I am not an Ally

I’ve spent my entire career and most of my life thinking about allyship. This has been largely out of necessity, as someone who cares deeply about social justice but whose identities are, for the most part, privileged. If I want to do Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) work, I can only really do it from the perspective of someone engaged in the work of allyship. 

[On a side note, lately, I have been a little uncomfortable with allyship as a concept, but that will be the topic of a future post.] 

I would like to use this space to share some lessons I’ve learned over the years and hopefully open a conversation in the comments about what it really means to engage in allyship. Heads up, this will probably be messy.

What is allyship?

According to Michelle Kim at Awaken:

“Allyship is an active and consistent practice of using power and privilege to achieve equity and inclusion.™”

That feels like a really solid definition to me, so here I will focus, not on the definition of allyship, but on the nuances as I have come to see them. [Side note, you should definitely read Michelle Kim's entire article as well as those of other folks I quote down below]

Allyship is active

There is a tendency amongst folks whose identities are privileged to claim allyship as though it were a badge of honor; as though it were a piece of who we are. 

I remember the early part of my journey into doing social justice work, as a first year undergraduate at UCI. At the time, I had a feeling deep inside that “I’m one of the good ones” (while simultaneously rejecting, for example, my whiteness as a significant identifier). At that point of my life, I would have eagerly defined myself as an ally while downplaying the many privileged parts of my identity. 

But, allyship cannot be claimed and it certainly cannot take the place of those parts of our identities that experience privilege.

Allyship is not an identity. 

Allyship is action. While belief, values, and intention all matter, without action, they mean very little. If the “active and consistent practice of power and privilege to achieve equity and inclusion” is not happening, if one’s commitment to DEI work is all theoretical and not practical, there is no true allyship. 

Allyship is direct engagement with and challenge to systems of privilege and power 

To engage in allyship, we must engage the often painful or guilt inducing reality of our own privilege as well as the many systems of power that uphold it (there is no opting out. We are part of these systems whether we approve of them or not). 

There is a temptation amongst folks whose identities are privileged to downplay or outright dismiss the existence of oppressive systems in the modern day. It feels better to believe these are problems of the past and that things aren’t so bad now.

Let me be clear, racism and its very specific incarnation (and foundation) of anti-Blackness are very real. Patriarchy, cis-sexism, heterosexism, homophobia, xenophbia, abelism, and other systems of prejudice, discrimination, and oppression are very real. And if we are not consistently working to deconstruct these systems we are complicit in them, either actively or passively. 

In order to truly do the work of allyship, we must face, name, and actively work to eliminate our own privilege. We must recognize that the systems we take for granted are not inevitable or natural, but were in fact designed and consistently reinforced to uphold power and privilege.

Allyship requires interrogation of our own identities as something other than "normal"

Oppressive systems impact all of our lives in profound ways. When we are in the privileged group, however, we don’t have to see those impacts because they largely benefit us. They are rendered invisible because they make us comfortable. Our own identities are so normalized it never occurs to us to think about them critically. 

Our environments, cultural norms, institutions, and daily practices are so thoroughly aligned with “us” as the societal standard, that they become the very air we breathe. Something so universally “true” that questioning or even acknowledging their impacts almost feels absurd.

How, as the analogy goes, do you explain to a fish what water is? 

As a result of the ubiquitousness of “us,” even when we attempt to engage in allyship, if we are doing so from the unspoken perspective that we are the standard against which all others are to be measured, we will approach the work from a deficit model. We will see others as in need of rescue and fail to be critical about the aspects of ourselves, our social groups, and our society that are toxic and that contribute to the oppression of others.  

Allyship cannot be effective from the perspective of saving others or serving the “underprivileged.”

It is telling, actually, that, in the English language, underprivileged is a word but overprivileged is not. We are culturally and linguistically encouraged to see oppressed people as lacking and to see ourselves as “normal.”

The great Kimberlé Crenshaw said it better than I am able:

“Self-interrogation is a good place to start. If you see inequality as a “them” problem or “unfortunate other” problem, that is a problem. Being able to attend to not just unfair exclusion but also, frankly, unearned inclusion is part of the equality gambit. We’ve got to be open to looking at all of the ways our systems reproduce these inequalities, and that includes the privileges as well as the harms.”

Allyship starts at home and extends through all aspects of our lives

As I explored above, it can be tempting to think of allyship as the work of entering other communities to “help” them, but I am a firm believer that this kind of work begins at home. Folks in marginalized communities know what they need and know how to do this work. They do not need "us" to save "them." 

