Black And Brilliant: 21 Celebs Who've Attended Ivy League Schools

The brilliant celebs who attended Ivy League schools.

Brian White

The actor and former stockbroker graduated from Dartmouth College, where he was a member of Beta Theta Pi fraternity.

Source: Essence

Shonda Rhimes

The television genius earned her bachelor’s at Dartmouth, where she joined the Black Underground Theater Association and directed and performed various productions.

Source: Essence

Toni Morrison

Morrison earned her master’s at Cornell after graduting from Howard with a B.A. in English.

Source: Essence

Lupita Nyong'o

Nyong'o graduated with a master’s from the Yale School of Drama, where she earned the Herschel Williams Prize for her acting.

Source: Essence

Bob Johnson

The BET founder earned his master’s in public affairs at Princeton University.

Source: Essence

Joy Bryant

Bryan attended Yale after graduating from the small, private Westminster School, a boarding school in Connecticut.

Source: Essence

Sanaa Lathan

Lathan earned her bachelor’s at the University of California, Berkley, before a graduating from Yale with a master’s in drama.

Source: Essence

Hill Harper

Harper has three Ivy League degrees. He graduated magna cum laude from Brown University, graduated cum laude with a Doctor of Jurisprudence degree from Harvard Law School, and received a master’s in public administration from Harvard’s John F. Kennedy School of Government.

Source: Essence

Ryan Leslie

The recording artist earned a perfect score on his SATs, which landed him acceptance letters from Stanford, Harvard, and all four University of California campuses. He graduated from Harvard with a degree in government, focusing on macroeconomics and political science. He was selected as the Harvard Male Orator, one of four seniors to deliver orations to the graduating class.

Source: Essence

Rashida Jones

Jones initially planned to become a lawyer before studying philosophy and religion while at Harvard.

Source: Essence

Courtney B. Vance

The actor and Emmy winner earned his bachelor’s from Harvard University and later received his master’s at the Yale School of Drama.

Source: Essence

Angela Bassett

The Golden Globe-winning actress has a degree in African American studies from Yale. She also obtained her master’s from the Yale School of Drama.

Source: Essence

Tammi Terrell

During a brief hiatus from music, the late singer attended the University of Pennsylvania, where she studied pre-med.

Source: Essence

Aisha Tyler

Tyler graduated from Darmouth, where she was a member of The Tabard, a co-ed fraternity. She also co-founded and sang in the a cappella group, Dartmouth Rockapellas, an all-female group of singers spreading social awareness through music.

Source: Essence

Alicia Keys

The Grammy-winning singer graduated from the Professional Performing Arts School at 16 as valedictorian and later pursued an education at Columbia University. She left the school to focus on music after signing with Columbia Records.

Source: Essence

John Legend

The Grammy-winning singer was offered admission to Harvard, Georgetown, and Morehouse, but decided to attend the University of Pennslyvania, where he studied English with a focus on African American literature.

Source: Essence

Nikki Giovanni

The poet and activist attended graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania and Columbia University.

Source: Essence

Tyra Banks

Banks completed a nine-week program at Harvard Business School back in 2012, earning a certificate. She returned in 2014 for a non-degree certificate program while working on her beauty brand, Tyra Beauty.

Source: Essence

Tracee Ellis Ross

Ross earned a theatre degree from Brown.

Source: Essence

Yaya DaCosta

The runner up during America’s Next Top Model’s third season and star of Chicago Med, DaCosta has a degree in Africana Studies and International Relations from Brown University.

Source: Essence

Tatyana Ali

Ali earned a degree in African-American studies and government from Harvard.

Source: Essence

How to be a Parent:  An Illustrated Guide, by John Winchester.

1.  The first thing you need to acknowledge is that being a parent is scary.  It’s a big commitment, it’s full of trials and tribulations, and it will, in all likelihood, lead to your immediate death.

2.  And even if it doesn’t, it will most definitely lead to the immediate death of your significant other.  

But fear not!  With these helpful tricks of the trade, you’ll get “this parenting thing” down in no time at all!

3.  Feeling overwhelmed by your responsibilities as a parent?  Need a break?  Don’t worry!  There’ll always be a small child available to do it for you!

4.  And the best part is, once they get old enough, you won’t even have to worry about providing them with emotional support!  They’ll just rely completely on each other!  

