Like most people my age, I gained a seriously concerning amount of knowledge from watching movies. I learned how to stay true to myself and my friends (Mean Girls), I learned how to dance (Step Up), I learned how to potentially-maybe-one day save the galaxy (Thank you, Star Wars franchise), and I learned that having great power sure as hell does come with a lot of responsibility (Tobey Maguire from Spider-Man, please let me know how you did it). What I didn’t learn, was how to be the best…well, me. 

Think back to every, single movie I just mentioned. What do they all have in common? Well, if you said that hardly any of them feature Black characters in main roles you, my friend, are seriously killing it right now. Hardly any of the movies I grew up on placed Black characters in roles where they didn’t exist to be a foil to their white counterpart or where they weren’t playing thugs or criminals. It was hard to connect with characters I saw on the big screen, but seeing as they were all I really had to “look up to,” I didn’t necessarily have a choice. 

When I did happen to connect to a Black, female character on screen, she was nearly always in a secondary role. This meant that I had a very limited number of Black heroes that I could name in my repertoire. Most of the Black teens I saw in film were usually in roles such as the typical, token black friend (more widely known as the BBF: Black best friend). 

Here are a few signs that will help you become a more informed viewer and reveal if you are witnessing the tragic, old-as-time trope that is the BBF: 

• Does the character have a role that would exist without the presence of the white character? Do they serve to only advance their story?
• Are they only there to prove that the white character is very “inclusive” (read: not racist)?
• Do they have their own story? Do they have a home, a family, or even a pet goldfish named Sir Swims-A-Lot? Or do they just appear whenever their friend needs them in order to be available to their every whim?

If you can answer “yes” to any of these questions, you are sadly experiencing the tired stereotype that is being the token minority. Hey, most of us have probably been there at one point or another or will presumably be that friend in the future. I know I’ve been that friend for most of high school. It was really exhausting and kind of painful. Like, imagine the feeling you get when your sock slips down into your shoe and you aren’t given the chance to fix it.

Got it? Good. Now take that feeling and multiply it by 100. This isn’t necessarily to say that every token minority in films is portrayed poorly. Some movies successfully manage to take the trope and flip it on its head. For instance, the character of Dionne Davenport from Clueless. 

Dionne, also known as Dee, was fierce in her Blackness and unapologetic. Sure, she had a best friend who had no shortage of issues (seriously, the entire premise of the movie is kind of weird) and she might have been lacking a little in the morality department. But, what was so great about her was she didn’t have to sacrifice parts of herself in order to be a good friend. Also, all of her outfits were literally the best (fun fact: I was Dionne for Halloween one year. I did not look half as good). 

Cher: Would you call me selfish?

Dionne: No. Not to your face.

Her character had her own story, her own relationships outside of her friendship with Cher (the main character). When Cher was acting a fool, Dionne set her straight. Sure, she probably wasn’t—and still isn’t—the best role model, but there are certain aspects of her character I can praise her for and her forceful presence is definitely one.

All that being said, the token black friend (or BBF) is a stereotype that has mostly been weeded out due to minorities seeking roles of higher acclaim. However, this doesn’t mean this trope still doesn’t affect me. Even now I can find myself evaluating my closest friendships and trying to ask myself if I’m the token minority.

Do I have my own identity? Do I have my own story? I think that self-discovery—like most things—takes a whole lotta time. It is a never-ending road with more potholes than a New Jersey highway, but I’m glad I’ve got a few good movies to keep me company.