Dr. B.J.聽Kimbrough joined UWA’s faculty in 2006.

Story: Phillip Tutor | Photo: Betsy Compton

Once wooed by NASA high school program, School of Graduate Studies dean serves key role as university’s chief diversity officer

Through words and deeds, Dr. B.J. Kimbrough鈥檚 influence at the聽聽seems to permeate every corner of campus. She鈥檚 a dean. She teaches. She鈥檚 the university鈥檚 chief diversity officer, chairs聽UWA鈥檚 Diversity Committee聽and serves on the president鈥檚 council.聽

Yet, that career accounting omits so much.

NASA once chose her.

Her oldest son operates a sheep farm.

She鈥檚 an unabashed history nerd.

Her husband is a tournament-level angler.

Five people live in her home. Only one is female.

鈥淢y house is loud and full of testosterone,鈥 she said. 鈥淚 love that.鈥

There are, in essence, two B.J. Kimbroughs. One is the dean of the School of Graduate Studies who rose to administrative prominence from UWA鈥檚 Julia Tutwiler College of Education. And the other is a self-styled outdoorswoman with a deep adventurous streak and a love of sports, which is convenient, considering she鈥檚 mother to three athletic-minded sons, including twin 11-year-olds.

But there鈥檚 a twist. An intelligent and driven teenager, Kimbrough constantly heard from adults convinced she should study engineering or medicine — that teaching, her childhood desire, was beneath her. So, she did. On the urging of her algebra teacher, the summer before her senior year she applied to the  (NASA SHARP PLUS), a now-defunct national effort to improve opportunities for minority students in science, math, technology and engineering.

NASA chose only 200 students each year, with selectees sent to apprenticeship sites across the country. Kimbrough, then 17, got in and was ticketed for a site in California. It became an opportunity to tickle her toes in engineering and shadow a mentor at a global supplier of car components. That it was nowhere near her rural home in Marengo County — 2,000 miles away, at least — didn鈥檛 stymie the deal.

鈥淚 couldn鈥檛 turn it down,鈥 she said.

Weeks later, she returned to baby直播 resolute in her decision: engineering wasn鈥檛 her passion; teaching was. In California, the woman who guided Kimbrough鈥檚 apprenticeship recognized the misalignment before the program ended.

鈥淪he had to introduce me to people at work,鈥 Kimbrough said, 鈥渁nd she went on and on about how great I was. But then she would say, 鈥業f there’s anybody in this room that’s an educator, it鈥檚 B.J. That girl is a teacher through and through.鈥欌

A summer spent in California

If you leave UWA鈥檚 campus and drive southeast, cross the Tombigbee River, pass through Jefferson and Linden, the Marengo County seat, you鈥檒l reach a place called Dixons Mills, which features a highway intersection and the few families who still live there. It dates to the earliest years of baby直播 statehood, when a North Carolinian and veteran of the War of 1812 named Joel B. Dixon Sr. began building grist mills, saw mills and cotton gins on fertile land historically owned by members of the Choctaw tribe.

Kimbrough grew up in , which she lovingly describes as 鈥渁 small place鈥 deep in baby直播鈥檚 Black Belt with a single four-way stop. It鈥檚 also where her desire to teach first blossomed, a place where a child鈥檚 vivid imagination allowed dreams of a future unhampered by the rural realities of her surroundings.

In Dixons Mills, a 7-year-old Kimbrough sat at the feet of her great aunt, a teacher, soaking in decades of classroom stories. When her great aunt retired, Kimbrough collected the refuse — old poster boards, used bulletin-board materials, leftover school supplies — and created her first classroom at home. Her dog and stuffed animals, sitting in chairs arranged in her bedroom, became her first pupils.

