So a friend put me onto this blog called, “Stuff that White People Like”, which I think is hilarious because, #1 — not being White, and #2 — knowing that all humor is based on truth,
you couldn’t make some of this stuff up. I know that the blog, is in its entirety not the gospel truth, but while perusing the site, I came across a number of things that made me go hmmmm.
A brief skimming of the list taught me that White people like food co-ops, kitchen gadgets, The Daily Show/Colbert Report, having two last names, hating their parents, multilingual children, marathons, public radio, marathons, expensive sandwiches, David Sedaris (I like David Sedaris), and Sarah Silverman. Yeah, y’all can keep her.
What really got me, though, was the entry on the list that said, “#14 — Having Black Friends”. Now, I know I may be rocking the Angela Davis/Kathleen Cleaver afro, but I don’t consider myself all Sistah Souljah or anything. In this post, the writer says how White people don’t so much love having Black friends period; it’s how many Black friends they have. Basically, the number of Black friends a White person has is directly proportional to that White persons comfort level with Blacks in general. So, 1 Black friend means that they’ve crossed the threshold into the Black Experience. Does that mean that the Black person is now the gatekeeper all things Black?
Remember how in the Wizard of Oz, when they finally make it to Emerald City and they are all cleaned up and they get to the door and the little dude pops out and says, “No one gets in to see the Wizard. No way. No how.!” I think this is what White people must think about Black Culture or the “Black Experience” and so they need a Black friend to help them get past the guard.
That last statement alone is a perfect segue into talking about Barack Obama and our current political climate as well as the implications of having a Black president, but I can’t even go there today, “No way. No how!”
But back to the blog. Two or more Black friends means you’ll go see Kat Williams do stand up, but you won’t understand the jokes, but you can at least say that you went. Three or more Black friends means you start to actually get the jokes being told at the comedy show. Four or more Black friends, you think the jokes about White people refer to other White people, not you. You get the idea.
It got me to thinking though. Have I been the ambassador to Black culture for someone? Have I been the keymaster for someone who had never been to Republic Gardens, Def Comedy Jam or a Chris Rock concert? Are my White friends going to cocktail parties saying, “Well, sure, the Jay-Z versus Nas album war is pivotal, but I still find Biggie Smalls to be the true voice of the experience” because I happened to lend them a copy of Vibe with that article in the features column? Maybe the better question is, “Does it really matter?” No, probably not. I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I mean, I had a plan when I started writing, but that went out the window. I guess, I would hope that my White friends are my friends because they like me, the genuine me. I understand that there is a natural curiosity for cultures that you don’t understand, but there’s a difference between being nosy, being curious, and being downright offensive. The fact that my hair is different from theirs or that even with my fair skin, yes, I’m Black, should be, and is irrelevant. I hate to make pronouncements, but so there is no confusion, the fact that you are my friend, who you are what you stand for, what you value — that is the story of our friendship. Everything else is just a footnote.
