How to Be Black

by Baratunde Thurston

  Questions implying that a black student group should not be able to control its money or that forced desegregation at cafeteria tables might be needed were notable among the set of White People Questions I experienced at Sidwell. However, my favorite by far was the following:

  Why don’t we have a White Student Union?

  I remember the student who asked this. She was confused by the existence of “students of color” meetings and the Black Student Union. The idea that there were official organizations, sanctioned by the school, based around racial identity, was offensive and wrong, and so she just “asked a question,” which was: “Why don’t we have a White Student Union?”

  My mind immediately flashed to previous iterations of “white student unions”: white citizens’ councils, Ku Klux Klan rallies, and Dave Matthews Band concerts, but she didn’t mean anything so sinister. She simply didn’t get why white students were not allowed to self-identify by race and gather regularly, in a semi-exclusive fashion, for the advancement of their interests.

  No one told her that the entire school was essentially a White Student Union.

  How to Be The Black Friend

  So far, I’ve painted a picture of myself as this tiny, hard-core, militant black kid, and in truth I was that way, but I wasn’t only that way. As with all children, I was trying on points of view and personalities, imitating what I saw around me, and figuring out just what “being myself” actually meant. I carried the banner of black justice as loudly as I waved the flags of pop culture, adolescent crushes, genuine friendliness, and a desire to be liked by the people around me. The first two years at Sidwell, seventh and eighth grades, were the toughest period of cultural adjustment, but as with all exposure to new languages, immersion worked, and over time, I felt as at home on the sidelines of a field hockey match as I did in a West African drum circle.

  After seventh grade, my mother decided to move us off of Newton Street in DC. She had fought the good fight against the steady takeover of our neighborhood by drug dealers and users, and she was losing. We all were. I recall her returning one evening from a peace vigil organized by St. Stephen’s Episcopal church across the street. Some of the young hustlers thought it would be fun to egg the candle-wielding activists and demonstrate who was really in charge, so when my mother returned, she was covered in egg.

  Another morning, I looked through our front window only to notice that a bullet had pierced two panes of the triple-paned glass. The shot came from a BB gun, but the fact that it wasn’t a real gun didn’t make my mother feel any better. Through all of this, I was generally as happy as could be. The occasional police raid, mass brawl, and steady drug traffic didn’t bother me too much. It felt normal, and that is probably what frightened my mother the most. So she moved us out to Takoma Park, Maryland, to a single-family home with a massive deck and even more massive front yard. With long, extracurricular-heavy school days, a one-hour public transit commute on both ends, and limited time in my new friendless neighborhood, my social life was increasingly defined by Sidwell, which meant I had white friends! I had black friends, too, but the numbers made not having white friends nearly impossible, and these friendships offered new opportunities to share my blackness with others, not always voluntarily.

  It began with my hair. White schoolmates would look at my afro, then shout excitedly, “Is that your real hair?” and “That is so cool!” and “Can I touch it?” all the while reaching to touch it regardless of what answer was percolating from my mind to my mouth in response to their perfunctory inquiry. If I did not know you, the answer was simply, “No!” accompanied by a gracefully evasive maneuver to avoid unsanctioned hand-to-hair contact. But if we were friends, I would offer a detailed response. I would patiently explain that it was rude to just touch someone’s hair without permission; that black people, especially, have a history of white people exerting their privilege over black bodies, extending from uninvited head-rubbing to far worse transgressions; that it was disgusting, considering how many people don’t wash their hands after using the restroom. Now armed with inside information, these white friends of mine were more respectful of my perspective and sometimes explained the logic to their own white friends on their own initiative!*

  Hair was just the beginning. First at Sidwell, then later at Harvard and in various workplaces, I learned just how important and powerful the role of black-friend-to-white-people could be. Now, I’m going to share some of those valuable lessons with you.

  You are about to learn how to be The Black Friend.

  Move through this chapter with the weight of America’s history and future upon your shoulders, and treat the lesson with the same respect you might reserve for an original copy of the Constitution or perhaps Bob Hope’s DNA. The Black Friend is that important to the United States.

  The Black Friend has value to all non-black Americans but especially white Americans. By having a Black Friend, white Americans automatically inoculate themselves against most charges of racism and capture some of the rebellious spirit that has made this country what it is. They become cooler by association.

  Here’s how all these benefits might play out in one setting. First, a white person brings her Black Friend to a party, adding instant cultural credibility to the event. There may be a little extra buzz in the room. Second, that white person has more latitude to speak ignorance of a racial nature by invoking the fact that she “has a black friend.” Innocence-by-association is a powerful defensive tactic. Depending on the type of household she is from, it may be forbidden or at least frowned upon to go hanging around with black folks. So the white person who brings her Black Friend home can enjoy the added benefit of rebelling against her parents. The Black Friend is a cultural Swiss Army knife for many white Americans, able to perform several functions of both a stylistic and practical nature.

  While The Black Friend’s value to White America is long established and readily apparent upon slight reflection, it’s The Black Friend’s value to Black America that is truly underappreciated. Yes, The Black Friend is the best friend of Black America.

