Briana Owens’ Spiked Spin isn’t just the new wave in wellness — it’s the new standard The hip-hop-heavy spin class has become a haven for women and men of color

Want to make health and wellness guru Briana Owens laugh? It’s simple. Ask her how many times she’s heard the phrase, “I’ll be damned if I go to SoulCycle while Briana’s got Spiked.” The line is a flip of Jay-Z’s I’ll be damned if I drink Belvedere while Puff got Ciroc, from 2017’s “Family Feud.”

Spiked Spin is Owens’ creation — a hip-hop inspired soul-cleansing physical sermon moonlighting as a high-intensity spin class. Her target: wellness issues in the black community. Owens’ is about “generational health.” It’s what wakes her up at 6:30 every morning. But in the nearly two years since Spiked got off the ground in New York City, the paranoia of the days, weeks, hours and minutes leading into her inaugural event stay with her.

“Treat everything like your first project” is advice Biggie Smalls offered with regard to staying humble — and it’s advice Owens, born in Queens, New York, follows daily. Before Spiked, many knew her as an interactive and detail-oriented part-time spin instructor at a private gym in Columbus Circle in Manhattan. That Owens embarked on her own path in came as no shock to friends and family who knew of her ambitions as a rider.

The then-marketing specialist at CBS reached out to every one of her New York e-mail contacts, telling them of her first event. That took place at the lower Manhattan gym 10 Hanover Square. These days she can laugh about her early days, but it was so funny two years ago before her first solo class under the brand she created. “I was just so anxious, so freaked out. [But the class] was actually amazing. Once I did the first one, I kinda was like, ‘OK, I think I’m on to something.’ ”

That “something” continues to evolve in the $3.7 trillion global wellness industry, according to figures from the Global Wellness Institute. Fitness and mind-body, which Owens specializes in, accounts for $532 billion. Yet it’s an industry where black women are traditionally underrepresented, though awareness of the problem has inspired a new wave of women of color to punch their way in via avenues such as fitness, spin classes, yoga and more. Spiked Spin still takes place at 10 Hanover Square — her home base until the brand’s flagship, permanent headquarters open, “very soon.” In the past year and a half, Owens said, Spiked has opened its New York doors to at least 1,600 women and men — many who look just like her. The numbers don’t include the pop-ups Spiked has held in Washington, D.C., Atlanta and Los Angeles.

Having already been featured in several outlets, the 2011 Hampton University alum is humbled by the continued growth of her class, her brand and, most importantly, her as a woman. She credits the omission she saw in the industry as inspiration, but she’s equally as complimentary to her longtime boyfriend Zach, whom she frequently features both on her personal and work Instagram pages. What’s next for Owens, Spiked Spin and the health and wellness industry? One thing’s for certain. Owens has something to say.

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Music is obviously an integral aspect of working out in general. But why is particularly important with Spiked?

Full transparency — the whole idea for Spiked came from music. Before I even thought of this as a business … I was teaching classes and having to download music that would never be on my iTunes. I was having to talk to co-workers or look up Top 40 and look up all these songs that I would never listen to in my personal life. I loved my classes and I loved the students who came to my classes, but I realized this is the kind of music they like and if I want us to have a good workout … that’s where I got my first idea saying I’m going to teach a class with hip-hop. Instead of playing Taylor Swift, I just wanna hear Future. I don’t even wanna do the Beyoncé vs. Jay Z. I wanna hear ’93 Ice Cube. I wanna go in! You can come to Spiked Spin and hear Eazy-E or you could hear Drake or Luther Vandross. It is always gonna be hip-hop, R&B and soul, because that’s who I am. I think of it like when you go to the club. If the music isn’t poppin’, you don’t wanna go. Before we go somewhere in New York or Atlanta, we always ask, ‘What’s the music?’ That’s how I approach the class. The vibe has to be right.

But how do you find time for balance in your life with CBS, Spiked, your personal and social lives? Especially in a city like New York.

It’s definitely a challenge! As Spiked is growing, I’m learning how to be more creative and fluid with my time. As much as people think I’m doing so much socially, there are a lot of things I don’t get to do socially because I’m usually, if I’m not at work, I’m teaching class. If I’m not teaching class, then I’m usually doing something relevant with Spiked.

Don’t even talk about what your body looks like. What is your heart doing?

I wake up early. That’s something I’ve had to commit myself to because, trust me, I love to sleep! But I don’t have that luxury as much now. I usually try to get my day started around 6:30 a.m. so I still have time to work out for myself. Then I go to work. Then I go teach. And after teaching, I focus on anything that I have to do for Spiked. I’m extremely organized. I think that’s something that has helped me for a long time.

The issue of women of color in the health and wellness space has become a necessary topic of conversation. But since you’ve really been immersed in this field, what have you seen as the biggest example of progress?

When it comes to those … who are not as educated on the field, or live in lower-income areas, they have the least amount of awareness. That’s where, for me, there’s trouble. And there’s trouble [where] people who are aware of wellness and enjoy it … they deserve to have an experience that keeps them in mind. They shouldn’t have to go to a class that only plays a certain type of music or only have a certain type of instructor. And then there’s also that set of demographics who no one even thinks about. No one’s talking to. They [can be] unaware of just the basic things, like moving for your heart. Don’t even talk about what your body looks like. What is your heart doing? Do you know you’re at a higher risk of diabetes, high blood pressure, kidney failure? All these things. Those are the conversations that are not even being had. Before we even get to body image, foundationally there’s a miseducation. Within our community, there are levels. And with those levels, look up health statistics. There’s a direct correlation with income and health.

There are definitely strides being made. There is some representation. Is there opportunity for more? Of course. One person can’t do it. How many more people can be inspired to be part of this conversation, and figure out how to reach the people? So we can have a larger effect on what I call #generationalhealth.

Courtesy of DJ Akisanya

What was the moment when you realized this passion of yours was becoming your new reality?

It’s something that’s been happening over time. Spiked Spin started as a ‘business’ because people paid for my service. I didn’t even realize the passion that I had for the conversation element of it. And for the importance of it beyond the class. It literally just started as a class. Like, here’s a cool workout that’s hip-hop. It’s fun. I am my No. 1 target audience. That’s where it started.

Since then I have met so many people, men and women, who have literally cried and said, ‘I needed this. Beyond the classes, I needed to feel like I’m important. I needed to feel like I can do more than whatever I thought I could do.’ That’s when I started to say this is bigger than the class. This is a conversation. This is empowerment. These are people who have not felt like they mattered in the space. My one-on-one conversations with people are where I really find the drive to keep going.

Pursuing your passion as a woman of color in this space … how important is it to have a partner [her boyfriend of seven years and college classmate Zach Thompson] by your side in this journey? It’s something that gets overlooked when we hear success stories.

