the oreo experience

Oreo Advice – Navigating the N Word

No, please, say whatever you want!

As Dr. Laura reminded us this week, it’s Constitutionally important for non-colors to be able to say the n-word whenever they want. As an Oreo, you will be in a unique position to make those that feel marginally guilty about this to feel better and for those who don’t feel guilty to keep on feeling fine.

You see, non-colors generally won’t say the n-word in front of RBP (aka “LaT’Shawndreeans) because those folks are scary and will probably cut a bitch.

But Oreos, known for our tolerance discovered through assimilation will simply smile and nod.

You may, however, feel the need to point out some fairly obvious logic flaws in the arguments for using the n-word with abanadon, but control yourself. Otherwise, you run the risk of some suuuuper awkward moments. You know, more awkward than someone saying the n-word, say 11 times in what started as a polite conversation.

Below are some rules to follow to keep the conversation moving following the five stages of the n-word conversation.

1. ANGER: The conversation will usually start out with something heated like, “I don’t understand. Rappers and comedians say nigger all the time, why can’t I?”

DON’T point out the obvious by saying any of the following.

  • “That’s fine, but I’m not one of those rappers or comedians.”
  • “Sure, but who’s ultimately making most of the programming and/or distribution choices…who’s at the top of the TV networks and record companies…not other black people.”
  • “Rap and hip hop and cable is mostly consumed by white people, so they’re the ones being marketed to by the use of said word.”

2. DENIAL. What will usually follow is the personal approach that downplays potential emotional harm with something like, “There’s this guy at my office, Dwayne, he says it all the time, it can’t be a big deal.”

DON’T SAY:

  • “Okay, but I’m not Dwayne.”

3. BARGAINING: Then comes an attempt to compare a word developed to subjugate an entire race of people for generations to a high school prank and your conversation partner will say something like “..I mean, in high school, they called me Sticky Stick Stick, that hurt my feelings, but I got over it.”

DON’T say something like:

  • “Dude, why do you want to say this word so badly?”

4. DEPRESSION: That’s when they realize their civil liberties are being trampled and they’ll say something like “Hey, we have free speech here. I can say whatever I want.”

DON’T point out that even though “congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free speech thereof. Or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances” that that doesn’t mean that people are protected from someone disagreeing with them.

5. ACCEPTANCE: Then finally, they’ll acquiesce because the opera or lacrosse game is about to start and they’ll say something like, “I mean, I don’t get it, but I guess I just won’t say it. I mean, it’s just a word, it’s not like words can actually hurt you.”

DON’T then call them an fucking idiot cunt and then when they get offended tell them that it’s just words. Because that would just be rude.

What do you think? Whether you’re an Oreo or not, do you think we should toss the n-word back into an accepted lexicon like we did with “bitch”? Why do you think other ethnic groups do not seem to be having this conversation as loudly…we don’t see tons of Jewish comics debating the merits of the k-word.

And if you do wanna use it more often, just substitute it for “black guy” in any of these jokes, invite an Oreo to your next tapas tasting and have a ball!

What Chili Wants – To Hurt Me, Apparently

How dare VH1 do this to me?

Oh, Chili, what did I ever do to you?

The network announced a new reality show called “What Chili Wants” featuring Rozonda Thomas, aka, Chilli from TLC. But unlike the network’s usual minstrel show black-themed reality show, Flava of Love, this show will feature Thomas doing not-skeezy/disgusting things and instead, leading a healthy, balanced life.

The cable network synonymous with “Flavor of Love” and its sleazy spin-offs is trading trampiness for fabulousness with a new slate of series starring seemingly well-adjusted rich and famous black Americans. VH1 executive vice president Jeff Olde admits that the shift from oh-no-they-didn’t fare to more mature material is totally intentional.

“We constantly have to evolve and tell our audience different stories,” he says. “I love that we’ve been able to get more diverse with our audience by — in large part — attracting African-American women to the network. We got them in the door with some shows, and now I’m excited about where we’re going and how we’re telling them different kinds of stories.”

For the notoriously trashy VH1, it’s not reality as usual. While cat fights will flare up with the “Basketball Wives” and Chilli promises a tiff with her sassy matchmaker on “What Chilli Wants,” these new shows certainly aren’t selling buzzworthy moments akin to “Flavor of Love” contestants spiting on each other or suddenly defecating on the floor.

Because who doesn’t want to see adults shitting on travertine?

Olde dismisses any past criticisms of “Flavor of Love” and its offspring, mostly produced by 51 Minds Entertainment, by calling the franchise ignited by black rapper Flavor Flav and his multiracial harem “big fun romantic comedies.” (Olde confirms that “I Love Money 3,” featuring murder suspect and suicide victim Ryan Jenkins, as well as the Jenkins-free “I Love Money 4” won’t air.)

Big, fun, romantic comedies? Hmm, I didn’t think that ILM was much like Love, Actually. But maybe I was wrong.

