What is rashida jones

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Donate Help us elevate the voices of Jewish women. Listen to Our Podcast. Daddy would have died if I turned Harvard down. Harvard was supposed to be the most enlightened place in America, but that's where I encountered something I'd never found in L. The way the clubs and the social life were set up, I had to choose one thing to be: black or white. I chose black. I went to black frat parties and joined the Black Student Association, a political and social group.

I protested the heinous book The Bell Curve [which claims that a key determinant of intelligence is inherited], holding a sign and chanting. But at other protests-on issues I didn't agree with- wondered: Am I doing this because I'm afraid the black students are going to hate me if I don't? As a black person at Harvard, the lighter you were, the blacker you had to act. I tried hard to be accepted by the girls who were the gatekeepers to Harvard's black community.

One day I joined them as usual at their cafeteria table. I said, "Hey! I remember chewing my food in that dead, ominous silence. Finally, one girl spoke. She accused me of hitting on one of their boyfriends over the weekend. It was untrue, but I think what was really eating her was that she thought I was trying to take away a smart, good-looking black man-and being light-skinned, I wasn't "allowed" to do that.

I was hurt, angry. I called Kidada in New York crying. She said, "Tell her what you feel! I really ripped her a new one. But after that, I felt insidious intimidation from that group.

The next year there was a black guy I really liked, but I didn't have the courage to pursue him. Sometimes I think of him and how different my life might be if I hadn't been so chicken. The experience was shattering.

Confused and identity-less, I spent sophomore year crying at night and sleeping all day. Mom said, "Do you want to come home? We were at each other's house all the time.