Royal Writings 1.3

Reverse Oreo

What do you think of when you hear the word Oreo?

Most would say a cookie. Some would say chocolate. I say, my life story. “Oreo” is a hateful term used towards members of the African American community who are considered “Black on the outside, and white on theinside.” It represents people who are considered “Too black for the white kids, and too white for the black kids.” (Joshi) My family is an Oreo in a box of Chips Ahoy. Because, in true Oreo fashion, we are black on the outside and white on the inside. But wait, there’s a twist! I, unlike others who are both black and white, have straight hair and pale skin like my mother. I also have big eyes, a button nose, and plump lips like my father. The loneliness, confusion, and bias that children like me frequently experience is not something to be ignored, because we too face racial injustices, but not in the way you might think.

To get my credentials out of the way, (and yes, I must do this often) my father is 75% African American and 25% South Korean. My mother is pure Polish and Irish, exactly half and half. When I was seven years old, I was – not by choice, but by chance - nicknamed the “Reverse Oreo.” A “Reverse Oreo” is exactly what it sounds like-someone who is white on the outside and black on the inside. Typically, the term is used towards “white people who adopt black stereotypes and mock black culture” (Animashaun). This definition does not apply to me because I am not fully white, nor am I putting on an “act.”

So, I came up with my own interpretation. I consider myself too white to experience racial discrimination, and relate to the oppressive nature of the world we live in. Yet, I am too black to not be judged for the food I cook, my culture, or my history. Here is an example. When my mother goes to our neighborhood cookouts, people are kind and helpful and attentive. She is offered a glass of red wine. She blends right in. Then, as I watch people interact with my dad, I see them looking through him. When he speaks, their eyes glaze over. “Wait-you speak English?” These comments make me irate. I notice them all. When you mix black and white, you get grey, and my life is one huge grey area.

My family and I live in the tight-knit community of Fishers, Indiana. It is a beautiful city with incredible education opportunities. It is wonderful place to raise a family. A white family. A wealthy family. I will not deny how lucky I am. I will not deny how lucky we are. Just to be here is a big deal for my family. I can assure you that my father’s relatives do not live in a community like ours-which pushes a commonly believed racial stereotype that black families come from the “ghetto.”

Mixed race children in America, myself included, have grown accustomed to racial jokes, slurs, and offensive questions. This happens daily. Statistics collected by Pew Researchers say, “A majority, (55%) say they [biracial children] have been subjected to racial slurs and jokes and about one-in-four (24%) have felt annoyed because people have made assumptions about their racial background” (Parker) I do not like to talk about my race when I don’t have to.

Statistics collected by Pew Researchers say, “A majority, (55%) say they [biracial children] have been subjected to racial slurs and jokes and about one-in-four (24%) have felt annoyed because people have made assumptions about their racial background” (Parker) I do not like to talk about my race when I don’t have to. Because, truthfully, it should not matter. Nothing makes me angrier than an ignorant person Because, truthfully, it should not matter. Nothing makes me angrier than an ignorant person questioning me about who I am. I do not owe anyone my history. I do not owe anyone anything.

Although I am biracial, I do not face the racial prejudice that other black people face. A vital part of being a “Reverse Oreo” is not being able to relate to this but seeing it in action. Seeing one parent being treated like a human, and the other like chopped liver in the same environment is a tough pill to swallow. Realizing that the bubble I live in does not include my father. Does not include my family. Knowing that if I stand up and say, “I see this, I feel this” I will be told, “No. You are a white girl. You will never understand.” I know I cannot fully relate to the white community, or the black. I am the black sheep in my mother’s family and the wolf in my father’s.

