NOAH IN 928:
FRESHMAN STROLL
March 27, 2025 | Atlanta, Georgia
Shortly after becoming Men of Morehouse, we trade in our newly-acquired maroon for other colors. Navy. Yellow. Purple. Red.
Our elders send us out to the concrete. Organize us into formations. Equip us with bandanas. Direct movements from afar. Fix our fingers into hand signs. And tell us, juvenile and eager, that our neighbor is our enemy.
For a moment—weeks or months even—we all get to play gangster. And we bask in it. Our dormitories: blocks to be protected. Our chants: rallying cries for boys from around the nation. Our bond: not to be messed with.
But then we grow. We move out of those houses into new ones far away. We substitute those colors for others. We learn different moves to the same songs. We yell chants more socially acceptable. We only bring up the association to our former life when it is convenient.
We have the luxury of only being hoodlum and crook for a season.
Those we mimic aren’t always so lucky.
