We get through two questions about her academics before she interrupts "Do we have popsicles ?" She jumps out of the couch and returns with a neon green popsicle. "I would have gotten you one, but I know you'll just want to have mine." I smile. Tracey knows me well. I met her more than three years ago in the same building where we now both live and have been close friends ever since, especially after one semester as roommates.

It should have been beyond journalistic ethics to profile someone I know so well, but Tracey's story tells itself. As Tracey's mom put it to me, "There's so much. Tracey is like writing a book." She's the sort of person you would ordinarily never read about in The Crimson: far too private. She admits she knows very few people. She spent her time here studying for her Afro-American Studies classes, working in Schlesinger library at Radcliffe, and tutoring kids in Dorchester, but mostly just hanging out in her house, the Dudley Co-op, a cooperative living community offered as an alternative to house life. Instead of doing a million extracurriculars or vying for junior Phi Beta Kappa, Carter excelled at the few things she put her mind to and spent time on what, or rather whom, she cared most about: her friends.

She jokes about how Harvard likes to think she's the American dream. Raised in the rural midwest by two white women who were mostly unemployed and receiving welfare benefits, she grew up into a smart and funny if "hard to get to know" Harvard student, who is Black, gay, female and incredibly confident of who she is --confident enough to talk honestly about herself for publication in a newspaper.

Carter isn't sure how her mother and father ended up getting together. "I don't really know. They were friends in high school. My mom wasn't allowed to see Black people. They were never seeing each other, never dating, never married." Her mother, Judy Carter, and a friend, Becky Barnes, raised the Child, and Tracey never saw her father until she was 18. She has visited with him for only a few hours since. After getting over the amazement that someone else in the world looked like her, she spent the entire night arguing with him about God, in whom Carter Vehemently does not believe. "He believed everyone needed to believe what he believed or they would go to hell."

Today, having the freedom not to be forced to believe in anything is one of Carter's strongest convictions, and is an important part of her independent spirit. "I don't believe in God because of what I call my fascist youth--when I was in a boys' and girls' Christian group and we memorized as much of the Bible as we could and spat it back at our leaders. I feel like I was hypnotized for a while and anything you have to be put under a spell to believe in I can't agree with." For Carter, atheism has a lot to do with the way she has lived her life. "There are all these economically poor people running around believing they're going to have it better in the afterlife. The best way to have a good life is to believe you don't get another chance." Carter says she tries to live out this philosophy, preferring to spend time being happy with her friends.

Carter was born in Peoria, Ill, and "moved around a lot for no reason. My mom was not into setting down." Most of Carter's childhood was spent in Burlington, lowa ("a town nobody's heard of I'm sure") but lived all over Oklahoma, Arizona, Kansas, Texas at various points. Even Carter says she isn't really sure why her mother was always on the move. "Ask her," she says. "I've always woundered. She had wanderlust. She was young." Tracey's mother confirms Tracey's suggestion. "My biggest amibition in life was to travel. I had Tracey before I had the chance. She has that roving blood," she says.

Tracey considers both Judy Carter and Barnesher mothers. "My Aunt Becky and my mom were bothmy moms. They weren't sisters. They were just bothmy moms." Tracey says she loved her family. "Mymom's never been married which was great for me. Ireally loved it. Looking at my friends' familydynamics I feel really privileged to have grown upwith two women who never fought and who neverpresented any obstacles." Like many proud parents,Tracey's mom says "I'm so proud I could bawl."

"I never rebelled against Mom and Aunt Beckybecause there was nothing to rebel against,"Carter says, even though she admits she hatedlowa. "They put no rules on me. They didn't carewho I brought home. They cared that I didn't hurtany body." Carter pauses. "I really idealize them.I was happy.

DESPITE HER PHYSICAL fidgeting, shepauses to think about every question for a whilebefore answering to make sure she phrases herresponse just right. "I always wanted to go tocollege but it wasn't always a feasible thing. Itused to be more of dream, like becoming presidentor something. I always sort of thought I would butit's like kids dreaming about going to the moon.It was kind of dreamy seeming."

When Carter came to Harvard, she had oneacademic goal in mind. "I came to Harvard to doAfro-Am because that's all I wanted to study.There never seemed to be another choice that mighthave rivaled it. I applied to colleges to dothat." Now, she adds women's fiction and creativewriting to her list of her academic interestswithin Afro-American Studies. "[The concentration]taught me what I wanted to know that you can'tlearn in school before college."

Judy Carter thinks her daughter's race andbackground are part of the reason education wasimportant to her. "When she was growing up, we hadtrouble because of her nationality [her race].That's why Tracey put all her thoughts intoeducation."

"Her [race] here was hard because of the schoolsystem," her mother adds. "they looked down onpeople that are mixed race. There are a lot ofprejudiced people out her."

