Personal Narrative: I Hate Oreos
I hate Oreos. “Milk’s favorite cookie”? Yeah, right. Do not get me wrong who can resist a Snickers or a slice of cherry pie, I love sweets, but I would pass on a whole box of Oreos for these any day. Being called this sweet name with such a vicious meaning behind it ruined this sugary treat for me. According to my friends I have a severe problem with not being “black” enough, and they claim my numerous track accolades are the only “black” thing about me. I have always been proud of my Caribbean heritage, my parents instilled in me from day one to never shy away from my Jamaican and St. Maarten upbringing, but growing up in white suburbia has made it difficult. Throughout most of my grade school career I have been one of approximately 5 black kids in my grade, and in high school I have been one
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of very few black students in my upper level AP courses. Don’t get me wrong I loved making friends with students of different backgrounds, some of my best friends have taken me to their Hindu temples and others to traditional Korean baby showers, I enjoy that my childhood has given me a different view culturally of our world, but the loneliness of not having my people to relate to was maddening. To the white kids I was wearing a façade that made me an easy target for bullying. The black kids who I wanted so desperately to fit in with were far and few between.
Oreo was the name I wore for most of my adolescence, a black girl who acted “too white”. I was stuck in racial limbo. I grew up without an understanding of how to be me. Trying distance myself from the Oreo stereotype was more important to me than being Chloe. Arriving in a state where I could accept my identity instead of denying it took a lot of self-discovery, most of which came from my Nana visiting me from St.Maarten in 11th grade. It was the first time I had seen her in 6 years, and the first time she was seeing me as a young adult. When we embraced at Dulles Airport the warmth and scent of her hug carried me home. She shared stories with me that night, and in her thick French Guadeloupian accent told me about her childhood. She mentioned how she was teased for being fairer skinned than her family and friends. Similarly, she donned the name “Café au lait”, which is French for coffee with milk, again a sweet beverage used in a harmful manner. My Nana wore the darkest makeup to seem similar complexion to everyone else; although, a more literal façade we had gone through similar
experiences. It opened my eyes to the constant struggle of blacks and African American to fit into stereotypes set by the majority and how as a minority we have no obligation to break or embrace them. Inspired by my grandmother and the Tyler Perry Film “For Colored Girls Only” I created a Tumblr page ForBlackGirlsOnly. A safe haven for lost girls and woman to ask advice, submit pictures, and generate and spread love. Since 2014 I have gained 800 followers and it continues to grow exponentially each day. I took me 17 years to accept and cherish my personality, my melanin, and myself. Today I am happy to say I am grateful to be happy, Oreo, and Chloe.
of very few black students in my upper level AP courses. Don’t get me wrong I loved making friends with students of different backgrounds, some of my best friends have taken me to their Hindu temples and others to traditional Korean baby showers, I enjoy that my childhood has given me a different view culturally of our world, but the loneliness of not having my people to relate to was maddening. To the white kids I was wearing a façade that made me an easy target for bullying. The black kids who I wanted so desperately to fit in with were far and few between.
Oreo was the name I wore for most of my adolescence, a black girl who acted “too white”. I was stuck in racial limbo. I grew up without an understanding of how to be me. Trying distance myself from the Oreo stereotype was more important to me than being Chloe. Arriving in a state where I could accept my identity instead of denying it took a lot of self-discovery, most of which came from my Nana visiting me from St.Maarten in 11th grade. It was the first time I had seen her in 6 years, and the first time she was seeing me as a young adult. When we embraced at Dulles Airport the warmth and scent of her hug carried me home. She shared stories with me that night, and in her thick French Guadeloupian accent told me about her childhood. She mentioned how she was teased for being fairer skinned than her family and friends. Similarly, she donned the name “Café au lait”, which is French for coffee with milk, again a sweet beverage used in a harmful manner. My Nana wore the darkest makeup to seem similar complexion to everyone else; although, a more literal façade we had gone through similar
experiences. It opened my eyes to the constant struggle of blacks and African American to fit into stereotypes set by the majority and how as a minority we have no obligation to break or embrace them. Inspired by my grandmother and the Tyler Perry Film “For Colored Girls Only” I created a Tumblr page ForBlackGirlsOnly. A safe haven for lost girls and woman to ask advice, submit pictures, and generate and spread love. Since 2014 I have gained 800 followers and it continues to grow exponentially each day. I took me 17 years to accept and cherish my personality, my melanin, and myself. Today I am happy to say I am grateful to be happy, Oreo, and Chloe.