UH initiative helps underrepresented black, Hispanic communities graduate
Days before he graduated from the University of Houston, Carlos Cazares talked to a group of fellow students that had become like a family to him.
Cazares was one of 20 men who in 2015 joined the Achievement Initiative for Minority Males, then a new UH club for black and Hispanic male students that emphasized academic success, professional mentorship and community service.
Membership has dwindled in the years since the group began. Some members dropped out of school, and others had to work full time, unable to fulfill program requirements. Fewer joined in 2016 and 2017.
Cazares, 24, said he succeeded at UH in part because of AIMM, one of several initiatives at Texas universities seeking to bolster male student recruitment and retention.
The University of Texas at Austin’s Project MALES — which stands for Mentoring to Achieve Latino Educational Success — was founded in 2010 to improve year-to-year retention and graduation rates of Latino male students and other men of color.
The Black Male Leadership
Initiative at Rice University works on leadership development, mentorship and service.
Texas higher education officials have applauded several of these programs, noting that men on Texas campuses — particularly black and Hispanic men — are underrepresented.
Creating a stronger pathway to and through college for these men, they say, will help the state meet an ambitious goal: having 60 percent of Texans aged 25 to 34 earning a postsecondary degree or certificate by 2030.
Cazares soon would be one of those graduates, cheered by dozens of friends, family and cousins, many of whom came from Dallas to celebrate as he received his diploma.
First, however, he had a message for AIMM members at their last meeting: Don’t let this die.
Finding help
Cazares found college classes challenging when he started at UH in 2012. He failed courses, and his GPA sank, nearly to probation level. Telling his parents, he said, was extremely hard.
The following fall, Cazares switched his major to mechanical engineering technology. He liked that it was hands on. At the same time, he sought a community where he could connect with students outside his major. He wanted to meet students who desired both self-improvement and to give back to their communities.
So, he grinned in his dorm room one day when he saw an email from a UH administrator introducing what would become AIMM.
Niya Blair, the director of UH’s diversity and inclusion center, had come to UH in 2014. She and a colleague decided to start a program for Hispanic and black men, asking for applications from students who wanted mentorship, professional development and a peer group.
“In some communities, (you’re) not going asking for help, you’re figuring it out,” Blair said, noting that first-generation college students are not necessarily exposed to how to navigate such things as the financial aid application process.
Programs like AIMM, she said, help students understand that “there are people who want to help you and will help you.”
The idea drew interest from about 100 students that first year. All who got letters of recommendation and participated in a group interview were accepted.
‘Unsustainable’ numbers
In the beginning, group members talked about academic resources, community service and leadership and professional development. Soon, conversation expanded to sexuality and masculinity.
A staff member from UH’s counseling office came to the group one week, Cazares recalled. Over time, he opened up about his anxiety. The group, he said, helped him realize that he’s not the only person struggling.
“As a minority male, you grow up, you don’t reach out for help,” he said. “You got this.”
For years, colleges focused on women as they discussed gender amid student advocacy, said Jason Laker, a counselor education professor at San Jose State University who has written two books about men in higher education.
Recently, campuses have realized that highlighting issues men face is also important, he said. The broader discussion gives nuance to understanding of men and women, he said.
Black and Hispanic male students, he said, have to contend with both racism and an expectation to be stereotypically masculine.
“Men are not a monolith, nor are women,” he said.
Women in Texas have outpaced men in earning degrees since at least 2014, according to the state’s higher education coordinating board. Male students in Texas earned 62,211 degrees and certificates from public four-year universities in 2016. Female students received 82,700.
Texas Higher Education Commissioner Raymund Paredes has called the under participation of black and Hispanic men in Texas higher education “unsustainable” for the state’s economic future.
Such programs can encourage struggling students to stay connected to their universities, he said.
Their success relies on financial support, student popularity and success in graduating students — none of which are guaranteed.
“We definitely expected more interest,” Blair said. “At this point, we want to make sure (we are) sustaining the program and being able to provide an intimate (community).”
Ensuring AIMM’s survival became a goal for Cazares in his last year at UH, when a student fee committee declined to allocate money specifically for the group.
Of the 20 students who started in spring 2015, 11 have graduated or are graduating this year, Blair said. Two transferred to another college, two are inactive within the group, four left the group and one is a remaining active member.
Just five students joined in 2016, and 10 joined last spring, Blair said.
She said that many wouldbe members are busy, juggling work, school and other commitments.
‘I’m all in’
Cazares turned outward for support. He mentioned the AIMM program to top university administrators as he spoke about his UH experience. He made calls for UH’s billion-dollar capital campaign and spoke specifically about his group.
When he said goodbye to the group before graduation, he felt like he was taking away some of its heart. He realized he didn’t want to come back to UH to find the program gone.
He told them how much he loved the program and the opportunities it provided. He urged them to keep it going. Students were quiet. After the meeting, Cazares’ phone lit up with text messages from AIMM members: “I’m all in.” “Count me in.” “We need to make this work.”