Hello, Zebra! Hello, Oreo!

I can't sleep so I just gave myself a manicure and painted my fingernails black.

I'm tempted to add white zig zag stripes as a homage to the days when mean kids called me "zebra".

Then again, if I only do one white stripe down the middle I could embody the moments they called me "Oreo".

The funny thing about being called an Oreo, especially in second or third grade, was that I didn't exactly know what an Oreo was. My mom believed in healthy eating so anything with sugar in it, including Oreos, never darkened our door.

When I did find out what an Oreo was, I didn't see what was so bad about being called one since I thought they tasted pretty good. I remember one girl finally breaking it down to me at recess, explaining that I was black on the outside but white on the inside. The creamy white filling that was, to my palate, the best part of an Oreo cookie was, to her and so many others, the worst thing about me. I was often treated me as if I'd come to school looking like Linda Blair in the Exorcist.

Sticks and stones can break my bones, and names can hurt. Almost 30 years later and I still remember, even when I'm doing something as inane as painting my nails black.

I always wonder... What ended up happening to those kids that used to call me those names? Do they remember doing so? And gosh, I wonder if any of them ended up in interracial relationships or with children that could be called Oreos or zebras?

How prevalent today is this sort of teasing for school kids who are mixed/biracial?


no more anon said…
I remember watching an interview about the Beatles a while back and the late Linda McCartney said "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will break my heart". We (including children) need to be taught the power of words. How incredible is it that black nail polish transported you back to your childhood.
bettie said…
I was called an Oreo from elementary school and on. I hope this isn't too OT because I'm not of mixed race. It was more of a reference to the way I spoke, my taste in music and whatnot. The interesting thing is at the time it wasn't or didn't seem to be an outright insult. Sometimes it seemed like it was supposed to be a compliment; like people were making a distinction between what was 'normal blackness' (in late 80's to 90's Inglewood) and whatever I was. To be honest, at a younger age I was kind of horrified by my peers and was happy that any distinction was made at all. Of course I got older and smarter and am now thoroughly disgusted with 'Oreo' or anything close to it.

I recently moved from CA to PA and I'm a bit shocked at how often I've been characterized as an "white on the inside, black on the outside" here. I've got assume that if grown ass individuals think its ok, it has to be going on with children in schools...still.
Sharifa said…
I have no idea... I was teased about other things. Aren't multi-racial families more common these days? What do your boys say on the subject?
Liz Dwyer said…
No More Anon,
LOL, I like this name you've given yourself. Very wise words from a wise woman Whether we realize it or not, the words DO break our hearts.

The downside of black nail polish is it shows every single chip. I like it but not sure how long it'll last. ;)

Delimited Addiction
Not off topic at all. I think a lot of kids of African descent who speak correct English, do well in school, etc., often get the Oreo name -- or at least others like it.

Wow, Cali to PA is quite a move. I'm sure there are a LOT of changes.

They are definitely more common. I noticed when I was home that there were more multiracial kids. Not sure what my boys think. -- They're still talking about the lady that got mad because she couldn't touch my hair and how if they ever see her again, they're going to step up and defend me. ;)
Maria said…
Kids will find anything to be mean - the second you stray from the pack they are on you. Those memories are horrid and stick with us no matter what the subject of your torment was.

And kharma is real. No question. The girls who were horrid to me because I was half irish, short, or sick have all fallen victim to kharma and what I realised is they made me a stronger person. However there were days in my past where I was not so strong due to those experiences, and some of those memories are even worse...

As for more biracial children and interracial couples - I am NEVER the only one at the playground who fits that description - and I just got my Dunkin Donuts coffee with a family in line behind me who did as well. Maybe that is just my town I don't know - but the cultural mix of our classroom is wonderful and I feel blessed.

I certainly hope I never have to explain the oreo comment to my daughter, and I hope I can guide her to avoid being one of the kids causing others pain.

As for the nail polish - my daughters friend came over yesterday with black nail polish - she swirled white into it to create the yin-yang symbol. Brilliant.
D- said…
I'm black, but of a lighter complexion cause of Scottish heritage on both sides.
I also grew up in France - thing is, while people didn't say anything about my skin colour, I often heard things like: "Oh to me, you're white" "You're not like the others."

To this day, I still don't know what to do with that. So I try not to think about it.
Adam said…
Hey Liz! I got a kick out of reading this because I had the polar opposite happen to me as a kid. When I started high school, everybody there called me a Hostess Snowball. Do you remember these? They're the Hostess treat that's white coconut on the outside, and chocolate cake on the inside. From birth until around 13, my friends were 99% black. I had no prejudice against my own race or anything, I just found the black kid at school more fun. While the white kids hung around the bike rack talking about their bikes, the black kids in 1st and 2nd grade were off in the grass correagraphing Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan Kung Fu fights. This was just more fun to me (been into martial arts my whole life) and so I naturally gravitated to that side of the playground. And then we all became friends, just that I was the only white one. Now, I never really noticed this too much. But hanging around a different demographic all the time, I naturally took on many of the traits. Overtime I took on a different accent, different expressions, different way of dressing, became an old-school rap junkie (long before rap went mainstream). I never noticed the change, it happened over years. But in high school my parents moved out of Evanston to the suburb of Northbrook. Talk about culture shock. This was a purely white bred place, and I got teased constantly for the way I talked, dressed, music I listened to, etc. And do you know that today, when I meet people for the first time they often ask where I'm from cause they can't place my accent? My explanation is simple: "I was born white, grew up with blacks, wanted to be Chinese, and married a Mexican." *LOL* Take care Liz, say "hey" to my boy and hope the kids are doing great! --Adam
Liz Dwyer said…
I absolutely believe the cutting words made me stronger -- I can never walk in a room and ignore the person who is treated like an outcast. I guess I empathize with them more. Black nail polish swirled with white! I like!

You ever ask folks what the heck they mean when they say that? -- Then again, having heard that sort of thing my entire life...I know what they're trying to say. Loving Depeche Mode certainly confirmed the suspicions of "whiteness" -- although I think marrying a black man and having black children has maybe given me a little more "black" cred.

I laughed so hard thinking about the stories I've heard of you all dressing up as ninjas. I can't even imagine the culture shock of having to move from Evanston to Northbrook. I can only imagine how you must've been teased. -- But I hope your experience will become more of the norm.

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