This has probably been discussed to pieces but: Stop talking about how you have a black “friend,” an Asian “friend,” or a Latinx “friend” who “doesn’t mind” your racism. Or how the women in your life don’t see you as sexist.
You might have noticed that “friend” is in quotation marks. If you’re wondering why (and even if you’re not), let me tell you: You don’t treat your friends like that. You don’t throw your friends under the bus so you can say you’re not racist, nor should you claim that their existence in your life is something you deserve a reward for.
If the only time you think about one of your marginalized friends is to tell other people that you’re not racist, or sexist, or transphobic, let’s be real here: You don’t really see them as friends. You don’t even seem them as people. You see them as objects.
This kind of behavior — trotting out mentions of your friends of color, your female friends, and/or your LGBTQ+ friends — is a kind of tokenism.
You tokenize your friends when you consider your friends in a way that suggests their only value to you is their marginalized status, so that you can defend yourself against accusations of bigotry. Having an Asian friend does not earn you progressive points, or “not racist” points. It means that you tolerate an Asian person enough to think you’re not racist, ignoring the effects of racial socialization.
As a woman of color student journalist, I’ve heard a lot of talk about tokenism — in passing, but a lot nonetheless. “We have so many ethnicities in the newsroom, of course we’re diverse. What do you mean you’re concerned about our coverage of sensitive topics?”
“Since you’re an expert on feminism, can you help us understand what’s wrong with our coverage of women?”
“Will you help create a sensitivity training for our newsroom?”
“I mean, isn’t it an accomplishment that the magazines still exist today? Why do you need funding?”
(For reference, my college has several student activist magazines that are housed in the same office as the daily student paper.)
I can appreciate people reaching out to me for help. In fact, for a long time I was really proud of myself, that people looked to me to learn things. It made me feel like I was useful and productive.
Still, something bothered me about these requests. It’s taken a couple years of reflection to realize that while these requests might come from the right place, they come from people who are frustratingly entitled and maybe even lazy.
Yes, I could help you understand why people are upset about how you covered a topic, or you could read your comments to see what people have already said is wrong. Yes, I could help you develop a sensitivity training for your staff, but Google also exists. And yes, the magazines’ existences are a feat… but the credit belongs to student activists who continue to staff them, not to the institution that mostly ignores them. Also, we need funding in order to continue our work.
Because beyond this perceived need for help, my existence was almost entirely ignored. In essence, I stopped being a peer, a fellow student journalist (if I was ever considered one in the first place), and instead became a shield. I was no longer a person, but an object to be used to protect other people (and the institution as a whole) from criticism. I felt tokenized, and also dehumanized. I did not feel truly valued.
Similarly, in using your marginalized “friends” to defend your own oppressive language or actions — think about how it could make your friends feel. The existence of marginalized people in your life should not be something you want awards for. And if you do want awards and accolades for accepting people of color into your life, it might be time to reflect on what you think about people of color.
