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7 things Black people want their well-meaning white friends to know

"You, white friend, need to speak up and say something when I can't."

comic of a Black man holding a sandwich speaking to a white woman

Growing up black in a white neighborhood.

I grew up Black in a very white neighborhood in a very white city in a very white state.

As such, I am a lot of people's only Black friend.

Being the only Black friend is a gift and a curse. I am Black and I love having friends. But I am also, at any given moment, expected to be a translator, an ambassador, a history teacher, and/or a walking, talking invitation into "I am not racist" territory. It's a lot to handle. See what I mean about that curse?

So when I saw the animated short-film "Your Black Friend," I felt so seen. Clearly, I am not alone.

group of teens taking a photo before a dance. all eyes are pixelated except the author's

Don't get me wrong, my friends are awesome, just very white. Here are me and a few of my pixelated pals before a high school dance in the early 2000s.

Photo courtesy of the author.

The film, which was written, designed, and narrated by Ben Passmore and is based on his mini-comic of the same name, is a brilliant, refreshing way to examine whiteness and racism. The comic and animated short are an open-letter from "your Black friend" to you, their well-meaning white friend, about bias, alienation, and what it means to be a good ally and friend.

It's funny, honest, and heartbreaking in equal measure. And speaking from personal experience, it captures the experience of being a Black friend to white people pretty much perfectly.

So if you're a "woke" friend and ally, here are some things your Black friend wants you to know.

1. You're going to have to get uncomfortable.

illustration of a white barista looking uncomfortable in front of a customer

Animation depicting a racist joke that creates an awkward and upsetting space.

Silver Sprocket/YouTube

It could be something as obvious and upsetting as a racist joke. Or something as "benign" as your aunt suggesting you cross the street when she sees a group of Black kids walking by. But either way, if you want to be a good friend and a real ally, you're going to have to speak up. You're going to have to have those tough conversations with people you care about.

It's not easy to confront strangers or people you love, but if you don't do it, you are part of the problem. Sitting out isn't an option. No one said being an ally is easy.

2. "Your Black friend would like to say something to the racist lady, but doesn't want to appear to be that 'angry Black man.'"

illustration of Black man walking by police car, littering, and the sirens going off

Biased situations that play out uncomfortably true.

Silver Sprocket/YouTube

"He knows this type of person expects that from him, and he will lose before he begins," Passmore says.

Black people can't always react or respond the way we want to. When I am followed in a department store, pulled over for no reason, or stared at while picking up dinner at the fancy grocery store, I can't stop what I'm doing and yell, "YES, I AM BLACK. NO, I AM NOT A CRIMINAL YOU SMALL-MINDED, BIASED ASSHOLES." Trust me, I want to. But especially when police are involved, I have to be calm, respectful, and obedient.

That's where you come in. You, white friend, need to speak up and say something when I can't. If you are not at risk, nor considered a threat, you have a certain amount of privilege in these situations. Use it to demand answers, speak to supervisors, or if things really get dicey, pull out your phone and hit record.

3. We are constantly monitoring our surroundings and adjusting our clothes, hair, speed, and speech to maintain white comfort.

illustration of two Black men talking; one looks anxious and one looks nonplussed

Friends may not realize the challenges in avoiding unwarranted confrontation.

Silver Sprocket/YouTube

We don't like it, but one small choice—like deciding whether or not to wear a hood, or the speed at which we reach into our glove box—can be the difference between life and death.

When I am in a parking garage and walking behind a white woman, I intentionally cough or walk a little louder so she turns and notices me.

Why? Because when I don't, that same white woman will often clutch her purse and occasionally let out an audible gasp as I pass her. This is something my white friends likely don't realize I have to do. Some of them may even be the pearl-clutchers in the parking lot.

But to maintain white comfort and to avoid having the cops called on us, we often have to tamp down clothes, modify our speech and volume, even do our hair differently. We have to have "the talk" with our kids about how the world sees them, and how to act in order to make sure they come home alive.

No, it's not fair. No, we don't like it. But so long as this country and its institutions are built on a solid foundation of white supremacy, it's a grim reality. You need to know that, and take it up with your fellow white people about how to dismantle it.

4. "Your Black friend wishes you'd play more than Beyoncé. There are more Black performers than Beyoncé."

comig gif of a Black man looking uncomfortable in the car with a white friend

Taste isn't only derived from race and culture.

Silver Sprocket/YouTube

Lemonade was awesome. There is no denying it. And yes, I love seeing her iconic looks on Instagram too. But there is more to Black music and Black art than Beyoncé. Dip a toe outside your comfort zone and try new new artists and genres you may not be familiar with. Go listen, see it, and experience it for yourself.