It’s actually one of the best things. We’ve been together since I was 21 years old. I’ve been about 20 different people in these seven years. He’s seen the evolution to this point … little things that most people probably don’t pay attention to, but when I take a second to reflect, I realize how much of who I am is directly correlated with … things that he has seen in me before I even saw them in myself.

Him just being supportive like when I come home and say, ‘I wanna start this business.’ He doesn’t say is this a crazy phase. He’s like, ‘Aight, let’s do this.’ He’s always, always, always been supportive. It feels good because in this process there are people who support me wholeheartedly and there are people who don’t. It’s just nice to see he’s remained consistent all the way through my hardest days when I’m probably just yelling at him over something that has nothing to do with him. He gets me. It’s nice to have someone who isn’t a business partner. He has no skin in the game aside from wanting to see me win. But he’s still 100 percent in as if it were his baby, too.

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How much of a blessing has it been to really see the support of your community? The classes are inclusive to everybody, but what does it make you feel when you see a room full of carefree black women really getting something out of your classes?

In real time, it’s (pauses) literally the best feeling. That’s because I realize I’m not the only one getting something out of it. Whatever they’re getting from it, they consistently get it and they feel good about it. The room is filled with electric energy. Just so much love and support. It’s not only just women. It’s women and men. We end every single class with what we call ‘The Spiked Way.’ It’s a few moments of reflection, of support, of love, self-acceptance. You can tell those are the things the room is filled with the entire time. It’s an overwhelming feeling of excellence. It feels so, so great.

‘Atlanta’ recap: Season 2, Episode 3: ‘I love you, bro. I wouldn’t hurt you.‘ Every square inch of a strip club is a swindle, and they play Earn like Jimi Hendrix played guitar

Season 2, Episode 3 Money Bag Shawty

“This town run off stuntin’ on people.” — Paper Boi

Family, it’s time. We have to have an honest discussion about Earn and his inept (and at times hilarious) spending habits. Of Earn, Darius and Paper Boi, Earn is the easiest target. He believes no one respects him; the waiter who brought the guys free shots absolutely didn’t. To quote Cuffs, Earn’s “tired of being humble.” He wants to stunt on everyone who’s taken advantage of him and on everyone who has not taken him seriously in The A.

If you’ve ever visited or lived in or currently live in Atlanta, you know it’s not much different from any other big American city: The social ecosystem relies on flexing. The problem with Earn, as with so many others, is that he doesn’t have “it.” And by “it,” I mean money. And when he does have money, he fumbles it away. The most recent example of this occurred in the last episode.

And now here he is blowing through another check — this one from his and Paper Boi’s music hustle. To be fair, wanting to take Van out on a real date — remember that didn’t go so well during season one’s “Go For Broke” episode — is commendable, and he should’ve done that. Unfortunately, the South goes full South when a (white) man flashes a gun on them. Then Earn gets kicked out of the hookah spot because the owner says he used a counterfeit $100 bill. He didn’t, and the club owner was tripping, but at this point Earn is basically Charlie Brown and life is Lucy.

His last solace is a strip club — big business if you know even the slightest bit about The A. Onyx, to be exact. He buys out a section for the squad in hopes of redeeming the night. What could possibly go wrong in a strip club?

Watching Earn get hustled in every inch of the strip club is sad, frustrating and comical. Strip club prices make airport prices seem like a yard sale. And if you’re not careful, the DJ will have you blowing all $50 in singles you walked in with, because, pride.

Every square inch of the strip club is a swindle, and they play Earn like Jimi Hendrix played guitar. Van too: She feels bad for a stripper whom ostensibly no one was tipping (a game she’s been running for years, according to Paper Boi). “Ain’t like you supposed to be out here saving money,” Darius says. You can’t save money in a strip club, so you have to at least game the system while you’re there — which Earn doesn’t. The server tells Earn, “A bottle comes with the table” and then follows it up with, “Yeah, it comes with the table after you buy it.”

At this point Earn is basically Charlie Brown and life is Lucy.

As for Earn racing Michael Vick in Onyx’s parking lot, all I have to say is this: A man’s pride has an uncanny track record of getting the best of him. Earn’s no exception. But man, oh, man, that look of determination as he crouches down waiting for the signal to start? Incredible.


Van’s long-awaited return. It’s about time. After being absent from the first two episodes, Van reappears. Did Beyoncé and Donald Glover plan this weeks in advance? Van talking about her homegirl Christina acting brand-new on her and getting VIP Beyoncé tickets is the greatest example of timing and marketing in recent memory.

“White tears.” Atlanta does it again. While obviously not as intricate as “Florida Man” from episode one, the crying (white) mom is brilliant. For background, that scene, too, was based on an actual video that went viral of a (white) mother moved to tears reading rap lyrics she caught her daughter listening to.

Paper Boi and Darius’ “unique” studio session. Clark County is … interesting. He’s like a cocktail of Will Smith and Suge Knight. We never get the name of his engineer, but you had to figure the guy looked like Martin after fighting Tommy “The Hitman” Hearns in the world-famous “Brawl For It All.” Also: Clark saying he doesn’t smoke or drink, but yet saying that he does in his music — was I the only one who instantly thought of Future saying he doesn’t live the drug-drenched life his music portrays? I couldn’t be. I will say this, though. “Aye, man, I love you, bro. I wouldn’t hurt you. I would never put a hand on you. Just don’t f— up because I’m not the only one with hands in this world” is a golden quote. And did you peep Clark passive-aggressively trying to get Paper Boi to dump Earn as his manager? Something tells me we’ll revisit this again very, very soon.

‘The Quad’s’ Ruben Santiago-Hudson brings himself to character Cecil Diamond ‘What I bring to each role I play is the best of myself’

Georgia A&M University band director Cecil Diamond may be one of the most polarizing characters on BET’s nighttime drama The Quad.

Diamond, who has led the prestigious 200-member Marching Mountain Cats since 1990, is one of the best band directors Atlanta has seen in this fictional historically black college setting. And once band members get past the sometimes cold exterior of their fearless leader, they learn to love him — for the most part.

There have been some traumatic experiences on Diamond’s watch. Whether the brutal beating of a band member, a betrayal within his band family or personal health scares, Diamond proves that though he can be bruised, he will not be broken. Approaching season two was no different.

“His frailties are much more prevalent now,” said Ruben Santiago-Hudson, the actor who portrays Diamond. “He’s able to expose a lot of that to people who are close to him, and I always look for those opportunities in my characters because they’re clearly signs of his humanity — when you’re not only powerful but you’re also vulnerable. This season gives him opportunities many times, or at least a few significant times, to show the dichotomy of the character and his personality.”

Santiago-Hudson knows the brazen, tough-love, no-nonsense character is exactly what he needed to be. And becoming Cecil Diamond wasn’t the toughest part, since Santiago-Hudson considers the character to be merely an extension of himself.

