Written by Brenda Brody

There exists a fragile relationship between white women and black women. Sometimes we can be close friends and sometimes, we square off like two combatants in the ring, warily eying each other. I think basically we want to be friends and like each other. As women, we understand that we share so many of the same issues but external things (like men and jobs) always seem to come between us.

When I was a young woman and just entering the fray of women’s rights, black women complained that white women didn’t understand the true depth of our plight. There became a rift – ‘womanists” and “feminists” which basically was the same thing, but one was black and one was white. I just shook my head in frustration because I was and still am tired of divisions caused by race. I joined in and tried not to offend either group and I still think of myself as just a woman who wants to be treated fairly.

Is it that we don’t trust each other? I suppose it could be. Stereotypes have reared their ugly heads in many a budding friendship between women of different races. They think of us as inferior and not as bright and we see them as dizzy white girls. Is it resentment? Sure. Black women have had to deal with the sobering fact that when it comes to the equation of choice, most men would choose a white woman or even an Asian woman over us. It’s hard not to be a bit cranky about that.

I have seen the hurt and anger in a black woman’s eyes when she sees a black man with a white woman. She feels all kinds of rejection and resentment. I date white guys so it has never bothered me. But there are thousands of sisters who feel the bite of rejection when they see that. Once again, we come in second. I can relate to that feeling.

Sisters get really riled with the never ending idea that our culture pushes at us – white women are superior, they are the ideal and we are just second rate. I remember the days of the back-handed compliment, “You’re pretty for a black girl,” which implies that black women are generally ugly, but I am an anomaly. Or when they used to say “Oh, you look just like Diana Ross!” Or Lena Horne, Eartha Kitt, or whichever black woman was popular at that time. So I’m not attractive unless I remind you of a black woman you are used to looking at? Yeah, you’d be resentful too.

How many years did it take for cosmetic companies to start formulating make-up and skin care in the many shades we come in? Or proper hair products for us? It took Madison Avenue a long time to realize that women come in all colors. And sizes, but I’m not going there right now.

I have known black women who want to date white men but have a deep abiding hatred of white women. I ask them how they think they will get along with his sister, mother, aunts, etc. How can you love him and hate them?

Yes, I have known some very arrogant white women who looked down their nose at me. With a toss of their hair they dismissed me as any kind of threat in their quest to find “The One.” Because of their assumed right to the throne of womanhood, they never thought anyone would dare pass them up and look at lowly me. Some of those girls had a lesson to learn. Some men like us and all those men aren’t black. Surprise!

I think it’s kind of funny when you’re out and about and you meet a white girl and you are talking and in a very patronizing way, she points out the black guys saying how hot they are. I tell her to go after them and point out the one I like which just happens to be the one she likes. I love that look on their faces at that moment that they realize I am more of a threat than she ever expected.

I have had close white girlfriends since I was about 13. I never saw anything wrong with it, though some of my black friends and family did. I have never had to compete with my friends nor have I ever wondered about trusting them as friends – most of them, anyway. I have friends I know I can always count on through thick and thin and I know they love me every bit as much as I love them. I am very lucky there.

I don’t hate white women. I don’t like the way they are lauded over and the sense of entitlement that some of them have. I know that I am just as good as they are and I feel I should be considered to be just as much a woman as they are. And isn’t that what it’s all about? I mean, after all, we are all women. We share more than we realize sometimes and we should be able to stand together and support each other when things get tough. No petty jealousies. Just women standing together to face the world.

I love that.