“The new VH1 shows offer a different take on the black reality TV star,” says Imani Perry, a professor at Princeton University’s Center for African American Studies. “These are images of wealthy black families. These shows may potentially be less stereotypic because they present a different, higher status black image.”

And that’s where it gets dicey for Oreos.

Let's face it. I need you, Flav.

Being an Oreo requires constant reminders of what’s wrong with being an RBP. How am I supposed to curse the image in the mirror if major networks stop their usual fare and start showing dreck like Chili’s show?

Also, am I wrong in using context clues to assume that in his first quote, Jeff Olde asserts that VH1 attracted the new viewers of color he mentions with shows like Flava? Is he saying that there’s really no way to get the attention of RBP apart from a 3+ season long parade of important ethnic archetypes like New York having her toes sucked by a thug. I think so. And that’s why I’m an Oreo.

But there is a silver lining:

Bill Graff, an analyst for cable media analysis firm CableU, says the strategy isn’t a surefire winner. While the new shows are targeted to an underserved audience, they require more of an investment from viewers, especially if they don’t care about the personal lives of such B-list celebrities as Chilli and Brandy, or any of those “Basketball Wives.”

“It’s a little bit more of a leap for VH1 viewers than ‘Flavor of Love,’ ‘Rock of Love’ and the other shows,” says Graff. “Anyone who watches VH1 definitely knows and is entertained by Flavor Flav and New York. Anyone who is familiar with hip-hop from the past 25 years knows Pepa from Salt-N-Pepa, but they may not necessarily care about her love life.”

So, the slightly Oreo version of the black reality star might not work? Perfect. Because I have invested a lot of time in my self loathing and I’d hate to see it dashed by changing norms.

International Need for Oreos

I dug up some journal entries from my trip abroad. Here is one of them.

Dateline: Amsterdam. Even among the pastoral tulip fields and gently twirling windmills, it was impossible to escape the sting of my ethnicity.

I spent some time traveling with a friend to a few cities and here was the conversation I overheard while

I ate my feelings that day. And they were delicious!

waiting on line for dutch pancakes.

Friend: Pardon. Zit hier iemand?

Local: No, the seat’s free.

Friend: Oh, you speak English.

Local: Yeah. Where are you from?

Friend: The states. Los Angeles.

Local: Oh, I hear it’s dangerous there.

Friend: Can be.

Local: Because of the blacks?*

A moment later, I sat down in front of my friend and my new Dutch buddy with a plate of piping hot pannenkoeken. Now, had I not been a practiced Oreo, I would have wanted to pour those piping hot pannenkoeken down the front of my new buddy’s shirt. But, being the Oreo that I am, I supported his point.

Me: Well, you just have to pay attention to where you are. If you come visit, you’ll see. That’s why I moved to Hancock Park.

I could have made him feel suuuper uncomfortable. But instead, I fostered international relations with the right conversation and my appreciation of perfectly pressed pancakes.

*It’s been suggested that I’m making up some of these stories. But no. Really. I’m not.

For other uncomfortable moments I didn’t make up. Check out these posts on phone etiquette, getting out of a parking ticket and talking to kids.

OreoFAIL…or WIN?

Also white on the inside

I did a very un-Oreo thing last night and attended a screening put on by a group of black writers. Yup. Me, in a room with a couple dozen other of colors watching a movie about the Harlem Renaissance.

Yikes.

To my credit, however, I did have this conversation before the film started…

Him: Are you gonna have some of that chicken?

Me: No.

Him: Oh, what are you, a vegan?

Me: No, I just don’t like spicy things…or wings. The wings just aren’t my favorite part of the bird. I am really excited about this gouda, though!

Him: What’s gouda?

BUT, before I cleansed my palate with some imported Dutch cheese, I totally realized…we DO all look alike!

Going into the Writers Guild building, all I knew is that a group of black writers–some of whom I’d met before–was going to be screening this film.

I walked in the building and hung my head in just a bit of shame when the security guard said “Oh, are you here for the screening?”

He showed me to the elevator and I headed up stairs. I got of the lift and looked around for where my event might be. I found a room full of colors who looked familiar enough, I mean there were folks with twists like the last time I met this group…  I walked inside and sat down. They continued their conversation around me…a conversation that I quickly found out was NOT about the screening I was meant to be attending.

After a few awkward beats, I grabbed my new pashmina (thanks, Casey!) and slunk out of the room…found another gaggle of of colors, had the aforementioned chicken/cheese convo and sat down for the film.

On one hand, I felt like such a non-color, I mean, they was a group of RBP. They must have been who I was looking for, right? How was I to know that there might be two groups of RBP gathered for two totally different purposes in the same place without authorities being alerted.

But on the other hand, I felt like a real RBP…after all, I was seen in the vicinity of almost 50 other of colors. And I hardly had time to sound any of my Oreo distress calls. The gouda thing was helpful, but I did just finish rereading Fear of Flying and am setting up an appointment with a new riding instructor. The movie started before I could spit out those gems. Plus, I couldn’t even blush when I realized my mistake in the first room.

What do you think? Was my night made of fail or win?

