I grew up in a world where everything seemed safe. It was a nice suburban town in New Rochelle, New York and for a while everything was safe and secure.

I felt safe.

I never felt issued out of my own color.

I came to the south when I was just approaching high school. I have learned many things, and there was this one particular thing that I remember becoming shocked to discover. As a youth, I was never so aware of my color. Before I turned 14, I was very aware of my blackness. For some reason, I lived of this fear of everyone else finding out – hey, this girl is black.

She is a bit darker than everyone else.

She needs a lot more lotion than some other paler people.

And oh, she does not have to wash her hair every day. Gross? Not at all, actually.

For a while, I noticed that the way I walked, and talked, and acted was just like everyone else. Okay, maybe I am a bit weird, but who isn’t, right? The only difference was my skin color.

But for some reason, I was always trapped into this world of not “acting black”. For a while, and even today, I am called an Oreo. A white girl. I cannot simply act myself without being labeled other than black. Does my love of Avatar slowly turn my shade? I am not talking about turning me blue; I am the one to perform bending acts and to pretend I am the most awesome avatar that is out there –

But wait?

That’s not a black thing?

Okay.

So, as I am sitting in history class, I am wondering when do we get to study the man that created the list of things niggas do. Or, I am sorry. Ways to act Black and Ways to act White. It’s astonishing to me, and I am truly intrigued. But, as I went through 13 years of history, and an extension of two post-secondary courses in early history. Every February, I waited for this man’s name to be brought up. I figured this would be the time to do it, right?

But something hit me…He was not brought up… EVER.

So, I began to wonder if this guy ever existed. I began to mull over the new nickname of Oreo. For a while, I thought I could roll with it. Okay, *nods head*, and it stuck. I could feel myself starting to “fit in” and I liked that people started to see a delusion. As long as they saw some part of me.

Something that I truly wish will end is this depiction of black, white, Asian, Hispanic, etc. I wish these assumptions of people will end.

I am not an Oreo.

I am Whitney.

A smart, intelligent, well-spoken, lover of music and poetry, and great woman. I love to play the guitar, Pink Floyd, and you better believe that I am going to be successful.

And if that’s not black to you, then you can get over it.