By: Roy Douglas Malonson
Texas Southern University is once again at the center of a storm, and this time the winds are stronger, louder, and more politically charged than ever. A newly released state audit has exposed a series of financial failures inside TSU’s administration: missed reporting deadlines, contract mismanagement, expired vendor agreements and gaps in oversight that stretch back years. Those facts are real, documented and serious. But the reaction coming from Austin is raising an even bigger question for Black Houston: is this only about finances, or is TSU being targeted in ways that other universities never are? Addressing current and historical realities affecting our community requires telling the whole truth, not just the parts that fit a political narrative.
The audit released by the State Auditor’s Office found that more than 700 invoices totaling over $280 million were tied to vendors whose contracts had already expired. Another 800 invoices, representing nearly $160 million, were submitted before official purchase approvals were secured. TSU also filed key financial reports late, ten months late for the 2023 fiscal year and four months late for 2024. Vacancies in high-level financial positions added to the breakdown. These issues reflect real administrative dysfunction and a failure of internal controls. No one is denying that TSU must rebuild trust by strengthening its financial structure from top to bottom.
But here is the larger truth that cannot be ignored: universities across Texas, big ones, wealthy ones, majority-white ones, experience financial mismanagement too. They have accounting mistakes, contract problems, construction overruns, missed reports and internal audits that reveal millions in errors. Yet the response to those institutions is quiet, measured, contained and almost always framed as an internal issue. The public rarely hears about their problems, and the state never threatens to freeze their funding or launch loud, politically charged investigations.
TSU, however, receives the opposite treatment. The moment its financial issues become public, state leaders respond with outrage, media pressure and talk of withholding money that the university depends on to operate. Governor Greg Abbott and Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick have already called for deeper investigations and hinted at consequences that could alter TSU’s future. Their reactions, amplified by political allies, paint a picture of a university out of control, even though TSU’s issues are not fundamentally different from problems other universities handle quietly.
This double standard is not imagined. It is part of the long pattern of unequal oversight, underfunding and selective enforcement that historically Black colleges and universities face across the country. TSU is the only independent public university in Texas, not part of the UT System, not part of the Texas A&M System and not protected by the University of Houston System. That independence makes it easy to single out and punish. It also makes the university vulnerable to political pressure from leaders who have historically shown little commitment to supporting Black institutions. When a major public HBCU stumbles, the reaction is not support but scrutiny; not partnership but punishment.
TSU’s location in Houston’s Third Ward, one of the most culturally significant Black communities in Texas, adds more weight to the situation. The university is not simply a school; it is a pipeline of opportunity for thousands of Black students, a major economic engine for surrounding neighborhoods and a symbol of Black academic excellence in a state with deep racial divides. A threat to TSU is a threat to the entire community it serves. If state leaders choose to freeze funding, impose external control or intervene with harsh measures, the consequences will land hardest on Black families, Black faculty and Black neighborhoods that already face systemic inequities.
The state’s reaction to TSU’s financial issues would look very different if it were another university, one with more political allies, a wealthier donor base or a majority-white student population. That is why this story is not only about balance sheets and invoices. It is about power. It is about who gets protected and who gets punished. It is about the message being sent when an HBCU’s internal issues are treated as a crisis while similar issues at other institutions are treated as routine.
To be clear, TSU must fix its internal problems. Accountability is necessary. Transparency is essential. Strong leadership is non-negotiable. But accountability does not require political threats, public shaming or measures that could cripple the university’s ability to function. What TSU needs is support, stability and an honest acknowledgment that it has been historically underfunded and structurally isolated in ways that contributed to the very problems now being criticized.
For decades, TSU has produced judges, educators, doctors, lawyers, engineers and public servants who have transformed Texas and the nation. Its alumni have changed industries, shaped policy and built communities. That legacy deserves protection, not opportunistic targeting. As Black Houstonians watch this unfold, a pressing question remains: will the state help TSU rise, or is this the beginning of another attempt to weaken one of the most important Black institutions in Texas?
