Yesterday I walk into a room full of middle school girls who are being helped on their homework by one of my co-workers. One of them has her hair done up quite wonderfully. In an effort to keep it in good shape for as long as possible, she has stylishly wrapped a silk scarf around her head. It is tied in the front and open up top, so that her new hairdo spills out the top. I notice the new do. I compliment her on it.

Girl: I look like Ain't Yo Mamma

Well, I guess. I mean, my mother is a middle-aged white woman and this is an adolescent black girl. She does not bear any resemblance to my mother. Fair enough. But I was taken aback by the statement. I needed clarification.

Me: What?

Girl: I look like Ain't Yo Mamma (with added emphasis this time)

Me: I have no idea what you are talking about.

Girl: You know. Ain't Yo Mamma (more emphasis). The pancake lady.

Co-worker: You mean Aunt Jamima?

Girl: Yeah. Ain't Yo Mamma. The pancake lady.

Co-worker: No. It's Aunt Jamima. Like Auntie.

Girl: Auntie Yo Mamma?

Oh man. It's at this point that I'm making an exit from the room because I 'm just struggling to keep it together. Classic middle school moment, however.

Renew and Restore