Discussions of race don’t scare me, but the reactions people have to them do. An article states that there are biracial and multi-ethnic listeners who connect with feeling “fake” or inauthentic in some part of their racial or ethnic heritage. “A couple months ago, listener Kristina Ogilvie wrote in to tell us that “living at the intersection of different identities and cultures” was like “stumbling around in a forest in the dark.” (Donnella) I absolutely believe “Racial Imposter Syndrome” to be a real thing. I, like many other biracial children can relate to the feeling of being left behind in “Culture Wars” (which I think are incredibly stupid, but that’s a topic for another day) due to the fact that we do not feel validated or confident in our abilities to speak on issues that we see so often, but our “whiteness” seems to hold us back from saying what we want to say. I often feel like an outsider trying to invade a space I know I belong. It is like I am entering an area I am not supposed to be in, but I am. It feels unwelcoming, but I get it.

Sometimes, being uncomfortable is necessary to get your point across respectfully and purposefully.

What is abundantly clear

is that

ignorance

is

bliss. While I do not believe everyone in Fishers is racist, I do consider many individuals in Fishers, regarding race related issues, ignorant of what is happening in the world around them. Not willfully ignorant, but ignorant in the sense that most have not experienced racial discrimination.

Most comments are said out of curiosity and pure oblivion, and many don’t realize that the things they say are offensive and uneducated.

There is a group of Americans who are commonly forgotten in discussions of race.

Discussions that, when considered using a broader perspective, could quite possibly change outlooks and perceptions about racial discrimination. “Oreos” and “Reverse Oreos” alike bring a lot more to the table than milk and empty calories.

I am proud of my culture and the nickname I was given.

I am proud to be a Reverse Oreo.

- ANNA MCNAIRY

Sources:

Animashaun, Christina. “The Lonliness of Being Mixed Race in America” Vox First Person, n.d. https://www.vox.com/firstperson/21734156/kamala-harris-mixed-race-biracialmultiracial

Donnella, Leah “Racial Imposter Syndrome” NPR, 17, January, 2018 https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2018/01/17/578386796/ racial-impostor-syndromehere-are-your-stories

Joshi, Priyankaa. “Calling Someone a “Coconut” or an “Oreo” is Extremely Offensive, but it Happens All the Time” Stylist, Apr 2019, https://www.stylist.co.uk/people/coconut-racialslur/490585

Parker, Kim. “Multi-Racial in America” Pew Research, 11 June, 2015 https://www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/2015/06/11/ multiracial-in-america/

Hopeless Romantic

im a hopeless romantic, but isn’t every girl? who wouldn’t long for the love portrayed in the movies? and who wouldn’t desire to have such intimacy like in the books? that bittersweet love, oh how she wished she had that. the enemies to lovers with the banter it insinuated something inside her, hope. hopeless romantics are beautiful but they are dangerous, dangerous in such a way that once you meet them, their love is shattering, in a intoxicating way. their love is a drug, and you don’t get addicted to drugs, but you did to this one.

i was allured in by her heavenly taste and drowned happily in her addicting perfume. she was a woman so caught up in her fantasies. a woman that dreams in broad daylight. a woman that aches for that true love that she’d read a thousand poems about. she lived for that type of love, ever since she was a little girl. about the princes and the princesses. but soon enough she will realize that there is no love like in the books or movies. she used to breathe the love songs that she’d sing. she used to turn down every boy in hopes that the man one from her favorite movie will come and sweep her off her feet, and of course boys like that never did that. instead they’d grab her foot and lock her in a cage, a metal cage.

with only her romance books and movies to keep her company on the cold devouring night, and so she’d read, about love she’d never get. all because she never looked both ways before crossing a street, and got hit, with reality.

- JORDYN GRANT

Educator of the Issue

Breana Daniels

The Royal Writings literary magazine is brought to you by the Southeastern Media Network, part of the Student Media courses of the Media & Communications department at Hamilton Southeastern High School.

The content is curated through student and teacher submissions from a variety of classrooms across the school.

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For more information, or to have your submissions considered, please reach out to Madeline Martin (mmartin@hse.k12.in.us) or have students submit via the Writing Center Canvas page.