By Jamal Watson
Trinity Washington University Professor and Associate Dean of Graduate Studies

As I walk through the halls of our beloved Trinity Washington University, I see the faces of students who embody the American dream — first-generation college students, working mothers, young women determined to break cycles of poverty through education. But I also see something else: the weight of financial anxiety that threatens to crush that dream before it can be realized.

This is the hidden crisis I explore in my research on student debt. While policymakers debate the economics of student loan forgiveness, millions of students are struggling to survive while pursuing their degrees. They’re sleeping on couches, skipping meals, and working multiple jobs — all while trying to focus on their studies.

The data is staggering. A 2023 federal study revealed that more than one in five undergraduate students experience food insecurity. At Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) and Predominantly Black Institutions (PBIs) like Trinity, that number rises to 39 percent. These aren’t statistics—they’re our students, our neighbors, our future leaders who are being forced to choose between their education and their basic needs.

The student debt crisis is fundamentally a civil rights issue. As the Reverend Al Sharpton told me on the eve of the 2023 March on Washington, “Generations of Black youth were sold the idea that higher education was a pathway out of poverty, only to be burdened with crushing debt that prevents them from fully realizing their dreams.”

The numbers bear this out. Black students graduate with an average of $38,000 in undergraduate debt, and Black women carry nearly two-thirds of the nation’s $1.7 trillion in student loan debt. This isn’t coincidental — it’s the predictable result of centuries of systemic barriers to wealth accumulation that have made Black families disproportionately reliant on student loans.

At Trinity, we see these disparities firsthand. Our students—predominantly women of color—often arrive with limited family resources and must borrow extensively to pursue their dreams of becoming teachers, nurses, social workers and journalists. They’re pursuing careers in public service, yet they’ll spend decades paying for the privilege of serving their communities.

The solution isn’t simple, but it is clear. We need comprehensive reform that addresses both immediate relief for current borrowers and systemic changes to prevent future crises. This includes expanding Pell Grants to cover the true cost of college attendance, not just tuition. It means addressing the hidden costs — housing, food, textbooks, transportation—that force students into impossible choices.

We must also look to successful models from the past. Senator Claiborne Pell, the architect of the Pell Grant program, understood that education should be a right, not a privilege. In the 1970s, Pell Grants covered 79 percent of the cost of attending a four-year public college. Today, they cover just 29 percent. This dramatic decline in purchasing power has shifted the burden from grants to loans, creating the crisis we face today.

The private sector also has a role to play. Companies like Starbucks, which partnered with Arizona State University to provide full tuition coverage for employees, demonstrate that innovative public-private partnerships can make education accessible without debt. Philanthropists like Robert F. Smith, who eliminated student debt for an entire graduating class at Morehouse College, show the transformative power of targeted investment in education.

But ultimately, this is about values. 

Do we believe, as President Lyndon Johnson did when he signed the Higher Education Act of 1965, that financial barriers should never prevent capable students from accessing education? Do we accept that students should mortgage their futures to serve their communities as teachers and nurses? Do we acknowledge that the current system perpetuates rather than alleviates inequality?

At Trinity, we’re committed to addressing these challenges head-on. Under President Patricia McGuire’s guidance, we’ve established emergency aid funds, expanded our food pantry services, and our leadership has worked tirelessly to keep costs as low as possible while maintaining educational excellence. But institutional efforts alone cannot solve a systemic crisis that requires national action.

As I document in my new book, the student debt crisis didn’t emerge overnight, and it won’t be solved overnight. It will require the same moral clarity and political courage that drove the civil rights movement of the 1960s. It will demand that we see education not as a commodity to be purchased, but as a public good that strengthens our democracy and economy.

The students walking our campus today deserve better than a system that asks them to choose between their education and their survival. They deserve the same opportunities that previous generations took for granted — the chance to pursue knowledge without the crushing weight of debt, to serve their communities without financial punishment, and to achieve the American dream without sacrificing their future financial security.

This is our moral imperative. The question isn’t whether we can afford to act—it’s whether we can afford not to.

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Jamal Watson is a professor of communications and associate dean at Trinity Washington University. He is the author of The Student Debt Crisis: America’s Moral Urgency.