
As a white-skinned Jewish guy, I get asked at least once every few months, “Why do you like Black people so much?”
While it’s an inherently racist question, and indeed nobody ever pondered the quantity of my white friends, most people who ask aren’t consciously racist.
Most white folks just genuinely are bewildered at a white man embracing Black people and their culture. How does a white man call so many Black folks his brothers and sisters? Mind you, the reason they’re confused and curious is because they don’t have Black people in their lives. They move effortlessly through life with their “I’m not a racist” clothing. All while not having meaningful relationships with any — or at best no more than one or two — Black people.
The first time someone asked me this question was in 1989 in college by a then girlfriend, except her question came with an extra “Do you think you’re Black?” comment after I purchased an all-red pair of Ellesse shoes. Alas, having Black friends and wearing red tennis shoes didn’t somehow make me Black.
Having Black friends hasn’t always come easy. I lost count of the number of white women who gracefully backed out of dating me when they learned about my wide circle of close Black friends. “I just don’t understand” is how one woman a few years ago put it. And another in response to my having Black friends, “Why can’t you just accept that all lives matter.”
They all think it’s cool to see pictures with my Black friends on social media, but once some people realized they aren’t there to show I’m not racist, I could visibly see demeanors change.
Even at parties I’ve thrown over the years, you can see how uncomfortable some white folks get when there’s too many Black people in the room. “I didn’t know there were so many Black people in Denver,” one white acquaintance quipped at a birthday party in 2018. He was sort of joking, but not really. For some reason, there’s never any comments about how little or many white people are in a given place.
None of this is because these people are secretly hiding white hoods in the trunks of their Subarus. It’s simply because most white people don’t have meaningful relationships with any appreciable quantity of Black men and women. I’m not talking about the occasional lunch with co-workers by the way.
This void leaves people to develop deep unconscious bias about people through our inadequate education system, our skewed news, and our sports and entertainment. And we all know about those narratives as I’ve written about many times.
To answer your question once and for all. I’m not Black and never have been. I’ve never been asked to step out of my vehicle for speeding. I’ve never been denied a lease or loan because of my skin color. I’ve never been left out of important meetings or projects at work based on hue. I’ve never had someone else take credit for my ideas because of what I look like. I’ve not had a “shopper” follow me when I go into a department store. Well, I take that back. Commission salespeople follow me all the time because they know I might buy something.
I didn’t have to grow up watching cartoons featuring superheroes who looked nothing like me. People who look like me weren’t erased from my history classes. Nobody ever crossed the street when they saw me walking in their direction. I’ve never had to explain to my teenagers what to do if stopped by a police officer. And I certainly never had a partner worry if this would be the night I didn’t come home safely.
So, no, I am not Black. But I am blessed to surround myself with so many exceptional Black and Brown men and women. My life is enriched.
End racial distancing and go make more friends. Maybe some Black ones this time around.
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Previously Published on medium
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