By Nadira Jamersone, Word In Black
More Black folks than ever have interracial friendships. Three young adults share what real allyship looks like to them.
Four years ago, more than half of Black Americans said they have friends outside their race — up from just 35% a decade earlier. The numbers suggested progress, a willingness to build bridges across the color line. But in our current political moment where a majority of white voters backed Donald Trump in 2024 and immigration raids have targeted Somali and Haitian communities, many young Black Americans are asking a tough question: Can they trust their white peers to be true allies — or even friends — at all?
Word In Black set out to answer that question by speaking with three young Black Americans about how (or if) they’re maintaining friendships across racial lines, what allyship means to them, and what care they still want to receive from their non-Black peers. What emerges from their experiences is that true interracial friendships require more than social media posts or attending protests.
The concept of white solidarity or interracial friendships isn’t new. In 1963, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote from a Birmingham jail, arrested for violating a state court injunction that banned marches and boycotts against segregation. He had been let down by white moderates who claimed to support civil rights but wouldn’t sacrifice their comfort to achieve it. From his cell he wrote: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.””
Fast forward 63 years. ICE killed Renee Good and Alex Pretti. Headlines exploded, and protests erupted in Minneapolis and beyond. King’s warning that white folks can’t escape oppression and political violence remains jarringly true. But knowing this truth and acting on it are two different things.
In times of personal struggle or social unrest, diverse friendships built on mutual respect can help both parties broaden their perspectives, increase their resilience, and more effectively problem solve, experts say. They may also be a powerful tool in promoting empathy and justice.
Research from UCLA’s Center for the Developing Adolescent confirms this. In a September 2025 report it wrote that “sustained, meaningful contact — or a friendship — between people of different groups may lead to fewer stereotypes. This increases empathy and the ability to hold more diverse perspectives, contributing to less racial bias and more advocates for inclusion.”
So what does real allyship and friendship look like in practice? The three people we spoke with — Rachel, 28, from Atlanta; Leo, 25, from New York City; and Makayla, 27, from Washington, D.C. — shared what they need from their white friends, as well as the limits of those friendships.
The names in this story have been altered to protect the privacy of the people interviewed. The interviews have been edited for length and clarity.
Daily Action Over Performance
Makayla, 27, Washington, D.C.: “I’m not always looking for an ally to be on the streets in protests. It’s about how they show up every day, not just when the news is covering something. Protests aren’t always a daily occurrence, so you need to have support in other ways. An ally shows up when the cameras are up or down.”
Rachel, 28, Atlanta: “I think [white people] using their voice and power in spaces and in places where Black people can’t be or where Black people are not going to be taken as seriously, is more important than them performing allyship in my face all day.”
“You can’t just wake up one morning and be like, ‘Oh, I’m such an ally.’ You have to sit with and really reflect on the ways that your race has impacted your own life so that you can understand in what ways you can impact other people’s lives with that privilege, or if you can just better show up in community.”
Support Without Centering Themselves
Leo, 25, New York City: “If I felt like I’ve been discriminated against or looked at differently, I’m going to speak up myself. I’m not looking for anybody else to kind of speak up on my behalf, but also understanding if I am speaking up, they’re not like, ‘Oh, you’re being embarrassing.’ My friends understand that there’s a reason why I’m speaking up, and they support me.”
Makayla, 27, Washington, D.C.: “A few years ago, myself and other Black students spoke out against our high school, and my white friends were there, sharing articles, saying they were proud of me, and sharing my story along with me as they had a front row seat to it in high school.”
Understanding Privilege and Moving Through the World Differently
Rachel, 28, Atlanta: “I think what all of my white friends have in common is that they recognize that they move through the world differently than I do. They understand how they benefit from being white, and they understand how me being Black can impact me.”
Makayla, 27, Washington, D.C.: “They are actively aware of their privilege as white people and uplift others even without me present.”
Leo, 25, New York City: “I think an understanding of where we are as a country, as people, would be the most important. Understanding the right from the wrong. Understanding this person was wrongfully convicted. This person was wrongfully killed. This person was racially profiled.”
This editorial was originally published in Word In Black.
