they're nice braids and all, but do I need to be excited about them?

hey everyone! i do apologize for my absence. i’ve been a journeying fool for the past two months, first spending almost a month at my girlhood home in Pennsylvania and then two weeks after that, a week in Florida. now that i’m staying put for a little while, here I am! and yes, the Internet does exist in PA, just not at my parent’s house. and yes, it does exist in FL, but i was busy getting up close and personal with a room-sized jacuzzi most days. I have been making sure to keep my other blog up-to-date, so you can always read that while you’re jonesin’ for the next set of amusing words/thoughts to emerge from me.

while I was away, there were many things that i saw, read, heard or that happened to me that made me say, “oh! this would be perfect for oreo girl!” did i write it down? nope. am i able to recall most of it? negative. so bit by bit, i’ll try to remember what it was that grabbed my attention–one thing, i will definitely discuss when i have more time (i’m about to get ready to go watch the Pittsburgh Steelers game–i don’t mess around with lateness when they’re involved) but for now–just a quick observation from Flo Rida.

i met a nice  family from Chicago while I was lounging in the jacuzzi. the husband seemed to really like my tankini top, the wife seemed overly excited to have befriended a black girl, the grandma was super interested in hearing of my expertise on the resort (because I had arrived two days before they did so I was the all-knower apparently), the grandpa loved my Southern accident–what Southern accent?? I’m a Yankee!–and their two little girls were in awe of me for some reason; maybe i reminded them of their mammie? anyhow, this family took a liking to me. the next night, same bat time, same bat channel, we met in the jacuzzi again. they had spent the day at Disney and were all eager to tell me about it. none so much as the mother, though.

“oh HI!!! i just have to show you the girls’ hair!!! hey girls, show the nice lady your hair!” i look at the two little blondes and other than wet-stuck-to-their-head hair, i see nothi–oh wait. yes. yessss. there appears to be some colored string of sorts in their heads. “don’t you see it!?” the mom asks me again. “they got braids in their hair at Disney today!! show her girls. show her your braids!! she’ll love them!!”

Reeeeeealy?? Now why would I love these colored string covered braids that look like friendship bracelets that i wore in the 7th grade? oh, i know–I’m black!  black girls just LOVE braids, don’t cha know?!   i knew that this woman was just trying to make conversation and was thrilled when she felt that there was some way she could relate to me. sadly, braids are not it. just looking at me she could see that i’m not rockin’ a traditional african-american hairstyle… she would have faired much better by bringing up the Bears or something.

but she tried. bless her, she tried. kudos for that. she was much better than the other white people (i think they were Germans) that immediately huddled their children together and exited the jacuzzi when I got in it. TWICE. what’s German for n*gger? cuz I think I heard it.

*poof* all gone!

what a crazy week it has been. this was the pattern: flip out/apologize/explain yourself. how about just not having a crazy outburst in the first place? nahhhh, that’s not good for ratings.

the world seems outraged that serena cussed out the line judge and kanye stole the stage from taylor, but not enough are outraged that joe wilson interrupted the President of the United States and called him a liar. no one is in the right here. serena should have bit her tongue, kanye should have kept his mouth shut and joe should know that there’s a time and a place for such things and that wasn’t it.

jimmy carter viewed joe’s outburst as complete racism. i’m not going to disagree with him one bit. but, not wanting to be the pot calling the kettle a negro, why wasn’t it racism when the  looming black amazon woman serena stood over the petite asian judge threatening to stick a tennis ball where it should never go? why wasn’t it viewed as racism when the sweet little blonde white girl taylor had the microphone snatched from her hands by an angry outspoken black kanye as he announced that the black songstress beyonce should have won? both of these instances oozed racial overtones, but i didn’t hear it mentioned one time in the media. not even hinted at. are we afraid to point our white, black, yellow and red fingers? are we not supposed to acknowledge the big ‘ol racial elephant in the room? at least jimmy had the cajones to bring it up.

we have a black president. this scares many folk. but even the people that aren’t scared of it, are afraid to bring it up. it wasn’t just a republican disagreeing with a democrat. a white man ridiculed the black president in the most disrepectful way. say it. think about it. it’s deeper than politics, my friend. a black woman gave an explitive laden tongue lashing to an asian judge. would it have been any different if the judge were black? would this black woman have cursed out a white judge? would society’s reaction have been heightened? would a black man interrupting a black award winner be front page news three days later? would it be so newsworthy if the black interrupter was upset that different white singer didn’t win? did he want a black singer to win because she’s better or because she’s black?