“Cecil Diamond is one of those guys, I don’t know if you can kill him,” Santiago-Hudson said. “His reserve and his energy and his will is so incredibly powerful that he’s used to fighting. He’ll fight any foe, and he feels he can win.

“We are one. I think there’s times I can be as firm or hard as Cecil, and there are times I can be as soft as Cecil, so all I can give you as an audience member is the best of me. Whatever you see of me, I’m giving it to you real. I’m not a method actor per se, but I am a seasoned actor. And what I bring to each role I play is the best of myself.”

With a career spanning more than four decades, Santiago-Hudson has challenged himself and displayed his acting abilities in several roles. But as he matured in his career, he desired new challenges and different types of roles. Starring as a detective here or a police officer there were great roles to add to the résumé, but Santiago-Hudson tired of fruitless parts that relied on his “black authority” yet omitted his vulnerability, sensitivity and intellect.

Once he received the call from Felicia D. Henderson, the show’s co-creator, Santiago-Hudson knew that this was one role he would not turn down.

“When I read the script and had a discussion with [Henderson], it was just where I wanted to be,” Santiago-Hudson said. “I didn’t want to go to L.A. I wanted to be closer to home, and I wanted to do something other than being a police officer. … I could show a lot more of who we are as a people.”

Santiago-Hudson knew he could be what the role required of him. He could be cold and calculating or caring and emotional. As far as Diamond’s musical career, Santiago-Hudson also had that covered. He is a self-taught harmonica player who also worked as a disc jockey for eight years. Music has always been a means of expression and integral part of his life, but transforming himself into a band director would present some unique challenges.

Santiago-Hudson did not attend a historically black college or university (HBCU), but he said he lived vicariously through his children, who received their college educations at Hampton University, Morris Brown College and Morehouse College. Immersing himself in the HBCU band culture to transform into Diamond was a learning experience for Santiago-Hudson.

“I’m a very studious actor,” Santiago-Hudson said. “I love dramaturgy. I love research. I had some wonderful people around that were provided to me to learn what it meant, what the tradition was, what the status was and what it really meant to be a band director. We brought band directors from high schools in Atlanta and we brought band directors from universities in the South. They all had a different take and something else to offer me, and everybody offered me gems, jewels, that I continue to build so that I can have a whole pocketful of gems and jewels.”

Once the basics were down, Santiago-Hudson made Diamond’s style his own. From facial expressions to commands, the actor took a small piece of everything he’d learned to form a complete character.

“If you watch RonReaco Lee [who plays the role of rival band director Clive Taylor] conduct and you watch me conduct, it’s two different styles,” Santiago-Hudson said. “The expressions on my face, the way I command, the way I look over my shoulder. Watch how I walk through my band and the respect they have for me and how a little look or a raised eyebrow says a lot to them. That marching band culture at black colleges, you can’t get more prestigious.”

Besides studying, learning and researching more about HBCU culture, Santiago-Hudson was even more impressed by the environment, and new family, around him. As long as Cecil Diamond has a place at GAMU, Santiago-Hudson will continue to give his all.

“The community of actors we’ve gathered, the collaborative process with our writers, directors and showrunner, Felicia D. Henderson, the sense of community [is my favorite part of being on the show],” Santiago-Hudson said. “And something that brings me tremendous joy is to look beyond the camera and see people of color pulling cables, adjusting lights, focusing cameras, catering, wardrobe. We have, I would say, 85 percent on the other side of the camera who look like me. I have not seen that, and it really brings me joy to tears. That’s how much that means to me.”

‘Atlanta’ recap: Season 2, Episode 2: ‘I got them vampire feet’ And please don’t test the ‘no chase’ policy at home

Season 2, episode 2 | “Sportin’ Waves” | March 8

While last week’s premiere benefited from Katt Williams’ cameo as Earn’s Uncle Willie, this week’s installment, “Sportin’ Waves,” is a return to multiple storylines. Yet, like the previous episode, this week’s begins with a jack move and Paper Boi is the victim. Not only do things kick off with him being held at gunpoint by his plug of 10 years — just when you think you know somebody, I tell you — but the crime is committed by the most polite, respectful and contrite robber in the history of robbers (who doesn’t how the child safety lock works on his car door). He didn’t want to hold such a veteran client at gunpoint, but as we know, it’s robbing season. And everybody has to eat.

Let’s run down 10 highlights from this week’s episode. …

  • The marketing firm. Earn said it best. “This place, um, has a vibe.” Earn’s still assuming the role of Paper Boi’s manager, because what other gig does he have lined up? And it’s hard to fault him for wanting to increase his cousin’s visibility as a rapper. They just happened to choose quite possibly the most socially awkward marketing agency in Atlanta. From Pete Savage calling himself “35 Savage” to the unidentified artist dancing on the table while people from the agency stared at him a la Bobby Shmurda to the live performance that never was from Paper Boi, the entire experience was a train wreck. Earn and Paper Boi were attempting to market their music via a collection of people who have no clue about the inspiration, the direction or impact of the music. Consider it a not-so-subtle jab to the nature of American economics and how hip-hop is constantly manipulated for financial gain while being stripped of the cultural circumstances under which it was created.
“Get some black people up in here! That’s ya muhf— problem, boy!”
  • Alone in a crowded space. That’s what happened to Earn. He’s looking through the glass as Al begrudgingly goes through with recording playlist drops. As he looks, the entire office (all white people) stare at him. When he turns to look at them, they return to work — making an awkward moment that much more awkward. Nearly every black person can attest to being the lone (or one of very few) people of color at a work event or get-together and having it be explicitly clear you’re the “different” one. Also familiar is when Earn is the odd man out in a conversation between the aforementioned Savage, the rapper Clark County and his manager: Clark County’s code switch game is nearing Kanye levels as the tone and demeanor do a complete 180 on call. More on this in future episodes.
  • Darius is a man of his word. One of the coolest moments of the show is when Darius — the show’s most reliable character, if we’re keeping it G — gives Earn $4,000 as payment for breeding the King Corso dog they sold at the end of last season’s episode four. “People love dogs!” exclaims Earn — immediately bringing back memories of yesterseason when Darius was kicked out of a gun range for using a dog sketch for target practice. The synergy between seasons was dope, and didn’t overpower.
  • Earn just doesn’t learn. Admit it, though — you knew the entire blessing was going straight to hell in a handbasket. Re-enter Tracy, Paper Boi’s homie whom we met at the end of episode one. Speaking of …
  • Tracy is a keeper. Maybe it’s the authenticity, how much he sounds like a dude straight out of Atlanta. Or maybe it’s that authenticity combined with the fact that Tracy is already one of the funnier characters on the show. I legit spit out my water when he said he needed a pedicure because he had “vampire feet.” And just like many a black man, he loves his waves, calling himself the “Prince of Tides” but not allowing anyone to see them until he’s ready for a job interview he’s been preparing for. More on that in a bit …
  • A good plug is hard to find. Because Paper Boi can’t go back to his original plug for aforementioned reasons, the search is on for a new connect. Paper Boi and Darius visit two connects, and both appear solid until both completely ruin their chances — by being thirsty. The first can’t help but to not-so-secretly snap a picture of Paper Boi perusing the product and posting it to Instagram. The second, a hippy-looking white guy, gets Paper Boi’s phone number, only to try and promote his girlfriend’s music (she has an acoustic cover of his local hit “Paper Boy”). As we all come to find out at some point, Paper Boi is seeing how some people only want to use him for who he is, and how his presence can benefit them.
  • The “No Chase” policy. Tracy says he can double Earn’s $4,000 with a foolproof gift card scam. Earn should’ve kept his money, but here we are at the mall. Tracy, still prepping for his job interview, is telling Earn about the shoe store they’re in, and its “no chase” policy. This prompts the hilarious exchange:

“Those gift cards. They work in here?” — Earn
“Ionno. I’m just gon’ take this s—.” — Tracy

Tracy runs from the store with shoes he never had a single intention of paying for, and they didn’t chase him. The alarm didn’t even set off. Tracy’s a legend already.

  • Paper Boi’s missed bag. Earn takes advantage of the gift card scam but ends up having to take the bus back because Tracy left him at the mall. At the house he promptly hits the blunt offered to him by Paper Boi. It’s here they see the aforementioned Clark County rapping (and Milly Rocking!) on a YooHoo commercial claiming to “drink YooHoo like it’s dirty Sprite.” He’s getting money, but at what cost? Paper Boi refuses to sell himself out for a check, but at what cost? “I hate this s—,” he says. The game is the game. And it’s not always pretty.
  • Tracy’s Half Baked moment. We finally get to see those waves Tracy has been hyping up all episode as he sits in his job interview at a marketing company. Does he have waves? Sure, but he looks to have the 2018 version of the conk Malcolm X talked about in his autobiography. Needless to say, to the surprise of no one, Tracy doesn’t get the job because the gentleman who interviews him (plot twist, an older white male) says they don’t have any openings at the moment. Which, of course, makes total sense — to conduct interviews for a position that isn’t even open (to someone who looks like Tracy, with Tracy’s background). This prompts Tracy to launch into one of the greatest exiting rants since Scarface’s legendary scene in 1998’s Half Baked. “Y’all racist as hell up in here, man! F— you want from me, man! Get some black people up in here! That’s ya muhf— problem, boy! I don’t wanna work for you anyway! Amerik-k-k-a, n—!” Never have I ever heard a more fitting final quote to a 30-minute weekly television event.
  • One final question. Uhhhhh, where is Van?

‘The Quad’ recap: GAMU students get a peek at what a merger really means Doing what’s right isn’t always easy, and Eva Fletcher is learning that the hard way

Season two, episode 6 — The Quad: March

If we thought rumors of a Georgia A&M University merger had finally been settled, this week’s episode is here to remind us just how angry students are on both sides.

Eva Fletcher has been doing everything in her power to keep GAMU’s legacy alive, but during breakfast with her daughter Sydney, Fletcher told her that she would be speaking to the president of Atlanta State University later in the day. In the background, Fletcher’s anxiety medication remains visible, which causes Sydney to worry. Fletcher convinces her daughter that better days are ahead for the school and her mental health. At least, that’s what she hopes.

Back on campus, students already had planned a protest, but with the new information from Sydney, a busload of students packed up their protest and brought it to ASU, where the two presidents were in the middle of discussing a plan that would work best for everyone involved. What they hadn’t expected was a counterprotest from a small group of alt-right activists, which turned violent once GAMU students were told to go back to where they belong. Punches were thrown, and Madison Kelly was struck with a glass bottle. Both presidents were alerted to the chaotic scene outside. The only way GAMU students would return to campus was if Fletcher rode the bus with them, a suggestion from Cedric Hobbs.

Although Sydney Fletcher’s relationship with her mother and her best friend, Kelly, had been warped, the trying times have brought them all closer together. Later in the episode, Sydney explains to her mother that GAMU’s support system, especially after her rape, has brought a new perspective. Sydney’s words of encouragement and support for her university may even serve as motivation for Fletcher to keep GAMU independent.

Back on campus, the newly pledged men of Sigma Mu Kappa are in the dorms celebrating. An elated Bryce Richardson can hardly contain himself, while his new line brother and roommate Hobbs still can’t quite understand the hype. This alone causes him to be an outcast among his other frat brothers, especially since they believe special privileges allowed him to join the line so late.

In reality, Hobbs is being forced into this brotherhood as a favor to Richardson. Although being a Sigma Mu Kappa man is Richardson’s family legacy, Hobbs has gained respect from some of his prophytes because of his leadership skills, which isn’t sitting too well with Richardson.

In a separate plotline, BoJohn Folsom is still recovering after being jumped by the friends of the high school football recruit aiming to take Folsom’s spot. His concerned teammate and roommate, Junior, has been trying, but a frustrated Folsom has been ornery. The real problem might stem from Folsom’s lack of communication with their third Musketeer, Tiesha, who has been ignoring him since their argument over her flirting with another guy. The two still haven’t spoken since the party, and Junior has been trying to play peacemaker until a later conversation revealed that Folsom and Tiesha had been more than friends. Junior, still processing the information, isn’t sure whether he’s more shocked or hurt that his two best friends hadn’t been truthful with him. With Folsom and Tiesha’s “situationship,” it’s apparent that Tiesha might not have wanted to commit to Folsom because he is white. Instead of talking things out, Tiesha leaves Folsom, adding another layer of complexity to their confusing relationship.

Folsom and Tiesha aren’t the only ones with relationship problems.

Somehow, Hobbs continues to land himself in hot water with every woman he meets. Hobbs, who is still dealing with the death of his first girlfriend and the fresh breakup from his last, thought it’d be a good idea to sleep with his best friend, Ebonie Weaver, before flirting with another one of his peers. Although Weaver wasn’t initially truthful about her feelings for Hobbs, Noni Williams made it clear to Hobbs that their hookup meant more to Weaver than just sex. Hobbs goes to Weaver’s room to try to clear things up and finds that Williams was telling the truth. Weaver does have deeper feelings for her best friend than she’d let on. Before Hobbs could show her that he shares the same feelings, he was interrupted by his roommate.

The two have been summoned by their fraternity and end up being punished for Hobbs breaking code earlier in the day. Hobbs, Richardson and their line brothers end up blindfolded and wearing nothing but their boxers in the middle of the woods. The show ends with the young men trying to find their way out of the woods after their prophytes leave them stranded — something Hobbs continues to struggle with and may end up speaking out against in the future.