  First, The Black Friend is a key intelligence asset, like a CIA operative, both transmitting and receiving valuable information that continually helps prevent a race war by increasing understanding, lowering tensions, and offering diplomatic back channels.

  A well-trained Black Friend can learn the ways of White America without hyperbole or judgment but instead based on actual lived experiences. For example, a good Black Friend can see the artistic merit in Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” rather than dismiss it as simply “a bunch of white people music.” A truly insightful Black Friend may even see the song as essentially hip-hop in nature, if one were to really think about it with an open mind.*

  This same Black Friend can also explain the line between curiosity and an accidental hate crime, say, by telling her white friends that it is not okay to just go up to a black person and touch her hair.

  By acting as a buffer and a sounding board between worlds, The Black Friend can prevent misunderstandings from escalating into an all-out conflagration, and all black people benefit from these quiet acts of diplomacy, not just those who serve as Black Friends. The irony is that many in the black community look with derision upon those of their number who serve as Black Friends. Truly exceptional Black Friends are treated as traitors to their race, told they aren’t “black enough,” and called Oreos and sellouts. If you are the type of person to instantly judge a black person seemingly enjoying himself in the company of a group of white people, think twice before you judge. He just might be on a mission!

  If only Black America knew the sacrifices Black Friends make every single day to preserve the peace, we would erect monuments and memorials in their honor. We would call for a moment of silence during the BET Awards, or better yet, replace the awards with a three-hour moment of silence for our too-silent defenders and advocates.

  During the Cold War, U.S. and Russian leaders installed a special direct communica
tions device that came to be known as the “red telephone.” They would use it to talk to each other in secret, explaining military movements and other actions that could be misinterpreted as acts of war. Black Friends are our red telephones. They are our covert agents. They are interracial code breakers, and in the Cold War, we had a name for the men and women on both sides of the conflict performing these functions. They saved lives every day with no expectation of recognition except by the few who knew their true names. We called them heroes. That’s what Black Friends are: heroes. America’s heroes.

  Your Black Friend Tool Set

  Now that you grasp the importance of this role, here are some key traits and assets you must possess to serve as a good Black Friend.

  Cultural authenticity

  You won’t be of much value to black people or anyone else if you don’t maintain a cultural connection to black experiences. Like a reporter who clings to the newsroom rather than step outside and actually walk his beat, you will lose your effectiveness. In a practical sense, this means you need to maintain a baseline level of black cultural currency by being familiar with at least some of the history of black people, of trends in black entertainment—this goes for music, film, sports, et cetera—as well as language and style. You don’t need to overdo it by trying to be “too black,” but if you’re not seen as black enough, no one will buy your story, and you won’t get the inside access that makes your role so valuable.

  Physical authenticity

  This is not about how you look. It’s about how you act. Intellectual knowledge of black culture will only get you so far in your service. You must also be able to do black things. Ideally, you will be fairly competent in at least one of the following areas: rapping, dancing, grilling or frying meats, and running or other stereotypically black sports. If you can back up your mental knowledge of blackness with an occasional Moon (or Crip) Walk and a semiannual freestyle rhyme, your value is assured. Again, this is about appearances to maintain your cover.

  A sense of humor

  A good Black Friend doesn’t take any remark or experience too seriously, but remember that balance is key. There is a risk associated with not taking things seriously enough. Your effectiveness depends on your ability to make non-black people feel comfortable. You can’t go flying off the handle every time something potentially racist goes down. If you do that, you risk losing the privileged position of Black Friend and sliding into the much less useful role of Angry Negro (see “How to Be The Angry Negro”). Angry Negroes have a role in our society, but they have much less freedom of mobility, and this chapter is about the diplomatic art of Black Friendship, so let’s stay true to that mission.

  Just because you’re an uncelebrated secret agent and diplomat doesn’t mean you can’t have fun. One entertaining way to keep your friends on their toes is to occasionally play the race card for fun. For example, if you’re getting in the car with them and you end up being directed to the backseat, you can yell, “Why do I have to sit in the back? Is it because I’m black!?” They’ll be nervous for a moment, but then you’ll laugh, and they’ll laugh, and oh, the fun times you can have being The Black Friend.

  Patience

  You’re going to get a lot of questions. Many of them will be dumb. Most will be some variation on “Is this racist?” Maintain your cool, and focus on listening to your friends. When they ask, “Why don’t more black people work hard like immigrants?” don’t assume bad intentions on their part. Stop. Breathe. Think. What are they really saying with this question? They are doing a surface-level comparison. They see Group A and Group B. To them, both groups have experienced similar setbacks, but Group B doesn’t seem to have made nearly as much progress as Group A in the recovery. This is not automatically racist. They’re asking you because they trust you, because they need you to help them understand. If you scare them away, you encourage a troubling alternative. Instead of taking that seemingly dumb question to you, their trusted Black Friend, they will continue to live with their ignorance, which will eventually find its way into the news segments they produce at their television network jobs or into legislation they pass. A healthy amount of patience as The Black Friend can go a long way toward helping all black people in unseen ways.