And while we're here, you can't say the n-word when you sing along. Nope. You just can't.

5. Speaking of which, performative Blackness is really uncomfortable.

comic of a white woman wearing an afro wig to the chagrin of their Black friend

Sometimes jokes and misguided appreciation is hurtful.

Silver Sprocket/YouTube

When you wear that braided wig on Halloween, or use your "blaccent" when you're around me or other Black people, it hurts. It's not cute or charming, and it definitely doesn't make you seem cool.

Our culture and heritage are not costumes you can slide on and off at your convenience. We don't get to be Black only when it suits us. Neither do you.

6. "Your Black friend feels like a man without a country."

illustration of man walking up to a storefront that says "Hot Po-Boys"

Can we enjoy each others company without pointing out our differences?

Silver Sprocket/YouTube

Having white friends and seeming to "fit in" with the majority can feel really alienating. You can feel too "white" for Black people, and too "Black" for white people when all you want to do is find people to eat pizza with. As Passmore wrote, "He is lost in this contradiction, and held responsible for it."

7. We would love it if we could stop talking about our anxiety and frustrations regarding racism. But right now, that's impossible.

Our concerns are urgent and real. We're getting subpar health care. We're disenfranchised. We're over-policed. We're thrown in jail. We're killed by people sworn to protect us. It's exhausting, but we have to keep talking about it. So do you.

We can't be expected to dismantle white supremacy on our own.

Our white friends and allies need to step up and gather their people. Have the tough conversations. Speak up when you see racism, discrimination, and microaggressions. The time to talk about it is done. Be about it, or find yourself a new Black friend.

Watch "Your Black Friend" in full and check out Passmore's book, Your Black Friend And Other Strangers.


This article was written by Erin Canty and originally published on seven years ago.

Duran Duran lead singer Simon LeBon poses with a young fan

Imagine this: you're a fourth grade language arts teacher in Dallas, and like many Gen X-ers, your obsession with Duran Duran never waned. So much so that you still have dolls of each member of the band in the classroom and, according to Austin Wood's article for the Lake Highlands Advocate, even an old telephone in case (lead singer) "Simon LeBon calls."

This describes Miriam Osborne, a fourth grade teacher at White Rock Elementary in the Lake Highlands district of Dallas, Texas. Wood shares in "White Rock E.S. student, inspired by teacher, meets Simon LeBon" that one of Osborne's students, 10-year-old Ava Meyers, was getting an early pickup for Christmas break, as her family was heading to the U.K. for a holiday wedding. As they were saying their goodbyes in the hallway, Osborne kiddingly said to Meyers, "Find Duran Duran."

gif of Duran Duran performingDuran Duran 80S GIFGiphy


Cut to: Ava and her family, including her mom Zahara, fly across the pond to find themselves in the Putney neighborhood of London. After a day of sightseeing, Zahara shares, "I was just Googling things to do in Putney, and the first thing that popped up was 'Simon Le Bon lives in Putney from Duran Duran.'”

Zahara did a little sleuthing and found Simon's house, thinking perhaps a Christmas stroll by the home would be exciting. But, according to the article, Ava felt they could do better. She and "an 83-year-old relative named Nick, who apparently has courage in droves, went to the door and tried a knock. Zahara was initially hesitant but assumed Le Bon would be away on vacation, so she figured it was harmless. Le Bon’s son-in-law answered, his wife came to the door next, and following a few moments of getting pitched the idea by Nick, agreed to get her husband 'because it was Christmas.'"

And just like that, Simon LeBon appeared in the doorway. He warmly greeted Ava and her family and even took pictures. "It was just crazy," Ava exclaimed.

But possibly more excited was Miriam Osborne, back in the States. She proudly shared the photo (which had been texted to her) with many of her friends and even encouraged Ava to recount the story to her classmates when they returned from the break. Wood shares, "Osborne’s connection to the band goes back to her childhood in El Paso in the ’80s. As the daughter of a Syrian immigrant, she says she had trouble fitting in and finding an identity. Some days, she and her brothers would travel across town to get records from a British record store."

Miriam explains she used her babysitting money to buy her first Duran Duran record. "And so I had been a fan, literally, for 43 years—my entire lifetime."

gif of Simon LeBonDuran Duran GIFGiphy

Osborne's love of Duran Duran, and many '80s bands in general, nostalgically connects her to a throughline for her life that she tries to impart onto the students as well. "Music is a connector, and it connected me to a world that I didn’t always fit in as a child. It helped me find people who I still love to this day, and it’s a big part of this classroom with me and the students I teach, because everybody has a story, and there’s something really incredible about hearing something and it taking you to a happy moment."