What is needed, is first deep interrogation of our own identities and a never ending uncovering and confrontation with our own internalized biases. 

What is needed is for us to challenge the spaces in which our power and privilege show up. As cis-men to speak up when other men make sexist comments or jokes, as white people to ask why our hiring committees are all or nearly all white, as people who are temporarily able to demand that our spaces and our services be accessible to all even though they are already accessible to us. 

What is needed is for us to do the work even when it puts us at risk, knowing that others live with more significant risk every day of their lives just to exist in the world. We need to do the work even when doing so makes us uncomfortable; even when our ability to advance professionally could be threatened; even when our relationships with others may be strained or broken. 

There is a spoken word piece by Guante that I turn to a lot to share why it is so important we do the work even when it is uncomfortable (content warning: the following video refers to gender based violence)

People's safety, access to opportunity, ability to exist in wholeness, and sometimes their very lives are on the line. Allyship cannot be something we perform in spaces where we will be rewarded and celebrated for our “wokeness,” it must be something we live and constantly strive to improve upon throughout every aspect of our lives every day behind both open and closed doors. 

Allyship is knowing our why

My advisor in graduate school, Dr. Walter Allen, once said on the first day of a class, “Don’t try to get an A in this class. Just do good work, and the grade will take care of itself.”

Too often in life, our motivations focus on reward rather than doing good work; rather than doing what is right because it is right. 

The business case for diversity in the private sector is well established. Companies that have a higher degree of diversity are more innovative, more profitable, and less likely to engage in potentially disastrous group-think. The evidence is overwhelming. 

The same is true for higher education, where the educational benefits of diversity for all students have been well established. 

That said, the business case and the educational benefits argument should not be our reason for creating diverse, equitable, and inclusive workplaces and campuses. If those are the drive, efforts will almost certainly be inadequate, insincere, and won’t result in the long term organizational change that is needed to realize the potential of that diversity. 

Lily Zheng makes this argument more strongly than I can in her piece “The business case for diversity is a sinking ship.” She states:

“Women and URM employees drawn to a company by its diversity optics are blindsided by how different the reality inside the company is from the polished exterior they’ve been marketed. It’s a classic bait-and-switch. No policies or practices for pregnant employees. Racist language in the office and managers who ignore it. Leadership — from middle management to the C-Suite — that is overwhelming white, cisgender, heterosexual, men. In these sorts of environments, women and URMs are unlikely to be productive, innovative, or creative. If anything, they quickly become resentful, distrustful, and burned out. They quit as soon as they can, and the cycle of diverse hires entering and leaving organizations — the revolving door, as it’s known — continues.”

The benefits of diversity that so many organizations seek out can only be realized if those benefits aren’t the primary goal of the work. These are the icing on the cake of work that should be aimed at equity and inclusion because they are the right thing to do; because the basic humanity of people matters and everyone in our organizations deserves to be authentically who they are and to achieve to their greatest potential. 

Allyship is owning mistakes and getting better

When we make mistakes, we must learn how to apologize for them sincerely and correct our behavior. 

To do this work effectively, we must be in a constant state of unlearning, sometimes failing, and then learning from our failures and getting better. Mistakes are inevitable. We are socialized our entire lives to make mistakes when it comes to allyship.

What happens after our mistakes does not have to be inevitable (and by that I mean the classic “I’m sorry YOU were offended” approach to apologies).

The Anatomy of a Real Apology:

1. “I am sorry I did/said/failed to do/etc. X”
2. “This is what was wrong with my actions/behavior/language/etc…”
3. “This is what I have learned and how I will be changing my behavior moving forward…”
4. THEN WE MUST ACTUALLY CHANGE OUR BEHAVIOR (an apology without changed behavior is just manipulation)
5. Recognize that you are not owed forgiveness, even if you successfully do all of the above. 

Allyship is recognizing that critique is a gift

When someone has the courage to critique our behavior or that of our organization(s), we should recognize the gift we are receiving. This doesn’t mean every critique is automatically correct, but every critique does represent an opportunity. Someone has put themself on the line to help us or the organization to grow. When our actions are out of alignment with our values we should all want to get better at what we do, and these moments represent chances to do just that. 

Allyship means not taking it personally and not centering ourselves

Doing the work of allyship will be uncomfortable. We need to lean into that discomfort. 