In Big Boi’s new role on ‘The Quad,’ art imitates life He’s also in the remake of ‘Super Fly,’ which hits theaters in June

BET’s The Quad is off to a star-studded start in season two. Besides ’90s black sitcom favorites — including RonReaco Lee, Sheryl Lee Ralph and Terrence “T.C.” Carson — the show has kept it local by getting Georgia’s very own Antwan “Big Boi” Patton.

Big Boi plays the role of Lenny Jenkins, the father of a standout high school football recruit who he hopes will become a star at Georgia A&M University. Accepting the role was a no-brainer: In real life, Patton is the father of Cross Patton, a high school football recruit whose accomplishments Big Boi frequently shares with his followers on Twitter. Getting into the role of Jenkins was an easy transition — except for the obnoxious tendencies of the character.

“I’m not really an obnoxious guy,” Big Boi said. “I’m really kind of laid-back and cool, but I brought him out though. [This role] was kind of like a period-piece version of my life. This right here is current-day and what I do all the time. I’ve been going to my kids’ football games since they were like 5 years old, and been raising them up and things like that. It wasn’t a far stretch.

“I think I add a lot of me into it. I grew up around a lot of different characters,” Big Boi said. “I was the first grandchild, so I had a lot of uncles and aunties and neighbors and older people who babysat me. It was people from the ‘hood who did a little bit of everything, so I kind of saw a lot and been in different rooms that maybe a child shouldn’t have been. I kind of draw from those experiences.”

The Atlanta rapper believes becoming an actor while balancing his music career was a natural progression. As members of OutKast, Big Boi and André 3000 would co-direct their music videos. In 2006, the two starred in the film Idlewild, a period piece set in the South during Prohibition. Since then, Big Boi has continued to make music while adding film credits to his résumé.

“The reason I’ve been doing more movies is because music is my first love, my passion, and what I did was I got enough time to where I can stack enough music in the vault to where I can go off and do films and still keep my groove,” Big Boi said.

In June, Big Boi is hitting the big screen in the remake of the 1972 cult classic Super Fly. “It’s been pretty wild, but it’s going to be a dope movie,” Big Boi said of his time on set. “Director X did his thing, and I can’t wait to see it.”

Although most of his roles have been fun, outspoken characters, Big Boi hopes to explore his dark side in the future.

“[I’d like to play] a serial killer, like in American Psycho — like Christian Bale, but the black version. Something like a dark horror film, but with a comedic edge to it. Not like Jeffrey-Dahmer-eating-people killer, but like accidentally kill somebody and then try to cover it up, then kill somebody again. Something like that. I like the dark stuff. I like the bad guys.”

As an actor, rapper and businessman, Big Boi wants to achieve longevity in multiple fields. The key to his success?

“First and foremost, you’ve got to put God first, and you just have to have the drive and dedication,” Big Boi said. “If you want some, you’ve got to go after it. You have to keep evolving as an artist when it comes to music.

“Our main motto is being an outcast is always being outside of what the norm or what the trend is. You’ve always got to reinvent yourself and re-create new ways to make music. That’s where I get the excitement from. I have fun making music, and as long as people want to hear it, I’m going to keep giving it to them.”

The Quad airs Tuesdays at 10 p.m. ET on BET.

 ‘Atlanta’ recap: season 2, episode 1: The family scars that bind Beware of ‘Florida Man’ — it’s not as crazy as it sounds


Season 2, episode 1 | “Alligator Man” | March 1

“Robbin’ season. Christmas approaches and everybody gotta eat.”

— Darius

It didn’t take long for Atlanta’s season two to live up to its theme: robbin’ season. Off the rip, you just knew the two young boys were ’bout to hit a lick. The way they were talking in the apartment, from the special order they gave at the drive-thru. But really, the most dead giveaway is Tay-K’s “The Race” lyrics, Pop a n—– then I go out my way, being played as they completed their order.

Darius is right, though. Everybody gotta eat. Hence the guy in the fast-food spot running a holiday hustle and the two young men sticking up the place. The distraught young lady in the back seat is presumably a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only unbelievable thing from the opening scene is that no one got hit with a bullet (that we know of).

Elsewhere, even Earn gets robbed: An employee at the storage unit he sleeps in — remember he’s homeless — tells him he has to vacate and then proceeds to take a handful of Earn’s personal belongings. That isn’t much of a shock to Earn. Sleeping in a storage unit doesn’t lend itself to a long shelf life. But what is a shock is seeing that his cousin Paper Boi (who is on house arrest) and Darius aren’t on speaking terms. Never mind that he has the most awkward exchange of the entire episode when he calls Paper Boi’s girl “Regina” when her name is Tara. Earn is more concerned about why the two friends “don’t wanna talk” than about why they’re, in fact, not talking.

“What I’m scared of is being you. Someone everybody knew was smart. But ended up being a knew-it-all, f— up that just let s— happen to him.”

Nevertheless, leave it to Earn and Darius to produce a classic car scene. Darius is taking Earn to meet with his parole officer; this stems from when he was caught with marijuana after Paper Boi shot the guy at the end of last season’s first episode (“The Big Bang”) and him spending all of episode two in jail (“Streets On Lock”). Their first classic conversation occurred in last season’s “The Streisand Effect” when Darius told Earn how AIDS was invented to keep Wilt Chamberlain from breaking the all-time sex record. And that black people didn’t know who (the white) Steve McQueen is. This time around, however, Darius ignores Earn, saying his parents are going to visit his dying uncle in Florida. Instead, the exchange about “Florida Man” being the “alt-right Johnny Appleseed” who shoots unarmed black teens, kills flamingos, eats people’s faces and beats up people in hospitals is an instant classic exchange in a series with plenty. “Florida Man” is, in Darius’ world, a ploy by the government to keep black people from moving to Florida and/or registering to vote in the state. But “Florida Man” is a representation of outrageous yet very real stories that have arisen out of the Sunshine State this decade. It’s such an Atlanta conversation that you’re forced to say, “Well, you know, he might be on to something.”

The episode takes a dark turn, but at the same time becomes more illuminating, when Earn promises Alfred he’s going to visit Willie, played by Katt Williams. Judging from context clues, Willie is Paper Boi’s dad and Earn’s uncle. His girlfriend/live-in-rival, Yvonne, claims to have been kidnapped by Willie and is actually locked in a bedroom. Willie claims Yvonne stole $50 from him while he was asleep. She claims she didn’t, saying that Willie must have drunk it (he’s later seen sniffing coke in the kitchen). It’s also here we learn why the episode is titled “Alligator Man” — because Willie keeps a pet alligator, Coach, in his house. Yes, you read that right.

The cops eventually arrive. Both Yvonne and Willie try to downplay the situation, although Willie (as we can already tell) takes it too far. Earn’s attempts to make peace are unsuccessful. Willie says Earn’ll soon learn that “family is business.” Earn’s clap back is the most sobering revelation of the entire episode. But Earn and his uncle’s eventual heart-to-heart reveals two men struggling to get a grasp on life. Pride weighs down both men. “What I’m scared of is being you,” Earn says. “Someone everybody knew was smart. But ended up being a know-it-all, f— up that just let s— happen to him.”