As for Ava? She's now taking guitar lessons. And perhaps one day, she can become so famous and inspirational, a teacher sends a student off to find her on a Christmas vacation in the future.

The obituary for Joe Heller

Joe Heller (1937 - 2019) of Essex, Connecticut appears to have lived a full life: he was in the Navy, worked at the Yale library, and raised three daughters. But he was also a hoarder, a hardcore napper, and loved pulling pranks that involved feces.

Well, as Abe Lincoln once said, "A man without vices is a man without virtues." His hilarious obituary, believed to be penned by one of his daughters, is going viral because it paints a loving picture of a man who clearly didn't take life too seriously — a lesson we could all use from time to time.

The obituary opens with a helluva zinger.

Joe Heller made his last undignified and largely irreverent gesture on Sept. 8, 2019, signing off on a life, in his words, 'generally well-lived and with few regrets.' When the doctors confronted his daughters with the news last week that 'your father is a very sick man,' in unison they replied, 'you have no idea.'


Joe Heller, obituaries, funny, death, dying, humor, family Joe Heller's obituary photoImage via the Hartford Courant obituaries

In his youth, Heller played the role of a prankster.

Being the eldest was a dubious task but he was up for the challenge and led and tortured his siblings through a childhood of obnoxious pranks, with his brother, Bob, generally serving as his wingman. Pat, Dick and Kathy were often on the receiving end of such lessons as "Ding Dong, Dogsh*t" and thwarting lunch thieves with laxative-laced chocolate cake and excrement meatloaf sandwiches. His mother was not immune to his pranks as he named his first dog, "Fart," so she would have to scream his name to come home if he wandered off.


He met the "love of his life" at work and his daughter can't believe he fooled her into marriage.

Joe was a self-taught chemist and worked at Cheeseborough-Ponds where he developed one of their first cosmetics' lines. There he met the love of his life, Irene, who was hoodwinked into thinking he was a charming individual with decorum. Boy, was she ever wrong. Joe embarrassed her daily with his mouth and choice of clothing. To this day we do not understand how he convinced our mother, an exceedingly proper woman and a pillar in her church, to sew and create the colorful costumes and props which he used for his antics.

Heller had a knack for creatively intimidating his daughters' boyfriends.

Growing up in Joe's household was never dull. If the old adage of "You only pull the hair of those you love" holds true, his three daughters were well loved. Joe was a frequent customer of the girls' beauty shops, allowing them to "do" his hair and apply make-up liberally. He lovingly assembled doll furniture and built them a play kitchen and forts in the back yard. During their formative years, Joe made sure that their moral fibers were enriched by both Archie Bunker and Benny Hill. When they began dating, Joe would greet their dates by first running their license plates and checking for bald tires. If their vehicle passed inspection, they were invited into the house where shotguns, harpoons and sheep "nutters" were left clearly on display.


obituaries, funny, death, dying, familyStuck on you! #snoopy #woodstock #stickers #forsale #colle… | Flickrwww.flickr.com

He never met a dog he didn't like.

After retiring from running Bombaci Fuel, he was perhaps, most well-known for his role as the Essex Town "Dawg Kecher." He refused to put any of his "prisoners" down and would look for the perfect homes for them. One of them was a repeat offender who he named "A**hole" because no owner would ever keep him for very long because he was, in fact, an a**hole. My Dad would take his buddy on daily rides in his van and they'd roam around town with the breeze blowing through both of their fur. He never met a dog he didn't like, the same could not be said for the wanna-be blue bloods, snoots and summer barnacles that roamed about town.

He had a small issue with hoarding.

Joe was a frequent shopper at the Essex Dump and he left his family with a house full of crap, 300 pounds of birdseed and dead houseplants that they have no idea what to do with. If there was ever a treasure that he snatched out from under you among the mounds of junk, please wait the appropriate amount of time to contact the family to claim your loot.

Joe Heller, obituaries, death, dying, family, humor, funnyA hoarder's garageImage via Canva

Heller was born with an innate napping ability.

Joe was also a consummate napper. There wasn't a road, restaurant or friend's house in Essex that he didn't fall asleep on or in. There wasn't an occasion too formal or an event too dour that Joe didn't interrupt with his apnea and voluminous snoring.

According to the obituary, Heller will be laid to rest on Friday, September 13, at 10:00 am in Centerbrook Cemetery, but his family urges attendees to dress casually.

