by Christine McFaul
Content Warning: abuse, Black trauma, body shaming, bullying, death, depression, disordered eating, divorce, loss of a loved one, police brutality, racism, reference to child abuse, violence.
Sure, I’ll Be Your Black Friend: Notes from the Other Side of the Fist Bump by Ben Philippe is a bitingly humorous memoir-in-essays chronicling a lifetime of “being the Black friend in predominantly white spaces.” This was a book I requested to review, knowing nothing more about it than the pitch. But the topic was extremely timely and the conversational approach felt unique, plus, as the book opens:
“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a good white person of liberal learnings must be in want of a Black friend…”
With that impeccable opening sentence, I was hooked. In choosing to modify Jane Austen’s infamous first line from Pride and Prejudice, Philippe expertly sets the tone for the coming narrative. Dripping with irony and striking a devilish balance between what is literally being said and the sneaking suspicion that the author is having a laugh at the reader’s expense, the line is a perfect proxy for the tongue-in-cheek camaraderie to come.
As your new BBFF, Philippe is ready to share the blunt truths of existing as a Black man in today’s world—experience not to be confused with expertise, “There is no expertise here; that is Ta-Nehisi Coates’s lane.” He unpacks stereotypes, slurs, and microaggressions. He makes sure his new friend is up to speed on the whole “swimming thing” and on how to identify a “Privilege of Karens” (the plural form of a singular Karen, of course). Where his experience might lack, he provides excellent book recommendations. Just make sure to return them when you are done, because, as Philippe so relatable writes, “Like, I miss my books, man.”
These topics are layered into a series of coming-of-age essays that follow Philippe throughout his childhood as a Haitian immigrant in Canada to his college years in the American Ivy league during the Obama era and into adulthood living and working in New York during the Trump administration. All told with just the right amount of caustic humour and millennial pop culture references to keep the pages flipping at a rapid rate.
As Philippe was finishing his memoir, the summer of 2020 happened, and Black people were dying by police hands across America—Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and far too many others. Which is nothing new, Philippe notes, but now the world is watching. He finds his “snark and witty banter have metastasized into a weird new anger.” His writing is correspondingly raw but remains unwavering in its honesty. Instead of providing answers, this time, he leaves his new friend with a powerfully rhetorical question: “Why do I have to tell you that my life matters?”
The book wraps up with a beautiful series of micro-summaries reiterating the complexity and nuance of what it means to “Thrive in a Black Body At Any Age." Refusing to be anything but himself, Philippe cuts to the heart of what was suggested in that glorious first sentence, “In the grand scheme of things, I much prefer if you dislike me for being Ben than if you like me for being Black.”
Vulnerable, open, layered, always wickedly humorous and full of quote-able quotes (seriously, my copy is a sea of highlighter), this book feels modern and very much in the moment of a life still being lived. I would challenge readers to increase their self-awareness because, “Yes, white privilege is absolutely a thing, and yes, you absolutely do have it. That’s a non-starter;” accept Philippe’s generous offer of friendship. Though I would add that for this book to shine its brightest, it begs for a reader with a working knowledge of millennial pop culture and who can appreciate a well-placed curse word or two.
Thank you to HarperCollins for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.