My white friends that I grew up with have shared with me how thankful they are to have had me in their lives during their developmental years. They wonder what attitudes they might have if they didn’t have a black best friend their entire lives. They arrived at college to befriend kids who had never met another black person in their lives and encountered countless out-of-pocket statements from those individuals. I am constantly thankful that I grew up with genuine white friends, unlike many of my extended family members. My cousin said to me once, ‘I don’t like being around white people…I always feel like they hate me.’ I was able to learn that more often than not, that isn’t the case. But what she points to is the overwhelming sentiment of feeling like black lives are not accepted or celebrated by white people.
The recent events have presented a unique time to begin conversations that have been waiting to happen for far too long. To both black and white people, I’d write that understanding is a two-way street. To my white friends, I’d tell you that while that’s true, white people have a long journey to get to where we need to meet. It is time for white people to muster the courage to call out those comments you hear from your parents or uncles and aunts. The pass has been given for far too long, and every time you don’t speak up, you enable the far worse words and behaviors that we are trying to fight. For those of you who think an old dog can’t learn new tricks, I’d point you to the numerous white adults who have texted me this week noting that they have been in their bubble for too long, asking me to keep sending them content. It’s time to pop the bubble.
My experience as the token black friend for my entire life has allowed me a unique lens into many of the gaps that are currently preventing mutual understanding between white and black people. I have spent so much time in the white community and enjoyed the privileges that come with that, yet still, I am affected by all these issues. Despite the obvious differences in my story to that of the average young black man, I believe my story can still speak to the immediacy of the need for change. Additionally, it can serve as an example of a genuinely meaningful relationship between a black person and white people, emphasizing the ability of white people to be either allies or enemies.
I will never turn my back on the black community. You’ll bump our music and rep our athletes, but will you stand with us when it’s not convenient? The pain is real. The stories are real. Our call for help is real. My uncle posted on Facebook yesterday, ‘When the dust settles, I wonder if anything will actually change?’ To be honest, I’m not sure how quickly or how much things will change. But I know that one area of all of this is directly within each of our personal control. The celebration of black lives is evident through a choice to inquire about them, to educate yourselves, and to question many of the norms around us. The excuse of not being aware of your level of ignorance is now out the window. I’d reword my uncle’s post to a question that we should all be asking ourselves: ‘When the dust settles, I wonder if I will actually change?’”
No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite. ― Nelson Mandela
**This post was written by Ramesh Nagarajah. See more from Ramesh on Instagram and Facebook.
Photo credit: Ramesh Nagarajah Facebook.
