And it is this, too, which makes the colored people of this country,
in reality, a mystery to the whites. It is a difficult thing for
a white man to learn what a colored man really thinks; because,
generally, with the latter an additional and different light must
be brought to bear on what he thinks; and his thoughts are often
influenced by considerations so delicate and subtle that it would be
impossible for him to confess or explain them to one of the opposite
race. This gives to every colored man, in proportion to his
intellectuality, a sort of dual personality; there is one phase of him
which is disclosed only in the freemasonry of his own race. I have
often watched with interest and sometimes with amazement even ignorant
colored men under cover of broad grins and minstrel antics maintain
this dualism in the presence of white men.

I believe it to be a fact that the colored people of this country know
and understand the white people better than the white people know and
understand them.

I now think that this change which came into my life was at first more
subjective than objective. I do not think my friends at school changed
so much toward me as I did toward them. I grew reserved, I might say
suspicious. I grew constantly more and more afraid of laying myself
open to some injury to my feelings or my pride. I frequently saw or
fancied some slight where, I am sure, none was intended. On the other
hand, my friends and teachers were, if anything different, more
considerate of me; but I can remember that it was against this very
attitude in particular that my sensitiveness revolted. "Red" was the
only one who did not so wound me; up to this day I recall with a
swelling heart his clumsy efforts to make me understand that nothing
could change his love for me.