As the Cookie Crumbles


To begin, I must explain my blog title.

It explains very much who I am. No person wants to hear a sad childhood story, I don’t have one anyway, but I grew up mixed race.

A white mother and an absent Jamaican father, is nothing new, I realise, but to grow up without any black association proves difficult when dealing with unruly afro-Caribbean hair.

I lived in a very white town with not one afro-Caribbean hairdresser for miles and miles around.

I went to many a hairdresser, each claiming they could sort my hair out. Not until I was 11 did I find someone who knew how to apply a relaxing balm so that it would straighten.

See I wanted my hair straight, as straight as it could go. Any person out there that knows what type of hair I have will understand how difficult it is to keep afro hair straight.

But I tried, boy did I try.

I blame this want partially upon my friends who had beautifully straight, blonde hair, those who could have a swishy ponytail and curl their hair with tongs to produce ringlets. Not frizz.

However, as much as it may seem I do not want to be white, there are few good things like having a permanent tan and being able to dance to stay black.

But it is only in recent years that black or mixed race women have been recognised, growing up with white women being in the media spotlight you can’t help a young girl want to be like them.

Well Disney felt it was time to have a black princess (yes she spends a large portion of the new movie as a frog, but still) so that means I should rejoice in my race.

I am learning but it is difficult when people assume that you enjoy crunking, R&B music, and speaking like you from da hood.

An Oreo cookie has a chocolate-y appearance but with a very white centre, a portrayal I think fits well.

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