when a black man became president in 2009, racism did not disappear, so some tried to sweep it under the rug. not talking about it isn’t going to make it go away either. the lumps under the carpet are starting to build.

wow. i mean, really. wowwwww.

i was crusing through my big brother 11 group on facebook and stumbled upon this picture. i really had to do a double take. a  quadruple take even. what didn’t she have done? eeegads. julie. is it true? is this what you really used to look like? i’m all for a little sprucing up, but you darn near wiped out your asian ethnicity with every nip and tuck.

i can’t remember the old version. i’ve only been watching her since the start of big brother a few years ago. i loved ”chen-bot”.  she always looked pretty and eloquent to me, but now, the looks don’t mean as much. it’s one thing to fix up your look with some eyeliner, lipstick or a new hair cut, but to slice and dice your face  so that you look like a distant cousin, at best, of your former chinese self?

why the need to eradicate the asian features, to take out your beautiful china girl looks? ask anyone that knows me well, and they will say for certain that i think asian women are the most beautiful ladies on earth. their skin, their hair, their eyes–everything is just so exotically gorgeous. true, julie did have quite the connie chung look going on, and that may have been difficult for her to work with, but remember, connie is quite the successful journalist as well.  so was the pressure to change coming from the news execs or inside herself?

julie is preggers now. and though the baby will be half asian and half caucasian (julie’s husband is president and ceo of cbs, leslie moonves), will it be good enough for her? remember, the baby isn’t going to have the genes of the new julie, she’ll have them of the old one. the connie chung for tots edition. hmmm…what then jules?

i see black people.

one of the reasons i ♥ wordpress so much is that i have access to wonderful types of statistics about my blog. a fabulous one is seeing the terms that people out there have typed into a search engine to wind up here. don’t go getting paranoid…i can’t tell WHO you are, i just know that you typed something quite amusing to end up here on oreo girl:  “black people scary.”

REALLY? was this person trying to find out if others thought blacks are scary, too, or if it was more along the tongue-in-check inquiry like my blog entry…hmmm…is there someone  that really, honestly is scared of black people? like we’re the boogie man or zombies, or KKK-scared as in scared we’re taking over the population or scared because the leader of the free world is a black man who resides in a white house? i have so many questions all just from a little query of  ”black people scary.”  what did you mean, mysterious web searcher,  you?? what did you mean? and did you ever find out your answer or the scary black people that you were trying to find?

ok, so maybe we can't rock a chainsaw like that...

tonight, if the show time isn’t too late, the hubby and i are going to see halloween II. i LOVE horror movies even though i wouldn’t last long if actually in the film. yes, the big breastedness would carry me through for a while, but the black girl rarely makes it to the end. i can only think of the “i know what you did last summer” movies in which brandy manages to survive the gorton fisherman. but this got me thinking, is the villain in horror movies ever black?

there is the black guy in “the candyman,” but other than him, who else? the top ones, freddy, jason, leatherface, and my personal favorite, michael are all white. are black people not scary enough (i’m sure there’s a few older white women clutching their purses in elevators who may say yes…) ? can’t we haunt people in their dreams, don hockey masks, rev up a chainsaw or swing a butcher knife? maybe we have to look at the root of the problems that caused these men to be crazy killers. freddy was a child molester….jason drowned at camp and his mother was doing the killing to avenge his death, leatherface was loosely based on a real life serial killer who like to make trinkets out of body parts, and michael had an obession with killing his sister.

yes, black people can be molesters, so freddy could have been black.  black kids go to camp…but we’re not known for our swimming abilities, so yes, jason could have been black. i don’t personally know of many black siblings that throw down like i’ve seen their caucasian counterparts do, but sure, michael could be black, too. eh, leatherface, um, maybe not so much…but then again, i could have sworn that the DC snipers were going to be anything but black.  fine, maybe leatherface could have been, too.

so c’mon hollywood! get with it. i’m ready for the next black villain of horror. surely we can play other parts besides thugs, dealers, pimps and cracked out baby’s mamas. that’s so played out.

i'm ready for some football.