(Of course, there’s always the chance of developing unhealthy codependency, but you can deal with that later.)

5.  In fact, there are few responsibilities children can’t carry on their tiny, impressionable shoulders.  Worried about home security?  Buy the little suckers a gun!

6.  Running low on cash?  Teach ‘em to hustle pool!

7.  But don’t feel too guilty if they start taking up illegal activities as a lifestyle – I’m sure that has nothing to do with you.

And if, by chance, they DO resort to stealing food for some shallow, self-centered reason like “feeding his little brother” or whatever, don’t hesitate to leave the little rugrats to rot.  Tough love all the way!

8.  Similarly, don’t feel bad if in spite of your best efforts, some of your kids still turn out to disappoint you, doing something stupid.  Like attending an ivy league college instead of hunting vampires like the rest of us.  What a goddamn loser.    

9.  Still find yourself getting tired of them?  Don’t worry!  It’s never too late for straight-up abandonment!  

10.  And if you don’t agree with this list of rules, that’s fine.  Go ahead.  Be a loving, kindhearted father.  It worked out just great for all the other parents on this show. 

Note:  For surrogate parents, this may not apply.

Studyblr Introduction

Hi, Studyblr community! I’m Simran, 14, a sophomore in high-school. So far it’s been almost a whole week of school (tomorrow’s Friday).

The classes I’ve chosen are:

⍆ Honors Chemistry

⍆ Honors English 2

⍆ Honors World History

⍆ D.I.M. (Digital Interactive Multimedia)

⍆ Geometry (regular)

⍆ IB Theatre (schedules are messed up so I’m in Theatre 2 for another week)

⍆ French 2

⍆ Physical Education (P.E./Gym)

I plan on attending an Ivy League College (I have my aims way too high lol); I want to become a Cardio Thoracic surgeon(!!); I’m very sarcastic and funny if I know you/shy if i don’t know you; I’m into Bollywood and K-Pop music; my handwriting sucks so don’t expect very pretty notes from me BUT(!) expect tons of helpful reblogs!

Most of the studyblrs that inspired me are:

@areistotle | @etudestial | @elkstudies | @arystudies | @studybuzz | @katsdesk | @thepurplestudies | @mildstudies | @moleskinestudies

If you’re a studyblr, please reblog this so I can follow back!
Turning down a top tier school is really hard. Here’s why you should do it. --------------- Mentioned in the video: ✏ The Ivy League (MIT is not technically ...

Not necessarily about Ivy leagues, but just in general, about the most competitive colleges.

I thought this was really helpful in dissipating the stigma of in-state universities/ not as selective schools. :)

anonymous asked:

I applied early decision to a college I really loved and I got rejected. It makes me so sad and I can't stop crying. I'm worried about what my friends will say to me and how I'll have to tell them I didn't get in. How do I stop feeling so sad and ashamed? Thank you

Let me employ a linguistic technique I’ve seen the children using to really get my point across.


Obligatory caveat: Yes, opportunities can be vastly different for people who attend Ivy League colleges versus community colleges, but that’s largely the result of a system of privilege, and not you.

This is not to say that your feelings are invalid, but rather colleges can be remarkably similar, and education is what you make of it. 

You have nothing to be ashamed of. College acceptances are alarmingly arbitrary; there are so many people applying that it’s hardly an objective statement about you or your personality or who you are as a person. 

Mourn – mourning for something you care about it good and important and not ridiculous – and then prepare yourself to have a wonderful old time at a different college. Major in genetics so you can help me with this godforsaken wasp project, please.

A Supervillain

For The Sake Of The Job

Sam x Reader

Anon Request: im not sure if you did one like this, but here goes! could you do a samxreader and they are datimg but sam has to flirt w a girl for a hunt and the reader suddenly gets self conscious and the girl sam flirts w starts to put down the reader? sam finds the reader crying and it leads to smut fluff or both.

Author: oheyitscryssi

Warnings: language, insult to reader, fluff.

