Marva Johnson’s bumpy first 30 days at FAMU

Thirty days into her tenure as FAMU’s 13th president, Marva Johnson has already faced a hailstorm of criticism over her opaque decision-making, eyebrow-raising personnel moves, and aggressive financial maneuvers — all while struggling to articulate a coherent vision for the university.

A rocky debut
Johnson, who assumed the role of “Rattler-in-Chief” on August 1, began her presidency under fire. A videotaped inaugural speech drew swift backlash online, with critics panning its lack of substance and poor timing. The university’s decision to block comments on social media posts promoting her leadership only fueled perceptions of censorship, while her early attempts to silence critics — including alumni and faculty — have largely backfired.

Controversial appointments
The president’s first major personnel decisions raised immediate questions about qualifications and priorities. Longtime trustee Kelvin Lawson, a businessman with no prior higher education experience, was abruptly elevated to executive vice president and chief operations officer — the university’s second-highest administrative post — with a nearly $400,000 salary, $50,000 more than his predecessor.

Equally puzzling to observers was the appointment of Michelle Robinson, a former Verizon executive, as vice president of government relations. Her $248,000 salary — $98,000 higher than her predecessor’s — drew ire from faculty already grappling with stagnant wages.

“These salaries suggest her priorities are wildly out of step with the realities of public higher education,” said one tenured sociology professor. “When adjuncts earn poverty wages, how do you justify nearly half a million dollars for an administrator (former trustee) with no academic credentials?”

Budgetary brinkmanship
Perhaps most contentious is Johnson’s decision to raid $800,000 from the university’s emergency “carry forward” fund to expand the famed Marching 100 band. While the move to grow the ensemble from 297 to 330 members earned cheers from some alumni, critics call it a transparent ploy to curry favor with influential constituencies.

“This isn’t leadership — it’s checkbook diplomacy,” said Marcus Hayes, a senior business administration major.  “Reserve funds exist for crises, not popularity contests.”

The president’s personal spending habits have also drawn scrutiny. Despite receiving a $14,000 annual car stipend, Johnson has opted instead to be chauffeured around campus (and the state) in a black Chevy Tahoe by the university police chief — a move some observers deride as “plantation cosplay” on social media.

Vision vacuum
Though Johnson touts a boilerplate 100-day plan focused on student success and faculty support, details remain scant beyond a listening tour with senior administrators and athletic coaches. Faculty leaders report being excluded from key discussions, while alumni complain of vague promises about “future innovations.”

“Four months passed between her selection and inauguration,” noted Ted Baker, a retired FAMU history professor. “That she arrived without even a skeletal strategic plan speaks volumes.”

Sexism or substance?
Supporters argue some criticism of Johnson crosses into sexism, particularly online attacks targeting Johnson’s appearance. Others noted, that is untrue. Interim president Tim Beard was routinely mocked by students for his penchant for wearing patent leather dress  shoes and odd colored rayon t-shirts with his suit jackets when he was interim president,” said Travis Johnson, referencing Johnson’s predecessor.

Yet even sympathetic observers struggle to defend her early missteps. “Sexism exists, but so does poor judgment,” said alumna Clara Jenkins. “Marva’s salary spending sprees and tone-deaf hires aren’t helping her case.”

Critics argue Johnson’s struggles extend beyond policy to a fundamental cultural disconnect. During move-in day, she drew baffled reactions by fixating on superficial details in a video address, gushing that the new residence hall’s polished floors “look better than the floors in my own home” — a remark some students and alumni dismissed as tone-deaf. 

President Johnson gushes over dorm's wood floors.

“Who brags about dorm flooring when families are worried about affordability and campus safety?” asked Jordan Ellis a parent from Jacksonville. The moment crystallized broader concerns about her ability to connect with working class students and parents and her priorities, with detractors accusing her of trivializing the lived realities of the FAMU community while leaning into performative trivialities.

A precarious path
As Johnson trudges forward, questions mount about her ability to unite a fractured campus. Her decision to burn through reserve funds while hiking administrative salaries risks alienating both austerity-minded legislators and underpaid staff.

For now, the president appears betrothed to a high-stakes strategy: betting that flashy gestures toward beloved programs can buy time to develop substance. But at a university still reeling from a bitter tumultuous presidential search, where the fourth best candidate was chosen, patience — like the carry forward fund — may prove finite.