We Are Not Entitled to Anyone’s Friendship
As my husband says, “Diluting yourself for other people does not make you a better person.” As someone who spent much of my childhood and adolescence as the token Black girl, this sentiment hit home when I faced a friendship reckoning. The 2016 election brought about many reckonings for America and her citizens. Americans were no longer able to spew the nonsensical phrase, “it’s just politics”, without consequence. And my own friendships were not immune.
The 2016 election brought about a physical reaction for those of us who come from oppressed communities. My first few days after the election were a mix of gray haze, tears and utter darkness — as was the case for my Black friends. The haze lasted longer than the darkness because of the sheer confusion I felt towards people who voted for a racist, white supremacist, but thought I would still be interested in “grabbing a drink” with them. Many of my white friends were able to have a different reaction to this election, whether or not they voted for him. However, my entire being had been changed. Grabbing a drink with anyone was difficult in that moment, let alone with someone who did not think the rhetoric of the new White House occupant was a dealbreaker, not just for high office but also for our friendship.
‘White economic anxiety’ is the buzz phrase used to explain voting for a white supremacist in 2016. However, I was raised in an affluent neighbourhood, so we will not be using that excuse here. You have come to the wrong place if you think a tax break is a reason to vote for a bigot.
The 2016 election was not “just politics.” It was clear to me even during the Bush era, that politics was not “just politics,” and extended far beyond the semantics. But, in 2016 the reality was unavoidable. For Black women, the personal is political. And I think it is for all of us really, there are just some who refuse to see it, or have the immense privilege not to acknowledge it. Everything in our lives is connected to the political by some thread: the brands you buy, the school your children are zoned for, the vaccine you receive, and even the amount of time you wait in line to vote. No more can we say, “it’s just political,” or “it’s a difference of opinions.”
If your opinion is that racist words and sentiments, both overt and latent, are acceptable in any context, then a continued friendship with me will be difficult, if not impossible. You are looking for something I cannot offer.
As your Black friend I am not here to assuage your guilt, to allow your ignorance nor to provide the diversity for your clique.
In the wake of the 2016 election I wrote an emotional and candid editorial about how I felt. This piece ultimately served as the starting point for my book, Everyday Ubuntu. I am still shocked when I recall that such a raw piece of writing, born out of a dark moment in our collective history, would serve as the catalyst for a book on this special philosophy. For those of you who do not know, Ubuntu is the concept that we are interconnected, that “I am only because you are”. It is the philosophy that centres on dignity and the view that, as my grandfather says, “My humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours.” If we recognise this, it is truly difficult to treat ourselves and others without dignity and respect. We will be more mindful to put ourselves in the shoes of others, we will forgive more, we will seek out the wider perspective and we will acknowledge reality. It isn’t just kindness, it is a step past kindness where you recognise the inner worth of every human being, starting with yourself, and are careful to walk in the world with this knowledge ever present.
When you learn about Ubuntu for the first time it can seem a bit soft, or “naïve” as one interviewer asked me during an interview in Europe almost two years ago. But it is the opposite, it is extremely difficult. I don’t always want to put myself in someone else’s shoes and I sure as hell do not want to always forgive people who hurt me or my loved ones. However, when I do I am often rewarded. Rewarded in the sense that I learn something about myself, about the person who has caused harm and I am able to stop holding the weight of that harm in my body. When I keep Ubuntu at the forefront of my mind, I tend to give more people the benefit of the doubt, grant myself and them more grace and find the humour in life.
In the time since I wrote the book, I have started to examine and question everything, especially my thoughts and actions. I could be washing my face, thinking about a conversation earlier in the day, and ask myself, “Did I react with Ubuntu in mind? “Did I show Ubuntu in that interaction?” Spoiler: I did not.
Each time I have to step away from a friendship, I ask myself this same question. In the haze of 2016, I often questioned if I was showing my whole self in my friendships. If I was only partially expressing, or providing a version of myself that they would find most palatable given their beliefs, perhaps this would explain why some were shocked by my reaction to their votes. But I am a Black woman, whose mother immigrated to the U.S. in 1978; could it be shocking that racism and xenophobia were hard no’s for me?
The last five years of injustice and oppression in the name of racism, xenophobia, bigotry and misogyny have made it abundantly clear to me that I am only me because of those around me. With this knowledge, I’ve spent this time carefully curating my circle. I have learned that it is okay to end friendships. I am STILL learning to not guilt myself for stepping out of a friendship. I believe friendship is a commitment and an important relationship. I don’t half-ass my friendships and in my old age I have learned it’s better to have less friends who I can truly support. Friends who can support me in moments that may be uncomfortable for us both.
Ubuntu is also about honesty and a willingness to have tough conversations that push us outside of our comfort zone and propel us forward. But not at the expense of our own humanity and dignity.
Ubuntu does not mean you are entitled to my friendship either.
I am open to tough conversations. Let’s be honest, the life of a Black woman in America is navigating tough conversations, day in and out. I am equally open to boundaries. Boundaries are one of my love languages. Sometimes the necessity of boundaries is evident when people insist upon using me for their difficult conversations. Some people may pause and read this as my being unwilling to live outside my comfort zone, but again let me remind you of my identity, I am constantly living outside of my comfort zone. My lived experience is outside of the comfort zones many call home.