Also, when you do discover you’re in the wrong meeting…how do you sneak out. I thought about making light of the sitch and skipping away. But instead, I pretended like I had to go to the bathroom…with my wrap…and my purse…and my notebook…and my bottled water.

None of us are perfect. See other Oreofails here: musicvideofail, whatareyouseeingthisweekendfail and evenharvardprofsfailfail.

New Oreo Rule: Enjoy April Fools Day b/c Normally Black People Don’t??

Do not try to make this guy laugh--by ruining his $73,000 car. He will not laugh. At all.

This guy says black people don’t like pranks.

Unfortunately, African-American’s — particularly black men — don’t take too well to pranks or April Fool’s Jokes. Sad but true.

He also uses apostrophes incorrectly, but that’s a different issue.

For evidence, he cites Punk’d and basketballer Kenyon Martin’s negative reaction to having his Range Rover filled with buttered popcorn.

I can understand Kenyon’s anger. If you’re going to fill up a luxury vehicle with a food that will severely damage its interior, does it have to be something so carby?

Full story is here.

Don’t forget other Oreo rules like how to bring sexyback to the plantation.  How to write about regular black people. And what to do when you find yourself face to face with another well studied Oreo.

Can’t Tell Which Hurts So Good-er

If you want to look good, sometimes it has to hurt.

This weekend, as I sat in my salon chair for my regular soul flagellating ritual of a relaxer, I was convinced to try

pressing instead. The results, are thankfully the same–my hair is straight and the little curls of God’s practical joke are gone…and both methods come with pain, discomfort and a credit card bill near or in the three digits…But I’m not sure which is the best way to go.

For those of you who are already blessed with hair that responds to a comb and that your beloveds can easily run their fingers through, here’s a quick primer on what we do to keep our locks in line.

Relaxer: Imagine spreading a slice of sandwich bread with a thick layer of mayo.

Getting a relaxer is like only the sandwich bread slice is your scalp and the “new growth”–tightly curled natural hair that has yet to be tamed. And the mayo is lye a relaxer cream that in about 10 minutes of it landing on your skin begins to cause second degree burns. Luckily, it takes about 20 minutes for a relaxer to do it’s thing, so you’ve got plenty of time to sweat, squirm and stew about how lucky you’d be if you didn’t have to do this.

Pressing: No chemicals, so it’s healthier. But it’s also painful. Imagine raking your lawn. See how pulling the rake through the grass makes the lawn look all pretty?

Now imagine the lawn is your hair and the rake is a metal comb that’s been heated up to about 400 degrees. Also imagine that in order to make the rake work, you have to smooth just a bit of oil on the grass first so that when the 400 degree metal comb touches the oil, some vaporizes, but what doesn’t, melts on to your scalp and causes a quickly cooling, but mild first to second degree burn.

The pain of the relaxer is more intense, but sustained, so you can build resistance and is over in about 20 minutes.

The pain of a press and curl is more sporadic, so you’re not sure when to stop tensing and lasts longer as the oil-then-rake process must occur a couple hundred times (using very small chunks of hair each time) before you’re done.

Relaxers also last longer so you don’t have to endure them as often; but the scars they leave behind tend to last longer than the welts brought up by a relaxer.

Hmmm. Definitely want to make sure that my hair process reinforces the self loathing…there’s beauty in pain after all. Not sure which is the better way to go. What do you think?

Int. WhitePal’s Apartment – Day

WhitePal: (singing, soflty) …there’s blood all over my toaster..

OreoWriter: Well, you are making English muffins all wrong, then.

WP: What?

OW: I’m sorry,  was it that pumpernickel? It was pretty dry.

WP: Was what what?

OW: Why are you bleeding on your toaster?

WP: It’s from a song, it’s not a toaster…it’s a “toaster.” C’mon, I bet even you can get this. What do you think a toaster is slang for?

OW: Well, if it follows the logic of cockney rhyming slang–

WP: Of course it doesn’t.

OW: Okay…toaster…I don’t…

WP: C’mon, stay with me. Something powerful….intimidating….strong…

OW: The climax of Spring Awakening!

WP: That doesn’t even make sense. How could you even get blood on that?

OW: You’ve obviously never seen the climax of Spring Awakening. Now that, is a toaster!

Want more WP/OW banter? See them misunderstood because of the cell phone law , enjoying contemporary music or dancing at a mis-pitched engagement party.

And in case you want to hear the horrible, horrible song on which this conversation was predicated.  You can let your ears bleed out by clicking here.

Coconuts – Pick Verizon for Coverage in Spainexico

Here’s an ad that Coconuts should enjoy. Nevermind that Mariachi and Sombreros are distinctly Mexican in origin, according to Verizon, they come from Spain. Also never mind that there are gorgeous landmarks, bustling city centers and lush natural areas with which to illustrate the country Spain, much better to boil a country down to stereotypes that keep the Coconut population booming.

Wouldn't you rather go here, to Verizon's Spain than....

...here "actual" Spain?

That second “Spain” doesn’t even look like they could make a decent taco!