Have you ever felt like every guy or girl you’re into is only interested in your best friend? Or perhaps you hang with a group of people and when conversations around relationships hit the table, you feel like you’re not even a consideration. I’ve sure felt that way.
I may have a particular sensitivity to this feeling as a black woman in a mainly white circle–black women have been habitually overlooked in American culture and even deemed less desirable, or as one psychologist said “objectively unattractive” (oh no he didn’t!). It can feel like there is a perpetual inferiority to our life stories. In film and television, we call this phenomenon the “Black Best Friend (BFF).”
Essentially, its about the tendency of filmmakers to showcase black actresses in primarily supporting roles as the funny sidekick or sage advisor (with sass of course), but rarely the featured character. Critics claim the implicit message is that the stories of black women don’t matter.
I don’t want to belabor a racial issue right now. See criticism of the recent film The Help if you want to talk race. But I would, however, like to linger for a moment on the universal feeling of constantly being “the friend” or an understudy in real life stories of love.
photo by Nate Poekert
I’ve made an accidental habit out of being the best friend to a number of ridiculously beautiful women. Case in point: Sarah (see right). I mean the lady has legs for days, a hair swoop so smooth Nike is taking notice, and a freakishly chill “I’m just one of the guys” attitude that makes her so easygoing and accommodating that I want to punch her in the face.
Wait, what were we talking about? Oh yeah…playing second fiddle.
See the problem is when you are friends with someone fantastic and others take notice of their light, it can feel like your friend’s sun only serves to illuminate how deep in the shadows you’re living. But I’ve learned that stewing in bitterness, jealousy or envy is wasted energy because the other person is rarely the problem. Now get this…don’t miss this: feelings of being overlooked are almost always surefire signs that we’ve lost sight of who we are.
I realized this a couple years ago just before I met honey after a season of drowning from the weight of feeling second best. Over the course of a few months I had to make a conscious decision to stop being a second-rate Sarah or a poor carbon copy of the other desirable women around me. I started to press deeper into who I was with all of my varied interests, past experiences and unique hopes for the future. Soon enough, when I least expected it, the guy who would never want the women I’d previously been envying, fell in love with the real me.
If you’re feeling like you are constantly going unnoticed, start paying some attention to who you are. Log out of Facebook; sign out of Twitter; go spend 10 minutes in the mirror. Press deeper into who you are and see how that changes your situation.
We’re in it with you so let us know how it goes by leaving a comment below or shooting us an email at ikisseddatinghello[at]gmail.com.
Thank you very much Chanel. I’ve certainly felt that I’d never be noticed beside my fantastic best friend. Your encouragement came in a good time.
Despite the swoop (which let’s be real, is just a gift from God and/or the masters over at John Freida) I’ve also sat on the sidelines and wondered when I was going to get my shot in the spotlight. I think of your engagement and know that at another point of my life, I probably would’ve pouted that yet another friend was sprinting down the aisle while I stood by holding the flowers.
Except, I don’t feel that way. Not even a little bit. Partly because I adore him and so appreciate the source of strength that he’s become for you. But also because he’s inadvertently set the standard for what it means to love someone well. For that, I’m super grateful.
While relationships inevitably shape who we are as people, I think your dead on in stating that we need to be better at stepping into our individual identities and owning both our strengths and flaws. Only when we’re honest with ourselves about who we are, what we value, want and need, will we be able to express those same desires to another person.
ALL THAT SAID, I’m adopting a sweatpants dress code around you. You may be little, but damn if you aren’t feisty. I don’t need you coming at me, guns blazin’ in your 3″ heels (that I could never get away with wearing.)
Chanel,
You’re dead on with this, except I wasn’t just friends with beautiful women: I was related to three of them. In a family of all girls, I would definitely watch as guys would fawn, gaze, or just plain stumble sheepishly in the sight of my beautiful sisters.
It wasn’t until a short time ago that I figured out how much comparison was a self-torturing tool of my own doubts and insecurities in regards to my identity and worth. I had to realize (after many lonely nights–and some tearful, angry prayers with God) that my beauty, my value, and identity can only be defined by my Maker. Everyone’s going to have their opinions, but I had a choice to either focus on all the past pain and conflicting, misinformed criticisms about my image, or I could choose to consistently meditate and remember that my worth is always tied to the God who created me, called me, redeemed me, and will always love me.
And when I started to choose focus on the latter, I understood that could remove the foundation of playing the victim role of the overlooked friend, and focus on enjoying my life with a grateful, joyful attitude through Christ.