The Idea of an Essay, Volume 3

2016 Composition Contest Winnners 3 light with my language and this time with a twist. “Mojade, no offense, but you talk like a white girl” a girl, I had assumed was a friend, boldly said without truly thinking about what was rudely coming out of her mouth. “Excuse me what?” I said trying to pretend I missed what she said so she could just stop there. “Well, I guess what I mean is you are the whitest black girl I have ever met. You talk white and all.” It took every ounce of control to not slap the smile off her face. Instead of causing something out of what I thought was nothing I laughed awkwardly and changed the subject. I was fuming and I still get a little heated when thinking that she would have the audacity to say something so rude. Who gave her the right to say what it meant to be black. She was white and had no way of knowing what it meant to be black. Did she not understand that not every black person acts the same as it is shown on television? Did she not realize that it is rude to assume that to be black you had to speak in a “ghetto way”? When did she gain the right to tell me that I was not black because I spoke proper English? However, this is a huge change to me speaking black. It seemed that I would never win. No matter how I spoke somebody was going to have a comment on whether I was black or not. Thinking back to the beginning when the dreaded, “You are the whitest black girl I have ever met because you speak so white,” was uttered I know I should have stopped it then. I should have spoken my mind and told her that it was a racist comment and she should think before she talked instead of letting it slide. However, I let it slide and continued to let it slide until it became her comeback to anytime I stumped her at something. Constantly I would hear over and over and over again “You are the whitest black girl I have ever met.” Or, “You speak so white.” And my favorite, “You are like an Oreo, black on the outside white on the inside.” The classroom walls with their vocab words and typical quotes would spin around me as the words would spin around my head. I would see red and then try to see through tears of frustration and anger. I kept quiet each time. Allowing the words to chip at the confidence I had in my race and self. I allowed myself to take up the identity of an “Oreo” wishing in the back of my mind that maybe if I weren’t black I would