"She was caught between two allegiances, different, yet the same. Herself. Her race. Race! The thing that bound and suffocated her. Whatever steps she took, or if she took none at all, something would be crushed. A person or the race. Clare, herself, or the race."

What would you do if you thought your friend was having an affair… with your husband? That's Irene's dilemma in this book.

She thinks about all the ways she could get rid of the other woman, Clare—including telling Clare's white, racist husband that she is actually a black woman passing as white. And all because she thinks Clare might be having an affair with her husband. Eek.

This quote seems pretty simple, right? Irene's stuck between "two allegiances": "herself" and "her race." But what does that mean, exactly?

For starters, Irene is a lot like Clare. She's light-skinned enough to pass as white, which makes her akin to Clare. So when she's debating about ratting Clare out to Clare's husband, it's a little like betraying herself. And betraying her own desire to appear white.

But wait. What does it mean for Irene to show allegiance to "her race"? Especially when, right after that, she goes on to think, "Race! The thing that bound and suffocated her."

Is Irene referring to her allegiance to other black women, especially those who do not or cannot pass as white? Or is she hoping for freedom from the confines of her blackness in a racist world—of a skin color that keeps her from fully enjoying the privileges of the white world?

Or is Irene bemoaning the very concept and reality of race (and racial prejudice)? And the fact that racial division is what has trapped her and Clare in this awful situation in the first place?

All of the above, we think. Irene describes her "two allegiances" as "different, yet the same." They appear different—"a person"/"herself" and "her race"—but they're "the same" because her very own body and self are defined by her light-skinned blackness.

In a way, she's both black and white. Sound confusing? Just imagine what Irene must be feeling.

Notice all those short, short sentences in the passage above? "Herself. Her race." "A person or the race. Clare, herself, or the race."

The whole quote is very fragmented. And that's precisely what race issues do to Irene: they fragment her sense of self. And what does that fragmentation produce?

Twoness. Two parts to herself. (See? We're not half-bad at math either.)

Irene and Clare are black, but their light skin allows for them to pass as white. So they're both divided into (at least) two parts. We say at least two because what's interesting is that Irene is torn up about Clare.

She obviously resents Clare's affair with her husband, but she wants to side with her because the two women have so much in common. Clare is the one who introduced Irene to the whole idea of passing, so Irene is really torn between three parts: herself, her race, and her loyalty to Clare.

So let's get right back to the quote. "Clare, herself, or the race." Twoness becomes threeness here. Now, do you think that if the African American man must go through life with the sense of a double-consciousness, that means that African American women experience themselves through a triple-consciousness?

Just a little something to make you go "hmm," courtesy of your friends here at Shmoop. Oh, and Nella Larsen, we guess.