A few years ago I knew a Negro medical student. He had an agonizing conviction that he was not taken at his true worth–not on the university level, he explained, but as a human being. He had an agonizing conviction that he would never succeed in gaining recognition as a colleague from the whites in his profession and as a physician from his European patients. In such moments of fantasy intuition,25 the times most favorable26 to psychosis, he would get drunk. Finally, he enlisted one day in the army as a medical officer; and, he added, not for anything in the world would he agree to go to the colonies or to serve in a colonial unit. He wanted to have white men under his command. He was a boss; as such he was to be feared or respected. That was just what he wanted, what he strove for: to make white men adopt a Negro attitude toward him. In this way he was obtaining revenge for the imago that had always obsessed him: the frightened, trembling Negro, abased before the white overlord.

Frantz Fanon, Constance Farrington, Black skin, white masks, loc. 215