Joe despised formality and stuffiness and would really be ticked off if you showed up in a suit. Dress comfortably. The family encourages you to don the most inappropriate T-Shirt that you are comfortable being seen in public with as Joe often did. Everybody has a Joe story and we'd love to hear them all. Joe faced his death and his mortality, as he did with his life, face on, often telling us that when he dropped dead to dig a hole in the back yard and just roll him in.

You can read the entire obituary at Legacy.com.


This article originally appeared on 9.10.19

Race & Ethnicity

Woman's rare antique turned away from 'Antique Roadshow' for heart-wrenching reason

"I just love you for bringing it in and thank you so much for making me so sad."

Woman's antique turned away from 'Antique Roadshow'

People come by things in all sorts of ways. Sometimes you find something while at a garage sale and sometimes it's because a family member passed away and it was left to them. After coming into possession of the item, the owner may be tempted to see how much it's worth so it can be documented for insurance purposes or sold.

On a recent episode of BBC One's Antique Roadshow, a woman brought an ivory bracelet to be appraised. Interestingly enough, the expert didn't meet this rare find with excitement, but appeared somber. The antique expert, Ronnie Archer-Morgan carefully explains the purpose of the bracelet in what appears to be a tense emotional exchange.

There would be no appraisal of this antique ivory bracelet adorned with beautiful script around the circumference. Archer-Morgan gives a brief disclaimer that he and the Antique Roadshow disapprove of the trade of ivory, though that was not his reason for refusing the ivory bangle.

"This ivory bangle here is not about trading in ivory, it’s about trading in human life, and it’s probably one of the most difficult things that I’ve ever had to talk about. But talk about it we must," Archer-Morgan says.

Ronnie Archer-Morgan, Antiques Roadshow, BBC, antiques, ivoryRonnie Archer-Morgan on an episode of the BBC's Antiques RoadshowImage via Antqiues Roadshow


Turns out the woman had no idea what she had in her possession as she purchased it from an estate sale over 30 years before. One of the elderly residents she cared for passed away and the woman found the ivory bracelet among the things being sold. Finding the bangle particularly intriguing with the fancy inscription around it, she decided to purchase the unique piece of jewelry.

After explaining that his great-grandmother was once enslaved in Nova Scotia, Canada before being returned to Sierra Leone, Archer-Morgan concluded he could not price the item.

Antiques Roadshow, BBC, Ronnie Archer MorganRonnie Archer-Morgan holds the ivory bracelet he refused to valueImage via Antiques Roadshow/BBC

"I just don’t want to value it. I do not want to put a price on something that signifies such an awful business. But the value is in the lessons that this can tell people," he tells the woman.

In the end the woman leaves without knowing the monetary value of the item but with a wealth of knowledge she didn't have before visiting. Now she can continue to share the significance of the antique with others. Watch the full explanation below:


- YouTubewww.youtube.com

This article originally appeared last year.

Motherhood

Mom points out the unspoken, 'unfair' part of having kids who travel for sports

Parents whose children participate in elite travel ball leagues can spend up to $12,000 annually on fees, equipment, hotel rooms and gas.

Casey Kelley shares her thoughts on kids in travel sports.

Parents whose children participate in elite travel ball leagues can spend up to $12,000 annually on fees, equipment, hotel rooms and gas. One mother, Casey Kelley, from Alabama, has spoken out, saying that if parents spend all of that money and time, their children should get to play in games. Kelley's daughter plays on a club volleyball team.

According to the latest Aspen Institute survey, the average American family spends $883 per year for a single child to play one primary sport. Project Play also points out that the cost of playing various youth sports can fluctuate great. For example, their 2022 report reveals that it costs an average $1,188 per year for a child to play soccer and $714 for baseball. As Jersey Watch writes, those numbers have come down a bit since the pandemic but are still cost prohibitive for many American families trying to make ends meet. What's even more frustrating is that those high prices don't even guarantee participation in games for children. A family can literally spend thousands of dollars all for the experience of having their child sit on a bench watching their peers actually get to participate.

The topic was inspired by a conversation she had with other volleyball parents who agreed that every kid should get a decent amount of playing time. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think, if you’re paying to be there, so it's not like high school sports, I think everyone should have the opportunity to play because this is a developmental league ... and they’re there to develop and to learn,” she explained in a TikTok video.

“Especially if these parents are paying thousands of dollars for them to be in the league and then traveling, spending money on hotels for their kid to sit there and maybe play a minute or two the whole weekend. I think it’s unfair,” she continued.



