Freeman says he doesn’t want to have a Black History Month, talk about racism or be called a black man. But he does have a near sassy head shake in there. Do we have a new Oreo king?
On this Martin Luther King Jr., Day, The Oreo Experience would like to take a minute to thank a hero of the black community for showing us just how far we can come…if we have the right (read: the white) support.
And thus, a Creamy goes to the Hollywood Foreign Press for the Golden Globe they gave Sandra Bullock last night for her performance in The Blind Side. Breakout work by an unknown, but raw and heartfelt new talent Gabourey Sidibe, be damned (or for that matter, the ever-regal Helen Mirren, too). We need more white people to the rescue.
A follow up Creamy goes to the Hollywood Foreign Press for giving Mo’Nique a Golden Globe for her performance as a horribly abusive ghetto mom, and thus reminding us how terrible it is to be of color. They could have awarded Morgan Freeman for playing Nelson Mandela or Chiwetel Ejiofor for playing a smart and clever and thoughtful villain.
But, when they keep things consistent and reward of colors for portraying their worst and the ruling class for portraying their best, it really helps keep us Oreo hopefuls motivated. Thanks, HFPA. And by all means, don’t feel the need to cut your speech, our orchestra won’t play you off for a while.
PS…did you notice? Four of color nominees total (including all other categories if you’re curious, but not counting Penelope Cruz). Three of those four playing something/someone negative or frightening and/or unwelcome in your average saddlery. See, sucks to be an RPB.
I spent the day moving and was terrified at what I found in my complex.
Before moving in, my new building manager kept telling me about my neighbors Pam and David. He told me how nice they were. How sweet they were. How they’d be more than willing to watch my cat or feed my sugar glider.
What he did not tell me what that Pam and David…were black.
I discovered this nick on the property value as I was already hours deep into the move.
Not only are they black, they are older and kind and wise. I’m basically living next door to Morgan Freeman.
This not only takes the black to white ratio of my location up too high, it also tempts me, daily. The niceness is attractive and I would love to get their experienced thoughts on investment opportunities, the state of the education system or whether or not this guy is worth the effort.
They also make what smells like a perfectly prepared sweet potato casserole with fantastically seasoned pork chops.
Why must they taunt me? Oh, I see. They think I can’t stand up to their sweet faces and their delicious food. But watch me. I will proudly live next door to them and never once darken their doorstep.
Unless they pull out the banana pudding, too. Everyone has an Achille’s Heel.
I almost bought a watermelon today.
I know excuses are pitiful, but it was hot, I was hungry and the allure of a lightly sweet, hydrating fruit was mighty and powerful.
But I was strong. I left the display, went inside and bought a bushel of figs instead.
The whole experience made me realize there are some things that even the most devoted Oreo will have a hard time avoiding. I’m listing some here for your reference, hoping that you can forgive me my trespasses and looking for a program, 12 steps or otherwise, that can help.
Ashy Knees. When one has higher levels of melatonin in one’s skin, one should also have higher levels of lotion with them at any given time. We do our best, but sometimes extra dry weather, a sudden fall to the ground, or time spent genuflecting and praying to be released from our ethnic bondage will sap the skin of moisture. Don’t worry, we’ll reapply as soon as possible.
Hairanoia. As discussed earlier, hair is a very delicate subject for an Oreo. We go through great pains to keep it in line….a very straight line…and stray jets of water, rainfall or the beach or a public pool can be disastrous. It’s not that we can’t swim, it’s just that like a Mogwai, water has the ability to replicate things about ourselves that are best left alone. Specifically, the curls that give away our true identities.
Looking Bad by Comparison. If you watch movies, you will see that black people are relegated one of to two roles. They are either the obligatory thugs/criminals/ ganstas , or they are what is affectionately called a Magical Negro.
These MNs are found in movies like The Green Mile, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, The Legend of Bagger Vance, The Shining, The Hudsucker Proxy, Because of Wynn Dixie, Two Weeks Notice, Shawshank Redemption, Million Dollar Baby, Driving Miss Daisy (oh, hell, the whole Morgan Freeman oeuvre), The Matrix, O Brother Where Art Thou and The Stand, just to name a few.
These black characters exist to help white characters with whatever their problems may be without taking any reward or benefit for themselves.
The truth is, every black person is a Magical Negro. If you’re a scuzzy looking white person, you’re not nearly as frightening as that black man in line behind you, so consider the loan yours. If you’re a white lady with a few baby daddies, well at least those daddies don’t come from Inglewood, so line up for county services. If you’re a high school dropout with suction cups for hands, your resume is still more readable than Harvard graduate DeShawnda’s so get ready to roll over that 401K.
Sickle Cell Anemia. This disease exists only in persons of African descent. The upside: It renders us immune to Malaria. The downside: It exists only in persons of African descent, so the blood test that’s part of a yearly physical forces us to reckon with who we really are. Why must you betray us, biology?
Grits. No excuses here. Grits are amazing. Small. Grainy. Filling. Delicious…and white. So hopefully that counts for something.