A/N: I need to give a HUGE thank you to itstotallygayblog for helping through my writer’s block. I’m so lucky to have such an awesome person I can turn to when that happens. :) Thank you, my wonderful muse. xox


The diner was bustling with the after-work crowd. Safe under the clatter of plates and silverware, the calls of the linecooks and waitresses, and the dull roar of the patrons, the conversation taking place between the Winchester brothers and you was steering in a direction you didn’t like one bit. Dean had been outlining his plan for getting more information out of a potential witness. A witness who was a stuck up sorority bitch attending the Ivy League college where girls of her “caliber” had been dropping like flies in bizarre ways. Leads were running thin, and this girl was one of the last threads you guys had to grasp onto. You cut Dean off mid-sentence when his plan to a hard right into Hell No territory.

“You wanna run that last bit by me again?” you asked with a threatening tone.

“Come on, (Y/N/N), you saw how she looked at Sam. If this chick is gonna talk, its going to be to him.” Dean shot his brother - your boyfriend - a look before continuing. “I don’t see the big deal here. We’ve all had to do things we don’t like for the sake of a hunt.”

“I know that, but just the idea of that little tramp within ten yards of Sam makes my skin crawl,” you mumbled. You sat back against the booth with a huff and crossed your arms. Your knee began bouncing under the table in your irritation, making the coffee cups shake lightly on their saucers. Sam’s touch on your leg stilled it, and you cast him a glance from the corner of your eyes. “And you’re okay with this?”

“I mean, I’m not thrilled with it, (Y/N), but Dean’s right. We need to know what she knows, and if this is the only way to get it, then it’s what we have to do.” His hand gave your leg a squeeze. “You’re going have to trust me when I say it’ll all be an act.”

A small wave of guilt washed over you, and you looked at his face. Concern and honesty was etched into every line of it, from the furrow of his brow to the pressed line of his mouth. Of course you trusted him. You had since the day you were introduced to him at the Roadhouse by Ellen. It was her you didn’t like. Chastity. Her parents must of had one hell of a sense of humor, or really bad foresight. Breathing in slowly through your nose, you let out a puff of air and waved a hand in surrender.

“Fine, fine, whatever. But,” you leaned forward so your elbows were propped on the chipped tabletop and pointed at Dean, “I get to be the judge of if and when she takes it too far. I hate this plan to begin with, and there is only so much I can take. Deal?”

“Deal.” Dean reached out a hand and the two of you shook on it while Sam rolled his eyes, planting a quick kiss to your temple.

When night had fallen, you packed into the Impala and drove to the bar most frequented by the college crowd. It was a Saturday night, and the sidewalks were teeming with people. Your mood had only worsened as the hours ticked by, growing ever more hostile in preparation for the display you would be forced to witness. Sam had suggested you stay behind at the hotel, but you had refused in the most colorful language you could muster. The layer of guilt was still there, as well, reminding you that Sam didn’t like the plan either and that he really didn’t deserve how snappy you were acting towards him. As you stared out at the rowdy figures passing in a blur, you made a mental note to be nicer to him and to find a way to make up for your attitude once this was over. You reached forward until your arms are wrapped as best they could around Sam in the passenger seat, and you saw him smile in the rearview mirror as his hands closed around your forearms.

“It’s gonna be alright, ya know,” he said. His hazel eyes were locked with your own in the reflection, and Dean did his best to pretend he wasn’t there as he drove.

“I know,” you conceded. “You know me, though. Punch first, ask questions later. As long as she behaves, I’ll stay on the other side of the bar. I love you and I trust you. I just don’t do well with these kind of things is all.” Your voice trailed off, the unspoken explanation of past relationships gone sour hanging in the air. Sam knew all of it, so there was no need to elaborate. Perhaps that was also why he was taking the frosty nature of your mood today in stride. He knew you better than you knew yourself, and for that you were thankful. He angled his head back and you took your cue for a kiss. It was soft and chaste, but somehow just what you needed right then - not the hot burning of passion, but the soothing comfort of his affection. Feeling marginally better about the situation, you released your hold on him as Dean angled the car into a parking space. It was showtime.

“What?!” Dean yelled next to you. The teeth rattling volume of the house music made normal talking all but impossible.

“I said how can anyone ever enjoy themselves in here?! I can’t even hear myself think!” You had to practically scream into his ear, and even then it was hit or miss. Dean lifted one shoulder in a shrug, his eyes following the bartender as he tried in vain to get another beer.

“I think that’s kind of the point,” he replied. “People don’t come to places like this to think.”

