In the American South, during the era of segregation, laws in many states mandated that a person who was at least one-sixteenth black (i.e. had a great-great grandfather or grandmother who was black) or some other tiny amount of black blood was considered black and therefore subject to the discriminatory laws that whites were not. This was informally known as the "one drop" rule [source: Davis]. Light-skinned African-Americans in the past might have determined whether it made more "sense" to embrace their black heritage, Jim Crow laws and all, or to try and "pass" for white for more economic opportunities but at the cost of cutting themselves off from family and culture.

Today with the segregation laws scrapped, the choices are more nuanced. Where a person is raised, or who raised her might determine which ethnic group she identifies with. Or she may feel she shouldn't have to pick one group over the other.

While it hasn't always been in vogue to claim all the branches of one's family tree, embracing a multicultural past is becoming increasingly common. Take Hollywood, for example. Gone are the days of film stars escaping outdated perceptions by denying their ethnicity. Many of today's celebrities are racially ambiguous, from Mariah Carey to Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. Today, we're sharing the stories of 10 people (past and present) you may not have known were black. Let's start with an illustrious French family.

Napoleon Bonaparte.....Napoleon Bonaparte was a well-known figure who rose to power during the French Revolution. But Bonaparte was not its only hero. Meet Gen. Alexandre Dumas.

Dumas was born in what is now Haiti to a white father who was a member of the aristocracy and a black mother who was enslaved. Although Dumas kept his mother's familial name, his father raised him in France, which guaranteed opportunities to people of mixed race. There, Dumas completed his education and entered the military, where he became a master of strategy and sword. Dumas rose to the rank of general, led more than 50,000 soldiers and earned a reputation for action. He reportedly captured 13 soldiers singlehandedly, rode into enemy territory to imprison 16 more and led his men up icy cliffs in the dark to surprise opposing forces [source: Taylor].

Although Dumas continued his military career in the subsequent French campaign to conquer Egypt, he attracted the ire of his chief rival, the up-and-coming Bonaparte. Whether Bonaparte, a diminutive man, was jealous of Dumas' height, charisma or infantry skills is impossible to say. One thing is for certain, though: The competition (even if only in Napoleon's own mind) would be Dumas' undoing.

In the late 1790s, when Dumas found himself washed onto Italian shores because of an alarmingly leaky vessel, Napoleon's followers tossed Dumas into a dungeon. There he languished for two years as he suspected the prison physician of poisoning him. Although Dumas was eventually released, his military career was over. Stories of his exploits, however, inspired "The Count of Monte Cristo," a novel written by his son Alexandre, who also wrote "The Three Musketeers" [source: Damrosch].

Anatole Broyard....Anatole Broyard was born in New Orleans in 1920 to light-skinned black parents, spent much of his childhood in a predominantly black Brooklyn neighborhood and then crafted a carefully constructed image devoid of his ethnic heritage.

Broyard's light skin allowed him to join the segregated Army as a white man, where he led a battalion of black soldiers. Upon his discharge from the military, h

e opened a bookstore in New York City's Greenwich Village, ensconced himself in the literary landscape and eventually became a copywriter at an advertising firm. Although he wrote a few short stories that were met with critical acclaim, Broyard initially struggled to complete a full-length work. The attention, however, helped him secure a job as a book reviewer with The New York Times in the early 1970s, a position he held for more than a decade.

During this time, he became one of the most influential literary critics in the U.S. And, despite rumors to the contrary, continued to live as a white man. Broyard's wife and children did not know he had been born black, nor did his colleagues or friends.

Broyard, who died of prostate cancer in 1990, never revealed the reasons for his ruse. Likely, the limited opportunities for blacks in the 1940s had something to do with his original decision. But many who knew him also believed Broyard wanted to live as a white man because he wanted to escape the expectations of race. He wanted to be known, not for being a "black writer," but a writer, period. Even his memoir, "Kafka Was The Rage," did not reveal his race [source: Gates].

"One could concede that the passing of Anatole Broyard involved dishonesty; but is it so very clear that the dishonesty was mostly Broyard's?" wrote scholar Henry Louis Gates. "To pass is to sin against authenticity, and 'authenticity' is among the founding lies of the modern age."

In 2007, his daughter Bliss published a book about her father titled "One Drop: My Father's Hidden Life -- A Story of Race and Family Secrets."

plenty of questions -- especially from the black community -- about why she should be the one to tackle the premise.

Turns out, O'Brien is black, too. She is the daughter of a black Latina mother and a white Australian father; she grew up in a primarily white neighborhood with parents who insisted she identify as black. As a mixed-race, first-generation American, O'Brien became a broadcast journalist and found herself fighting for equal coverage for people of color [source: O'Brien].

