The Black Friend

When you’re that guy

To be the black guy in a group of mostly white friends is to be deserving of the Nobel or the Oscar, perhaps both. You are that guy, often referred to as our guy or my guy. Sometimes you will be called upon to be the black guy without being a black guy. I know. I know.

You will often find yourself having drinks with friends in a crowded bar and not see a single other black face among the happily buzzed crowd, and it will take the talents of Streep to pretend you don’t notice. But if there are four or five other black faces, there will be twenty, and when there are thirty or forty you must employ vigorous tongue biting when your friends suddenly start saying one of their favorite bars isn’t cool anymore.

Your apartment will have to be in a mostly white neighborhood, or somewhere that has achieved acceptable levels of gentrification. If not, you’ll have to suffer their wide eyed surprise when you tell them where you live. If they have had drinks at the time they may forget to mind themselves and ask you, straight up, if it’s safe.

Don’t be harsh with them, they’ve likely never noticed that you are almost always the only black guy there. Since they travel in largely white circles and they are rarely, if ever the only white person, they probably don’t understand how you are affected by the consistent absence of not even one other person who might have walked a mile in your Airforce Ones.

You don’t complain that in all the time you’ve been friends with them, they’ve not even once gone with you to any place where the crowd is mostly black. You understand how they would probably feel, you know that feeling even though you’ve become somewhat used to it by now. But, you sometimes think to yourself, if I can do it, if I can be the only black guy all the time, why can’t they be the only white people once in a while?

But you say nothing.

When you do go to a place on occasion, where the crowd is largely black, you go with some of your black friends. You don’t have to watch them pretend that they suddenly remembered some other plans they had. The fact that they know there’s nothing to be afraid of is comforting. They don’t gather together in some nook away from the crowd and assume defensive positions in case something happens.

Once in a while you will need these outings to refuel yourself. You don’t doubt the validity of these friendships, but you have questions about the depth. You wonder, why are they so comfortable with you? Do you lack authenticity? Are you black, but not Black?

Maybe it’s because the first one in the group that you knew from work, sort of vouched for you, assured the others that you were cool. And when they saw that you drank craft beer and knew the lyrics to Hotel California, you were in, you were okay.

You are not a token or a mascot, some degree of awareness would be required to reduce you to those roles. No one will likely ever look over at you one night at the bar or at a concert and ask themselves what it would feel like to be in your place. But on their way to the bar for another round, they’ll look back, point a finger at you and ask, “You good?”