Every now and then I find myself thinking about a friend I once had and an uncomfortable truth I didn’t fully understand at the time: he was a better friend to me than I was to him.
Like many friendships between men—especially Black men—ours wasn’t something we ever sat down and analyzed. Respect was implied. Loyalty was assumed. We simply moved through life as brothers, showing up for each other in the ways men often do—through presence rather than proclamation.
Looking back now, I can see more clearly what I couldn’t see then.
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