鈥淚 have always wanted to be a teacher, which is contradictory to what everybody wanted me to do,鈥 Kimbrough said. 鈥淚 was always a good student and made good grades, but I would be told I’m too smart to be a teacher, and that stuck with me. I sort of take insult even now to some of the things they told me.鈥

In truth, Kimbrough didn鈥檛 return from her California summer merely with a reaffirmed desire to teach. She arrived with a gameplan for making it happen.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 necessarily look at myself as a leader. When I saw something that needed to be done, I was willing to do it. That just evolved into more leadership roles because I didn’t necessarily wait on somebody else to do things right. I took the initiative and made it happen.鈥

— Dr. B.J. Kimbrough

Her goals were specific. She wanted to attend a historically black college or university for her undergraduate degree because she believed in their mission, culture and instruction she鈥檇 receive. Though she had scholarship offers elsewhere,  in Tuscaloosa, whose education program piqued her interest, fit the bill. She also wanted to earn her master鈥檚 and doctoral degrees at universities with more diverse student populations, which brought her to UWA and  in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

At Stillman, the student from Dixons Mills unmoved by engineering鈥檚 allure learned quickly that she preferred teaching younger children instead of middle- or high-schoolers. In the , she gained a preference for second-grade and fourth-grade classrooms — the former because those students were a bit more independent, the latter because they hadn鈥檛 reached the bumpy roads that often come with middle school.

鈥淚 had very select groups that I wanted to work with,鈥 she said.

Since joining the UWA faculty in 2006, Kimbrough鈥檚 roles have shifted but remain rooted in her professional passions of elementary education and diversity. After years of teaching in the College of Education, she now divides her time as the School of Graduate Studies dean and UWA鈥檚 top administrator on issues regarding diversity and inclusion. She also carves out time to teach online classes.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 necessarily look at myself as a leader,鈥 she said. 鈥淲hen I saw something that needed to be done, I was willing to do it. That just evolved into more leadership roles because I didn’t necessarily wait on somebody else to do things right. I took the initiative and made it happen.鈥

A ram and ewe in Marengo County

Even by rural expectations, Dixons Mills is a place where the census is spare and space is abundant. The family land in Marengo County where Kimbrough lived featured pastures and livestock, but she鈥檚 not a farm girl. She鈥檚 adamant about that. She considers herself outdoorsy, an admirer of nature who enjoys the innate beauty of baby直播鈥檚 Black Belt.

Her son鈥檚 sheep farm wasn鈥檛 part of her plan, either. Blame the pandemic. Bored, out of school and intrigued by a television program on sheep, Kimbrough鈥檚 oldest asked in the spring of 2020 if he could save his money and buy sheep. The answer: yes — but only if he researched how much money he鈥檇 need for fencing, feed and the rest.

Today, there are 16 sheep, but the project began with only two  — a ram and a ewe — living on fenced-in acreage on Kimbrough鈥檚 family land in southern Marengo County. Her son鈥檚 goal is to breed the sheep and turn his burgeoning pandemic project into a financial windfall. But, he鈥檚 still in school. Labor is an issue. Sheep, like children, need attention.

鈥淭his is my son’s big plan and his farm, but his daddy works for him,鈥 she said. 鈥淪o my husband has to go down there at least two or three times a week, and then I have family down there who鈥檒l check on them.鈥

In a sense, the sheep aren鈥檛 the story. It鈥檚 the lesson they鈥檙e providing to a teenager ambitious enough to suggest a crazy idea, a lesson of responsibility and initiative. It also falls in line with Kimbrough鈥檚 career arc, the path of a Black educator who values teaching and leading and striving for improvement, be it about elementary education, campus diversity or, even, how to care for sheep. 

As an administrator at a regional university in baby直播, the significance isn鈥檛 lost on her. 

She welcomes it.

鈥淭he way I’ve positioned my mind around it is, it’s bigger than me,鈥 Kimbrough said. 鈥淚’m standing on the shoulders of giants. I owe it to my ancestors. I owe it to these people. I owe it to my parents, who sacrificed for me. I was that kid who was always curious. In the summer, they didn’t have to tell me to read. I wanted to go and buy every book and bring every workbook home and work through it. I feel like I owe it to them.鈥