We were talking about favoritism earlier today. I caught myself flinching. If I’m honest, I do have favorites. I gravitate toward people who share my rhythm, my values, and my perspective. With them, connection feels natural. Of course, I make more effort. I keep them closer, and I nurture what we have.

For a while, I wondered if that alone made me guilty. But the longer I sat with it, the more I realized that having favorites is not the same as playing favorites.

Choosing closeness is human. We are not built to distribute ourselves evenly. We invest where there is resonance, where care is reciprocated, where being present doesn’t feel like a burden. There is nothing inherently unjust in that.

Favoritism, I think, begins at a different threshold.

Favoritism begins when closeness replaces clarity. It happens when loyalty turns blind… when someone is defended even in their wrongness, while another is quietly, or loudly, maligned. When accountability bends for one person but remains rigid for everyone else.

At that point, favoritism is no longer about affection. It becomes a distortion.

I can own my preferences. I choose depth over breadth. I protect certain relationships with intention. What I can’t justify is protecting someone at the expense of truth, or turning another person into collateral for loyalty. Maybe that’s the distinction I’m learning to hold: preference shapes our connections, but favoritism crosses an ethical line when attachment compromises fairness or justice.

And perhaps the real work isn’t in pretending we don’t have favorites, but in making sure our closeness never silences fairness.