"At screenings for 'Black in America' I've heard people say, 'Well you know I never thought you were black until you did [pieces on Hurricane] Katrina and then I thought you were black.' And I'd say, 'That's so fascinating. What was it that made you think I was black?'" said O'Brien in an interview to promote "Who is Black in America?", her latest installment in the documentary series.

"And then someone else would say, 'Yeah, but she's married to a white man.' And I'm like 'OK, so does that make me less black and how in your mind does that math work?'"

In the end, O'Brien (who's also produced documentaries for CNN on being Latino in America) relied on a lesson learned in her childhood: "My parents taught me very early that how other people perceive me really was not my problem or my responsibility. It was much more based on how I perceived me" [source: O'Brien].

An engraving of Queen Charlotte of England, wife of King George III.

Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Queen CharlotteIn the 18th century, a painting of Queen Charlotte -- wife of the British King G

eorge III -- sparked a flurry of debate because her facial features seemed more in keeping with someone of African heritage. And with good reason: It seems that Queen Charlotte was descended from a branch of a Portuguese royal family who traced their ancestry to a 13th-century ruler named Alfonso III and his lover Madragana, who was "a Moor" ( an old term for someone of African or Arabic descent) [source: Jeffries].

Some historians cast doubt on this theory but scholar Mario de Valdes y Cocom notes that the queen's personal physician said she had a "true mulatto face." Further, the royal family spelled out its link to African ancestors in a published report released before Queen Elizabeth II's coronation in 1953, in conjunction with her position as head of the Commonwealth [source: Cocom].

If correct, the royal link to black heritage would mean that Queen Charlotte's granddaughter, Queen Victoria, was of mixed race. The same goes for her still-living descendants, Queen Elizabeth II, Prince Charles, Prince William, and any future heirs.

MedicisAn exploration of the Italian Renaissance wouldn't be complete without talking about the powerful banking and political family the Medicis. And Alessandro de Medici, the first Duke of Florence, supported some of the era's leading artists. In fact, he is one of only two Medici princes to be buried in a tomb designed by Michelangelo.

You could say Medici was the first black ruler in Italy, in fact the first black head of state in the Western world, though his African heritage was rarely talked about. He was born in 1510 to a black servant and a white 17-year-old named Giulio de Medici, who would later become Pope Clement VII. Upon his election to pope, Clement VII had to relinquish his position as Duke of Florence and appointed his son instead.

But the teenage Medici faced a changing political climate. Emperor Charles V sacked Rome in 1527, and Florentines took advantage of the turmoil to establish a more democratic form of government. Medici fled his hometown. He returned when tensions eased two years later and was again appointed by the Emperor Charles V, who offered his own daughter � also born out of wedlock -- as Medici's wife. Despite the family ties, Medici was killed by a cousin shortly after he married in 1537 [source: African American Registry].

Since the Middle Ages, France had been divided into a three-class system. The clergy made up the first class, the nobility made up the second and the peasantry the third. There was no room for social climbing: Kings gave birth to kings, paupers gave birth to paupers. For centuries, the Old Regime held all the power in France. The nobility and clergy represented only 3 percent of the French population, but their minds conceived of the policies that governed the entire country [source: History Channel]. This system was rigid and uncompromising, but no one paused to consider -- or dared to say -- that it was unfair.

By the 18th century, the Enlightenment was dawning. Philosophers like Voltaire and Jean-Jacques Rousseau advocated for equality and reason. They asked why people put their faith in political and religious leaders who disregarded their needs. In salons, the wealthy members of Parisian society debated these issues. Their eyes were on the American colonies, where the Americans had gone to war to clai

m their rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. (Meanwhile, Thomas Jefferson, who'd described these principles in the Declaration of Independence, had also declared that if France's queen Marie Antoinette had been shut up in a convent, France could have avoided the revolution [source: Smithsonian].) While the French nobles pondered the unfairness of the universe, peasants went hungry in the streets of Paris and in the outlying provinces.

One of the medieval precedents that persisted in the 18th century was brutal execution. Criminals were burned, drowned, tortured and maimed -- all under the consenting eyes of the Old Regime. However, the French nobility were entitled to execution by decapitation. While it seems a particularly grisly way to die, decapitation is relatively swift and straightforward, a real gentleman's death. When Dr. Joseph Ignace Guillotin joined France's Constituent Assembly in 1789, he proposed that all capital criminals sentenced to death be decapitated [source: Hibbert]. Guillotin advocated for the creation of a decapitation device like the ones used in England, Germany, Italy and Scotland. The device was prototyped in Germany by the secretary of the Academy of Surgeons, who ensured that it was humane. By 1791, after a trial period during which the device sliced through countless cadavers, it was appointed France's national death-sentence machine. It was called the guillotine.

