As I am writing this, I am looking at a video on social media in which a group of women are celebrating the Founders’ Day of Jack and Jill — an organization created for sun-kissed families of the diaspora to give their children educational and spiritual opportunities.
The women in the video are huddled together in a hallway before their Founders’ Day brunch celebration, some of them teary-eyed even, as they explained how pivotal the organization has been in their lives and the lives of their children and family members.
The video is poignant to me, personally, because my wife has just come back from a similar Jack and Jill function in this community, and we talked about how the experience was for our sons.
I have always believed in the power of preservation of Black institutions, every institution from Black churches, to Black civil and human rights organizations, to Historically Black institutions of higher learning.
In the Americas, these institutions have fed us spiritually, clothed us in dignity and self-worth, and they have shielded us from oppression and hate. And they have served as a collective moral compass for us.
In recent years, however, a trend has emerged on social media in which individuals and groups are attacking Black institutions, generally, but specifically the institution of the Black Greek organization.
It’s interesting work. What happens is folks go online or on social and publicly denounce and renounce their membership in the National Pan-Hellenic Council (NPHC) organizations, collectively known as the Divine Nine (D9).
This movement, almost always driven by religious arguments incubated in Conservative Anglo circles, argues that specifically Black sororities and fraternities are anti-Christian, paganist, or demanding of idolatrous allegiance to the organization. The movement is both misguided and, frankly, sad.
Denouncing membership in the Divine Nine is, from a historical, community, and service-oriented perspective, a nonsensical move that disregards the foundational purpose of these institutions, which have been pillars of Black empowerment for over a century.
The Divine Nine were not formed to create pagan rituals, but rather to survive in a hostile, segregated America, not welcome to the melanated.
Founded between 1906 and 1963, these organizations emerged during the height of Jim Crow laws, a time when Black students at colleges and universities were excluded from white Greek-letter organizations, as well as the society generally, and faced profound social isolation because of the color of their skin.
Renouncing these organizations is a rejection of that history. These groups were designed as safe havens, affirming sanctuaries, providing a support system for intellectual growth, racial uplift, and survival. To denounce the D9 is to distance oneself from the very organizations that were built to allow and equip Black people to excel when society said they could not.
The primary driver of the current exodus from the D9 as an institution — the claim that the fraternities and sororities are inherently “demonic” or “idolatrous” due to their rituals— often stems from a misunderstanding or a reinterpretation of D9 rituals. Many of these traditions are rooted in academic, intellectual, or civic allegories. And quite frankly, many of the rituals are, in fact, soaked in Christian sacred text and are wholly consistent with Jesus’ teachings.
Furthermore, critics sometimes confuse the dedication and loyalty that members show to their organizations with a rejection of faith. However, for millions, this bond exists entirely within the context of Christian or other spiritual frameworks.
The argument that one cannot love their organization and their God is a false binary that overlooks the long history of religious leaders, including pastors and civil rights leaders like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Bayard Rustin, Thurgood Marshall, Paul Robson, Bessie Coleman, Zora Hurston, Ella Fitzgerald, Langston Hughes, Mandela Barnes, and countless others who were active members that did not denounce their organizations.
Beyond the social elements, the Divine Nine organizations are not simply social clubs; they are corporate entities committed to public service, voting rights, literacy, and scholarship. Renouncing membership literally means disconnecting from a network that contributes millions of dollars in scholarships and countless hours of community service every year.
D9 organizations were essential in the Civil Rights Movement, the Women’s Suffrage March, and modern activism, like Black Lives Matter. They provide lifelong networks of professionals and community leaders.
They provide mentorship programs that are essential for young Black professionals. Renouncing a Divine Nine organization means choosing to no longer be an active part of this collective power, which is a detrimental move for individual professional growth and for the advancement of the broader Black community.
When former Vice President Kamala Harris declared that she was running for president in 2024, Divine Nine organizations first prayed for her and over her. And then, they helped her to raise over one billion dollars in just under 100 days.
I think that kind of communal power is encouraging for some, but gravely frightening for others who are desperately attempting to cling to power and relevance in this country that is becoming more diverse and progressive by the hour.
While it is true that all organizations face challenges — including concerns about hazing or, and truthfully, the need to recalibrate their missions to include young folks and our queer siblings — renouncing the entire Divine Nine institution is a knee-jerk reaction that fails to recognize the immense pragmatic, cultural and spiritual value of the legacy.
The Divine Nine organizations are, at their core, a testament to Black brilliance, resilience, and community dedication. Choosing to walk away from that foundation, rather than working to improve it, is a profound misunderstanding of the enduring power of these historic organizations.