Taking a look around, you had to agree. It was a miracle that you had found seats at the bar (Sam’s being directly across from your own on the other side). The dark, cavernous room was packed with bodies illuminated by strobe lights, lasers, and neon colored spotlights. The fog hung overhead could either be artificial or the result of the glowing red embers of cigarettes you spotted here and there. As you surveyed the girls around you, you felt more and more out of place. Your haltertop/leather jacket/knee high boots combo was a far cry from what seemed to be the normal dress code. Girls in short dresses and pumps were everywhere, earrings and bangles catching what little light there was as they sparkled. Fewer in number were those in skinny jeans so tight, they looked like they were painted on. There guys around as well, but to them you paid no mind.

Sam and you had been silently communicating across the bar, telegraphing your feelings on the clientele with eye rolls, smirks, head shakes, and raised eyebrows. Then, his expression shifted. His eyes were fixed on a point behind you, and you knew without turning that she had arrived. Every nerve and muscle in your body went on high alert. Dean must have picked up on the change in atmosphere as well. He turned just enough to risk a glance behind you. As Chastity passed, your hand clenched around the bottle of beer in your grasp. You were surprised it didn’t shatter under the pressure. Your eyes followed her twitching figure as she waved to a group of girls clustered around a table just to the right of the dance floor. For a moment, it seemed all your worrying would be for nothing. She had altered her course to join the rest of her sorority sisters, missing Sam all together. Your relief was short lived, though. You watched her eyes scan the crowd - more of a reflex than anything. Then, she did a double take. The only way you could think to describe her expression was that of a lioness that had spotted it’s prey.

“Here we go,” Dean said, and all you could manage was a turse nod of acknowledgement.

Your body subconsciously leaned forward when she reached Sam’s side and they started to converse. Every shred of your focus was trained on tuning out the booming bass and meaningless lyrics assaulting you from every side, but it was useless. If you couldn’t even hear Dean when he was less than a foot away from you, catching a single word of a sentence across the bar was impossible. Instead, you turned that same focus on studying her body language. This, thankfully, was painfully easy to read. The light touches on his arm, the way she batted those obviously fake eyelashes, even the way her body was turned away from him and giving the impression that she could walk away at any time if she wanted to. You let out a groan as your top lip curled in disgust. Dean nudged you, giving a “what gives?” gesture once you tore your eyes away from the nauseating scene.

“She’s good, but predictable,” you explain, elaborating when you saw Dean was following your train of thought. “Just watch. Next time he says something, she’s going to laugh again before flipping her hair and stepping closer.” As if waiting for your say-so, she did exactly as you had said. “It’s textbook. This girl is trying way too hard. If I didn’t want to rip her throat out, I might actually feel bad for her.”

“You seem to know quite a bit about it,” Dean quipped, taking a quick swig from his beer.

“Yeah, well, once upon a time I went to a high school that was overflowing filled with Chastity clones. Four years of observing the beast in its natural habit allows for a lot of learning.” Even though you were addressing Dean, your eyes never left Sam. A good thing, too, because if they had you would have missed Chastity leaning in close to his ear to whisper something that made him blush and his jaw clench. Both were big tells for when Sam was feeling uncomfortable, and all the signal you needed. Before Dean could even process what had happened, you were off your stool and winding your way through the crowd. Soon enough, you were standing right behind the tall blonde and privy to what you had only guessed at from a distance.

“I mean, my dorm is only like four blocks away. I was thinking you and me could-”

“Sorry,” you piped up, stepping around her until your body served as a barrier between the two. Your gaze fixed on Sam, giving him the best bedroom eyes you could muster. “I saw you from across the bar, and couldn’t help but notice that you look exactly like my next boyfriend.” His smile spread wide at your lame pick up line, but Chastity was less than enthused.

“Uh, excuse me, but the biker bar is on the other side of town,” she said, sarcasm dripping like venom from every word. “This club is for university students only. Not community college dropouts. So if you wouldn’t mind taking your trailer trash out of my sight? You’re interrupting our conversation.”

“Conversation? Oh, that’s what that was? And what class in prep school did you take to perfect that ‘skill’? Whoring and Boring 101?” Sam made a move to stand, no doubt wanting to end any real fight before it started, but a simple touch to his chest from you kept him seated. “Listen, Bimbo Barbie, why don’t you run along and find some other poor guy to share your herpes with. This one’s spoken for.”

