Wiliam, as usual, you've written some shit close to my heart. In 1974, I had a full scholarhip to a PWI close to home in Charleston, SC, but I wanted to be where I felt free from my mother's stern hand. Talladega, AL, 55 miles away from Birmingham, was not the most welcoming place for an HBCU, yet there we were. While I take issue with your description of the education received (they were not ready for a Gullah girl who wanted to study French -- neither was I. Being the only person in my classes, what my professor wanted mattered not. I ran shit with my decision to show up or not -- to my detriment, I must admit ), I felt enveloped in, and a part of, the beauty of my Blackness. You've explicitly painted what that feels like in this piece -- and for that, I am grateful, Brother.