You'd think after a lifetime of breaking barriers, including becoming the first Black president of an Ivy League university, Ruth J. Simmons would be ready for a quiet retirement. Instead, she's trying to mend a family rift that stretches back generations, all while accepting one of Harvard's highest honors.
Simmons recently published her memoir, "Up Home: One Girl's Journey." A white cousin, inspired by the book, reached out, hoping to bridge the racial divide that had long split their family. Simmons' siblings were, shall we say, less enthusiastic. But Simmons saw an opportunity for something more.
"So many people I know lived that anger, died with it, and passed it on to their children," Simmons shared at Radcliffe Day. "I'm determined not to do that. Because what will we be as a country if we hold on to that? We need to move on." Which, if you think about it, is both a personal and a national project.
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Start Your News DetoxThe Truth, According to Ruth
On Friday, the Harvard Radcliffe Institute bestowed its 2026 Radcliffe Medal upon Simmons, celebrating her relentless pursuit of excellence and her rather significant impact. Simmons has held the top job at three universities: Smith College (1995-2001), Brown University (2001-2012), and Prairie View A&M University (2017-2023). At Prairie View A&M, students affectionately dubbed her "Ruth the Truth" for her unwavering advocacy. You can almost hear the mic drop.
Hermself the great-great-grandchild of enslaved people and daughter of sharecroppers, Simmons described her childhood in Texas as a "diet of Jim Crow." Segregation wasn't just a concept; it was the air she breathed.
"There was such manifest general agreement in this country that if you were Black, you had no right to see yourself as a citizen of this country," she recalled. "You were at best relegated to bestial-type work. You certainly had no intelligence, and you were undeserving of common courtesies and respect." Her parents, Fanny and Isaac Stubblefield, raised 12 children in this environment, teaching them specific rules for survival: step off the sidewalk for white people, avoid certain stores, watch your tone. Lessons in subservience, as Simmons wryly put it, "which, of course, I didn't learn very well."
Harvard President Emerita Drew Gilpin Faust, admiring Simmons' courage, expressed surprise that Simmons returned to Texas after such experiences. Simmons explained that even as a child, she wanted to be seen as part of the community. And just to prove how full-circle things can get, she recently received an invitation from the Texas State Cemetery.
"It was an honor," she deadpanned, to appreciative laughter from the audience. "I want to represent the legacy of Jim Crow. I want to represent the people who toiled across time in Texas. I am who I am today because of that journey."
Beyond the Boat-Rocking
Radcliffe Dean Tomiko Brown-Nagin praised Simmons as a "tireless champion of education and its distinct capacity to empower individuals and serve society." Because, as Simmons herself puts it, "education makes possible the smoothing out of unequal circumstances into which many are born."
Even former first lady Michelle Obama chimed in via video tribute, noting, "It wasn't an easy act to get here. It would have been safer to play nice and not rock the boat. But that's just not who Dr. Simmons is." Apparently, some boats are just meant to be rocked.
Simmons acknowledged the current headwinds facing higher education and inclusion efforts. It's a complex, still-unfolding story, she says, and one that hasn't always gotten it right.
"One of the things in trying to build a nation of inclusion is we focused on particular groups to the detriment of the little poor white kid in a trailer park. What about them? So, we made a mistake." A candid admission, and one that highlights the delicate balance of building a truly inclusive future. Because sometimes, moving forward means looking backward, and making sure everyone gets a seat at the table – or at least, a chance to get off the sidewalk.
