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Chapter 17 Light on a Dark Path Self-Discovery among White Women Marian Cannon Dornell Before I begin my own narrative, let me first share a brief history of Black feminist foremother Mary Church Terrell (1863–1954), whose narrative I have embedded in mine.1 Mary Church was one of the most remarkable women of the late 19th through mid-20th centuries. Her parents were former slaves who became prominent in Memphis’s Black community as successful business owners. Concerned that their daughter would receive an inferior education in the segregated Memphis schools, Mary’s parents sent her to Antioch College Model School in Yellow Springs, Ohio, and then to public high school in Oberlin. Mary attended Oberlin College, earning a bachelor’s degree in 1884. She taught languages at Wilberforce University in Ohio from 1885 through 1887 and Latin at the Colored High School in Washington, D.C., from 1887 to 1888. Returning to Oberlin College, she completed her master’s degree in 1888. Following a two-year tour of Europe, on October 28, 1891, she married Robert Heberton Terrell, a lawyer who became the first Black municipal court judge in Washington, D.C. Active in both the civil rights movement and the campaign for women’s suffrage, Terrell was a leading spokesperson for the National American Woman Suffrage Association, the first president of the National Association of Colored Women, and the first Black woman appointed not only to the District of Columbia Board of Education but also to the American Association of University Women. She also distinguished herself as a charter member of the NAACP. Her autobiography , A Colored Woman in a White World, was published in 1940. As a Black feminist, I quote excerpts from Terrell’s autobiography to reinforce a historical reality of so many Black women that continues today. At 271 272 Marian Cannon Dornell first glance, it may seem that Mary Church Terrell’s life experiences and mine are dissimilar. However, by reading parts of her narrative within my narrative, the reader will discover underlying themes that unify Black women despite our diversity. ***************************************** “Glad you could come to the get-acquainted picnic, Marian Dornell!” Dean Smith did not even glance at my name tag. We had never met, yet she knew my name. She had given the other students in line ahead of me a fervent handshake; her hand went limp and her enthusiasm vanished as she barely shook my hand, bent closer to my ear, and stage-whispered, “We have tutors lined up for you for this semester. We expect you’ll encounter difficulties with your nursing courses.” Something stank despite her mint-flavored breath; the bit of parsley clinging to her canine tooth caught my eye. As she passed my hand to the next faculty member in the receiving line, her face noticeably shifted to renewed enthusiasm as she prepared to greet the student behind me. Her words struck a part of me that was angered with her assumption of my inadequacy. “I observe you are quite swarthy. You speak English too well to be a foreigner, unless you were born in the United States or came here when you were a baby. What is your nationality?” I am a colored girl, I replied. If I had told her I was a gorilla in a human form, she could not have been more greatly shocked. Never before in all her life had she come in contact with an educated colored girl, she said. [She said] she really didn’t know there were any in the world.2 I flashed back to my first interview with Melanie Davis, the director of the Technical Nursing Program, who informed me, “If you are admitted, you will only be the second ‘Negro’ ever accepted into our School of Nursing.” I was a good 15 to 20 years older than most of the students milling around me. Maybe one or two were older, but they were Licensed Practical Nurses—the ones for whom the Technical Nursing Program was created, to help cope with the nationwide nursing shortage. The dean did not express concern about their abilities, only my abilities. I did not want my anger or any nagging uncertainty to overwhelm me so soon in my new role as a freshman at the University of Vermont. So I forced myself to proceed along the receiving line of professors and mumbled words I hoped would pass for appropriate. I maneuvered myself through the throng of students to a...

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