Ezra: What are you saying?
Mo: Black people and white people will never be cool, period.
Ezra: What the f* are you talking about?
Mo: The truth dog.
Ezra: You’re my best friend and business partner.
Mo: Yea, that’s how powerful this sh*t is bro. It’s kind of like when you cheat on a woman right? When you cheat on a woman you try and move forward but you never can. Why? ‘cause she just keeps asking questions, she needs to know every detail. She won’t let it go, you know. It’s like did you [do this, did you do that…]?
Ezra: This is not where I was expecting this to go.
Mo: I mean, it’s where it needs to go, man, ‘cause it’s the truth. For Black people in this country, white dudes are the cheater. And we’re the chick who can’t move on. No matter how bad we want to. We can’t forget what ya’ll did and what ya’ll are still doing.
Over the weekend, I decided to re-watch a movie on Netflix entitled You People. This movie humorously highlights the love story of Ezra (a Jewish man) and Amira (a black woman) who face clashes as their families blend together in the name of holy matrimony. Mo is Ezra’s black friend and business partner. The comedy explores issues of race, identity and family dynamics as both families attempt to navigate their differences for Ezra and Amira’s sake. Given that I’m taking Contemporary Racism, I found myself reacting to this scene with heightened sensitivity, almost feeling a sense of responsibility to answer the question: Can white people and black people truly be cool?
Before offering my sentiments on the subject I want to emphasize that these are raw, working ideologies and I am eager to hear my peers’ thoughts. In my experience, I’ve never befriended a white person. Does this mean all my interactions with all white people have been subpar? No! Far from it actually, so please do not hear what I am not saying. I simply mean, at no point could I refer to a white person as a friend. Although I’ve had the privilege of attending predominantly white institutions since I was fourteen, I still find myself gravitating toward spaces with people of color, largely due to said environments I’ve been in. In fact, I often feel that I only share certain aspects of myself with white people when absolutely necessary. Meaning, I’ll spark a conversation with the intention to gain information on a subject I don’t have. I’ll exchange kind words knowing we’ll soon be working on a group project. Or I’ll build an often short term relationship to gain access to an opportunity knowing, in some cases, name and influence weigh more than ability and professionalism. While this has been my experience with most young people, I do have a mentor whom I regard as a “bonus mom” who is a white, Jewish woman. I met her as a sophomore in high school, and while I don’t think she fully understands my experiences with race, I’m fully convinced the love and care she’s shown me and continues to show me covers that.
To that extent, I think there will always be a disconnect between white and black people even if it’s just culturally. Even if we get far enough from slavery and – let’s say for argument sake – our society becomes equitable, I still feel the cultural disconnect keeps us oceans apart. Moreover, some white people tend to justify this disconnect by viewing us as “less than.” While this mindset can certainly be unlearned, the real question is: will it be? And on a large scale? I don’t have answers to those questions.
The question yet remains, can white people and black people ever be cool? My answer? Take it case by case, relationship by relationship. Off the record though, I share the sentiment: black people are the women who were cheated on in the analogy. We were hoping to move on for the sake of salvaging a relationship, but we just can’t.