I was going to post a poem, but after reading blackstarr’s insightful article on "Celebrities & Racism", I decided to take what he’d written a step further.
I am one of those so-called “mutts.” Like blackstarr, I grew up in ‘da hood’ and while I was never called a “mutt,” I was referred to frequently as “a mongrel”; in junior high I was nicknamed “Lite-Brite”. But most often I was referred to as “Oreo”.
My life has been defined by race since I can remember. My mother is white and West Indian; my father (now deceased) was black. My maternal grandmother was white, my maternal grandfather West Indian. My paternal grandparents were both black.
Given the fact that my father hated white people, it is amazing that he married my mother. I am sure lust played a part here, as my mother (now 72) was a stunningly beautiful woman in her youth. My parents married during a time when miscegenation was illegal in 16 states. Of my siblings - one brother and two sisters - I am the only one who took my mother's fair coloring. If you’ve seen Spike Lee's film School Daze, that pretty much sums up my life: people either liked me because I was light-skinned, or they reviled me for the same reason. Needless to say, this made life difficult on both sides of the fence I had to learn to straddle as the result of my parents' love for each other.
Despite my father’s hatred of Caucasians, he and my mother raised us to treat people the way we would want to be treated, regardless of their race, ethnicity, gender, disability, religious beliefs, socio-economic status or sexual proclivities. I took them at their word: my friends were white, black, Mexican, Italian, gay, Catholic, Jewish...a vast and diverse group that I took pride in being a part of; we referred to ourselves as “The Rainbow Tribe.” However, this was not seen as “cool” during the “say-it-loud-I’m-black-and-I’m-proud” era I came of age in. So I took a lot of ass-whuppin’s during the years I was held in thrall to public education.
My siblings - and the few black friends I had who remained loyal – did not understand why I felt the need to have friends outside my race. “What you wanna hang around dem honkies (or spics or wops or kikes or fags) for?” I was constantly asked. I was accused of trying to be ‘better’ than my peers. I was called “white girl” and “wannabe”.
No one was interested in my reason, which was simple: it was because they were different that I liked them. I have always had a curious nature, and I realized at an early age that I could learn from those who were different – we could learn from each other.
I grew old with the Rainbow Tribe. We got our asses whupped for and on behalf of each other. We attended each other’s weddings, bought presents at the births of each other’s children, commiserated with one another as some marriages hit those fabled rocks, and sometimes we cried together as our parents aged and began to die. Our lives may have traveled divergent paths, but the path that led to the heart of those friendships remains straight and steadfast, and our various colors has had nothing to do with it. Personally, I think the world would be much better off if we could leave color where it belongs: in a box of crayons.
Time for my Oreos and milk.
I am one of those so-called “mutts.” Like blackstarr, I grew up in ‘da hood’ and while I was never called a “mutt,” I was referred to frequently as “a mongrel”; in junior high I was nicknamed “Lite-Brite”. But most often I was referred to as “Oreo”.
My life has been defined by race since I can remember. My mother is white and West Indian; my father (now deceased) was black. My maternal grandmother was white, my maternal grandfather West Indian. My paternal grandparents were both black.
Given the fact that my father hated white people, it is amazing that he married my mother. I am sure lust played a part here, as my mother (now 72) was a stunningly beautiful woman in her youth. My parents married during a time when miscegenation was illegal in 16 states. Of my siblings - one brother and two sisters - I am the only one who took my mother's fair coloring. If you’ve seen Spike Lee's film School Daze, that pretty much sums up my life: people either liked me because I was light-skinned, or they reviled me for the same reason. Needless to say, this made life difficult on both sides of the fence I had to learn to straddle as the result of my parents' love for each other.
Despite my father’s hatred of Caucasians, he and my mother raised us to treat people the way we would want to be treated, regardless of their race, ethnicity, gender, disability, religious beliefs, socio-economic status or sexual proclivities. I took them at their word: my friends were white, black, Mexican, Italian, gay, Catholic, Jewish...a vast and diverse group that I took pride in being a part of; we referred to ourselves as “The Rainbow Tribe.” However, this was not seen as “cool” during the “say-it-loud-I’m-black-and-I’m-proud” era I came of age in. So I took a lot of ass-whuppin’s during the years I was held in thrall to public education.
My siblings - and the few black friends I had who remained loyal – did not understand why I felt the need to have friends outside my race. “What you wanna hang around dem honkies (or spics or wops or kikes or fags) for?” I was constantly asked. I was accused of trying to be ‘better’ than my peers. I was called “white girl” and “wannabe”.
No one was interested in my reason, which was simple: it was because they were different that I liked them. I have always had a curious nature, and I realized at an early age that I could learn from those who were different – we could learn from each other.
I grew old with the Rainbow Tribe. We got our asses whupped for and on behalf of each other. We attended each other’s weddings, bought presents at the births of each other’s children, commiserated with one another as some marriages hit those fabled rocks, and sometimes we cried together as our parents aged and began to die. Our lives may have traveled divergent paths, but the path that led to the heart of those friendships remains straight and steadfast, and our various colors has had nothing to do with it. Personally, I think the world would be much better off if we could leave color where it belongs: in a box of crayons.
Time for my Oreos and milk.
copyright © 2008 KPMCL
Oreos, mongrel, mutt, race, miscegenation, rainbow