A subplot to this episode is the reality of the unknown. We don’t know (yet) why Darius and Paper Boi aren’t talking. We know Paper Boi’s mother died — but we don’t know how Willie may have played a role in that. And we don’t fully know why Earn is holding an emotional grudge toward his Uncle Willie with regard to his mother. It’s part of the larger arc of this season. We know these characters. We know their hopes and dreams. We know their fears. We even know Darius’ deep-rooted conspiracy theories. But we still don’t know their entire story.

Maybe those answers will arise over the course of season two, but Willie gives Earn a gold-plated handgun (is it Chekhov’s?) that looks straight out of Nintendo 64’s Goldeneye and a piece of advice: “If you don’t wanna end up like me, get rid of that ‘chip on your shoulder’ s—. It’s not worth the time.” It’s an OG comedian/actor who had the world in his palms, but self-inflicted mistakes ruptured the potential he had in his hands — giving a current comedian/actor with nothing but green pastures ahead of him game he needs to survive not just the game but his own pitfalls. Earn also takes a framed picture of his Uncle Willie and mother before he leaves. Williams absolutely shines in this episode, adding to a very impressive 2018 for the controversial comedian that also includes a standout comedy special in Great America.

The episode ends on three separate notes: hilarious, comforting and similar. Hilarious because eventually Coach the Alligator makes his appearance. This allows Uncle Willie to peel out the back door with the fastest speed known to man. Not Usain-Bolt-in-the-Olympics speed, but run-from-the-police speed. Comforting because Paper Boi and Darius move toward peace. And similar because Earn leaves Paper Boi’s house still homeless. It’s darker in Atlanta, just as many predicted.

Morehouse allowed this black man to step outside the stereotypes I almost didn’t go here, but four years later, I’m glad I did

I was not supposed to attend Morehouse.

Left to my own devices, I would’ve been at “The U” — enjoying Miami’s sunshine and great football while trying to forget the $60,000 worth of debt I would have accumulated during the past four years. It would’ve undoubtedly been an amazing college experience, yet I’d be missing something.

Having graduated from a predominantly white high school, I wanted to go where I’d feel comfortable. Despite having spent the last two years of high school gradually withdrawing from my white peers, I was not open to immersing myself in a primarily black environment. “Just visit and see how you feel then,” I can remember my mother saying.

After visiting Morehouse in the spring of 2014, my position on attending a historically black college or university (HBCU) remained unchanged. I was intrigued by the Atlanta University Center’s 22-to-1 girl-to-guy ratio, but there was too much to overlook: The campus looked antiquated, the school’s history did not pique my interest and the amenities I had grown accustomed to were nonexistent.

Four years later, however, I can honestly say heading to South Florida would’ve been the worst decision of my life.

Morehouse allowed me to be myself without the fear of conforming to the stereotypical boxes often ascribed to black men. In high school, I was either the athletic black kid or the smart black kid; exhibiting any signs of both were grounds for social suicide.

From the moment I stepped onto Morehouse’s campus, I cut ties with these social assumptions and saw the multifaceted black male experience firsthand. My classmates and I have different backgrounds, hairstyles, career goals and bench press personal records. But by making the choice to attend Morehouse, we share one thing: a will to succeed.

This ambition is the undercurrent that drives Morehouse College. It has fostered the brotherhood that has made the institution famous. It’s what led the student body to advocate for school improvements in 2016 and why Morehouse has continued to produce more black men who go on to earn doctoral degrees in an array of fields than any other undergraduate institution. Graduates and patrons of the college call it the Morehouse Mystique.

Additionally, that brotherhood brings a level of competitiveness that breeds excellence. In a space that produced great men such as Martin Luther King Jr., Spike Lee and Bakari Sellers, I’m not just encouraged to be true to myself — I’m pushed to be exceptional.

If that weren’t enough, you only have to stand outside and ask those passing by what they did over the summer, from working with Goldman Sachs to internships with NBC Universal to interning with the city of Atlanta.

Still, like most HBCUs, Morehouse is not free from imperfections. But what Mother Morehouse lacked in resources she compensated for by providing a wealth of opportunities. The school attracts recruiters who are looking to employ and professionally develop black males. In terms of extracurricular activities, events such as early blockbuster film screenings — I saw both Get Out and Black Panther before the masses — celebrity artist pop-ups and free Atlanta Hawks tickets are not out of the norm.

“Hungry dogs run faster,” the oft-quoted line from the Philadelphia Eagles’ parade, has typified my experience at Morehouse. From the spotty Wi-Fi to the century-old dorm rooms to the extensive lines outside of the financial aid office, it has all played a role in preparing me for the real world. When the real world doesn’t provide an easy path, Morehouse has given me a road map in the form of a stellar network, a competitive degree and an unadulterated sense of self.

This is all helpful in a world where black males are incarcerated at a much higher rate than our white peers and are three times more likely to die at the hands of a police officer.

In retrospect, maybe it is these statistics that fuel the determination of the men of Morehouse, or that they are one false move away from being one of them. At Morehouse, however, you’re free from these notions being ascribed to you. Every teacher, student and administrator is determined to push you past the limits society has placed on you.

For this very reason, I am happy I chose Morehouse. The past four years have been the greatest of my life. If I could do it all over again, I would. The only difference? I’d save some time and money by applying only to Morehouse.

Before season 2 of ‘Atlanta’ kicks off? A spoiler-packed power ranking of season 1’s episodes Swisher Sweets? The Migos? Lemon pepper wet wings?  Which episode was best?

The hiatus lasted well over a year, but the wait is finally, nearly over. Atlanta, the Emmy- and Golden Globe-winning FX series starring renaissance man Donald Glover (“Earn”), Zazie Beetz (“Van”), Brian Tyree Henry (“Paper Boi”) and LaKeith Stanfield (“Darius”), returns Thursday with the premiere of season two. It’s dubbed “Robbin’ Season,” a direct homage to ATL slang for the time of year when robberies tend to increase: during the holiday season.

“You might get your package stolen off your front porch. While we were there, my neighbor got her car stolen from her driveway. It’s a tense … time,” Stephen Glover, executive producer and writer, said at the Television Critics Association panel in Pasadena in January. “Our characters are in a desperate transition from their old lives to where they’re headed. And robbin’ season is a metaphor for where we are now.”