Imagine having someone explain to you every day why their friend, sister, uncle, boss, acquaintance, and anyone else in their life, doesn’t think your life is of value. That is ostensibly what you are doing each time you try to explain to a Black person (and every other community that was harmed by the former White House occupant) why you had to vote for him even though he was openly racist, xenophobic, misogynistic, bigoted, intolerant and chauvinistic.
Racism, has not, is not and will never be a difference of opinion. Forcing me to discuss your reasoning behind an action or incident, that I have previously said is racist, is not a tough conversation between friends. It’s gaslighting. It is white people centreing themselves in conversations about race. And it does not move us forward.
Some friends saw the errors and missteps they made. I felt as though they understood my pain, and were doing their best. When they apologised, I forgave them because it felt genuine and not simply a way to either alleviate them of any negative feelings from my reaction, or to move past any inconvenience to them. I had those tough conversations with people, when I felt it was the right thing to do. These conversations sometimes resulted in tears, but not mine as I had spent the past months crying in private. The impact of white tears, specifically white women’s tears, on society hadn’t found a place in discourse at that time, but in my body I felt a level of confusing discomfort that as the wronged party I now had to be the one to console. This is something I see many Black women navigate in friendships and work relationships today. In the moment, I made the decision to try and move forward and forward we went. If you wish to continue a friendship, going through, not around the conflicts is necessary.
We are, however, entitled to avoid the conflicts that we don’t think are worth our energy.
I celebrate my friends, not tolerate them. It is not fair to anyone in a relationship if either party is going to half-ass it. “Shine Theory” is one of the ways I look at these complicated relationships, a concept coined and explained by Aminatou Sow and Ann Friedman in their book, Big Friendship.
“We came to define Shine Theory as an investment, over the long term, in helping a friend be their best — and relying on their help in return. It is a conscious decision to bring our full selves to our friendships and to not let insecurity or envy ravage them. It’s a practice of cultivating a spirit of genuine happiness and excitement when our friends are doing well, and being there for them when they aren’t.”
In my twenties, I have learned the painful lesson that the length of a friendship does not supersede the importance of the growth of both individuals in the relationship. I am here to help you shine because your shining pushes me to be better as well.
I do not buy into the nonsense that friendship is always or inherently easy. Friendship is mutual and needs to be continually agreed upon by both parties. And of course, there are different kinds of friendships. I have friends that I go to for relationship advice and friends that I go to for advice with work or academics, but no matter the circumstance or moment, I am still able to bring my whole self. If you vote for a white supremacist, especially if you do so more than once, I am unable to bring my full self to our relationship. In doing so, you are asking me to ignore the part of me that your vote is denouncing. And further, you are implicitly telling me how you view my humanity and dignity, in relation to yours.
We all have challenges in life, and I do not think trauma comparisons are helpful. However, a true friendship is difficult when there is no acknowledgement of our different, daily realities: if my brother is pulled over by a policeman, it is wholly and fundamentally different from any of my white friends’ siblings in the same situation. Their mothers will never experience the sheer panic when he walks out the door or calls unexpectedly on his drive back to college that my mother does. It is a privilege to live every day without thinking about how racism will affect every context or circumstance.
Last year I was profiled for my boarding school’s alumni magazine and in the interview I spoke on the aftermath of the 2016 election, and my decision to step away from some friendships. Older alums complained, saying that the interview glorified my decision to end friendships over “this stuff,” and that it was a bad choice for the school to highlight my opinions and lived experience. It is baffling that a stranger believes that someone (to be clear, someone they also do not know) is entitled to my friendship. Actually, baffling is the wrong word. It is infuriating. When I ended friendships, I did what I needed to do for my mental health, but I still treat those people as human beings. As I wrote in Everyday Ubuntu, “The most crucial underlying principle of Ubuntu is respect, both for oneself and for other people. It’s a simple idea. If a person respects himself or herself, they are far more likely to extend that to other people.” Friendship is being welcomed into my heart and home. It is unrealistic and Pollyanna to think that everyone is welcome into your home. People are not entitled to our safe space. My boundaries do not infringe upon their human rights or question their right to exist. I can stop being friends with someone but still treat them with dignity and respect, the two are not mutually exclusive.
As time has passed, I have come to understand that loving someone and having a healthy relationship with them are not one and the same. If the values no longer align, ending a friendship, though painful, does not mean I am a terrible person. If my expressing that ‘Black Lives Matter’ means the end of a friendship I am okay with that. There is a pervasive idea in our culture that being “liked” is paramount, particularly for women. It is often expressed as changing or modifying ourselves to the situation, but that is harmful. All friendships are relationships at work, even the best ones, and we should come to the table as our whole selves. It should be the “good” type of work. In her book, Pleasure Activism, adrienne marie brown writes, “Is it a pleasure to be with each other?” And I can truly say, yes, it is a pleasure to be with my friends.
My husband also said, “Where diversity of opinions in our chosen friends (and family) is a net positive and makes life more interesting; diversity of moral compasses is a net negative.” It is time to move past and grow beyond our ‘agree to disagree’ fetish. We can hold ourselves and our friends to a higher standard. ‘I am because you are’ is also, I am because of how great you are.
