I was on my way to my knitting circle when I happened past a small theater. As a patron of the arts, I feel it is my duty to support the houses that remind us of the good that great men like Shakespeare, Chekhov and Pinter contributed to the theatrical canon.

Imagine my shock and horror then when I looked in saw a troupe of women being taught moves called “Brush Yo’ Shoulder Off,” “Smack da Butt” and “Pump it.”

As a proud Oreo, I would never embarrass myself with a dance invented after, say, 1800. Sorry, Lindy Hop. And no, it’s not just because I have the kinesthetic intelligence of a puppy on waxed linoleum…it’s because I have an intense appreciation for the beauty, grace and social safeguards inherent in a well-performed waltz.

When using proper classic dance form, there are rules and standards. No room for dangerous personal expression that one would inflict upon another after doing a pop or a lock near someone else.

It’s just too short of a trip from a ghetto bounce step to a denim jacket embroidered with Looney Tunes characters to courting your love with phrases like: “It’s goin’ down on aisle 3, I’ll bag you like some groceries…I know you scared baby, they don’t know what we doin’…Let’s both get undressed right here, keep it up girl, then I swear, I’mma give to you non-stop, and I don’t care who’s watchin’.”

Mmmm, nothing like slant rhymes and vague threats of sexual assault in a public place to get a woman all melty.

Now, if you’re going to woo with music and poetry, I say, take a page from the brilliant wordsmiths on the other side of the pond. Like this:
“Cock and Hen on a Friday night,
Would you Adam and Eve the height of the white.
A Leo Sayer during the day,
Or to your Uncle Ted to delay the sway.
The Gay and Hearty is Harry Kewell,
Bob Hope, Rum and Coke rule till people drool.
Sausage and Mash run out, Jack and Jills turn straight,
Your Loaf just hurts and you’re Two and Eight. “

Doesn’t that sound better? You wanna talk about melty. Mmmm, Cockney slang. Traveled. Sophisticated. Delicious.

Dear Diary,

I’m not sure what’s better about this video. The excellent cinematography and editing prowess of a local news station. Or the perfectly white bookends at the top and end of this segment. Either way, my commitment to the movement has been quite reaffirmed and now I’m going out for quiche.

Dear Diary,

A confession today.

I used my apparent ethnicity last night to my favor with a non Oreo. For so many reasons, I could tell just by looking at him that all I had to do was bat my baby browns at him and I could get away with murder.

He was the bouncer at a local performance establishment I decided to visit yesterevening. When he came to me in line, checking for wristbands, he asked me what I did on Monday nights. I said it depended on the Monday night.

He invited me to a night of comedy featuring nothing but “our” comics. All black comedians. All night. He was, as he put it, “all about it.”

Poor boy. Let him take a look at my iTunes, see videos of Maria Bamford and then maybe he would re-evaluate who exactly “our” comics were.

He gave me his card, showed me where to find his personal cell number among the other promoters’ numbers and moved down the line.

A few minutes later, the line was being let in and the rope was pulled just three people before me. Fear set in like fog in London.

The bouncer walked by, “Looking forward to Monday,” I said, smiling. “I mean, are we really the only two of us here tonight?”

“Come on in,” he said.

It’s true. I frown upon flirting with members of my assumed race. Makes it harder to convince the powers that be of who I really am and that I deserve the privileges inherent in my membership to their club.

But lines are long, it was chilly and A Prairie Home Companion is wonderful live. I didn’t want to miss a minute.

Preach on Garrison Keillor. Preach on.

By now, you may be thinking that your friends, business associate or tennis partners may be Oreos. But be careful, just because a person of color says something telling like: “Hey, there’s my Young Repbulican’s pin!” doesn’t mean that that person is a real Oreo.  Anyone can fake it for a minute. (And if any of you dated my ex-boyfriend Trevor, you know all about faking it…for just a minute.)

So, before determining if that Redwing season ticket holder in the box next to you is in fact a true Oreo, it’s helpful to check to see if they have any of these items in their possession. 

Dutch Language Books and Tour Guides

That’s right. The country who brought the world the Swarte Pieten is the country’s whose language I’ve chosen to study.

Pictures Taken While Skiing

All I needed was one other black person on the slopes to make me feel like I had denied my Oreo heritage and was actually engaging in something “my people’ did with regularity. Luckily, that did not happen and I enjoyed my hot vanilla while basking in the sun reflecting off the skin of the other skiers.

Franklin Covey Organizers

Nothing says corporate American, rigid and overcompensation like The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People.

An iTunes Full of Showtunes

As discussed earlier, this is a necessity. Why? Because the musical is a distinctly American art form. And because of that, it has wonderful undertones that keep your average African American consumer from consuming too many of them. Remember, this is a medium that hailed Al Jolson as a treasure…a performer who “didn’t feel like himself” unless he was in blackface.

Sunscreen

Just in case my wildest dreams come true.

So you want to become an Oreo, but aren’t sure how to get there?

Don’t worry, the steps below will walk you through the process. Be sure to consult with your physician before making any radical change to your lifestyle.

Step 1:

Be black.

Sorry white people. You’ll just have to content yourself with the encouragement you get in school, fair lending practices and generational wealth.

And for you mixed race folks, you’ll have to settle for the Presidency.

Step 2:

Move to the Suburbs.

It is impossible to be an Oreo if you live around high numbers of OBP. Their ethnicity, regardless of how Oreo-ish they may be will undoubtedly rub off on you.

Congregating en masse with OBP will eventually cause you to discuss issues pertinent to your race. Before you know it, you’re swapping stories about the first time you were called something off color (pun intended) or how your white friends thought it was hilarious to reminisce about the fact that their “out of touch” grandmother still calls Brazil nuts “n*gger toes.”

These conversations will cause you to develop a rapport with OBP and a fondness for your race, which can lead you to slip out of Oreodom and into being “actually” black.

Step 3:

Watch Soul Plane.

Nothing will put a bad taste in your mouth for the ethnic life like a modern day minstrel show. If Soul Plane is unavailable, you may try other films including: White Chicks, Big Momma’s House or Birth of Nation.

Step 4:

Borrow a Home Schooled Kid’s Ipod.

You need to redefine your music taste. Anything on the radio is out. Anything that may have ever been up for a Grammy is out. Anything that has ever been popular in any era is out.

Except for the classical era. You being a huge fan of classical music is a wonderful surprise to your average white person (AWP). So bone up on the Mozart, Beethoven, Tchaikisovy, Stravinsky, Mussorgsky, Shostakovich, and any other super European sounding names.

Step 5:

Pick Your Favorite Middle American Name and Start Decorating the Nursery

It goes without saying that to be a true Oreo, you must only engage in interracial relationships. If you are currently dating a person of color, any color, you must end the relationship immediately and find a white person to soil your bed with.

Why date someone who might have an intimate understanding of some of the struggles that you have experienced when you can be with someone through whom you can vicariously enjoy white privilege?

If marriage between you and your melanin deprived love does occur, it must be done in a Roman Catholic style wedding, no jumping the broom for you. And any offspring produced must have a name that was popular with the ruling class near the turn of last century.

Hey! Where did you go?? See how well you blend in now?