Oreo Survival Guide – Cardio Funk

Sometimes, well meaning friends not of color will invite you to certain events where your Oreodom will be tested by surprise. These events will seem like harmless outings where friends can bond. But be careful. Becoming too comfortable with a friend can cause you to slip and ruin years of effort.

To help you through these moments, The Oreo Experience is happy to present  a survival guide for one of the most nefarious of these group gatherings: The hip hop cardio funk workout class.

Purporting to be a fun way to shed calories and inches, these classes are like land mines for an Oreo. It’s true, many of us have an innate sense of rhythm that we must suppress lest we look like an RBP. From the moment you step into one of these classes, all eyes will be on you as the assumption will be that you can pop, lock and/or ghetto bounce better than the fairer faced exercisers.

While that may or may not be true, follow these steps to make it known who you are with all haste.

  • 1. Stumble across the threshold. Committing a literal faux pas as you make your entrance will tacitly clue the ladies in the class in to a potential lack of hand-eye coordination and fast twitch muscle fibres that are perhaps mis-firing. Don’t rely on just this. They may write it off as a simple, and unlikely to be repeated misstep.
  • 2. Ask the teacher for her credentials; mention yours. Anyone can complete the training that Bally’s offers its employees, but how unethnic will you sound when you talk about the years you spent at the American Ballet Theater. NOTE: When the follow up question about Alvin Ailey comes from certain cultured work-outers, feign ignorance and say that 
  • 3. Chalk up any (accidental) expertise to hula training. It goes without saying that you must make yourself out to be the worst dancer in the class. When teacher says left, go right. When teacher says to give her levels, ask if she’s hanging a painting. When she asks for a body roll, suggest a California roll instead. But in the event, that any natural ability does leak out, you must have an alibi at the ready. Hula works well because it implies a well-to-do type of trip. And while native peoples invented the hula, they aren’t often associated with the brown natives of other nations. So shimmy away!
  • 4. Cheer properly. These kinds of classes often encourage participation by group shouts and whoops. While your teacher and classmates might let fly a “Wooo! You go girl!” or something like that, your exclamation must be different and distinctive. Instead of a “that’s it!” or “uh – HUH!” or “eOOOWWW!” Try a “Huzzah, mi’ladies!” to set your self apart.
  • 5. Invite the class to your traditional post work out dinner at Umami Burger. Nothing says “I’m not ethnic like eating at the kind of Asian-inspired place that non ethnics love.” There, you can dine on medium rare meat adorned with butter lettuce, Italian truffle cheese and almost ketchup while your new friends appreciate who you have worked so hard to be.

Just don’t let them catch you tapping your feet to the restaurant’s music. You’ve come so far, it’d be sad to see your efforts vanish by dessert.

Diary of a Mad White Black Woman – Image

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.

The NAACP Image Awards?? 

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.

Beautiful Day to be an RBP?

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.

Vanity. Fair.

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.

Oreo Origins: The Oreo Experience’s First Black History Month, Part I

 

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.

Computers are Concerned

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.

Oreo on the Airwaves (or: This is Why You Keep Your Distance)

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) 

Congrats Obama! Matthews forgot you were black.

…we should all be so lucky!

While speaking about President Obama’s State of the Union Address, pundit Chris Matthews said that he forgot Obama was black because there was no “ethnicity” or “tribalism” in his speech.

It is a slippery slope from admitting to being of color to clicking like a Zimbabwean tribesman, which is why The Oreo Experience suggests removing all vestiges of ethnicity from speech. 

Because Obama was so eloquent, Matthews was able to only dedicate half of this 2 and some odd-minute soundbite to the way the President sounded (and not what he actually said) instead of having to spend the entire 180 seconds trying to read through awkward slang. 

Thank you, Mr. Obama. Though you are not truly an Oreo, you are certainly an inspiration. 

And Mr. Matthews, if I leave you a voicemail, will you pay me the same compliment? I could talk about politics, or the delightful peach tartin I just put in the oven. 

And

Entendres, Double

A quick google search of the name of my own blog turns up the fact that “The Oreo Experience” is also a sex position.

In case the imagery didn’t immediately click in, the term describes two men of color experiencing one anglo woman. 

This is obviously upsetting…Two men of color in such close proximity–very un-Oreo! Not an Oreo experience at all. 

It also brings up a philosophical conundrum in the mind of male Oreos. Regular black guys love white women. So a male Oreo really should date a lady of color to as not to seem to be an RBP. But lady Oreos like myself really can’t date men of color or we become RBP. 

What’s an Oreo to do when it comes to dates? 

My suggestion for the gentlemen is not to jeopardize the hard work of ladies like myself and therefore, to make sure that your chosen light-skinned date is especially so. Brunettes will do, but a redhead would be great. Bonus points for a

When it comes to dating, you are either in or you are out. Choose wisely so that you say in the game.

 

 Scandinavian–especially if you can work a few words of Norwegian or Flemish into the conversation. 

Or to be gay. Your average RBP and the Friends of Dorothy don’t tend to commune. Except, of course, when they’re getting their hair did.