Full disclosure: I don't have a ton of Black girlfriends. Most of my close girlfriends are white. For a long time, this observation was a source of shame and embarrassment to me. Because, as a Black woman, naturally, I should have a close circle of ride-or-die Black girlfriends, right?
Or perhaps not.
This was not something I mapped out or planned for myself. However, after many failed attempts with trying to initiate and facilitate friendships with other Black women (and hopelessly and embarrassingly) failing and being shunned in the process, I’ve accepted my status as the often-sole Black friend within my friend groups. I love my friends and they love me exactly as I am. We respect one another, listen to each other, and show up for each other too. And though some outsiders may view me as “that one Black girl” within my circle of friends, I’ve accepted that there are some Black women who are disinterested in connecting with other Black women because of their own insecurities, a lack of understanding, maybe a little jealousy and envy, and because of a long-time issue that’s frequently plagued our community for far too long – that issue being the crab mentality.
I experienced this my freshman year of college when I became the “new” Black girl who moved into the dorms after there was already one Black girl present who got super territorial upon my arrival. Things got so heated at one point that we were at odds and barely acknowledged or spoke to one another – for reasons I can’t recall to this day. But I know the root of it was that she felt she had to make her presence known by saying and doing things to try to put me in my place.
I experienced this again at the very beginning of my teaching career when there was exactly one Black English teacher present before I was the “new” Black English teacher on the scene – and very quickly learned that I was viewed as an opponent this teacher wanted to smear and sabotage. I was super surprised with this one because she was older than me. I assumed she’d be nice and welcoming and would be someone who could be a great mentor, considering we were both the only two Black English teachers in the entire department at the time.
And I had similar experiences this past summer while attending different social gatherings. At the first gathering, there was another Black girl present I’d encountered before who went out of her way to be mean. Her hostility was specifically aimed in my direction, and it was odd. Especially since I’d never done anything to her. At another gathering that followed shortly after, I was in the presence of a group of different Black women who shared stories of their rich experiences attending HBCUs. Things got a little awkward when a group of them gathered to look at pictures of handbags made by a Black designer I’d never heard of – and when I tried to look too, I was visibly excluded from the viewing and could pick up some we’re not feeling you and you need to go somewhere else vibes.
After recently experiencing another encounter like the ones above with another Black woman around my age (who was giving me some cold shoulder vibes), I wondered, what is this girl’s problem? I haven’t done anything to her. I’m just trying to be nice and want to get along with everyone… and then I realized something. Some people won’t like or care for you no matter who you are or what you do. Crab mentality or not. You can have the best intentions and be the nicest person ever, and still, you will not be liked by some. And that’s okay.
I just wish that more Black women were kinder to one another and more supportive instead of envying one another, tearing each other down, using silence as a weapon, throwing shade, or viewing each other as competition. These behaviors set a terrible example for younger Black women looking up to us and send a more damaging message to individuals outside of our race that there’s only room for one Black girl to rise. Which isn’t true and is a narrative I want to shift.
When I encounter other Black women who are sincerely nice, welcoming, and friendly, sometimes, I’m honestly shocked. Because it’s rarely something I experience. However, I’m abundantly grateful for the kind encounters. Because they give me hope and are an example of the kind of woman I want to be. There’s plenty of room for all of us to succeed. There’s no need to compete, get jealous, or feel the need to drag another sister down to rise. I’m not certain I’ll ever fully understand Black women who express hostility towards other women who have done absolutely nothing to them, but there’s no time like the present to change for the better.
We are not each other’s competition. We’re better than that.