There really were no terrible moments from season one — the episodes truly range from “good” to “phenomenal.” That being said, a power ranking is in order. And after reading ours, the real fun arrives with your rankings. Hit us up on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook and let us know where you stand. Enough talking, though. Without further ado …

10. Episode 4 — “The Streisand Effect”

Guy D'Alema/FX

This is the episode where we meet Zan, the social media troll who gets the best of Paper Boi after a series of tweets, Instagram posts and videos sullying his good name in these Atlanta streets. It’s an interesting dynamic, and one that illustrates how much people invest in social media these days. But the true crutch of the episode lies with Darius and Earn.

AIDS was invented to keep Wilt Chamberlain from beating Steve McQueen’s sex record. By ’69, he was already No. 3 on the all-time list. By ’71, he would’ve beat that boy, fa sho. — Darius

Earn needs money because he’s broke (as hell). Darius takes on a journey to get money that involves a thrift store, pawning off a sword, and a Cane Corso dog. The only catch is Earn won’t get the money until September, prompting Earn to utter one of the more sobering realities in the first season: Poor people don’t have time to invest because they’re too busy not trying to be poor. A dope episode, but in comparison to the rest of the episodes — well, someone had to finish in 10th.

9. Episode 1 — “The Big Bang”

Guy D'Alema/FX

This starts out with a bang, quite literally, as Paper Boi shoots a guy who kicked a side rearview mirror from his car. It was an example of how pride becomes the downfall for so many. It’s in this episode that we meet the major players. Earn’s broke and living part time with his girlfriend, Vanessa, and their daughter. Paper Boi is selling drugs and trying to get his rap career poppin’. And Darius is just Darius. And to know Darius is to love Darius. Is Earn opportunistic with regard to trying to get on with his cousin, who has a hit record in the A? Of course he is, but as we’d come to find out, he does have his cousin’s best interests at heart.

On the lowest of keys, though, the best part of this episode is Earn’s reaction to Dave (a white guy) saying the N-word when describing a party he’d attended, and how Earn used the white guy’s ignorance against him and also tried to hustle him out of money to get Paper Boi’s song played on the radio. When asked to tell the same story again, but this time around Paper Boi and Darius, Dave not surprisingly omitted the N-word.

“Our characters are in a desperate transition from their old lives to where they’re headed. And robbin’ season is a metaphor for where we are now.”

8. Episode 5 — “Nobody Beats The Biebs”

We have Darius who goes to a shooting range. Everyone looks at him crazy when his target practice is a dog and not a human. He doesn’t understand how shooting a dog is considered inhumane when shooting a human is completely normal. The situation becomes so heated that the owner points a gun at Darius telling him to leave. We could get into a lot of discussion about Darius’ experience in this episode alone — it’s harrowing. At least he made us laugh, though. Meanwhile, across town, Earn and Paper Boi attend a celebrity basketball game. Earn is mistaken by Janice for another black guy she knew (who she says ruined her career). Earn uses the perks for a while.

It’s Paper Boi who is forced to deal with Black Justin Bieber. Now I’m not saying Black Bieber is seeing eye to eye with Dave Chappelle’s “Black Bush” skit, but it’s damn close if it isn’t. We see Black Bieber doing all sorts of outlandish things: urinating in public, mushing a reporter in the face and generally acting out. Everyone thinks it’s adorable. “He’s just trying to figure it out,” the singer Lloyd says in a brief cameo. The twist is, of course, he’s black. Paper Boi and Black Bieber eventually end up fighting, but Black Bieber wins everyone back. He turns his backward cap forward. He apologizes and performs a new song right there at the news conference. Everyone instantly forgives Black Bieber while Paper Boi stands in the back wondering what the hell just happened. It’s an interesting case study: white celebrity behavior vs. black celebrity behavior.

The only white person in the entire episode is Craig, and he wants to be black so bad he even did a spoken word poem to prove it.

7. Episode 2 — “Streets On Lock”

The criminal justice system is addressed here — in its own special Atlanta way. Earn and Paper Boi are still in holding following the shooting. While Paper Boi is bailed out at the beginning of the episode, Earn is locked up until Van bails him out at the end.

“You been arrested for weed. It’s not that bad, right?” — Earn

“Well, it’s not as good as not getting arrested for weed, man.” — Paper Boi

Earn sees what it’s like from the inside. The arguments, the stories of innocence, the mentally unstable who receive anything but rehabilitation, the violence and even the drama. Earn gets a crash course in the prison-industrial complex. On the outside, Paper Boi and Darius celebrate temporary freedom with a stop at Atlanta’s famed J.R. Crickets, where they’re given lemon pepper wet chicken wings. This episode became such a hot topic that Crickets actually added lemon pepper wet to its real-life menu afterward. Paper Boi also comes to understand how his actions affect the youth: He sees kids playing with toy guns, saying they’re mimicking him — a subtle reference to Tamir Rice.

6. Episode 3 — “Go For Broke”

Or, as it will always be remembered, the Migos episode. Quavo, Offset and Takeoff guest star as dope boys copping work from Paper Boi and Darius. The scene is hilarious, as the two attempt to get out of the situation with both the money and their lives intact. Elsewhere, Earn takes Van out to eat. Earn’s broke, so he’s expecting to see a happy hour menu, only the restaurant has recently been redesigned and everything on the menu is way too rich for Earn’s blood. Thanks to a waitress who upsells him on food and drinks all night, Earn has to call Paper Boi — in the middle of a drug deal, mind you — to wire him money so he can pay for the bill. Earn’s poverty hits home on a spiritual level. Especially when he calls his bank the next morning to report his debit card stolen.

5. Episode 10 — “The Jacket”

Quantrell Colbert/FX

Here’s the thing to know about season one. The first half was dope, but the second half is incredible. So much so that the finale, a great episode that really brings a lot of things into perspective, is only No. 5. Earn loses his jacket at a house party and uses Paper Boi’s Snapchat. He eventually figures out he left the jacket in an Uber. The Big 3 of Earn, Paper Boi and Darius drive out to get it, only to find themselves involved in a police sting that leaves the Uber driver dead — with Earn’s jacket on.

We eventually learn why it was so important to retrieve the coat. Earn is homeless. He needed the jacket because he believed a set of keys were in the pocket. The keys unlocked a storage unit where he was spending many nights. The finale is a power episode about the societal trauma of being black in America. Only hours after the same day they were pulled over by the feds and watched a man die, Earn is cooking for Van and their daughter. Pride, the same pride we saw on display in the first episode, won’t let Earn sleep at Van’s another night without being able to fully provide for his family.

4. Episode 6 — “Value”

Guy D'Alema/FX

Prior to this, we had never seen one character carry an episode. And prior to this, we didn’t really know Van. Much like Earn, Van’s trying to figure out a lot of things. Many of which were only compounded by the most uncomfortable moment of the entire season: her dinner date with old friend Jayde. Van is more of the blue-collar, just-trying-to-provide-for-my-daughter type, while Jayde is the type to post her meals on Instagram and “date” NBA and NFL players. After a falling-out at dinner, the two make up and get high at the top of a parking deck.

