Ruth J. Simmons, Remarks As Delivered

Forgive me, but I find myself unduly emotional, not really so much because of this honor [but] because of the privilege of being with you today and listening … listening to the wonderful remarks that I’ve heard. I will never forget. I’ll never forget having been here today. And what I want to do to show how grateful I am to all of you: I want to match personally the senior gift so that…. I’m trying to pull myself together here.

Madam President, members of the Board of Trustees, faculty, and staff of this amazing institution, good day! 

To the amazing Barnard Class of 2024: I give you a warm embrace for all that you’ve been through these past years, for all that you’ve achieved in spite of the challenges, and for all that I am certain you will mean to the world in the coming decades. In spite of an uncertain landscape dominated by fierce social and political divisions and the promise of continued turmoil, we are certain on this day that you have demonstrated personal courage, a commitment to excellence, and a willingness to press on in the face of great challenges. In choosing to be educated, you have signed on to an all-important pledge that each of you, as individuals, will commit yourselves to a life of learning, continuous growth, and service to others in the face of whatever uncertainty threatens to overtake you. In signing that promise, you and your talents, achievements, and caring will be the hope, inspiration, and guide for thousands who come after you. 

I have not had the privilege of studying what each of you has accomplished in the course of your life. Yet I know something of what this institution has stood for over the decades. I know the kinds of obstacles you’ve surmounted, the guidance you’ve been given, and the space you have had to make mistakes and to learn from them. A great university ought to see itself not simply as a place up on the hill but as a crucible for the foundational elements of learning. A learning that includes rigorous challenges. A learning that stokes deep thought, a learning that is informed by difference, a learning that is ever questioning, a learning that has purpose and integrity. 

You’re part of a long line of women and men who have transformed society, bringing insights to a clannish world that would reject the humanity and equality of some. It wasn’t so long ago that women were thought incapable of serious study. And yet in the face of trenching bigotry and discrimination, women continued their efforts to be all that they could be in the fullness of their intellect and humanity. And because of their courageous efforts, the possibilities that lie ahead for you are virtually limitless. And so, even as we contemplate what is now possible, we’ve got to take a moment to acknowledge how others have prepared a way for you. Do not be so proud in this triumphant moment that you neglect to pay homage to those who have sacrificed so that you could be all that you are. 

So it has been for me in my journey from a small town in East Texas to Houston’s Fifth Ward to the heights of higher education and beyond. Now, I don’t say that boastfully, for I’m probably more surprised and overwhelmed than anyone with where I am today. Growing up in deep poverty and segregation and hearing messages that I would never be able to achieve, I often reflect on why that message of utter hopelessness did not ultimately stunt my ambition. There’s not a day, really, that goes by that I don’t ask myself why and how I came to be who I am. My life has taken me far from where I began — proof that where one is born, and one’s tribal limitations, do not have to control forever one’s view of the world, nor dictate one’s role in life. 

And that is why I have been consumed with this idea that it should be possible to be open, fair, and attentive to excellence in creating communities of learning that arouse deep and reflective thinking, a healthy exchange of differences of perspective, and the advancement of a society in which we understand and respect many cultures and many perspectives. 

I started as a college student intrigued with religious diversity and tolerance. From there, I moved on to cultural learning in an effort to deepen my personal awareness of human differences. I chose language study as a means of opening the door even wider to such understanding. And of course, I continued with the study of language, literature, and culture as avenues to acquire deeper insights into the way history, social class, tribal affiliation, and other factors affect our ability to perceive the value of others outside our most familiar group. 

Why was I so consumed by these questions? It was undeniably because of having been on the receiving end as a child of racial hatred stoked by those who interpreted difference as a threat to their well-being and their privileged place in society. I understood at an early age the dangers of exclusion and a willful desire to isolate and debase those who are different. As a consequence, I wanted to be sure of one thing, and that is that I would never, ever, fall prey to the same behavior, the same aspirations, the same illusions of superiority. 

And so throughout these decades, I’ve appreciated very much the efforts in a democratic society to acknowledge the need for an attitude of broad inclusion to facilitate ubiquitously shared participation in governing. I emphasize efforts because if there’s one thing I have learned over this period of time, it’s that this work is never complete. As new challenges and conflicts arise, societies will inevitably evolve in response to those challenges. 

My instincts as a child of segregation taught me that it was important to know something about the whole of the world and not just my part of it. I was able to experience the ease with which one could become a racist, spurning the humanity of others. As soon as I was able, I took a Greyhound bus to Mexico to learn the language and culture of our neighboring country. And since that moment, at the age of 17, reaching out and knowing the circumstances of others has been my lifelong passion. Now, I know that many people thought I was a bit of a Pollyanna, but I continued on this path through my undergraduate years, not knowing where this would lead. 

Initially, and arrogantly, I looked upon this work as a solitary commitment. I was proud and arrogant about how ambitious I was in my efforts. But I learned eventually that this was a cul-de-sac. I learned over time that it was important to involve others and to persuade others of my views and not just to be angry and hoard the notion that I was going to be the rescuer, the savior. 

So, to be both female and black, when I started out in the 1990s, seemed, at the time, such a high hurdle to overcome what I thought to be the widespread cynicism and prejudice of others. Imagine my surprise when I discovered how wrong I was to think this longing for justice belonged only to me. 

And stepping into the role of president, I weighed how I could enlist others and a commitment to a world of openness, understanding that I had the opportunity to disprove the idea that someone of my race, class, and gender could not lead such institutions. I also saw my leadership as a means of endorsing the goal of opening opportunity to all. That I could, after all, as a poor kid from Fifth Ward Houston, demonstrate the ability to lead at the highest level was an opportunity for me to speak for the many excluded from opportunity because of the circumstances of their birth. 

I’m going to skip some of this because I’m having trouble holding it together here.

Today, I am the person I worked to become — proud of who I am but ever mindful that I must continue to be open to learning and improving on what I can be. 

Please forgive these references to my personal journey, but it was the only way I knew to tell you what I came here to tell you. 

Whatever you have experienced in the past years, please appreciate that these challenges and counters and opportunities provide an avenue to understand how you can best navigate your journey over the coming years. Don’t just celebrate that you’re leaving Barnard. Celebrate that the Barnard experience will be with you and guide you for the rest of your days. Reach into the reserve of learning that you’ve had here for the fuel and inspiration that will take you to unimagined heights. Embrace the diversity of your friendships as a guide to how you must live your life, one that is robustly nourished by individuals who think differently, worship differently, and represent a range of cultures and races. 

My undergraduate years were framed by violence. That’s why I’ve been thinking so much about all of you, because I’m reflecting on my undergraduate years. 

The fall of my freshman year, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Civil rights figures were murdered, and gruesome violence against innocent children seeking an education played out across the country. A heroic figure whom I greatly admired, Martin Luther King Jr., was assassinated at the end of my undergraduate years. Surrounded by hatred, violence, and an uncertain future, I knew only one thing to do: to keep studying, to grow stronger in my desire to do good, to embrace difference, and to never forget the price paid for the benefits that I enjoyed. 

I hope you will all be generous in your efforts to seek a better and more just world. I know I hope you’ll look for opportunities where your beautiful example can shine, inspiring others to accept the obligation to respect and care for others. I hope, in short, that at all that you do, you will honor the education that you have received here by using it for good. 

Congratulations and Godspeed.