I Don’t Want to be Your Friend
Months have passed since this country’s racial reckoning. I have watched as my friends and I posted black tiles, promising to listen. I have watched as some of my friends did not post at all. I promised myself that I would be relentless in my pursuit of racial equity and justice. I promised to challenge white dominance in my personal relationships. Racial justice is all I can think about. It’s all I can read about. It’s all I want to talk about, and it’s starting to affect my personal relationships, specifically, my friendships.
I have been noticing the various systems in which I exist or operate in. After some reflection, I realized that most of my friends are white. To be clear, there is nothing wrong with being white. There is nothing wrong with having white friends. There is also nothing wrong with my white friends. White dominance is the issue, not any one individual in my life.
I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the white dominant culture in which we are socialized. I grew up in a Texas suburb, where I went to school where white people were in the majority. For college, I went to a private Baptist university where white people were in the majority. I went into a nonprofit career, working with staff where white people were/are in the majority. One could argue that I’m comfortable with white people, because I have extensive experience operating in their spaces.
So, why did the realization that most of my friends are white, surprise me?
It wasn’t as much my friends, as it was the realization that I don’t have a lot of safe spaces. Let me explain. Depending on the friend (and their level of “woke-ness”), I realized that I change to fit into their dynamic. I roughly equate the experience to code-switching, except I’m alternating between versions of myself and not just language. The point is, I never feel safe enough to be my complete self. In detail, here are some trends I’ve noticed when going to white friends to discuss racial equity issues:
Sympathy without Empathy: BIPOC are witness to many inequities or injustices, and after repeated experiences, it’s enough to make us consider if race is/was a factor in those inequities or injustices. When I try to share my experiences with white friends, I’m met with apologies rather than understanding of how these things could happen. There’s been countless times when a (white) friend has said something’s “too bad” without understanding the emotional toll the experience had on me. To have someone feel sorry for you without being able to feel what you feel, creates another emotional toll for the person who was feeling the emotion in the first place.
White Saviorism: Have you ever gone to a friend about an experience, and they have told you how you should handle it or tried to jump to the rescue without having all of the context? I have had white friends try to save me from a racially charged situation or tell me that I handled something incorrectly. I’ve even had a friend tell me that they could act as a “gut check” for how I handle issues around race and gender, as if they know more or better than I do and could protect me from making a misstep. You can be an ally without centering yourself or co-opting the BIPOC experience to demonstrate expertise over an issue.
Comparison: Sometimes, I’ll confide in a friend and they’ll try to equate their dissimilar experience to mine. I can talk about a microaggression or the burden of representation (in regards to race and identity), and have my experience compared to being the only liberal at the table on Thanksgiving. I don’t want to dismiss that experience, but it’s hard to center race in conversation when others are so quick to compare their nonracial experiences. For example, if it’s Black Women’s Equal Pay Day, don’t try to compare that experience with “well, I’m a woman and I’m underpaid too, so I get it.” No. White women are not equal to white men by any means, but they also don’t experience the same discrimination and injustice that Black women do. You are not the same. (Fellow POC, we are not the same either.)
Questioning or Dismissal: Nothing is worse than confiding in a friend and having them question or challenge your experience. “Are you sure they meant…” “Maybe you misread the situation…” “You might be making this more than it is…” These questions put BIPOC in a position to defend their perspective or experience, which requires the emotional labor of reliving the experience to explain why or how something is affecting them. They have to justify their emotions for a white person to understand (so they can have some sympathy, without even getting close to empathy). Or maybe they feel dismissed and give up trying to explain, entirely.
None of these things contribute to a safe space to be oneself. In my own experience, I feel like I have to do double the work to talk to my white friends about my non-white experience. Even then, they may not be able to get to where I am and understand where I’m coming from. Sometimes, I feel like I have to be less of myself to operate in white spaces, even my white friendships. I always have to have my guard up, and protect myself from the emotional toll it takes to do the work to maintain friendships with white people that won’t pull their weight. BIPOC shouldn’t have to do emotional labor to continue friendships with white people.
I can see how this may seem like a harsh and damning position to take, but I’m tired. I know white people can’t help their whiteness - that’s not the point. It’s how you recognize your whiteness and the privileges that come with that whiteness, that makes all the difference.
Here’s what I would ask of my white friends:
When a friend (regardless of race) comes to you to talk about something, ask “do you want to vent while I listen or do you want me to listen and offer my perspective/advice?” The key is to listen first.
When offering sympathy related to racial experiences, racialize your own voice: “as a white person, I understand that I will never experience what you’re going through, and I’m sorry…”
Always ask: “what do you need right now?” “Can I do anything to help?” Don’t jump to a conclusion about what someone needs. Don’t jump to the rescue if they don’t want or need to be rescued.
Take constructive feedback and do the work yourself. If a friend says that something you’ve done is hurtful (especially when race is at the center of that experience), don’t try to justify your behavior. Acknowledge the consequences of your actions (regardless of intentions) and make the commitment to change - and don’t rely on your BIPOC friends to help you change.
Respect space. Maybe your Black friends don’t want to talk to you right now. Maybe there are somethings that your friends don’t want to share or discuss - respect that they have their reasons and spend the extra time away trying to figure out how to be a better friend and ally to your friends.
I’m really lucky for the friends I have, but I will acknowledge that some friendships aren’t forever. No one should ever feel like they are friends with someone so said friend can learn more about themselves. Your diverse and complex friends are not here to make you better, nor are they a “white man’s burden” to bear.
I guess I’m saying all of this, because I need to know that it’s okay if I don’t want to be your friend.
I’d rather just be myself, and I’m okay with being by myself in order to do that.