Neither of her parents graduated from highschool, Her mother sells auto parts, and AuntBecky Barnes still puts in a 12-hour factory shifteach night. Carter first sensed that she was onher way to a university when she was accepted toUnited World College in New Mexico after herjunior year of high school. The world collegeallowed her to escape Burlington, an industrialtown on the Mississippi. "I was desperate," Cartersays. "I wanted out of lowa."

In addition, Carter's desire to be aroundpeople who were not all the same pushed hertowards the school, which has students from allover the world. Carter learned of the schoolthough a pamphlet sent to high scorers on theAmerican College Test(ACT), an equivalent of theScholastic Aptitude Test (SAT). Once at UWC, shereceived high scores on the InternationalBaccalaureate, and after two years, applied andwas accepted at Harvard.

A lot of Carter's life lessons came beforeHarvard, but they affected her development here aswell. "Tracey always thanked me for growing her uppoor," her mother says. "When you're poor, youlearn a lot of values that kids who are better offdon't." Carter says her financial background sether apart from Harvard students even more than herrace or sexual orientation. Judy Carter explains,"Since she was poor, her first-year at Harvard shecalled home and hated it. She said 'All of theserich snobby kids....'She had a tough time but sheadjusted."

Arriving at Harvard was a confusing transitionfor Tracey, who had felt welcomed into theinternational community of United World College."I couldn't stand the bureaucracy and thecompetition that goes on among first-years[here]," she says. "People seemed very cold anduncaring to me--not mean, but not nurturing andnot friendly."

Carter has spent much of her time at Harvardwriting fiction, taking five creative writingcourses in her four years. She says she writes toexpress on paper things she is she about saying."Specifically, being at Harvard, I like to writebecause there's almost no other context in whichto talk about my background, and that's somethingI think about a lot being in this environment,which is a huge contrast to my background."

ON THE PHONE, HER mom tells a story I'veheard many times from Tracey already. "We lived ina farm house in Illinois, and we went through onewinter there. This house had no electricity. Wehad to use lanterns that you'd use oil in and burnwood in a coal stove. That was the worst winter.It snowed real deep. We had frost on the walls,and the Christmas tree glistened it was so cold.So we took down the bathroom door and made it intofirewood."

Although Tracey realizes how lucky she was tohave two nurturing mothers, she says she was stillaware of how education could limit one's security."We were on welfare my whole childhood, on AFDC[Aid to Families with dependent Children]. My momdidn't have a job and my dad wasn't around. My momwas unemployed for a lot of it. She did mostlyfactory work, manual labor, as a janitor,delivering auto parts, the sort of job you getwhile you're waiting for a real job. Because ofher education, she only qualified for the lowestpaying job."

The jobs were sometimes dangerous. Until shewas eight months pregnant, Judy Carter wouldshimmy up trees to saw off the tops with achainsaw and sell them for firewood. Even as achild, Tracey was intensely aware of beingdifferent from the rest of the community.

"I used to be ashamed we were on welfare. I hadto stand in this special line in school to get thefree lunch ticket, and everyone knew what the linewas for, and it clearly marked out who you were,"Carter says. "I was embarrassed that we got foodstamps and I would be sent to the store with foodstamps and maybe a friend would be working at thestore and it was very humiliating to me."

Carter says she no longer feels the same way,although she adds, "It seems like it's thesmallest minority here to be from an economicallypoor background. It seems even rarer because a lotof people hide their backgrounds. [Being poor] isnot the thing to be here," Carter says she hadfelt more comfortable in the co-op, where everyonecooks and cleans together and which was founded asa cheaper alternative for students on financialaid.

Like most people, Carter defines her time atHarvard by the things she has chosen to do here.She looks back happily on her time at the Co-op,in the Afro-Am department, working at Schlesingerand participating in the tutoring program inDorchester. "The Co-op made it possible to stay atHarvard until the end," she says. It most closeslyresembled the warm nurturing environment in whichshe had grown up.

BUT CARTER IS NOT SOME-one who finds aneasy place to live and stays there. During thefall of her senior year, she took a semesterabroad in Africa, starting off in Sierra Leone andmoving, because of political unrest, to Kenya.Adjusting to a new culture, especially one inwhich she says many biracial women were assumed tobe prostitutes, was challenging for Carter. Butshe grew up a lot. "I became a lot less shy and alot more independent."

Coming out as a lesbian was one of Carter'sfirst steps to becoming more sure of herself. Sherealized she was gay the year before enteringHarvard when she fell for her friend at the UnitedWorld College and her friend returned theaffection. "Most of my community is here at theCoop, gay and in general," she says. Carter isalso a member of the Boston group "Girlfriends," apeer support group for lesbian and bisexual womenof color.