Unlearning a lifetime of reinforced biases is painful and scary, but I cannot weigh someone else’s right to authentically exist in safety against my desire to avoid discomfort, and determine that the latter is more important. 

Sometimes I will need to grapple with guilt. Sometimes my feelings will be hurt. I need to do the work anyway, and not derail it to focus on myself. 

Sit with discomfort. Explore where that discomfort is really coming from. Is it the challenge or critique we have been given or is it something within us that we have learned but can also unlearn?

As allies, trust is not owed to us

“There are many white people who mean right and in their hearts wanna do right. If 10,000 snakes were coming down that aisle now, and I had a door that I could shut, and in that 10,000, 1,000 meant right, 1,000 rattlesnakes didn’t want to bite me, I knew they were good... Should I let all these rattlesnakes come down, hoping that that thousand get together and form a shield? Or should I just close the door and stay safe?”

--Muhammad Ali 

I participated in a training on Healthy Masculinity late in 2019, and in that space a man (who I know to be a genuinely good hearted and well-intentioned person) struggled with the idea that he should not compliment women he does not know on the street; that he should not tell a stranger her dress is beautiful. To him it was a sincere form of appreciation for another person that meant no harm.

What I and others in the space tried to help him understand, is that when he engages in that kind of behavior, he does so in the context of other men, far too many, who have offered similar compliments with strings attached; men who have stripped away the safety of public space by demanding attention, smiles, and fear from women just trying to exist.

How is a woman to know who is the snake she can trust? Those men who make women feel unsafe in public spaces have tainted the ability of well intentioned men to offer sincere praise. And the men who have consistently reinforced that behavior or who have failed to challenge it are complicit, even if they would never engage in street harassment themselves. 

As allies, our issue is with anyone from our dominant social groups, including at times ourselves, who contribute to the marginalization of others. And we must recognize that marginalized folks will not always be able to know if we are safe or not.

We have to recognize that mistrust of us, weariness at our motives and our ability to deliver, can be a matter of self-preservation. And we should do the work anyway, even if it is not recognized and even if the folks we intend to ally with remain guarded against us. 

Allyship is prioritizing impact over intent

If I step on your foot I am no less accountable for the pain in your toe and the scuff on your shoe because it was an accident. The conversation to follow no doubt looks different if I stomped on you intentionally, but even if there was no intention of harm, that does not take your pain away. 

Those of us in dominant social groups (cis-gender men, white people, U.S. citizens, etc.), have been taught to place our feet wherever we please. We are taught that spaces belong to us and the rightness of our presence has been so normalized we don’t even notice the toes smashing beneath our shoes. 

We need to own the impact of our actions and correct our behavior. Hiding behind our good intentions only reinforces oppressive systems. 

Allyship is listening to and believing the lived experience of marginalized people

When we are told our workplace is hostile, that a policy or practice is discriminatory, or that we have hurt someone, this is not our opportunity to “well, actually” the situation. The devil needs no advocate. When our identities are privileged, we do not and cannot understand the lived experiences of marginalized people better than they do themselves. 

We. Need. To. Listen. 

[Image Credit: @Danielle Coke ☻]

In listening, we also need to understand that someone’s lived experience is enough. Nobody should have to prove the validity of their experience to us simply because it is different than our own.

I had a former student reach out to me recently for advice. She was struggling with the fact that she and the only other two Asian American women in her workplace were often mistaken for one another. She came to me asking for resources that she could share to validate her feelings as she worked up the courage to have a very vulnerable conversation with her CRO. 

My feedback was that she doesn’t need citations to justify her right to be recognized for the brilliant individual she is. The phenomenon of erasure of Asian American individuality is well documented, but such documentation should not be required for a person to prove that they are worthy of being seen. 

Listen to the stories of marginalized people and believe them. If you want the history or the studies to back up their points and help you understand, remember, it is not their job to teach you. Seek out those resources yourself.

And that’s not all (but it's all for now)

I had three or four more subheadings still to go, but I am realizing just how long this has become already, so I’ll save those for another day.

There it is. I am not an ally, but I endeavor, often clumsily, to do the work of allyship everyday. I am hopeful I am better at this work today than I was yesterday and that I will become still better tomorrow.

If you are up for having the conversation, what have I missed? What do I have wrong? What does allyship mean to you? I’d love to discuss it in the comments and will gratefully accept the gift of your critique.