Passing for White, Passing for Black

Abstract

It was the new graduate student reception for my class, the first social event of my first semester in the best graduate department in my field in the country. I was full of myself, as we all were, full of pride at having made the final cut, full of arrogance at our newly recorded membership among the privileged few, the intellectual elite-this country's real aristocracy, my parents told me-full of confidence in our intellectual ability to prevail, to fashion original and powerful views about some topic we represented to ourselves only vaguely. I was a bit late and noticed that many turned to look at-no, scrutinize-me as I entered the room. I congratulated myself on having selected for wear my black velvet, bellbottom pants suit (yes, it was that long ago) with the cream silk blouse and crimson vest. One of the secretaries who'd