“For the Ones Who Had to Leave”
By Donald Eugene Anderson Jr.
They came to Howard with stars in their eyes and fire in their hearts — young, brilliant, and hungry. They were the sons and daughters of struggle, the inheritors of a dream built on faith and sacrifice. They walked the sacred Yard for the first time, heads high, shoulders squared, feeling the pulse of something greater than themselves — the same soil that birthed Thurgood, Toni, Kamala, and Chadwick.
But then came the emails.
The calls home.
The quiet tears.
The “I’m sorry, we can’t afford it this semester.”
The “maybe next year.”
The “I just need a little more time.”
And just like that, another bright light flickered out. Not because they weren’t smart enough. Not because they weren’t committed. But because the price of greatness came with a bill too high for brilliance to pay.
These are not dropouts. These are dreamers exiled by economics. These are revolutionaries silenced by tuition deadlines.
These are future leaders, healers, and innovators — forced back to where they came from, watching opportunity fade from their fingertips.
And so I run.
My name is Donald E. Anderson Jr., and I’m a student at Howard University — a husband, a father, a believer, and a fighter. I’m running a marathon in Mississippi — the same soil soaked in the blood, sweat, and tears of our ancestors — to raise funds for the students who didn’t get to finish what they started.
Because the story of Howard should never be a tragedy.
It should be a symphony — of Black brilliance, of perseverance, of Sankofa: reaching back to lift up those coming behind us.
I run for every student who had to pack their bags.
I run for every mother who cried because her baby couldn’t stay.
I run for every dream deferred by a dollar amount.
And I run for the alumni — the ones who made it — to remember that Sankofa means return and fetch it. To reach back, to sow seeds where others have fallen, to make sure no one else gets left behind.
So when you see me running through Mississippi, under that southern sun, sweat and spirit intertwined — know that every step I take is for them.
For the ones who still believe. For the ones who still fight. For the ones who just need one more chance.
Help me bring them home.
Help me turn heartbreak into hope.
Help me make sure that the next time a student walks across the Yard, they never have to wonder if they can afford to stay.