"It's more difficult to be gay in the Blackcommunity than Black in the gay community althoughit's difficult in both," Carter says. "I fear theBlack community might subtly reject me, whichwould be more painful. Girlfriends is a placewhere I can be gay and Black and female alltogether." Carter is out to her mother and AuntBecky, both of whom are supportive. Her fatherdoes not know, but, as Tracey points out, he isnot aware she is graduating either.

Although Carter started out shy and quiet, shesays she has learned to be more confident aboutspeaking out. "She told me she has to havesomething really important to say to speak inclass," a friend recalls. Asked about this, Cartersays, "Oh no, now my professors are going to thinkI thought that stuff I said was important."

Sasha R. Wizansky '95, who has lived in theco-op with Tracey almost as long as I have, saysit took her a long time to get to know Carter, butthat the gradual process has "made it richer.She's a deep, genuine person." Michael W.Echenberg '95, who got to know Carter last spring,says he admires her commitment to her friends."She talks about hanging out as an activity untoitself, about actively hanging out." A fellow Coopresident, Emily Fenster '94, says of Carter:"She's just so refreshing because she stands foreverything that's the opposite of Harvard. Sheputs people above everything else and always hasfree time to hang out."

Another friend puts it a little differently. "Ithink I would say that her values are more deeplyand consistently in opposition to mainstreamHarvard than most people I know. Nonetheless,there are a lot of reasons why she suceeds here.It's not like polar opposites: Tracey andHarvard," her housemate says. "My sense is thatshe doesn't buy into a lot of things that mostpeople do--the kind of insular view of the worldthough the Ivory Tower." Wizansky adds, "She talksabout being alienated a lot but she's been able tomanuever well and get stuff out if it."

While Dudley Co-op tutor Conevery Bolton saysmodesty is one of Carter's biggest attributes,friends think of her as a confident person.Wizansky calls Carter "kind of a rock. There's anessential Tracey that's so solid. You get thesense that the knows who she is and doesn't needto perform to please people. She seems veryself-assured."

As soon as she graduates, Carter plans to campacross country with her mother and Aunt Beckyuntil she reaches San Francisco, where she willstart a new life. Although Carter says Harvard washer biggest ambition (And that she has no ambitionbeyond here), Bolton says she expects to SeeCarter's novels on the shelves of HarvardBookstore one day.

Although some people say it is difficult to getto know Carter, Melissa S. Weininger '95 says itis Carter's sarcastic sense of humor that lets hersee the humor in everything. "She's one of thefunniest people I know. She like to make jokesabout things other people are afraid of makingjokes about--like race. I'll sometimes joke andsay, 'You can't sit down here cause you're Black."Hearing this comment, Carter smiles. "You," shesays, "but only Melissa can say that."

Judy Carter says she depends on her daughter'ssense of humor, too. "We're making jokes aboutpoor people and rich people and we'll get totalking and we'll get on a laughing spell for halfan hour."

The biggest shock to Carter's Harvard careercame her sophomore year after a tragic accident.

"The winter vacation of my sophomore year, Iwas in a pretty bad car accident in which one ofmy two closest friends died and I got a headinjury and have had pretty serious double visionand two operations since," she says. Carter wasdriving on an icy road in lowa during readingperiod when the wind generated from two semiscaused the car to crash. When she regainedconsciousness three days later in a hospital, shewas still not sure what had happened.

So after trying desperately to get out, Carterfound herself back in Iowa, with the threat ofhaving to stay another six months. "They thought Iwas head-injured and crazy. They made me take I.Q.tests. They tried to persuade me my brains leakedout on the highway and I was less intelligent."Despite the severity of the accident, Carter saysshe recovered faster than any of the doctorspredicted and even made it back to Harvard toattend two classes that same semester.

Harvard provided cassettes of all the readingsfor Carter's two core classes, but she foundlistening to them frustrating. "I was not able toread because my eyes have been messed up sincethen so I theoretically listened to all myreadings on tapes," she say. "But that can't workat all because you can't just change channels ofhow you learn things." And since Carter could notsee, "I had to be led around by friends who wouldtake me by the hand to classes."

When Tracey was a child, Judy Carter says shewould allow her daughter to play basketball in thehouse and bicycle around the neighborhood atnight, an activity her peers weren't permitted.

For someone who was used to great physical andemotional independence, being unable to see orride a bike or play basketball after the accidentwas very difficult. But she has persevered, and inthe meantime her eyesight has improved enough soshe can read for short periods at a time.

"When she got into the car accident, if itweren't for her being as active as she was I don'tknow if she would have made it through." hermother says. And Aunt Becky adds: "Tracey is asurvivor, a very big survivor