@caseyjkelley

What do you think? #travelball #clubsport #athlete #kids #mom #question


It's reasonable for Kelley to believe that spending a lot of money and traveling all over the map only to watch your kid play for a few minutes feels pointless. However, a lot of parents disagreed with her in the comments.

"You pay for practice. Playing time is earned," Nathan Sullins wrote.

"Absolutely not. If you want fair playing time you play rec ball. Travel ball playing time is performance based," another user wrote.

travel ball, volleyball, youth sports, travelball, parenting, finance, sportsYoung girls line up to play volleyballImage via Canva

But these parents haven’t changed Kelley’s mind.

“I’m not opposed to kids earning their spot or the best kids playing more, but I feel that every kid who makes the team should at least have some playing time,” she told Upworthy. “I know it’s not a popular opinion, but it’s how I currently see it.”

Kelley further explained the story in a follow-up video.



@caseyjkelley

Clarification post and the last one on this topic #travelball #athlete #travelballparents #clubsport #parenting


What do you think?

This article originally appeared last

Modern Families

The things we carry

The most poignant moments are honoring those who carried and still carry us.

Image courtesy Tara Roth

Tara Roth with her family

Editor's Note: This essay originally appeared on LinkedIn, you can read it here. It was republished here with permission from Tara Roth.

Today is the two-month anniversary of our evacuation from the Palisades Fire. Although we still don't know when we can return, we have learned - and are grateful for - so much.

It’s funny what the mind latches onto when under duress. One of my first thoughts amidst the surreal encroaching flames, circling smoke, debris and dust in the choking orange air, I noticed what people carried. What they brought with them as they rolled their suitcases down to Pacific Coast Highway, what was strapped to their backs, what they carried in their hands—no one really knowing what they were leaving behind or what, if anything, they may return to. And I thought of Tim O’Brien’s powerful piece about the Vietnam War, The Things They Carried, and reflected on what his wisdom could, with hindsight, eventually teach us. I’ve aggregated his words (with poetic license) below:

“For the most part they carried themselves with poise, a kind of dignity. They shared the weight of memory….the world would take on the old logic—absolute silence, then the wind, then sunlight, then voices… despite the unknowns, they made their legs move. They endured. They took up what others could no longer bear. Often they carried each other.”

Perhaps primed by the memory of this piece, my senses heightened by the chaos around me and the COVID that wracked my body, I observed what we carried. While the LA fires do not compare to the ravages of war, they evoked the same primal instincts. We were under siege. We needed to survive. The fires were redefining what we knew as familiar, as home—snatching safety and seizing the comfort of our quotidian lives that we took for granted—that so many of us long for again.

We carry the grief and loss and devastation and desolation of communities. We carry the memories constructed lovingly into homes and structures that now stand only in our mind’s eye—the library where families got their children's first library card, the beauty salon started by a young woman who immigrated from Russia, now no longer a young woman, and passed down to her daughter. Whole communities and identities carved and scrimped for, then lost, with debris and dust that settles in the wind, smattered by the rains—schools, restaurants, churches, businesses, the bench of a first kiss, the home where the couple brought their newborn from the hospital for the first time.

And even when houses stand, like mine, there’s something else we carry—after the initial elation of the news that our homes remain, a sort of survivor’s guilt sets in realizing how much we have when others have lost everything. We have homes to return to yet never could have imagined how it feels to drive past scarred earth and scorched chimneys, the thundering absence of a neighborhood, the empty lots of ashes of memories—a chronic reminder of all that was lost and the toll of our good luck. We carry this too.

And we, innocent children of the developed world, didn’t consider that even if a structure is standing, that we need power lines, sanitation, safe running water, and neighbors to look out for each other. That we will need countless months of waste removal and remediation. That we will continue to don masks and gloves to enter these standing, yet uninhabitable, structures.

The most poignant moments are honoring those who carried and still carry us. The first responders, the countless volunteers, those who prepared hot meals and donated clothes and comforts. Those who opened their homes so generously to my and myriad other families. The hundreds of people who reached out—from the oldest of friends to people I haven't talked to in decades to those with whom I shared maybe just a professional moment in the last few months. The care and love and generosity and grace, extended by so many.

When I reflect on this time, still living displaced in the homes of various warm-hearted friends, I think about the universality of human suffering and joy, wretchedness and wonder. And how, at our best, we come together in crisis. We know that we are a part of something greater, and we act without hesitation to lend a hand to carry each other. We carry hope about the resilience we have already witnessed as communities come together and pledge to reimagine and rebuild. And, this is what I want us to carry forward.


Tara Roth is the president of the Goldhirsh Foundation and its LA2050 initiative.