“You expect me to believe you’re with him?” She moved back a half step to look you up and down. “Sweetie, guys like him don’t go for girls like you. Let me guess,” she mused as she motioned to each article of clothing you wore in turn, “jacket bought at a thrift store, top from Wal*Mart, jeans from probably the same, and shoes from Payless. Am I getting warm? So why don’t you run along back to whatever small town gutter you crawled out of before I forget to be nice.”

You gave a short laugh devoid of any humor, making like you were going to walk away… Before spinning right back, your fist coming up to connect with her jaw. In a flash, Sam was up and had his arms locked around you as Chastity’s hand covered the spot where your punch had landed. Your feet barely touched the ground as he propelled you through the crowd, people stepping aside to make a path to the exit. Your blood was boiling, but Sam’s hold on you was as strong as iron. You knew it would be useless to struggle against him, so you let yourself be taken outside. It wasn’t until the cool night air hit your face that he relaxed his grip. Dean must have seen the events unraveling because the Impala was already idling at the curb. You threw yourself into the back seat, slamming the door for good measure and refusing to look at either brother as Sam climbed in and Dean peeled out.

The ride back to the hotel had been filled with a stony silence. Sam had tried talking to you a few times, and even Dean had chimed in but they could have been talking to the dashboard for the all good it did them. You were still too pissed off and, though you hated to admit it, too hurt by what she had said to even consider answering either of them. You had stared at the back of the seat in front of you, amazed that your stare didn’t burn a hole in the leather. As soon as Dean had pulled into the lot and put the car in park, you had flung your door open and stalked off into the night. You didn’t know where you were walking to - you just needed to get away from them before the dam burst and all of your emotions spilled out at once.

After only a few minutes of walking, you came to a small gazebo with a sign reading “Smoking Permitted Here” screwed into one of the posts. The floor was littered with ashes and cigarette butts, smelled like an ashtray, and had garbage shoved under the benches that lined the circumference. It did have one thing going for it, though. It was completely deserted. You paced around, back and forth over the worn wooden floor, your fists clenching and unclenching as snippets of what Chastity had said flitted through your head.

Trailer trash.

Whatever small town gutter you crawled out of.

Guys like him don’t go for girls like you.

Tears began to flow freely down your cheeks, and you wiped at them furiously. Try as you might, you couldn’t stop the sob from escaping your chest. You flopped back onto one of the benches, pulling up one knee to wrap your arms around. Head bent, you let the levees run over and gave into everything you had been bottling up since leaving the club. That was how Sam found you a couple minutes later when he walked slowly over to where you were breaking down, sitting next to you and not saying a word. He was waiting for you to talk first. Once the worst had past, it left you feeling strangely hollow. You still wouldn’t look at him, instead becoming engrossed in peeling flakes of white paint off of the planks you were seated on.

“She’s right,” you said, your voice low and hoarse. “I’d thought those exact things so many times… Why you would be so interested in me of all people… Especially considering Jess and I are polar opposites. I just don’t get it.”

“There’s nothing to get,” he replied, “because she wasn’t right. At all. 'Guys like me’? She doesn’t even know me. She knows the act I had to put on for her. And she sure as hell doesn’t know you.”

“She seemed to.” You couldn’t keep your words from sounding defeated, didn’t have the energy to. Flecks of paint were starting the cover the floor between your feet, looking like an odd dusting of snow. “I’m not like them. Chastity and Jess and all those other girls that were there. College dropout was almost a compliment, for crying out loud. I’m lucky I graduated high school with all the stuff I missed. I can’t pull off miniskirts and heels - wouldn’t want to if I could. I hauled off on that girl because I didn’t like hearing the truth about myself from someone so… so…”

“So… what?”

“So much better than I am!” you cried, raking your hands through your hair. “I don’t mean personality, either. She has all the charm of a wasp’s nest. I mean better for you. A better fit. I’m not book smart like you, Sam. Not to the same degree, anyway. I swear too much, I make rash decisions, and no one will ever label me model material. I don’t get what you see in all of this mess that keeps you from leaving me on the side of some highway with a few bucks and a 'thanks for the memories’. I just don’t.”

