Oreo, More Than a Cookie

Oreo, More Than a Cookie

Black on the outside, White on the inside. Oreo is a term that plagues the Black community. A double-sided coin either used as an insult to accuse its victim of not being “Black enough,” or a backhanded compliment (also an insult) to suggest someone’s Black, but not “too Black.”

As an adult, I’ve connected with people who have been affected by this term, and found comfort in our shared experience; however growing up, I faced this battle alone.

Junior High Ain’t So Fly

My immediate family moved from my home state, Pennsylvania, to Arizona when I was 3. This move separated us from our extended family, which in a lot of ways, separated us from the culture we once knew. Arizona’s population is predominately White and Hispanic so I wasn’t around many Black people aside from my family, the church, and summer visits home.

As an English teacher, my mom made education (especially grammar) a priority in our household. Every summer she created homework packets in each subject that we had to complete before going back to school. You can imagine how fun that was! Being avid churchgoers as well, anything secular was not allowed - music, TV, books. You get the gist. This didn’t stop us from sneaking in entertainment, but for the most part, we were a strict household with little outside influence.

I felt the effects of this when I got to junior high. It was the first time I can remember being called an Oreo.

“You sound white.”

“You talk too proper.”

“Why don’t you sound like the Black girls on TV?”

“How are you Black and you don’t listen to trap music?”

“I know more about being Black than you do!”

My classmates constantly teased me with these statements. I particularly had a deep hatred for that last one. As if there’s a guide to being Black and they held the rulebook. It was especially puzzling since they weren’t Black. The irony. But hey, if this country could create the Three-fifths Compromise, it’s not as far fetch as one would think. As absurd and racist as it all sounds now, their words WERE law to me back then. Their berating remarks became my identity. Something I internalized as proof I wasn’t good enough being me.

“All My Skinfolk Ain’t Kinfolk”

The judgment didn’t stop at school. I also experienced these insults at home and with my extended family. Thanks to my biological dad, and possibly my maternal great-grandmother, I have caramel complexion. The rest of my immediate family has mocha complexion. My brother would use this difference as a way to tease me about being White or adopted.

I faced more of these battles when I visited my dad’s family in New York. Our cultural differences were always pointed out. Everything I did was in question: how I dressed, talked, the things I liked, and what I knew or didn’t know. All microscopically judged against their standards of how Black people should act. During one visit, my sister started calling me her “little White girl.” Anytime I deviated from the standard, she would verbally attack me with that insult. Adding fuel to my internal fire of self-doubt and hatred.

The After Effect

This trauma turned into a trigger that impacted my life for a long time. I was mistrustful and hid from people out of fear they would use my authenticity against me. Even my closest friendships were void of deep connection and vulnerability.

It wasn’t until I was in college and found a beautiful community of Black people, full of diversity, that my wound began to heal.

The thing is, Black people aren’t monolithic. In fact, the only root that truly connects us all is that we are African descent. That is the foundation. Everything else that shapes us is dependent on our interests, experience, beliefs, cultural norms, and everything else in-between. When placed in a box of racial expectation, especially as children, it obstructs our ability to explore who we are and live authentically.

A Message to Readers: Living Life Authentically

I am on a road to recovery where healing is a daily practice. Part of what turned my trauma into triumph was self-discovery without judgment. Learn who you are and what fills your world with passion. If you struggle with this as I did, try journal prompts focused on self-discovery. There are hundreds online!

From there, open yourself up to communities who share your interests. I know this can be scary; however, it is an incredible way to help you accept yourself. When you see others confidently embracing who they are, it gives you the agency to do the same.

For instance, I’ve always wanted to try skiing and dogsledding. Unfortunately, this is one of those racial no-nos Black people are discouraged from doing. I decided to pursue it anyway...and on my own terms. I went on Facebook and found this travel group called the Black Travel Movement. They were hosting a skiing event in Colorado right around my birthday so it was the perfect time to go. I secured my ticket, booked my flight, and had the most amazing experience connecting with like-minded individuals. Since then, I have used social media as a tool to network with people all around the world. These people have given me a visual representation of what it means to live authentically, and I hope this piece of advice does the same for you!

P.s. You may not always be able to avoid feeling like a fish out of water and that’s okay. There is power in being the oddball. As an Aquarius, known as the zodiac outsider, I speak from experience. My life has taught me that it is a gift to be unique and bring your specific ideas to the table, conversation, etc. Remember: when you walk in the confidence of your individuality, you demonstrate the purest form of self-love.