“you’re probably glad michael vick is allowed to play again; you’re black.”

yup, that’s a real statement. it wasn’t directed at me, but, as michael vick sets out to make his debut back in a football game tonight with the philadelphia eagles, it made me think. is it only because i’m black that i’m glad that michael is allowed to play again? noooooo. can’t be; i’m not making this a racial thing. it’s not about race.  so actually,  i’d love to give a resounding NO in response to that, but even in my own mind i can’t admit it.

yes, i am glad that he’s allowed to play again in part, solely because this black man has been given a second chance. maybe it was my mother that got me excited about black quarterbacks. she started it way back with warren moon. “i want to see the oilers game; they have a black quarterback,” she’d exclaim proudly. or “we need to watch that leftwich guy–he’s black. he’s a black quarterback.” and of course she’d tell me, “turn on that atlanta game. michael vick is their quarterback. he’s black!”  so now that she’s gone, i have taken it over in my own household, only taking it a step further, “i sure miss tony dungy. he was a black coach!” or “it was great to see lovie smith and tony together in the super bowl–two black coaches playing each other. this is historical!” and then with my favorite team, the steelers, “oh. my. gosh. we have a black coach now! mike tomlin’s black!! the steelers hired a black coach! aaagghhh!! wow!” so with this mentality, i’m just not able to separate race from the happiness that i have in vick being back in the game.

i’m not a dog-hater. i’m not pro-dogfighting. and i wasn’t anti-jail time for vick. as i sit here typing this, and wearing a “powered by tofu” peta t-shirt, i am proudly a football-lover, pro-human, and anti-not giving people second chances.  michael did a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad thing. he took joy in an activity that caused harm to animals. but, BUT, how many of us out there take great joy in shooting animals for sport? how many swat flies on their windows? how many feast on cows, chickens, pigs and fish? how many of you are wearing leather shoes or a belt right now? we don’t need to kill bambi for fun. we can just open the window and let the flies fly away. we can go vegan and stop killing animals for food or accessories.  why are those unneccesary activities all deemed okay?

in a country where we commit a crime and pay our time for it, we are then allowed to go on and try to live a respectable life, not being forgetful of the crimes committed but hopefully forgiven.  michael has paid his time and is now trying to start again, make a living and be a contributing member of society. he was a football player, so of course he’s going to go back and play football (this response to those critics out there who want him to step down from football and do something else. what else is he supposed to do? be an accountant?!).  this time, hopefully he has a greater understanding that what he did was wrong, can now work to better himself and begin again. having been given many second chances in my life, i take the lessons from what mistakes i made, and work to be better in the future. i’m not going to fault anyone for doing the same thing. it’s not my job.

ONE.

my husband and i are not big on public displays of affection. when eating at a restaurant though, we often hold hands, sit close and give off all kinds of body language that would signal to the casual onlooker that we are indeed together–a couple. but at the end of the meal, without fail, we always get some version the same question from the waitress, “Will this be one check or two?”, “Are you together?”, “Do you want it on the same check?”

never mind the light canoodling, or the gleaming rock on my left ring finger, or his shiny gold band on his, for some reason we are not percieved as being “together”, “on the same check”, and least of all, “married”. i’ve never worked in the food service industry, but is it because we’re an interracial couple? silly me, that was rhetorical of course. as a cashier, i never asked an interracial couple, “Will you be planning on spitting up this order today?”, “Do you want me to ring half of these groceries for you and the other half for her?”, “Do you want yours in paper and hers in plastic to keep it separate?”, or “Could you place the divider between your groceries so i know where yours ends and hers begins? Thanks.”

i do make sure to take my own unscientific poll on this. i look around. hmmmm, the waitress didn’t ask the latino couple next to us…is it because they have kids in tow? the waitress didn’t ask the black couple and only the man is wearing a ring…they could be coworkers, right? and she certainly didn’t ask the white couple on the other side of us and with their cold demeanor toward each other and lack of chemistry, surely they’re not together…on a first date at best. but with us, she asked. not in a mean way, politely, but she still inquired.

what is it about the white man/black woman combo that makes waiters and waitresses in every type of restaurant question that we could possibly be together, much less married and wanting one check? what could i do to make it look like we want our meals to coexist on the same receipt? will this stop if we start making out at the table? or perhaps when i produce cute little mulatto offspring to bring along?

awesome pic dude!