You didn’t want to look at him, afraid that your worst fears would confirmed by the expression he wore. When his hands came up to cup your face and turn your head towards his, his eyes were burning. He actually looked a little mad, and - was it possible? - more than a little surprised.

“Is that how you think I see you? You think I compare you to Jess or any other girl?” You were about to reply how could you not when he continued. “I wouldn’t be with you if you were anything like Chastity. You’re the one I want to be with, now and forever. As to the whole Jess thing, no I don’t compare you to her. There’s a part of me that in some way will always belong to her, there’s no changing that. She was a big part of my past and at one point was going to be my whole future, but that changed. Then I found you. I found you, and it was like someone had turned on the lights after years of living in the dark. You are so different than any woman I have ever met, and that only makes me love you more. I don’t need you in tight clothes and fancy shoes to see your worth. I love how you are right now. I wouldn’t change a single thing.” His arm draped down around your back, his long fingers curling around your ribcage to pull you close next to him. “Never listen to what other people have to say about me and you. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

“Not even my snoring?” you teased, the knot in your chest relaxing as his words soothed your worries.

“Well…” he replied with a smirk. You shoved your shoulder into his side, rolling your eyes as you did so. You couldn’t help the small smile he was coaxing out of you, and you wiped away the lingering tears from your cheeks.

The smile faded a bit as you laid your hand on his thigh, letting your thumb brush back and forth over his jeans. The move wasn’t sexual. It was more than that - the need for simple contact with the man beside you for whom you would give your entire world for. Hell, who was your entire world. The silence between the two of you was no longer the tension-laced one that had existed in the Impala. The soft swish of traffic and chirping of a few birds was all that could be heard as you took a moment to reflect on the night and the last year in general. Sam was the best man you had ever been with, and much more than you thought you would ever have. In retrospect, you saw how stupid you had been to act the way you did. How brash and immature, letting your temper get the best of you like that.

“You weren’t being immature. You were being protective,” Sam said. You hadn’t realized you had voiced those last thoughts out loud. You looked up at him next to you - even sitting, your head barely cleared his shoulder. “Besides, part of what went down back there was my fault, too. You told Dean and I how uncomfortable you were with the plan. I should have listened, even if it would have sent Dean into a rant. If the roles were reversed, I probably would have reacted the same way as you.”

“I shouldn’t have hit her,” you murmured. “Now, I screwed up what could be the last lead we had.”

“So we won’t be getting any info from her. Big deal.” he said with a shrug. “We’ll find someone else who knows or maybe even saw something. It’s a big school. It’ll mean a little more footwork, but who cares? We’ll figure out what’s going on, fix it, and be out of town first thing the next morning.” He paused. “Want to know something I do know, though?”

“What’s that?” You saw a glint of humor in Sam’s eyes, and he squeezed your waist gently as he answered.

“That you have one hell of a left hook.” The dimples on his cheeks appeared as he grinned and you let your head fall back as you laughed. Leave it to him to find a way to cheer you up after such a disaster of a night. You stood up, holding out your hand for him. You were exhausted - the adrenaline and stress from the night had worn off, leaving you feeling drained.

Changed into the comfiest sweats you owned and one of Sam’s t-shirts, you tucked yourself against him as he pulled the covers over you. Your arm was draped across him, your head was resting on his chest, and you could hear the slow beating of his heart. His hand was rubbing your back while your own did the same to his torso. As sleep crept in, your motions slowed and you cuddled closer. You felt Sam press a kiss to the top of your head before he rested his cheek where his lips had just been. You were perfectly content in that moment with your boyfriend in that small motel room. The headlights of a car moving through the parking lot outside cast a glow on the fading wallpaper, and allowed just enough light for you to see your reflection in the mirror that hung on wall across from the bed: Sam’s arm curled around you, eyes closed and his soft breaths stirring your hair, and you nestled in his embrace with a blissful cast to your features. It was a sight you hoped you would be able to see again every night for a long, long time.

“I love you,” you whispered into the darkness once the car had found its way to the road. You gave in to the heaviness weighing on your eyelids, allowing yourself finally drift off.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back, and then you fell into a much needed deep, dreamless sleep. After all, no dream could be better than the reality that was finding his own way to slumber next to you.