This is an opinion column.

“Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust.”

– Rev. Martin Luther King

Ole George Wallace himself might as well leap from the grave and plop his carcass right back in front of the schoolhouse door.

Might as well.

Better yet, his corpse should stand at the entrances to the University of Alabama, Auburn University, the University of Alabama at Birmingham, the University of Alabama at Huntsville, Jacksonville State, the University of South Alabama, and other public entities and educational institutions in our state.

Might as well. Stand there with all of its stench.

Stench created by Gov. Kay Ivey and Alabama’s Republican lawmakers. Stench of a sign they’ve hung at the front door of our public colleges and entities. A sign reading: “White Only.”

Better yet: “Straight, white only.”

Might as well.

I must clarify: White, not whites. Because Alabama’s new unjust law, weakly couched as banning “divisive concepts,” does not bar people based on the color of their skin, their gender, or whom they may love. Yet, renders illegal any hue of thought or behavior not aligned with those who crafted and signed it.

So, let’s call it what it is – the straight, white-only law –since nary a Republican can define a “divisive concept” with a straight face or identify one espoused at a public college or university. (Republican state Sen. Will Barfoot of Pike Road, who sponsored the atrocity, says profs who knowingly “compel” students to believe a banned concept, whatever it is, could be punished, even fired.)

Call it what it is because of what it’s already done: It’s eliminated jobs; it’s gutted funding for student organizations; it’s erased spaces on college campuses that were safe, empowering havens for students hailing from groups historically marginalized (that’s putting it nicely) in our complicated state.

It’s infused respected educators with confusion and fear. It made them to take white-out to syllabi and tweak the titles of courses they’ve taught to generations of students, many of whom now live, work, and lead in our state.

It’s deflated students who want to live, learn, and maybe even work and lead here someday.

Students we’ve now told: If your journey is different from our straight, white journey; if you intend to elevate our state’s growing diversity, promote equitable opportunity for all, and ensure our classrooms are inclusive of all – welcoming to all – then, nah, we’re not down for all that.

We’re not supporting that “in accordance with the law.”

We won’t provide you with places on campus to convene, uplift, or share with each other. Places to breathe, to be accepted, to be seen. Places, if needed, to mentally heal.

Places, as reported by my AL.com colleague Rebecca Griesbach, once home to orgs such as UA’s Intercultural Diversity Center, Black Students Union, and Safe Zone Resource Center for LGBTQ students are empty or stripped of any indication y’all were ever there.

Places that “will not be relocated,” the university says, in accordance with the law.

We won’t fund your efforts to celebrate or empower each other. Indeed, we’ve erased student positions that sought to do such. Positions with stipends that just might have been the financial bridge allowing a student to remain in college.

Positions like the one held by UAB junior Sydney Testman. For years she worked as finance coordinator for the Social Justice Advocacy Council, helping other student orgs fund multicultural and social justice programs, voter registration drives, a professional development conference, and community service work.

All good stuff, right? Nah, we’re not down for that.

Back in July, Testman told Griesbach she was “scared” of returning in the fall “to a completely different campus.”

Indeed, she returned to a campus that had deleted her gig because the SJAC is now responsible for raising its own money. (How dare our public dollars be spent on a professional conference or registering young people to vote?!).

Testman had earned $300 each month for her work, money she (and no doubt myriad others) must now replace—thanks to our governor and Republican lawmakers.

Ivey’s signature also defunded orgs like UAB’s Esperanza, created to help retain the small (6%) but growing number of Hispanic students in a state with a small but growing Hispanic population; and UA’s decades-old Queer Student Association.

Senior Bryce Schottelkotte, who leads QSA, told Griesbach: “It sucks that this is something that we’re all having to deal with.”

Neph Irvin, a junior at the University of Alabama at Huntsville, told us it’s “almost terrifying … because nobody knows exactly how this is going to go.”

“From what I can tell,” added former QSA president Sean Atchison added, “our community has been eliminated entirely.”

Indeed, try to find anything about diversity, equity, or inclusion — bad, bad words that make Alabama Republicans’ heads explode — on those universities’ websites. The schools insist they’ll continue to support “access” and “engagement” (wink) programs, but you’ll need a digital scythe to whack through the white-washed jargon to find anything related to such.

Ivey stands steadfast in her stance, as steadfast as Wallace once stood:

“I refuse to allow a few bad actors on college campuses – or wherever else for that matter – to go under the acronym of DEI, using taxpayer funds, to push their liberal political movement counter to what the majority of Alabamians believe,” she repeatedly touts.

I don’t know what movie she and fellow Republicans watched, or what survey compelled them to flush so much that was positive for so many. The flickering images of narrow-mindedness and unfounded fear I see are fading into the dusty bin where much of our state’s most embarrassing history lies.

Most Alabamians, I truly believe, welcome all who seek to live, learn, and maybe even work and lead here.

No matter their journey.

So, know this: Snatching posters from walls, scrubbing job titles from office doors, kicking students from their spaces, shifting jobs, and defunding things that made students feel good about the higher-learning institution they chose may be daunting and deflating now, but they will not deter these young people.

Won’t stop them from finding a way. A way to uplift, empower, and celebrate each other. A way to honor their journey.

A way, in time, to rip down the hateful new sign at their schoolhouse door.

I was raised by good people who encouraged me to be a good man and surround myself with good people. If I did, they said, good things would happen. I am a member of the National Association of Black Journalists’ Hall of Fame, an Edward R. Murrow Award winner, and a Pulitzer Prize finalist for commentary. My column appears on AL.com, and digital editions of The Birmingham News, Huntsville Times, and Mobile Press-Register. Tell me what you think at [email protected], and follow me at twitter.com/roysj, or on Instagram @roysj.