Looking at my canvas through a cloud of smoke, images became so vivid, so clear. My creative bubble became immensely enriched, never having to struggle with creating my next Picasso. Hittin’ that purple monster allowed me to block out my conscious mind and get closer to aesthetic principles of design. I felt close to the impressions of the Harlem Renaissance. I could visualize how Charlie Parker blew his horn so smoothly and if Miles Davis composed ‘Kind of Blue’ feeling the way I did. Only that would explain how marvelous their compositions were. Yeah, I found my sweet Browne sugar and I thirsted for its splendor. My third eye became my sensei and it tutored my creations effortlessly. Now all I needed were sweet potatoes to put wit’ it and my dessert would be complete
Finding those potatoes was easier than I thought. Monroe was just a part of the Atlanta University Center. AUC was made up of three other eligible institutions, Morehozer, Stillman and Louis, that made the crops of potatoes grander. Oh, did I mention that men were out numbered by women fourteen to one? As a matter of fact I eventually learned to understand what Mo’ B, a nickname for Monroe Browne, meant. Mo’ Beta, Mo’ Bitches was the universal slogan for men to celebrate their minority status. As rumors go, the infamous slogan was partially pioneered at the halls of Morehozer College, an all men institution. Supposedly, a scholarly brother who attended Morehozer deemed their wives’ attended Stillman College, girlfriends went to Louis University and their bitches went to Monroe Browne. Totally offensive and outlandish viewpoint, considering collectively all institutions created the AUC. They all took part in passing the baton of black collegiate unity. Also, many Morehozer men preferred the pleasures of their own classmates; another viscous rumor.
Emphatically, being a ho seemed part of the requirements of college life. Make a solid G.P.A., become branded with a club or organization and push down every laced bikini that Victoria’s Secret sold. Yes, I’m sure all three were printed in the handbook. No more was it based on acceptance of your sexuality, or even sex, but rather the relevance to your collegiate existence. Your social identity and integrity were based on who and how you pushed it down. And believe you me; this news becomes your transcripts to the inclusion of your peers and consideration into fraternities and sororities. Who cared about the stories of AIDS cases, herpes and Chlamydia that ran uncontrollably around our campuses? That wasn’t important in becoming the elite amongst your peers. Only the fear of pregnancy persuaded you to wrap it up; to push the glove for the love. See, it was okay if you caught something,