Thursday, April 29, 2010

Breaking News! Yours Truly… Gaius... is an Oreo!

Oreo

A stereotype created by blacks to be used for other blacks who are "black on the outside, white on the inside". Black being their skin color, and white meaning to display characteristics of a "white" person, therefore "betraying their black roots".

These characteristics being (but not limited to), raised in an environment that's NOT the projects, speaking proper English/very limited use of slang, having an eclectic taste in music, having a diverse group of friends, being well-educated, being legitimately employed, not abusing the welfare system, being well-mannered and civilized, saves money for college instead of bling and cheap grills, and wearing nice clothes that are not Roca Wear, Sean Jean, Baby Phat and so on.

Most blacks confuse the "Oreo" stereotype to being "bourgie", which is a very rude, stuck-up black, who thinks they are more "high-class" than they really are.

This stereotype is stupid, and apparently stems from the fear most nigg3rs have of success. Blacks believe that unless you are a talentless rapper, a professional athlete, or "gangsta", it is impossible to be successful without being an "oreo".

A painful word of irony that causes Spike Lee anguish, and historical black figures to turn over in their graves.


*****
The other day one of my dear friends called me and Oreo…

You know, “black on the outside, white on the inside.”

I would suspect any left wing Negro who has read this blog just might make that distinction after all I freed myself from the backwards ass Negro mindset a long time ago. This blog demonstrates that.  I’m a non-conformist; I have never allowed my sole identifier to be strictly my skin color or shade.
Now don’t get me wrong this society is obsessed with race and racial identifications. This is a pretty sick fuck world we live in and we all must be put into categories for someone’s amusement.

I was born in Los Angeles, Inglewood to be exact, and I lived in what was the birthplace of the Crips and the Bloods. Fortunately because of a promotion my father received we were able to escape the pending destruction that would take place with so many young people my age and my older brothers’ age.

My brothers and I along with a few friends who managed to get the fuck out of dodge are basically the only survivors left from an era that started with unprecedented violence and black on black self destruction.

I’m not meant to be categorized or labeled. Try to put me in a box and I’ll do my best to claw my way out, because I just don’t belong in one.
Now my friend who pinned the “O” word on me did not do so to be mean spirited, it was all in fun.
I understand that people use phrases like these to joke around. I do have a sense of humor buried deep somewhere.

Still, being called an Oreo fits in with other times people have acted like I, for some reason, don’t seem like a member of my race. “I don’t think of you as a black person.” I have been told on more than a few occasions.

Back in the day I used to stay quiet when people would say things about my race that they thought would boost my ego, as though I should be happy if I didn’t fit in with black folks. Well, those days of avoiding these confrontations went by the waste side long ago.

My silence in the past may have insinuated that I agreed with the statements people are making, and take pride in the fact that I’ve got a little “white” in me. But I don’t. I’m proud of who I am. Even if I could wave a magic wand and change some part of me, it would never be my race. I wouldn’t want my skin to be even a smidgen of a shade lighter.
Race should play no role in how one is “supposed” to act.

“You don’t act black!” “You don’t speak black”

Ah but folks I have my parents to thank for that, and my brothers too. It was never conveyed to me that I “needed” to act a certain way to fit into some Magic Negro box.
Although I’m definitely black, my personality and manners I guess to some more closely resemble those of a stereotypical white man’s. I don’t act “hard”. I’m not overly-hip. My vocabulary isn’t heavily laced with street slang and I don’t have the urge to put overly expensive shiny rims on some fucked up car, or the urge to gold plate all my teeth, the urge to wear saggy ass paints, the urge to smoke Menthol cigarettes, or the urge to vote for some illiterate ignorant ass Democrat.

My personality, behavior and take on life crushes all what most people thought they knew about racial behavior. I did not have a sheltered childhood or one of privilege.
Some think that maybe I grew up around only whites, another wrong assumption. I grew up in mixed neighborhoods with various cultures.
I spent more than enough time around the hardest of the hard Negros of the “hood” but somehow the street hardness eluded me. Or, I eluded it. Even when I tried to act hard, I couldn’t. For a while, in fact, I was worried as to why I couldn’t act like a stereotypical black man and I often tried to “correct” my behavior to resemble that of someone who ran in the streets but I couldn’t do it because frankly I always thought the notion of ‘acting my color” was simply ridiculous.

I try to consider myself open-minded even when it comes to music. I remember telling someone about my interest in classical music and this individual looked at me as if I grew a third eye. I seriously like all kinds of music; I love good music not racially colored music from the occasional grunge heavy metal to Chic disco of the 70’s to Curtis Mayfield, Earth, Wind and Fire also shockingly I loved Fleetwood Mac and The Who particularly in high school. Oh and I dated every color under the sun too beautiful women should not have racial stipulations in terms of attractiveness.  

However, under the laws that govern racial behavior in the United States of America, as a black man, I’m not supposed to have such a wide variety of tastes of music or food or architecture, or literature, entertainment. I’m not supposed to be able to adapt to other cultures and surroundings. I’m simply supposed to be sagging, Democrat, ignorant, hard and loud.

Since I don’t fit the racial stereotype of a black man, my blackness in the past was frequently called into the question. However, I’m unaware of any regulation that states how people of certain races and ethnic groups are supposed to act. And, it’s really funny to see the reactions of people when I ask them just how, as a black man, I am supposed to act. I’ve never received a clear answer.

I know that I’m black and I’m very proud of it. I don’t try to deny or hide my blackness. My knowledge of Africa and Black History is far more extensive than that of most folks particularly any Negro I’ve ever met and I would be more than happy to school anyone who thinks he/she knows more than I do about Dr. Martin Luther King, Malcom X, Harriet Tubman, Fredrick Douglas or W.E.B. DuBois.

I’ve always had a measure of disdain for Negros who would wear Africa symbols (many did this back in high school) or wear Malcolm X t-shirts, or style their hair in some “ethnic” fashion or name a their child after a kitchen appliance or fine automobile and that is what passes for “black.” Yet when it came to their own history they did not know shit about their ancestors or the struggles they endured. Ignorant of their culture they succumbed to playing the careless Negro, forcing themselves to mispronounce words in order to fit in, I always though it was classic comedy.

Every person’s skin color or complexion merely helps to complete the outer shell and tells nothing of that person’s background or behavior. Race or ethnicity is what you are; it does not determine who you are.

Thank God for independent thought and independent thinking. This was no doubt the greatest gift my father ever gave me.

3 comments:

PeggyU said...

Well now, that just made me hungry for cookies!

phthaloblu said...

Me, too!

PoundingSand said...

Could be worse. Spike Lee, if I get him right, wears glasses. So, how Urkel is that?