[originaltext] It was 1951, during my first week at North Carolina College,

It was 1951, during my first week at North Carolina College, a black school. The English chairman’s wife, who was as light as a white woman, stopped me one day in the hall.
    When I went to her office, she said, "You had the highest grade on the examination." She was talking about the exam that the entire freshman class took. In spite of her smile, her eyes and tone of voice said, "How could this black-skinned girl score higher on the test than the other students? It must be a mistake." At North Carolina College, color was used in deciding status. The faculty assumed that light-skinned students were more intelligent, and they were always a bit surprised when a dark-skinned student did well, especially if she was a girl.
    When the grades for the first quarter came out, I had the highest average in the freshmen class. The chairman’s wife called me into her office again, pulled out a copy of the freshman English final exam, and asked me to retake it. I couldn’t believe it. It was so incredible to her that I had the highest score in the class that she was trying to test me again. I felt rage so intense that I wanted to start hitting her. I have seldom hated anyone so deeply. I handed the exam back to her and walked out.