     **i totally copied this  from my ehow article site. it was too good not to have it as my first post. i love tooting my own horn, thank you.**

      Ahh, the life of an Oreo Girl… I don’t mean a girl that loves Oreos, endorses Oreos, or a girl made out of Oreos. Nope. By the slang definition, an Oreo Girl is one who is black on the outside and white on the inside—much like that of an Oreo cookie. There are so many angles to go about discussing the topic. Is it meant to be derogatory? What does it mean to act black or act white? Does the actual Oreo girl get offended or take ownership of it and use it to her benefit? And, how does one come to be an Oreo Girl? Follow along—I’ve been called one all my life so I’m reaching darn near expert level on this topic.

1.  Grow up in an all white neighborhood. If there are no other little black girls to teach you how to double-dutch, you’re bound to spend your time creating dance routines to Tiffany songs. I still can perform the awesome routine that my friend Lori and I perfected to “I think we’re alone now.” But jump ropes scare me. And multiple jump ropes are even more frightening. It’s easy to be an Oreo Girl if you spent your time after school and summer days with other little white girls. We often sang along to New Kids on the Block; New Edition wasn’t in their cassette collection, so it didn’t end up in mine.

2.  Attend an all white school.  The early years are your formidable years. If you are the only little black girl in your class for thirteen years of school you will start to pick up a thing or two from the culture you spend the most time around—the Caucasian culture. You cannot befriend LaToya, Keisha, Tameeka, LaShawnda or Shaniqua—they aren’t there. You can, on the other hand, get to be best friends with Heather, Debi, Holly, Jonee and Shayna.

3.  Be attracted to white boys. Again, starting from an early age, if there are only white boys in your class and your best friends, who are white, only talk and gossip about these boys, that’s what you have on the brain. Those are the guys you see everyday; those are the ones that catch your eye.

4.  Spend no time around your black family members. Sure, you may have strong cousins, aunts and uncles to be a good role model for all that is black, but if you’re not around them you can’t immerse yourself in the culture. And if your immediate family resembles the Cosby’s…well…they aren’t going to be able to save you from a life of being called an Oreo Girl.

5.  Attend a mostly white university. While at this university you will most likely end up gravitating toward friends that remind you of your high school buddies, who were all white. This will end up lead you to pledging not a black sorority like Alpha Kappa Alpha, but instead a white sorority like Zeta Tau Alpha.

6.  Speak with correct grammar usage. Especially if you majored in English, as I did. You will say “ask” instead of “ax”, “mine” instead of “mines”, “their” instead of “they” and “you are” instead of “you is.”  In fact, the only bad grammar you will use is an abundance of the work “like”. Ebonics is blasphemy to you.

7.  Use words like “awesome” and “dude” to express your feelings.

8.  Read the book “Stuff White People Like.”  Realize that you also really like 98.27% of the same stuff and smack yourself in the head and say, “Dude!! I should have written this book”. This is a definite way to be an Oreo Girl.

9.  Listen to and thoroughly enjoy “white people’s music.” Forget if you also enjoy R&B and some rap music. If you enjoy rocking out to Whitesnake, Nirvana, Green Day, or heaven forbid, country music, too, you will be letting your Oreo Girl show.  Bonus points if you know how to country line dance or feel oh-so-comfortable in the mosh pit, yet you have no clue how to do the Cha Cha slide or the Percolator.

10.  Refuse to wear your hair au naturel. You wouldn’t dare be caught letting your hair ‘fro out unless it was time for a much needed relaxer. You don’t mind dread locks or braids, but feel that your hair looks its best when cut from a Samoan woman, store bought and weaved in.

11.  Choose to dress in J. Crew and Banana Republic versus FUBU or Baby Phat. It looks cute, but you feel best in a pair of khakis, a crisp blue button-down and a cable knit sweat tossed over your shoulders. You could try to rock the boots with the fur and the Apple Bottom jeans, but it’d be hard to pull off. But if you want to impress your friends on Halloween….Nah—even then, way too hard to pull off.

12.  Marry a white man and move out to a rebel flag waving town in rural North Carolina. This one is optional. Just because I did it doesn’t mean you necessarily have to to be an Oreo Girl.

13.  Never apologize for being an Oreo Girl. Realize it’s all just based on stereotypes anyhow and mostly a label other people need to put on you because you aren’t the cookie cutter type of girl. Be yourself what ever that may be, love you for you and the heck with the haters! Okay? Awesome!