Dear Diary,
The kind of invitation I’d been waiting for finally came. Embossed envelope withe the kind of wax seal I haven’t seen since my last Renaissance Festival. I was expecting to be asked to any number of red carpet events where I could rub sunburned elbows with the kind of people it does me good to be seen with.
Then I opened the envelope.
Such a tease you are, life, such a tease.
They are honoring The Blind Side, though. So, maybe they’re more Oreo-tastic than I thought.
Why does The Oreo Experience encourage such strict adherence to the rules? Find out by watching “Black Guys on a Beautiful Day.”
Congrats to Kevin Avery, W. Kamau Bell, Greg Edwards and Reggie Steele for a great piece. I’d totally hang out with these guys…you know, if being seen en masse wouldn’t strip me of years of Oreo cred.
Whenever I get worried that there’s no need to keep up the Oreo fight, I find ways to get myself back on track. Like by looking at how one American institution looks at another American institution. In this case, it was the Vanity Fair “new Hollywood” issue.
About the photo. Michael K at dlisted.com writes:
“Every year, Annie Leibovitz shoots Vanity Fair’s “New Hollywood” issue and this year’s cover makes a BYU class picture look like a Benetton ad.”
Ahh, and just when I thought that I should return my Jane Austen dress. Stretched credit limit be damned! I’m keeping it.
For more on why we love this look, read celebitchy’s rundown. Favorite Oreo excerpts from the analysis include:
“…Just glancing at the spread, I’m liking it. No one ghostly pale with ghoulish grey skin and vampire red lips (as they’ve been styled in past years). Everyone looks fresh and pretty.”
“…With her patrician looks and celebrated pedigree—she is the daughter of American operatic soprano Maria Ewing and legendary British theater director Sir Peter Hall”
“The Cupid’s-bow lips, the downy-soft cheeks, the button nose: 27-year-old Abbie Cornish has those Ivory-soap-girl features we’re so familiar with…”
Ahh, beauty standard. Where would we be without you keeping us in place.
Thanks to http://www.betiku.com for making self repression so graphic-tastic
That special time of year has come. That time when the nation stands up and reminds us all why being an Oreo is so very important: Black History Month.
I remember my first Black History Month. It wasn’t until about fourth grade that this became a mainstay of my schooling. Prior to that year, I lived, relatively unscathed and actually considered that I might just be an RBP.
But then, my classmates and my history books showed me how dreadful that was and I switched camps.
First, there was Vincent.
I attended a magnet school that focused on academics. Each student in that school had to be tested into the program and was regularly tested throughout to make sure that they were in the right place.
I got into the program after skipping a grade and making a perfect score on the entrance exam.
I arrived at my new campus, the only African American student in my grade. Out of about 120 kids, I was the only one of me.
Golly did I feel special.
Until Vincent arrived.
I spent two years in my coveted position. Doing fun, enriched things like designing robots, singing cowboy folks songs and joining the school choir where we sang Dixie as one of our showcase songs.
I wish I was in the land of cotton
Old times there are not forgotten..
Look away, look away, look away
Dixieland
By fourth grade, I had developed a rather healthy crush on redheaded, freckled Spencer. He was my buddy and I was just mad about him. I spent the better part of fourth grade trying to win his affection and just when I thought I had him, one of my friends ran up to me on the blacktop at recess and said:
“OW! Do you like Vincent??”
Who?
“Vincent?? Do you like him? Are you going to go around with him?”
A group joined my friend and suddenly three or four friends were shouting with equal voracity that yes, I should indeed go around (our term for dating at the time) with Vincent.
I had no idea who Vincent was. The only boy I paid any attention to was Spencer. And I was hurt and surprised that they clearly had not noticed my very obvious attempts to curry his favor.
Then, I saw Vincent.
He was…of color.
The only other one of me in my class and I finally understood.
Sure we were young, but they got to crush on whoever they wanted while relegating me to this new kid. I knew I had not made it clear who I was. Maybe it was that one Boys II Men tape I sometimes listened to.
The good news was that I could continue to crush unnoticed. And that I knew what I had to do…set myself apart from RBP so that I the right boys would be pushed upon me. Sure, I had simple goals at the time, but I was too young to need a job or investment plan. All I had was schoolyard crushes.
And hey, we are supposed to die a little bit for love, right?
The end of the story is that Vincent and I never became friends, Spencer and I were close for a bit, then drifted apart. But one thing lasted: my commitment to the lifestyle and my triumphant march toward Oreodom.
In this video, we see a computer freeze when faced with the face of an RBP. The webcam is supposed to follow the face of the user around. It does so when presented with an anglo visage, but not when presented with an ethnic one. This implies that the software wasn’t programmed to recognize non-standard faces or that the computer, having become self-aware, as such items are want to do, understood the danger inherent therein.
A follow up video, posted by theGrio.com showed an HP webcam experiment that did not produce potentially litigious results. Host Todd Johnson also read a quote from HP where the computer company explained that their cameras don’t work as well in areas with insufficient lighting.
So, the computers don’t recognize RBP in the dark…which is where you most certainly don’t want to run into one. Wishful bionic thinking. The machine is self aware.
Many times, we have discussed why as an Oreo, it is important to keep a perimeter around yourself and between RBP. If you don’t do this, it’s only a matter of time before you discuss issues pertinent to race that make non colors feel uncomfortable and ruin years of hard-earned repression.
So I knew I was taking a chance when I accepted an interview offer from Gus T Renegade, the host of a decidedly un-Oreo podcast.
But, I considered it community service and decided to take a chance and see if I couldn’t spread a little Oreo goodness to the masses.
Unlike my discussion of Longfellow held at the regatta, or the time I discussed the finer points of pointillism over tea at the Getty, the conversation with Mr. Renegade was heated and could definitely not be replayed at the club.
You can play it for yourself if you would like by going to this link and listening to or downloading the podcast.
To my non color friends (read: all my friends ), a sincere apology for having uncomfy phrases like “white supremacy” and “racism” repeated over and over. You know that I would never say such words unless absolutely necessary.
But don’t worry, after the broadcast, I cleansed my palate by watching some Bertol Brecht. Nothing like a little German modernism and Strum und Drang to get the gears going right again.
(And seriously, if you’re in Los Angeles, or are going to be soon, check out The Sacred Fools Theater’s production of Baal. Stunning)
The Oreo Experience 