I was at first rejected by other African Americans at my middle school and this did follow me a bit. For some reason, there was a very strong divide between the ethnic groups at the school. It was diverse, but segregated and students did not mix much in dating. People had ideas of how someone was supposed to look if they belonged to a particular ethnic group. I had a distinctive appearance, so it was not hard to notice me and isolate me from the start. I was dogged by rumors of who my father actually was ("a Mexican") and people said some pretty screwed up things about my mother because of the rumors surrounding my paternity. Mexican Americans at the school had a very cohesive clique (Chicano Pride was big) but I was accepted in eighth grade even though I was not Mexican. But I wanted to fix the "black beef" first, especially if I encountered folks at a later time in school (which I did not). It was actually my mixed Afram/Pakistani friend that was pivotal in my acceptance into the Afram circle and settling the ethnic beefs around in our peer group. A memorable intervention with some rough words, honest truths, and handshakes brought the entire conflict to an end. In the ensuing years, people began not to mock me for my phenotype and forgot about the entire thing. While some continued to wonder about the real background of my father, they agreed certain things were better left unknown.
To tell you the truth, I was mostly oblivious to the whole race issue during my school and college years. It has been with all the unpleasantness with the Haitian inmigration issue since 2007 that the issue have come to be foremost in my mind. What I was back in those days, though, was very ideologically driven, being an annoying lefty and all ("Down with US imperialism" discourse, and all that jazz). I became disillusioned with Marxism the more I delved into it after college, though.