Richmond, the capital of the Commonwealth of Virginia and, more importantly to some people, the former capital of the Confederate Sates of America, is the place I call home. In one sense, Richmond is where I feel the most comfortable because of the closely knit society in which I grew up. It is that same society, however, that can sometimes make me feel like a foreigner in my hometown.
I spent most of my elementary, middle and high school years at a small private school called Saint Christopher's. "St. Chris," as all the townies call it, is a predominately white, all-male, Episcopalian school where the "old money" families of Richmond typically send their children. In other words, a haven for everything I'm not.
Richmond's social elite is unique in two ways. First, all of the wealthiest citizens are related in some way or another; the number of people who had first, second and third cousins in my graduating class was unbelievable. Second, a large percentage share a common heritage of Confederate soldiers and/or officers. A student in the class below me belonged to a family directly descended from Jeb Stuart himself. My ninth-grade biology teacher was the grandson of the man who amputated Stonewall Jackson's arm, which later led to his death. The pride that Richmond citizens take in their Confederate heritage can be a bit overwhelming. For example, the most well-known street in Richmond is Monument Avenue, recognized not only for having some of the most extravagant and oldest standing houses in Richmond, but also because the road is littered with enormous statues of famous Confederate officers like Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson.
Because the aristocracy of Richmond founded St. Chris in 1911, their attitudes are heavily reflected in the school's ethos. Our school colors are red and gray, the exact same as those of the Rebel soldiers. In lower school, students are placed into two literary societies: the Lees and the Jacksons, which have various competitions throughout the year. The only field trip we take in middle school is to the White House of the Confederacy. To this day, our school is the only school in the state of Virginia that is open on Martin Luther King Day, which happens to coincide with Lee-Jackson day.
Family heritage and Southern tradition are the two things that Saint Christopher's students pride themselves upon more than anything else. Unfortunately, these were two things I lacked as a student there. I didn't meet my real father until I was 13. I watched my stepfather shoot my mother four times with a .357 Magnum when I was five years old. The only family I had ever known was my mom, my sister and my grandmother. As far as Southern pride goes, my relation to the Confederacy as a black person was a bit different from that of my classmates.
Having been at school with some of these students most of my life, we became incredibly close, perhaps a little too close. We encased ourselves in a bubble that was relevant only to the 73 boys in my class. I began to conform to things I normally would not. I began to form an elitist attitude because the elite of our society surrounded me. I lost a sense of my true self.
With June came graduation, and in September I was off to Princeton to start a new life. With so many people from so many different backgrounds, the social pressure to conform was gone. Not that I had been fake my entire life, but at Princeton, I found a social freedom I'd never experienced before. Here at school, I don't have to worry about what "pedigree" I come from because at Princeton, none of that really matters. The only thing that matters is the Princeton student's universal quality: a drive for excellence. We are united by our desire to achieve our full potential. Having this in common with my classmates gives me an immense sense of comfort, a comfort that has allowed me to call Princeton my home away from home.