Space is the boundless three-dimensional extent in which objects and events have relative position and direction (Wikipedia). When reminiscing over the intellectual conceptions of the physicality of space, not only does it becomes the home of a person, space also accounts for the emotional, and oftentimes spiritual, aspects that accompany inhabiting a human body. When thinking of the history of Blackness in America, it is defined by the ephemerality of space. A Black person in America has often faced the pervasive, imminent, and ongoing fear of displacement in their neighboods and communities through means of being sold or killed during slavery, as well as forced displacement through urban renewal during the 20th century and gentrification in the modern era. Whether through the Great Migration within or immigration practices to America, Black folks have constantly had to wrestle with life without a sense of spatial stability. Theoretically, even with the push for theoretical ‘safe and/or brave spaces,’ there has yet to be space for Black people to exist without intense surveillance, scrutiny, and threats of violence to both their bodies and psyches. Although usually seen as entities separate of each other, the corporeal reality of Black spaces in America have been intrinsically tied to emotion and spirituality. Despite impending danger, church basements, barber shops, beauty salons, living rooms, nightclubs, ballrooms, and kitchens, amongst many others, have all been utilized by various Black communities as respites and classrooms for life, allowing people the opportunity to circumvent systems of surveillance. Through knowledge production, discourse, and cultural exchange across nationalities, generations, and religions, again amongst many others, Black people again and again have carved spaces for themselves in otherwise white and stifling locations.

While over time these spaces have shifted in physical appearance, even now becoming intangible and essentially existing above our heads, on our screens through social media communities such as Facebook groups, Instagram relationships, and the cultural phenomenon that is Black Twitter, they all share the same essential properties. When positioning oneself, starting in the 1960s, within the context of Lafayette College, the phenomenon of Black people creating their own space is quite familiar. While the actual date on which Lafayette integrated is not recorded, the year of 1968 only saw about 30 black students amongst the college’s 2,000. In tandem with the national Black Campus Movement, being faced with both the daily microaggressions and the feeling of hyper invisibility, five black students: names, met initially in the basement of Marquis to discuss what they wanted to see on Lafayette’s campus. After an interest meeting in which six more students appeared, the Association of Black Collegians (ABC) was formed. From this union the Black Table in Marquis was born, offering black students a recluse from the hostile environment found even in dining halls. A year later saw the organization’s demand within the Black Manifesto for a Black House on campus. Prior to the school-sanctioned building, Black students were allowed to create community in a lounge in Watson, named the Black Activities Lounge specifically stated as ABC Headquarters. This space became multi-purpose, not only a meeting space, but room for conversations to be had, cards to be dealt, homework to be completed, and dances to be juked. However, Black students decided that they should no longer live their lives in the shadows and hide themselves away from the Lafayette community, and in the Manifesto specifically demanded a larger facility. Even if they were not welcome on campus, they were still going to be seen, and thus, the Black house was born. Located at 6 East Campus, the Black house was originally the residence of the college chaplain F. Peter Sabey. Starting in September of 1970, six black students, names, began living in the house with Sabey relocating to another college-owned home, and in November of 1970 the black house was christened the Malcolm X Liberation Center. William Faulk, ‘73, an executive board member of ABC stated that “Malcolm was the most dynamic black man to live and work in our life span” and therefore it only made sense that the space would be named in honor of him [Lafayette’s New Black Center Becomes a Reality In One Year - newspaper clipping]. While used as a ‘re-education’ center to educate the broader Lafayette community about the Black experience in America, the Malcolm X Liberation Center also served as a social, cultural, and intellectual breeding ground for Black students.

However, as stated before, Black spaces have never had security. With impending structural changes to the college approaching, specifically in relation to the creation of the Farinon student center in the year of 1990, the Liberation Center was forced to relocate to its current location: 101 McCartney Street, and in movement was named the Black Cultural Center. Dean David Portlock was a very influential force on this campus as the first Black person to hold an administrative role, and his passing came as a shock and surprise to many. To honor his legacy, November of 1999 saw the Center renamed to the Portlock Black Cultural Center. Both a residential space for three students, a meeting space for many groups such as ABC, NIA, and Brothers of Lafayette, and a social gathering spot that has housed kickbacks, parties, Sunday Soul Lounges, and movie and game nights over the years, Portlock has been a staple in the majority of Black students experiences at Lafayette. Despite its importance to students, its importance to the college comes into question. The building did not receive any major renovations until 20XX, and while that did positively affect the overall aesthetics of the building, it is still dilapidated structurally in many places. 

As stated, historically Black spaces have had no stability in this country. Black people have often been implicated into forced migration patterns due to overseeing institutional structures that have given no ability for spaces to thrive and prosper over extended periods of time. Lafayette, and by extension Portlock and ABC, are not exempt from this phenomenon. Portlock is currently involved in the impending Phase Two of the College’s expansion in which it will be knocked down and relocated another block away from campus to make way for parking space. Lafayette’s expansion can be seen as simply another example of urban renewal, gentrification, and colonization not only for Black students, but Easton residents as well. Phase 1 was put on hold for a multitude of years because of pushback from surrounding Easton residents who vehemently opposed even more of their neighborhood being taken over by an institution that produces just as much damage, destruction, and violence through way of belligerent frat boys as it does produce good through the many volunteer programs offered by MOSAIC. It cannot go without stating that Lafayette’s famous position ‘on top of the hill’ only further characterizes its disposition as separate, apart, and essentially better than downtown Easton that is populated by a severely economically disadvantaged community as a result of urban renewal. So then the question becomes, how did Lafayette play into and build this relationship as a capitalistic and colonialistic institution in relation to its surrounding area, and in what ways does this relationship mimic and mirror the institution’s relationships with its own students that just so happen to be Black? How is it that someone, or someones, decided that parking space was more valuable than the only space that provides safety and community for students? In what ways does framing the space and students as Black prevent people from recognizing their humanity? This displacement has happened repeatedly with Portlock, and again with the lesser known ABC office in Farinon that mysteriously disappeared about seven years ago. And while it is the physical building that is important with the ability to look and smell and feel and remember years that are often transformative and impactful in ways sometimes unexplainable, it is the spiritual connection. The ability to sit in conversation with ancestors and feel comforted that if they were able to make it through this treacherous and isolating campus than you will be able to as well. That is what is being taken. That is what cannot be replaced despite how much bigger and better the new building will be. That is what will hurt and impact the community the most. And the most disappointing, saddening, and infuriating part is, the people who have the power to change this, to advocate for our voices, and to refuse to participate in this micro-colonial project - will not. And Black students - people - will have to pay the price.