Ranye 🤝 tackling the most difficult topics unprovoked.
If you’re black you might already know where this is going. If you’re not let’s go over an important key term.
Oreo: noun, plural O·re·os. Slang: Disparaging and Offensive.
1. a black person who is regarded as having adopted the attitudes, values, and behavior thought to be characteristic of middle-class white society, often at the expense of his or her own heritage.
Somewhat ironically, I found out what this word meant the exact same way that I learnt what the word nigger meant. I found out in school 'by accident' and on both occasions, I nervously asked my Dad what those words meant and why they had anything to do with me.
It didn't take me long to figure out that my accent was the main reason why I was being called 'black on the outside and white on the inside'. The weight attached to the word broke me apart at such a young age and I absolutely hated myself, I'd already endured seven years of feeling like an alien in my predominantly white primary school, so not being accepted by some of the black girls was a living nightmare. I began to try and mould myself into what was perceived at the time to be a 'normal' black girl but all attempts were futile because there is no such thing. The idea that black people are completely homogenous and have a rigid set of interests, opinions and perspectives is extremely degrading. I truly believe that some of the girls who treated me like an outcast in my first two years of secondary school were in fact victims of a form of internalised racism.
I find it absurd that society attempts to reserve the concept of being multifaceted for white people. We see it in every aspect of the media all the time. In many coming-of-age films, for example, two famous racial stereotypes exist: the nerdy Asian (usually of east Asian heritage) and the angry black girl. The writers of these narratives pay close attention to the character development of the white protagonists, and the non-white characters become reminiscent of props rather than a reflection of real people with lives, issues and families.
The act of stereotyping ethnic minorities in the media affects children more than one might think. Most of my struggles with my identity took place in school and as a young black person, to put it bluntly, you really do learn how to defend yourself. It is no secret that some teachers enter the profession with a sense of subconscious bias and we can all recall countless inexcusable cases of mistaken identity, and being labelled as the trouble makers by the supply teacher as soon as they entered the room. From these experiences, one can argue that the 'us vs them' narrative is something that we quickly begin to live through, which sets up the conditions for a black girl who appears to 'act white' being rejected and perceived as less black than her peers.
Whilst it is true that we Black Brits have a collective experience and very similar cultures, we're still not exactly the same which is something to be celebrated and proud of. The way I see it, we're good at everything and practically invented everything, so how could there possibly be only one way to be black.
I know that whether or not we're British and should label ourselves so is a contentious issue. I don't mind it as much, but I know that some would disagree. - keep an eye out for a post on this topic ;)
Although initially nervous, I feel able to write this post because I'm more secure in my identity now than I ever have been. Once you near the age of twenty it becomes apparent that liking rock music doesn't make you any less black, especially as the genre was created by black people and then appropriated by white people, it also becomes blindingly obvious that the way that you speak has no correlation with how you feel about your ethnicity.
It's a shame I suppose, that I was subjected to this sort of treatment as I know now that it was not a reflection of who I was.
My siblings and I would pour over African American history books as children and my father would make us chant line up and chant "I'm black and I'm proud" (much to the amusement of my mother). My sister and I would excitedly discuss the achievements of black individuals such as Mary Beatrice Davidson Kenner, the inventor of the sanitary belt (a precursor to the sanitary towel) in awe. An underlying confidence in my identity had always existed, but I suppose as a young teen it's all too easy to accept others' perceptions of who you are, rather than acknowledging that you're the only person who has the power to define that.
I made friends with many of the girls in that particular group as we got older, and received apologies and acknowledgements in conversations that I had been misjudged.
