William Edward Burghardt Du Bois (February 23, 1868 – August 27, 1963)
It dawned upon me with a certain suddenness that I was different from the others—shut out from their world by a vast veil. For the world I longed for, and all its dazzling opportunities, were theirs, not mine. Why did God make me an outcast and a stranger in mine own house?… Between me and the other world, there is ever an unasked question: How does it feel to be a problem?