Why did you lose trust in me, one of your oldest friends? Is it because of how I chose to live my life and that I did not look to uplift the black race, but rather myself? I may have taken the low road -- but you killed me, Irene, because you questioned who you were in the face of me. What is saddest is that I loved you, Irene. You were more than just a friend to me, we both know that, so to think you would do this to me is devastating. To think I was the one worried about my social standing for so long, but it is you that eventually caved at the possibility of yours being altered or lessened. I guess maybe we are both at fault.
I miss you, Irene. I wish things didn't have to end like that.
Sincerely,
Clare
Questions:
1. What does this novella imply about the life and lifestyle of women passing as black? What kind of light is shed?
2. What of the intersection between sexuality and race?
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