Not an Oreo

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“I’m sorry, what? Come again? NO, I would not like to order fried chicken,

But I would like to order you to get out of my face before you get written up for stereotyping.”

Mm. People these days.

 

“Oh, what were you saying? Me, invited to the twerkfest?

That’s cool, but no thanks. That’s not my thing. Whoa there.

Nobody’s ‘dissin’ you or trying be ‘fufu.’

I just don’t think that I need to exploit myself, expose myself, sexualize myself, for a ‘like’ or two.

So I’m ‘bougie’ now? One, that’s not a word, and two. Tell me, WHEN did self-respect become uppity?”

 

“Great, you’re back to harass me.

What now, Becky the waitress? Apology accepted.

Complimentary breakfast? Also accepted!”

She did NOT just put emphasis on the Aunt Jemima pancake special. First of all, I like Hungry Jack, and second…

 

My skin may be brown, but that don’t make me black.

I’m Ti’Esha Jones and I’m human. Black is a color, not a personality.

What I like, what I eat, how I speak, and what I do, has nothing to do with the color of my skin

But depends solely upon what’s inside of me.

Now I’m not hating on my color,

But the fact that you think for a second that my skin and my culture

Must coincide is elementary, is basic, like you.

You devoid of color who merely see a brown girl and assume that I am poorly educated,

Avidly sexually active, destined for early pregnancy and for single parenthood.  

You who look no different from me and expect me to sympathize with your complaining about the “man” and expect me to always “rep my hood.”

Miss me with that, please.

 

You won’t catch me at the trap house, trappin hard all day, all night.

I don’t even know what that means.

And you won’t catch me at an HBCU, because that’s a trap.

I’m tired of the categorizing and grouping and SEGREGATION. That’s exactly what that is.

I didn’t come this far to become a potential success and influence in the Black community only.

If I’m going to be known, whites, blacks, Latinos, Asians, all people, they’re all going to know me.

You won’t catch me at Chipotle with Tiff and Britt explaining how I can’t even, like literally.

I mean, did you see that chocolate waiter, can we say “jungle fever?”

And you best believe you won’t catch me deliberately seeking out an old hunted house with Billy and Jessica in the woods.

You won’t find me in those places because Ti’Esha Jones doesn’t have a taste for any of those things.

 

But you might find me in a soul food joint because CHICKEN TASTE GOOD.

 I’ll be right next to white Suzy who understands that you don’t have to be from the hood

To like good food.

You might find me with Sun Yeop and Breonna at that pool actually swimming, because guess what,

I know how to swim.

And if you have a mindset that classifies an action or tendency by an individual’s skin color,

You’re chances of progression in this life are slim. 

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