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Reverse racism is not an oxymoron. It is an ironical term that reflects how the roles of the "white man's" racist discrimination upon generations of black's as a people, who have fought and died to overcome multitudes of oppression, race-based slavery, white-on-black mob lynchings, governmental separatism, and decades of preaching, marching, demonstrating and teaching to abolish racism in this country, have been reversed to reflect the "black man's" own discriminatory actions and stereotypical attitudes against white's in this nation.

The back-lash of black-on-white racism is emblematic of the exact thing they themselves have spent centuries fighting and dying for, and the very thing civil rights leaders like Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr., Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton have claimed to be one of the most inhuman and unethical treatments of people in history.

"Let's see how you like it," is a pungent finger-pointing argument used to justify revenge and fools, which only adds to the compounding evidence that backward-racism is almost as bad(because black's know from experience), if not worse than the same labels, prejudices, bigotries and intolerance's white's have been accused, condemned and convicted of perpetrating for more than four hundreds years.

I am a black, white and Puerto Rican woman, raised by two separate black families, through adoption, and I've come to know racism and prejudice as a direct result of nothing more than my inherent genealogy from the greater public as a whole, but more frightening than that, from within my own immediate family and the black communities alike.

"Little white girl, red-bone, and high-yellow" are just a few of the color-based prejudicial names I was labeled with growing up in the 80's on Chicago's south side, also known as, "Moe Town," a heart of the "ghetto" all black inner-city community.

Then and now, people stop me in grocery stores, gas stations and on the street to ask, "Are you mixed?" and "What are you mixed with?" as if having golden-colored skin grants all the world the right to inquire about my family history, anytime or anyplace.

When I was twelve, I asked my second adoptive mother to explain what it meant to be three different races, in one. Since I had been raised in mostly black neighborhoods and educated in strict ethnic culture with little to no white or Hispanic interaction, other than school, I simply wanted to get to know and love my "multi-racial" self.

She said, "Michelle, You have to pick one.

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