Jubba Seyyid: Part of a Club

Jubba Seyyid — a national champion in men’s epee — graduated in 1992 from the University of Notre Dame with a degree in Communications and Film. Following graduation, Seyyid was hired by NBC News as the youngest field producer on the staff. He produced the Emmy nominated, controversial and critically acclaimed Ice Cube/FX series BLACK/WHITE, and received five NAACP Image Awards for the TV One acclaimed series, UNSUNG. Seyyid is currently a creative executive at ViacomCBS where he produces content for VH1 and MTV, is an active member of the Television Academy, and has been a dedicated mentor to many producers, executives, and college students.

When I got the call from Mike DeCicco, head coach of the Notre Dame fencing team, I was already committed to Penn State. As a matter of fact, I even had a dorm room, a roommate, and mailings with maps of the university grounds and other orientation information. 

I told Coach DeCicco that I was excited about Penn State and that I had a scholarship and new equipment and friends and lots of cute girls waiting for me in central Pennsylvania. (I met a few coeds on my campus visit who claimed they couldn’t wait for my return.) 

But Coach was undeterred by my alleged commitment to Penn State. 

The following minutes are fuzzy in my memory, but Coach DeCicco talked about the significance of the University of Notre Dame and how the education was unparalleled, which I already knew from my limited research. That’s where my knowledge of the school ended—if you don’t count my father’s proclamation that it was the “whitest university on the planet.” Notre Dame wasn’t even on my radar. I had never visited the campus and I knew only one student who was attending. But DeCicco’s promises of a scholarship after freshman year were alluring, and his silver tongue painted a picture of unparalleled mystique and tradition. 

Apparently, that was enough to seal the deal for a gullible seventeen-year-old from Newark who was sitting on two full scholarships: one from Penn State and the other from Rutgers. Suddenly, my eyes were seeing green—clovers and dollar bills—so one year of student loans didn’t seem like a mountain of debt, but rather chump change I could shake off with a Notre Dame education. 

Where do I sign? 

Although my father wasn’t particularly fond of Notre Dame, he was extremely proud I was attending. He was particularly delighted to tell anyone white he met that I was going to be a Notre Dame student. He was certain it would frustrate them, since Notre Dame is the one school every white parent wanted their kid to attend. 

That being said, I’m sure my dad was just a little frustrated that I had to pick one of the most expensive schools in the country. It shouldn’t have been a surprise though, as my decision was in line with everything I had done in life to that date. 

I had expensive tastes for a kid. 

I liked skiing and had dreams of racing cars. And fencing was my sport of choice, for crying out loud. The only more costly sport I could have chosen would have been polo. (But where would I have boarded my horse in Newark?) 

So, apparently we had beer money and I had champagne taste, and Notre Dame was about to be my first bottle of Perrier-Jouët. 

I remember the afternoon my father and I arrived on campus. We unpacked the car and filed into Dillon Hall for the first time. Two things stood out. One was a student moving an entire rack of Polo shirts into his dorm—I mean, like, thirty shirts. I had one, and this guy had a Ralph Lauren store full! 

The second thing was that my roommate was obviously going to be a slob because his dirty underwear, books, and other junk were on the floor. He also had heavy metal cassette tapes on the dresser, so I knew I was in for a culture clash. White metalhead meets black hip-hopper from Newark. It was unfortunate to think I needed a new roommate already. 

The Polo shirts were significant because for the first time I realized my socioeconomic standing in the community. Anyone who could afford that many shirts of one kind was clearly operating on a different financial tier than I. It didn’t make me feel subjugated or small, but for the first time, I was peeking behind the doors of people whose concerns were far different from mine. 

As a fencer, I had certainly rubbed elbows with the elite, but never had I shared a living space. It was thrilling! I was open to the grand experiment. This is what dorm life was all about. The slob, on the other hand, I was not looking forward to meeting. 

As I put my clothes in the closet and hung my Vanity 6 and Lisa Lisa posters, I blasted the stereo with “Strictly Business” by EPMD. And that’s when the metalhead stranger walked through the door: a six-foot, soccer-playing black kid from Houston. 

“Hey man. I’m Bobby,” he said. “What’s this you’re playing? Sounds incredible.” 

We’ve been best friends ever since. 

I reluctantly got a lesson in Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden, and with it a new appreciation for variety—and not just in music. It was a lesson that carried through all aspects of education and life and that I still proudly claim as a personality trait. Variety truly is the spice of life, and an ability to open yourself up to it is a characteristic to be cherished, as the best experiences in life happen when you’re open to the possibilities of the unknown. 

That’s the first lesson I ever learned at Notre Dame. 

The four years I spent on campus were filled with life-changing moments—some good and some bad. I remember my first football game. I remember people crying when the Notre Dame Fight Song and the Alma Mater were played. 

Crying? Really? At first I thought it cultish, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that students, alumni, and fans alike had a spiritual connection to the university. I was reluctant to buy in, since I never loved anything like I loved my family. 

But it became clear over a short time that these people saw the university as a member of their family, albeit a structure and a symbol of faith and endurance. 

It also became clear that I was part of a club, maybe even an enormous secret society. Secret because it’s nearly impossible to articulate. It has to be experienced. I never got that full scholarship after freshman year as promised, even though I won the national championship as a sophomore and the silver medal as a junior. 

The smooth-talking coach was apparently good at his job, God rest his soul. Not having a full scholarship meant I had to get a student job to make ends meet. I suffered through battles with the office of financial aid, not knowing if I was going to be allowed to attend class. Grueling work hours, study hours, and practice hours make for a challenging time as a student-athlete. I was bitter for a while, especially since a few of my white teammates had full scholarships but no championships under their belts. 

If I am honest, I must admit it is something that I have never truly come to terms with. If sports, in particular, are supposed to be a meritocracy, then I got the proverbial shaft. Clearly, inequality was afoot and the race card was played. But youth and inexperience were my Achilles heel, and now my experience is a life lesson. 

I can say without hesitation or doubt that I would not have achieved the professional successes that I have had in life were it not for my experiences and relationship with Notre Dame. For the first few years after graduation, during job interviews there were two things people wanted to discuss from my resume: my David Letterman internship and my experience at Notre Dame. 

Interviewers either loved or hated the Irish; there was no middle ground! But even the haters respected the Dome. I’ve been interviewed by several Trojans— USC grads—over the years and always got the stink eye. 

But I always got the job, too. 

I think that speaks volumes about Notre Dame culture, education, and the indelible impression the university has left on the American and international landscapes. 

When I think of Frazier L. Thompson and what his experience must have been like as Notre Dame’s first black student, my tribulations feel trivial. He was a pioneer, and we were able to reap the benefits of his existence on the planet and at the university. I am honored to share my story in tribute to him and those who followed, and I am humbled to know that someone will one day read this and smile, get a laugh, or relate to my experience. That makes me proud to be a member of this secret society we call the University of Notre Dame.