The guillotine was just a small part of an enlightened equal rights movement sweeping through France. While Guillotin advocated for equality in death, the French people were fighting for equality in life. And ironically enough, the guillotine would be misappropriated in this struggle. It became a tool of terrorism in the French Revolution as the undiscerning blade silenced nobles, radicals and ordinary citizens.

It's a question for the ages: What could turn a group of loyal subjects into a bloodthirsty mob? The movement that began as a reformation steadily devolved -- or evolved, depending on whom you ask -- into a full-fledged revolution. The French Revolution lasted for 10 years, from 1789 to 1799. But trouble began brewing in France years before dissident political factions went on witch hunts for counter-revolutionaries.

So did the revolution actually accomplish anything it set out to? Was it just about brotherhood and bread, or were there darker forces at work? The events of the French Revolution and the motley crew of characters responsible for them are as varied, complicated and painstakingly interwoven as a juicy soap opera plotline. We'll begin at the seat of power, in Versailles.

Once Upon a Time at Versailles: Before the French Revolution

The Palace of Versailles, in all its gilded architectural glory, was completed by 1682. Louis XIV had taken it upon himself to relocate the French monarchy 12 miles (19 km) from the squalor of Paris.

If Louis XIV's reign had been distinguished by extravagance, Louis XV's was characterized by carelessness. Louis XV was a perfect example of the Old Regime's dysfunction. He preferred to satisfy his mistresses (notably Madame de Pompadour and Madame du Barry) rather than his kingdom. But he did pull himself away from the boudoir long enough to get France into some serious financial scrapes. Under his reign, France was involved in the War of Polish Succession (1733-38), the War of Austrian Succession (1740-48) and the Seven Years' War (1756-63). France lost valuable land during these battles, and the Seven Years' War nearly drained the treasury.

At Versailles, it was easy to forget about the French people -- and also pretty

convenient for a despised king like Louis XV. The people couldn't be ignored, though. For many years, diseases like the plague had kept the peasant population in check. Now, the population was booming and clamored for sustenance [source: Doyle].

When Louis XV died in 1774, the crown went to Louis Auguste, who famously intoned, "Protect us, Lord, for we are too young to reign." No one had much confidence in Louis XVI's ability to lead France, much less pull it out of debt. His young wife, Marie Antoinette, only compounded his troubles. Marie Antoinette had been married off to Louis to cement the relationship between the Austrian Hapsburgs and the French Bourbons. They were teenagers when they wed, but already shy Louis and tentative Marie Antoinette were under pressure to create the next heir to the throne. The couple floundered in the bedroom for nearly seven years before producing a child -- and their first was a girl.

Young Marie Antoinette, blissfully oblivious to the fate that awaits her

Imagno/Getty Images

When she wasn't reproducing, Marie Antoinette was spending. Her reputation as Madame Deficit was well-deserved: She amused herself by ordering hundreds of gowns, trying out elaborate hairstyles and hosting lavish parties at her private retreat, Petit Trianon, on Versailles' expansive grounds. Marie Antoinette had a yearly wardrobe allowance of $3.6 million, but she easily surpassed that by ordering dresses trimmed with silver and gold and dripping with precious jewels -- even diamonds [source: Thomas]. Her focus was on pleasing the courtiers and her new family, and she may very well have been ignorant of the conditions in Paris. After a brief excursion to the city in 1773, she wrote to her mother, "What was really affecting was the tenderness and earnestness of the poor people, who, in spite of the taxes with which they are overwhelmed, were transported with joy at seeing us" [source: Modern History Sourcebook].

The third class was fully aware of its spendthrift queen, though. Pamphlets circulated with lewd cartoons of the queen at court orgies and with her eccentric stylist sweeping up her hair into impossibly high bouffants. It wasn't just her extravagance on display -- her lack of reproductive success was, too. Where was the male heir, the people wondered. Louis couldn't govern the bedroom; could he govern France?

Emasculated by this negative publicity and still smarting from criticisms at court, Louis exacted military vengeance. He pledged 2,000 million livres to the American Revolutionary War; for that massive sum, he could've fed and sheltered 7 million of his own people for a year [source: History Channel]. This mistake wouldn't be his last, however. And the French would see to it that he was duly punished.