I laugh at my own little joke as a friend and I walk down Turlington Plaza's receiving line of party promoters handing out fliers for weekend events.

As my friend and I are walking, I notice white promoters scramble to hand her invitations while black promoters smile mischievously at me handing me theirs.

We reach the end of the plaza and turn around to look at our fliers. Not one of the black promoters has handed her an invitation and not a single white promoter has acknowledged me.

She is white and I am black, but our money is exactly the same color.

It is 2003, almost fifty years after segregation in schools was declared illegal and on a campus as diverse as the University of Florida we cannot even party together.

It's sort of like back pocket discrimination. You won't know it's in there unless you sit on it. However vague, it seems as though we all unconsciously contribute to this voluntary segregation. Like nodding your head in agreement without hearing the question.

As we all share this experience known as college, we must take a moment to recognize the false reality that surrounds us is robbing us of an opportunity for a breakthrough.

Would anyone be willing to admit to the racist thoughts made in secret as we slam on our brakes in frustration as another (insert racial slur here) student walks out in front of our cars?

Is there an invisible wall between the races that will never be removed or even recognized?

I recently learned something about myself that was hard to swallow.

I was a racist.

Growing up in Miami I knew about Cubans, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, Haitians and Blacks. We went to school together, partied together and I even experienced crushes that crossed cultural lines. But, never do I recall having a white friend or seeing a white student in the schools that I attended. Any exposure to white people came from television and I assumed that white people my age lived like the kids on Beverly Hills, 90210.

When I came to UF I was stunned. They were everywhere- blonde and thin, jogging around campus. They seemed carefree, working out, tanning by the pool and going to frat parties. I often wondered what it would be like to be white with the 'Hakuna Matata' mentality.

As semesters passed I realized that I harbored resentment toward all white people because I assumed they thought I was beneath them. I became sensitive in my interactions with them, and with each negative experience, my heart became harder towards whites.

At one point I was falsely accused by the Gainesville Police Department of being a part of a crime ring. They came to my apartment one night, three white men with cards identifying themselves as officers. They threatened to take away my son if I didn't give them information they wanted. I told them that I didn't know anything.

A few days later two young white men approached me as I left class. I didn't have white friends, so I thought this was peculiar. To my surprise, it was the police.

They threatened my freedom and my child if I didn't cooperate. They were out of uniforms and were wearing plain clothes, which made them look like all the other white guys on campus. From then on, every white male that glanced my way became a threat. I became paranoid that all whites were out to get me and take me to jail.

It became difficult for me to talk to white professors and administrators when I needed help because I felt I was bothering them. I literally felt invisible anytime I interacted with white professors. >>>