That’s all well and good, but Van has a drug test the next day. The most unusual and surreal scene of the entire season is Van frantically searching for clean urine — going so far as to slice open her daughter’s dirty diapers to get it. She goes full Breaking Bad in the kitchen, and it works — until it doesn’t. Van gets all the way to the goal line and fumbles. The condom with the urine, literally, pops in her face. She admits to smoking weed. She’s fired. And now both parents are without a source of consistent income. If she wasn’t already, Van instantly became a fan favorite after this episode. Sometimes you just have to get high to funnel out the nonsense in your life. And sometimes you do have to go to desperate measures to pass a drug test.

3. Episode 9 — “Juneteenth”

A lot of people put this in their top two — and I’m not mad at that. The episode starts off with Earn waking up beside another woman, only to realize he’s late to meet up with Van. She picks him up outside the unnamed woman’s apartment and the two ride off, in virtual silence, to a Juneteenth party her ostentatious friend Monique is throwing with her annoyingly hilarious white husband who’s too woke for his own good.

Van and Earn front like they’re married in an effort to look better in front of new company. But it’s impossible in a house full of characters — and a house full of black workers. In fact, the only white person in the entire episode is Craig, and he wants to be black so bad he even did a spoken word poem to prove it. The couple is outed when two valets recognize Earn as Paper Boi’s manager. Monique frowns upon his line of work, causing Craig to check Monique, but by then it’s too late. Earn leaves in disgust with Van not far behind. The lesson? Never sell your soul for an opportunity that wasn’t meant for you to begin with.

Fun Fact: If you go back and watch the episode, you’ll find Childish Gambino’s Awaken, My Love! album cover in Craig’s study. We just didn’t know what it was at the time.

2. Episode 8 — “The Club”

Quantrell D. Colbert/FX

Now if we’re talking my favorite episode, it’s this one. Classic Atlanta in every sense of the words. The theme is as simple as it is true. The club really isn’t all that fun. The celebrities are paid to be there. For those in gen pop (aka, non-VIP) it’s all a game of territory — sections are the highest form of real estate, and bottles are the highest form of cultural currency. Everyone’s just trying to one-up each other.

“F— the club!” — Paper Boi

We really remember this episode for three solid reasons. One, for Marcus Miles’ invisible car. Two, for Earn’s unsuccessful attempt to get their club appearance money from a snake promoter (and then Paper Boi roughing up that same party promoter). And three, for Darius leaving the club after he wasn’t allowed back in the same section the bouncer saw him leave. Darius played the situation perfectly. He went home to eat cereal and play video games.

The theme is as simple as it is true. The club really isn’t all that fun.

1. Episode 7 — “B.A.N.”

An episode so good that even the commercials, in actuality part of the episode, deserve their own separate piece. Seriously, the Swisher Sweets and Dodge Charger commercials made this an instant classic in black television history. As for the episode itself, Paper Boi sits down with Dr. Debra Holt on Black American News’ Montague. After some comments he made on Twitter about Caitlyn Jenner, Paper Boi is accused on the show of being transphobic. He claims he isn’t, saying he doesn’t have anything against the community. Although he’s accused of it, Paper Boi says he never said the trans community shouldn’t have rights. But he finds it hard to fully support that community’s call for freedom when people who look like him are still fighting for theirs. Much to the chagrin of the host, the two come to an understanding.

The “trans-racial” story runs away with MVP honors in this episode as it follows Antoine Smalls, an obviously black male who identifies as Harrison Booth, a 35-year-old white man from Colorado. He’s invited on the show, where he quickly shocks the host and guest. Smalls says he feels deeply ridiculed by black people for not being more understanding of his lifestyle. But he’s also quick to call gay marriage an “abomination.” The hypocrisy is enough to send an already tickled Paper Boi over the edge in laughter, while Montague and Dr. Holt are left to wonder, whereas the rest of us knew, almost as soon as the credits began rolling — this was Atlanta’s magnum opus.

Hampton, get your house in order After a town hall meeting last week, students hope administrators keep promises to help fix problems

“No, no, no, I’m talking now, young lady! I am talking!” shouted William R. Harvey, president of Hampton University.

The university president interrupted a student who demanded answers on how the administration plans to better handle sexual assault cases on campus during a Student Government Association town hall on Tuesday. She said she was a survivor of assault on Hampton’s campus.

Students came to voice their concerns about their issues at the university, including cleanliness, campus safety and a healthy environment after mold was found in some dorm rooms and in the cafeteria.

“First of all, this is not a grievance session,” Doretha J. Spells, treasurer and vice president for business affairs, said in response to a student who stated her grievance regarding the cleanliness of the cafeteria food. Spells did inform students about a $20 million renovation plan that has been underway for the past two years to deal with a mold problem.

It wasn’t just about how the university handles sexual assault complaints. The issues are many, so much so that Hampton’s administration sent out a second press release Thursday night stating how officials are addressing problems with food services and facilities. Now students have to wait to see whether the administration will come through or just made these statements to keep students quiet.

Complaints like these are the reason #HUTownHall was trending on Twitter for nearly a week. In less than 48 hours, the issues brought up at Tuesday night’s town hall meeting have gotten the attention of Hampton alumni, parents, other historically black colleges and universities (HBCUs) and the local media. Hampton sent out its first press release Wednesday stating that administrators take these issues “very seriously” and listed how some issues, such as reports of sexual assault and harassment, are handled. On Thursday, Harvey called a meeting of student leaders and members of his administration to discuss some of the issues that surfaced at the meeting.

The administration has not responded to a request for comment.

Other universities around the country are facing scrutiny and confrontations with students over allegedly failing to address serious issues on their campuses. Student members of the Atlanta University Center (AUC), comprising Spelman College, Morehouse College and Clark Atlanta University, started a campaign called #WeKnowWhatYouDid alleging the Spelman and Morehouse administrations “protect rapists.” There was a shooting near the campus of Bethune-Cookman University in Daytona Beach, Florida, that resulted in the death of a student.

Hampton alumni and other HBCU graduates took to Twitter speaking out in support of students:

As the town hall meeting ended, I felt myself getting a headache along with a stomachache. Could it be that my dream school is falling apart right before my very eyes? I feel like I’m living in an episode of The Quad, filled with nothing but drama. This isn’t what I signed up for.

I know that every institution has its problems, but this is showing less than the “Standard of Excellence,” considering that the cafeteria food has made me sick on numerous occasions and I have seen mold in all three of the dorm rooms I’ve lived in since my freshman year. These questions ran through my head: What about our future students? How will this be handled? Is this situation larger than all of us?

The fact that administrators stood in front of students and said they weren’t telling the truth made me sick to my stomach — literally. A change must come to end this cycle of unanswered complaints on HBCU campuses where we pay tens of thousands of dollars to attend. We need to make sure we’re not wasting our time and money.