable from Southern’s name as its band and culture.

Instead, Southern’s positive story is too often forced to compete with another narrative: housing shortages, unanswered questions, aging infrastructure, power outages and the familiar feeling among students that something else has gone wrong. The recent power outages made that especially difficult to ignore.

Southern lost power on Sept. 1, forcing classes to be canceled. Days later, another outage affected campus operations, eventually leading the university to close campus for multiple days and shift classes remotely. Students told local news stations about losing food, struggling without air conditioning and Wi-Fi, and trying to keep up with schoolwork while the campus dealt with electrical problems. Watching frustrated students explain their experiences to local reporters made me ask a simple question: Is this bad PR? At first, I thought the answer was obvious. Communication during the outage felt too slow. Students wanted to know when power would return, whether classes would continue and when campus life would return to normal. When information is limited, rumors fill the gap. One person says the power is back. Someone else says it went back out. Students begin relying on each other before they rely on the institution. But learning more about what happens behind the scenes complicated my original opinion.

The people responsible for communicating cannot simply release whatever information is circulating. They may be waiting on utility companies, facilities officials, emergency management or university leadership to confirm what is actually happening. Publishing an estimate that turns out to be wrong can create even more confusion. That does not mean communication should stop.

There is a difference between saying, “We don’t know,” and saying nothing. Even when there is no new information, students can still be told that there is no new information. An update saying officials are still waiting for confirmation, explaining what is currently known and telling students when to expect another update creates something extremely important during a crisis: certainty about the communication process, even when there is uncertainty about the situation itself.

But the more I thought about “Bad PR?” the more I realized Southern’s problem is bigger than how quickly an email goes out. Public relations cannot turn the electricity back on. It cannot build a residence hall overnight. It cannot make every office answer its phone. It cannot win a football game. At some point, an institution’s reputation has to be supported by the institution itself.

Southern entered Fall 2026 with campus housing completely occupied and its housing waitlist at capacity. The university is responding by moving forward with new housing that is expected to add approximately 850 beds. That investment matters. But it also represents a larger pattern Southern cannot afford to continue: waiting until a problem becomes part of the student experience before the solution becomes visible. Southern cannot continuously rely on the resilience of its students as part of its operating model.

There is almost a collective “struggle bus” mentality that can develop on campus. Something is broken. Something is delayed. Another office is not answering. Another unexpected problem appears. But at least we are still here, getting our education and figuring it out. Southern certainly develops character. But students should not have to develop character by constantly learning to navigate problems that an evolving university should be working to eliminate.

That is especially important because Southern does not exist in isolation. Across Baton Rouge sits LSU, one of the most recognizable universities in the state. Comparisons between the two institutions are almost inevitable, whether those comparisons are fair or not. Southern should not try to become LSU. It should become the strongest possible version of Southern.

There is something different about attending an HBCU. There is value in entering classrooms where students who look like you can be recognized for their intelligence without first having to prove that they belong there. There is value in being surrounded by people who may come from completely different backgrounds while sharing an experience rooted in Black history, culture and achievement. Southern has that. It has legacy. It has culture. It has nationally recognized programs. It has students worth celebrating. It has one of the most recognizable bands in college culture. The problem is not that Southern lacks a brand. Southern’s problem is keeping that legacy intact while building an institution capable of carrying it into the future. Construction around campus shows that change is happening. New housing is coming. Infrastructure is being addressed. But physical construction cannot be the only visible evidence of progress. Students should be able to experience that evolution in customer service, communication, technology, facilities and the everyday systems they depend on.

The Human Jukebox does not need less recognition. The rest of Southern needs to reach the same standard of excellence that makes the Jukebox so easy to celebrate. If Southern wants to control its narrative nationally, the answer cannot simply be better marketing whenever something goes wrong. Southern already has the story.

The nursing students achieving nationally recognized results are part of the story. The students earning degrees are part of the story. The culture is part of the story. The Jukebox is part of the story. The history and generations of alumni are part of the story.

But so are the outages, housing frustrations and institutional problems students experience. Public relations can decide how a story is communicated, but it cannot permanently separate reputation from reality. Maybe Southern does not have a “bad PR” problem after all. Maybe Southern has an institution with an incredibly strong brand that is sometimes being asked to carry more weight than it should. If Southern truly wants to control its narrative, that work cannot begin and end with a press release. It has to begin within.

Based on reporting by Southern University – SouthernDIGEST.

By National Head Start Association

Ron Herndon Head Start Parent Scholarship awardee Paris Hill, of Sunbelt Human Advancement Resources in Greenville, South Carolina, says that Head Start has been instrumental in reaching her dreams.

“Head Start made me sit and realize my goals and what steps I needed to take to achieve them. They show compassion, love, and dedication to helping parents. They push you to do, to be, and to do better—not only as parents but for yourself.”

Hill embodies the spirit of NHSA’s Ron Herndon Scholarship, which celebrates a Head Start parent who goes above and beyond in their community.

During the pandemic, Hill participated in virtual classroom instruction with her children and engaged in parent virtual activities such as Parent Committee meetings and financial literacy classes. She recently contributed over 96 hours to her program.

“I never thought I would be here before Head Start. It was rough. No childcare, job loss. I’ve been helpless,” she shared on stage at the National Head Start Conference in Baltimore. “When I applied, I did not think my daughter would get in. When I got the call, I cried tears of joy.”

Hill enrolled in college and pursued a bachelor’s degree in applied sciences with a concentration in business management. She has met and exceeded her personal goal of becoming a nail technician and creating her own business.

The $2,500 parent scholarship supported her vision. “Head Start made me sit and realize my goals and what steps I needed to take to achieve them. They show compassion, love, and dedication to helping parents. They push you to do, to be, and to do better — not only as parents but for yourself.”

She has an uncommon career goal — to become a mortician — and has already found part-time work. She has found it rewarding to assist families who were going through challenging times because of the death of a loved one.

“When I first applied for the parent scholarship program, I was excited and this was my time to show what I’m capable of. It fills my heart with joy knowing I had a team of teachers and directors pushing me to do better and acknowledging me as parents and not just as a mom.”