Sometimes purpose survives by changing shape. 

I arrived at North Carolina A&T State University in 2001 believing my future had already been written. I would become a nurse and care for people battling cancer, honoring the grandmother I lost to breast cancer when I was 4. At A&T, I grew in faith, leadership and service – and met my college sweetheart, Kylon. 

But A&T would teach me that purpose can endure even when the plan does not. 

In 2004, my eldest brother was killed in a motor vehicle accident. The very next day – my birthday – Kylon was critically injured in another accident returning from the Battle of the Bands. He suffered a severe traumatic brain injury, and doctors questioned whether he would survive. 

He did. 

Kylon endured reconstructive surgeries and relearned how to walk and talk before returning to A&T. I returned carrying grief that had no language. Beneath its weight, I failed out of nursing. 

What felt like an ending became an opening. 

I found my way to psychology, also Kylon’s major, and in May 2007, we graduated side by side. We married, built careers, served in ministry and welcomed two children. 

Through every season, homecoming remained sacred. My mother became an alumna, my brothers attended and graduated from A&T, and Kylon and I made returning to Greensboro a family tradition. Even after relocating to Virginia, bringing our children “home” was non-negotiable. We wanted them to experience the Aggie Pride, community and belonging that shaped us. 

In October 2016, we celebrated what would become our final homecoming together. One month later, complications from Kylon’s 2004 injuries took his life. At his funeral, a resounding “AGGIE PRIDE!” rang out in his honor. Somehow, amid one of the most devastating moments of my life, I smiled. 

I became a widow raising two grieving children while navigating grief of my own. More losses followed, and in June 2020, amid a global pandemic, I lost my career of nearly nine years. 

Once again, I had to begin again. 

I returned to something I first learned at A&T in the Aggie Suites: cutting hair. What began with my brothers and college friends became The Cutting Room, born in my guest room during the pandemic. 

Five years later, The Cutting Room has grown into a premier barbershop operating from a 2,000-square-foot storefront in downtown Lynchburg, Virginia. Today, I mentor barbers, help emerging professionals move toward ownership and envision a future barber academy. 

For 10 years, I have returned to homecoming without my college sweetheart. I return because homecoming connects who I was, who I lost, who I became and who comes after me. 

My daughter dreams of attending A&T in 2028, carrying a legacy built by her grandmother, uncles, aunties, mother and father. 

Homecoming reminds me that legacy does not end when someone leaves us. We return. We remember. We build. We pass it forward. 

That is Aggie Pride!