People Pleasing Vs. Being Pleased by People

The feeling of something lacking within gnaws at us when we fail at pleasing someone

I’ve spent most of my life in predominantly white spaces—church, high school, and college were mostly white. Work? Almost entirely white spaces. I find myself speaking “Caucasian” 100% of the time. I only speak freely when I’m with my Black friends. Even with my group of white friends, it feels like being at work. In those scenarios, I put on a face and essentially perform, because I’m still trying to please people.

Sometimes, I manage to break through and get a group to understand my language, my personality, and who I am without the “pleaser” character. It’s taken me four years of effort to get a group of about five people to accept me as I truly am. And, to be honest, they love it. You know why? Because now I’m “the Black friend.” I’ve always been the Black friend—the guy who makes everyone else feel comfortable, the one people come to when they need to vent, the one who ensures everyone is doing okay.

When people ask about me, I usually give one-word answers. Why? Because, whether it’s true or just something I believe, I feel like they’re only asking so I’ll return the favor and give them their chance to talk. So, I willingly give it. If I don’t, I risk being labeled as the selfish, toxically masculine Black guy who’s “too much” or “too angry.”

I’ve been told, “You’re so angry,” so many times in my life that I’d be a millionaire if I earned $5 for every instance. So, I adjusted. I made sure the white people around me wouldn’t label me as an outcast.

Why is this important? Because it’s not about what you know—it’s about who you know. White people still make up over 70% of the U.S. population (though I avoid looking up the exact numbers because it’s disheartening to see that people who look like me are only 12% of the population). To pave my own way, I have to be agreeable.

For Black men, people-pleasing isn’t just an art—it’s a survival skill. Our physical presence alone can be perceived as a threat, especially if we appear bigger, stronger, or express anger in any way.

It’s rare to meet someone who doesn’t focus on what pleases them. These people are easy to spot—they’re the ones who constantly complain when things don’t go their way. I, on the other hand, never talk about when things aren’t going my way. Instead, I focus on what I can do better or where I’m missing opportunities to succeed. Complaining isn’t an option for me; it makes me look weak or incapable of handling my responsibilities.

This mindset can be exhausting. At times, I realize it’s what makes me stronger than others, but I can’t appear strong in a way that makes others feel small, weak, or intimidated.

Needing “me time” is a by-product of always being drained in relationships—whether they’re professional, platonic, or romantic. The same way I have to present myself in society is how I have to present myself in intimate relationships. Arguments, disagreements, constant requests for more—all of it detracts from the essence of a relationship: two people connecting. Being a natural giver and having been hurt before, it's easy to close up and stick to myself, instead of doing what I'm here to do, which is give. The flip side of that is being willing to receive. But really "trusting" another person, that's the tough part, especially now.

Social media has exacerbated this issue by shifting our focus from relational to transactional interactions. It used to be a tool for genuine connection, but as money began flowing in—through sponsorships and direct sales—it became a marketplace. Remember the Herbalife people who would message you about a post, pretending to be your new best friend, only to ask you to join their club and buy products? That kind of behavior is why we don’t trust each other anymore. Along with the erosion of our moral ideals, they have taken our societal moral code and made us believe that what we FEEL to be right, IS right. What this does is take each individual's ego and places them above the next person, keeping us from ever seeing eye-to-eye and trusting each other.

Now, more than ever, I strive to be authentic while still being the guy who makes everyone feel accepted and comfortable. It’s easy for a white person to say, “Be your authentic self,” but that advice doesn’t apply to African Americans. We still have to stay in line, smile at white America, and conform to the standards set for us.

Watching movements like LGBTQ+ rights and feminism gain traction is exhausting, not because they’re unworthy causes, but because they’re already seen to be as representing “people.” African American males, on the other hand, are not "people" with much value other than entertainment in the United States. Jaylen Brown and Kyrie Irving have talked about this recently. We hold the least value in society and must tread carefully to avoid worsening our position.

So, I do what I can daily to ensure my success. I believe that someday, I’ll be able to be myself without the mask. This blog is part of that journey—part of me not having to pretend.