Listen up, darlings—Ms. Rizzlerina is here to spill some piping-hot tea, and this one has layers hotter than a red carpet scandal and messier than last year’s Met Gala after-party. Grab your glittery goblets and prepare for a sip, because this drama is serving controversy straight from the hallways of an elementary school in Oakland—and let’s just say, it’s giving “how did this even happen?!”
Now, yearbooks are supposed to be a celebration, a sparkly keepsake full of sweet memories, candid photos, and doodled hearts over childhood crushes. But oh no, glamazons—this one? This one went full horror story tucked between innocent snapshots of recess joy. In a twist that no one asked for and everyone’s side-eyeing, a racial slur somehow wormed its way into the printed pages of an elementary school yearbook. Yes, queen, a full-on slur. In a book made for children.
Cue the outrage, the receipts, and the emotional Instagram stories. Oakland parents were NOT having it—and honestly, who could blame them? This isn’t some rogue typo or accidental misplaced emoji. We’re talking about a word steeped in centuries of pain and prejudice, immortalized on glossy photo paper next to a class photo. The district didn’t just drop the ball—they yeeted it across the continent and let it shatter in slow motion.
The school district attempted damage control, of course. (You just know the PR girl was clutching her pearls and issuing statements faster than a TikTok apology video.) According to officials, the “slip” was “unintentional” and “deeply regretted.” But honey, when you’re dealing with wounds that are still raw for so many communities, you don’t get to shrug it off with a “my bad.” This isn’t that kind of party.
Parents, educators, and community leaders gathered quicker than the BeyHive on album drop night, demanding accountability, transparency, and some serious soul-searching from the school. And let me tell you—this fierce mama brigade is not fading into the background like last season’s Yeezys. They’re loud, proud, and pushing for action, not just apologies.
And here’s the real rub, babes—how did this even get past proofreading? Did no one, and I mean not a single fabulous soul, skim through those pages before sending it to print? A whole committee fumbled this like a bad lip-sync on Drag Race.
Now, the school is promising reprints with a corrected version, counseling for affected students, and more “diversity training.” (Insert flamboyant side-eye here.) But the community isn’t here just for Band-Aids, boo—they’re calling for structural changes, inclusive policies, and most importantly, respect.
Because let’s get one thing straight and fabulously feathered: our babies deserve to see themselves celebrated, not degraded. Yearbooks should reflect their brightness, their dreams, their giggles—and never, EVER harm.
So to every administrator, publisher, and human with editing powers: do better, be better, and remember—words matter. In the pages of a yearbook and in every hallway across this country.
Stay woke, stay fabulous, and let the justice roll.
With love, light, and just enough lip gloss,
– Ms. Rizzlerina 💅✨