  Access to white people

  You can’t very well be a good Black Friend if you don’t have access to non-black, and especially white, people. This should go without saying, but I can’t tell you the number of black folks I’ve met who want nothing to do with white people and yet complain nonstop about how white people do this or white people think that. Be the change you want to see. Go make some white friends. If you don’t know where to start, I recommend checking out Stuff White People Like, the website or book. It’s all right there for the understanding.

  This list is not exhaustive, but it’s a representative sample of the set of tools you will need to perform your duties. If you carry these with you, you will make an excellent Black Friend and do your people, black, white, and otherwise, proud. There is just one more thing:*

  Beware Other Black People

  As I’ve documented in the history of The Black Friend, many black people do not respect this role and many more don’t even know we have blacks deployed in this fashion at all. That can make for some awkward interactions when you’re with your white friends and come across this type of black person. Keep in mind, they mean no harm. They just don’t understand the mission you’re on, so remain calm, careful, and vigilant. There are ways to minimize the damage done by these potentially hostile inter-Negro interactions.

  Always acknowledge other black people. If you are overly focused on your Black Friend duties, you might miss the presence of another black person. They will see you. They always see you. You stand out in your crowd, and they will test you, usually by catching your eye, then offering an upward or downward head nod. Depending on your gender, the test might stop at eye contact or progress to a polite smile. It’s like in the movie Avatar* when they say, “I see you.”

  Your worst mistake here would be to see the other black person, let them see you seeing them, then fail to acknowledge them. You come across as too good for your own people, and you end up making things harder for yourself by creating or furthering a feeling of distrust, and without trust, we have nothing.

  You also want to keep an active eye on the behavior of your white friends when other non–Black Friends are around. If you’re doing your job, your white friends will be extremely comfortable and loose in your presence. This is generally a good thing, but it can lead to embarrassment if your white friends are dropping a lot of black slang, rap lyrics, or worst of all, the words “nigga” or “nigger.”

  As a general rule, never allow your white friends to say any variation of the word “nigger” but especially in the company of others. It is your job to explain to them why such statements are unacceptable. You can appeal to history. You can explain the continuing pain associated with the term. You can cite family-style in-group versus out-group privileges. Do what you must. The good news is that they will listen to you in a way they would never listen to a random black person they don’t know.

  When you hear white people ask, “Why is it okay for black people to say the N-word and not me?” those white people are missing a good Black Friend in their lives.

  How to Speak for All Black People

  My own experiences as The Black Friend were merely training exercises for a much larger role. In the classroom, workplace, and beyond, once you’re known as someone who is willing to talk about race, you become an official spokesperson for your race. Often your willingness isn’t actually required. Your mere standing as a member of the group in question is taken as qualification enough. Many a black person has been blindsided by the “what do you think about [insert potentially black-related topic here]?” question. Not thinking about the consequences, the non-black person asking simply reaches for the closest representative he or she can find, but for those unprepared for the call of duty, it can
be a traumatic experience, leading to episodes of self-doubt, anger, and dry skin. Where this demand for black spokespeople is acute, however, is in the media.

  As a blogger, public speaker, and black-person-who-writes-books-with-the-word-“black”-in-the-title, I’ve had my fair share of media exposure playing some version of the black spokesperson game. There’s usually some kind of blackness emergency in which the cable networks light up a black version of the Bat-signal, hailing any and all potentially credible voices to offer perspective. Sometimes that beam is directed toward me, but unlike Batman, I don’t feel the need to respond to every hail. I remember one particularly urgent-sounding invitation from a network.

  “[Former Illinois governor Rod] Blagojevich just said he’s blacker than Obama! Can you come in?”

  “Well, when?”

  “Now!”

  “No, thanks for thinking of me, but I can’t make it in for this one. Maybe next time.”

  I bet half the calls Batman responds to are situations people could work out for themselves by employing basic common sense. If I had accepted that invitation to comment on the Blagojevich segment, I would have gone on air, said, “This is dumb,” then sat in silence for the rest of the segment checking my Twitter messages. This would have wasted the network’s time, but more important, my time. Still, even though I’m occasionally part of the system, that system leaves a lot to be desired.

  Faced with declining profit margins, fierce competition from a multiplication of news outlets, and continuing consolidation, the media is barely able to gather and analyze facts (see: pre–Iraq War coverage, housing bubble, the financial crisis, the continuing financial crisis, et cetera), much less discuss issues of race in an intelligent manner. Add to their general ineptitude an abysmally low level of diversity among editors and producers at the major media outlets, and you can see why they are so often forced to import “black” experts. Whether about the president’s supposedly anti-American pastor, a black athlete’s criminality, or the probably racist statements of a white public figure, the U.S. media is continuously searching for a black voice to explain black people. In their ideal world, exactly one Representative of Blackness would hold a national black press conference every few weeks to answer all black-related questions: