When someone accused of being a racist says, “I’m not racist. I have lots of X friends,” do you ever wonder if those X people think of the speaker as a real friend? Does Hollis Johnson think of Paula Deen as part of his family or does he just tolerate that racist bitch because she’s paying his salary?
I recently realized that, while there may be people out there who count me among their “black friends,” from my perspective I have had very few “white” friends since I was a child. I have known and currently know “white” people that I might introduce as friends although many are really more like acquaintances or people-who-have-talked-to-me-more-than-once. I have a host of “white” people in my Facebook friends list. But I have had an extremely limited number of real, deep, meaningful relationships with “white” people. And, after careful consideration, I have determined that it’s not me; it’s them.
I have not intentionally segregated myself away from “white” people. In fact, because of my career and personal interests, I tend to find myself in places populated with more “white” people than people of color. Yet I have formed few lasting connections. This I believe has to do with how the potential “white” friends I have known in my adult life have dealt with me. In my adult life, most interactions that I have had with “white” people who could have been potential friends have turned sour because the “white” friend engaged in some behavior that made me aware of an invisible wall between us, constructed by them, impenetrable by me.
I post this in the hopes that all the “white” people out there who think they have friends who are not “white” will reconsider how they really see those friends. The chances are that, if you have ulterior motives in striking up a friendship with a person of color, you will do or say something that will reveal your motives.
One day my “white” friend will say something that lets me know that our friendship has been little more than her attempt to learn about “my people.” We will be discussing some political, social, or less weighty issue. I will state an opinion. Her eyes will open wider, and she’ll say “So that’s what black people think about X. I’ve always wondered.” Or she will ask me, “What is the black perspective on X?” Or she will make a generalizing comment about some mundane aspect of my daily existence, revealing that she assumes that my mundane routine is indicative of the lifestyles and habits of all people like me: “Oh, so black women do wash their hair more than once a month? Because I thought they couldn’t get their hair wet.”
This “white” friend will often try to participate in what she perceives to be my culture. She will get her hair braided in cornrows, or attempt to learn whatever butt-centered dance is supposed to be popular among African-Americans at that moment, or strike up a conversation about how much she loved the latest [insert popular hip-hop/rap artist here] album only to be visibly disappointed when she realizes I don’t know what she’s talking about. For people who are not African-American, this type of “white” friend might smoke hookah, wear turquoise jewelry, sport a sari, or learn a few words of Spanish and then never shut up about how much they understand the struggles of immigrants, or any other culturally-specific appropriation.
These words and behaviors reveal that the time I spent thinking of this person as my friend, she only thought of me as an object of study, specimen A, the Samoan to her Margaret Mead. For her I am not an individual, I am representative.
The Critical Eye
This type of “white” friend reveal themselves whenever I am lured into enough familiarity with my white friend to think that I can complain about my woes, and I make the mistake of relating an instance in which I encountered racism. It always happens in the same way. (1) I tell my story. (2) My “white” friend tries to convince me that what happened to me in the story wasn’t racism. Sometimes my “white friend” suggests alternatives: “Maybe he/she was just having a bad day. Did you think of that?” “Maybe the server was nice to the ‘white’ customers and not to you because he knew them from somewhere.” “Maybe this.” “Maybe that.”
This “white” friend offers his own analysis because he thinks that I am incapable of bringing a critical eye to my own experiences. He assumes that I, like all people of color in the U.S., am eager to experience racism, and when I fail to experience actual racism, I resort to calling racist that which is not. This “white” friend will often take me to task for what he assumes to be my affinity for unfounded anger. He assumes that I am less human and, therefore, do not have the same capacity for rational thought and careful consideration of evidence that he has.
This “white” friend’s primary motivation for befriending me is so that he can feel charitable. He is the first to welcome me to a new environment, to tell me how wonderful it is that I am there, and to eagerly laud the benefits of “diversity.” “I’m so glad you’re here,” he says to me, “I love diversity.” Well, terrific. Glad I have your permission to occupy this space. It does not seem to occur to him that I do not need validation. This is because. . .
. . . This type of “white” friend sees people of color always as abject, always as targets of pity. He imagines the most pitiable internal and external circumstances for most people of color and feels that by extending the “white” hand of friendship he is ameliorating what would otherwise be an unbearable existence. He is always thoroughly encouraging and say things like, “You know you’re actually quite bright” or “You’re very articulate” as if this is a surprise. I am the dog in breeches, the native to his Marlow.
This type of “white” friend is warm and engaging only in certain environments when she is alone with me, when there are other people of color around, or when we are together with others in a circumstance that requires our interaction such as a classroom setting. However, when this “white” friend sees me in a public place beyond the established locations of our relationship, she will pretend not to know or even see me. Usually, the “white” friend is with someone she knows, but whom I do not know: a boyfriend, a fiancé, a parent, another “white” friend. This “white” friend seeks to have her cake and eat it too. She wants to have the “black friend” that proves that she is not a racist without having that friendship impact the status she holds in her racist world.
The Beauty Contestant
This type of “white” friend, typically female, only wants to be friends with me so that she can feel physically superior in contrast. If the “white” friend and I are out together, the “white” friend assumes that all men will prefer her to me. Any man who directs more attention to me will immediately become the subject of ridicule by this “white” friend. A man who she initially finds “cute” or “hot” will suddenly become “creepy” if he asks for my number instead of hers. She will take every opportunity to deny the physical beauty of women of color and laud the beauty of “white” women. She will watch Bend it Like Beckham and loudly and repeatedly whine that Keira Knightley is sooo pretty, and it doesn’t make sense that she doesn’t get the guy, trying to deny to herself and everyone else that Parminder Nagra is prettier than Keira Knightley.
This friend will engage in frenzied preening of her straight hair whenever she is in my line of vision. She will go on and on about how much she loves her hair, stressing such features as its ability to “blow in the wind,” and she will make frequent sympathetic remarks about the limitations of curly hair. She will lament that her skin is so “white” and patronizingly say to me, “You’re actually lucky that you don’t have to tan” as if she were passing out alms to the poor. If I dare to express an appreciation for my own appearance, this “white” friend is quick to admonish me for being “stuck-up” or “conceited,” reminding me that “It doesn’t sound right to talk about how much you like yourself.”