Dr. Boris ‘Bo’ Ricks suddenly passed on September 5 — shocking many of the people that knew him. I met Bo at USC when we were both first-year Ph.D. students. He was pursuing his doctoral degree in political science and I was pursuing my doctoral degree in public administration.
Bo played college football at Mississippi Valley State University and I played college football at Vanderbilt University. We both were proud members of Kappa Alpha Psi fraternity. We were the best of friends and kindred spirits.
Boris received his bachelor’s degree in criminal justice in 1989 from Mississippi Valley State where he played football with NFL Hall of Fame wide receiver, Jerry Rice. He received a master’s degree in public administration in 1991 from the University of Mississippi, a master’s degree in political science from USC in 1994, and he received his Ph.D. in political science from USC in 2003.
Dr. Ricks’ research, teaching, and advocacy highlighted the intersectionality of racial and ethnic politics, urban affairs, civic engagement, and political science education. The aim of his research, according to him, was to (1) To advance how the field of political science understands and critiques systemic and structural racism within U.S. political institutions, and (2) to advance diverse, inclusive, and equitable approaches in the field of political science, which sought to redress racial and economic injustices.
Dr. Ricks was a superb professor who cared deeply about enlightening and mentoring his students at Cal State Northridge. His passion for deconstructing the dynamics of Black politics in Los Angeles endured throughout his academic career.
He was a frequent commentator on local news shows about national politics. His research interests made him notable as a scholar, but this is not what made people who knew him feel a deep sense of loss when learning of his sudden passing. Bo was iconic in many ways.
Each day he came out of his house, he made a fashion statement. His colorful bowties defined him. I remember going to his graduate student apartment for the first time and him showing me his closet.
He had his crisply starched white shirts in one section, his baby blue button-down shirts in another section, and his yellow, pink, and purple shirts at the end of the rack. His many ties were on a tie rack. When he got tired of wearing a shirt, tie, or blazer, he would give them to me.
And, just like his clothes closet, his life was defined by his routines. He worked out religiously for 4-5 days per week for the 32 years that I knew him. He prepped his meals to make sure he consistently ate healthy.
He got his clothes dry cleaned, his hair cut, and his shoes shined biweekly like clockwork. He attended church every Sunday. He consistently attended meetings for the local graduate chapter for Kappa Alpha Psi fraternity. Ricks was ‘Mr. Kappa.’ No one loved our fraternity more than he did.
What made Bo different from any other person that I have met in Los Angeles in the three decades since I have lived here was his charisma, selflessness, and his sheer love for Black Los Angeles. He grew up on 42nd and Hoover Street in South Central Los Angeles and became one of the community’s greatest champions.
He was an example of the brilliance that resides in this community. There is no one that I know who was more fundamentally connected to the ‘Haves’ and ‘Have Nots’ in Black Los Angeles than Bo.
Quick with an encouraging word, a smile and a laugh, a thumbs-up, a hug or a pat on the back, Bo always made you feel good about today and better about tomorrow. His energy was radiant and his personality was simply magnetic.
Usually when we meet someone with his credentials, they are arrogant with a chip on their shoulder. His loss is so profound because rarely do we meet someone with his combination of radiance, grace, and humility. He lived a purpose-driven life that empowered and inspired all that knew him.
Renford Reese is a professor in the Political Science Department at Cal Poly Pomona and the founder/director of the Prison Education Project.
