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So You Call Yourself an Ally: 10 Things All ‘Allies’ Need to Know
November 8, 2013 by Jamie Utt
Goal: For those of us who fashion ourselves “allies” or as “currently operating in solidarity
with” to have a conversation. Even “allies” should be open to criticism of how their actions are
out of alignment with their professed desire to be an “ally!”
1. Being an Ally is About Listening
As someone striving to be an ally, the most important thing we can do is listen to as many of the
voices of those we’re allying ourselves with as possible. Now, does this mean that we should
assume that just because, say, one Person of Color said it that it’s an absolute truth that we are to
parrot? Absolutely not. But listening to a diversity of marginalized voices can help us understand
the core of any given issue. And it also can help you understand why the opinion of your one
lesbian friend is not necessarily the best defense of your use of heterosexist language.
2. Stop Thinking of ‘Ally’ as a Noun
Being an ally isn’t a status. The moment that we decide “I’m an ally,” we’re in trouble. As Mia
McKenzie puts it: “‘Currently operating in solidarity with’ is undeniably an action. It describes
what a person is doing in the moment. It does not give credit for past acts of solidarity without
regard for current behavior. It does not assume future acts of solidarity. It speaks only to the
actions of the present.”
3. ‘Ally’ is Not a Self-Proclaimed Identity
Really, being an ally is not an identity at all. It is vitally important that we understand that we
cannot simply decide we are allies. Being in solidarity is something we can strive for, but in the
end, it is the choice belongs to those we are attempting to ally ourselves with as to whether they
trust us enough to call us an ally. Additionally, just because one person considers me an ally, that
does not mean that every person of that marginalized identity considers me an ally or should!
Trust is something earned through concerted action, not given simply because of our actions in a
particular arena or context.
4. Allies Don’t Take Breaks
The thing about oppression is that it is constant. Those who are oppressed and marginalized in
our society do not get to take breaks and respites. Thus, if you truly want to act in solidarity, you
cannot simply retreat into your privilege when you just don’t want to engage. This is one of the
hardest things for me in being an ally. Sometimes I just don’t have the energy to respond to my
super classist uncle or to that racist comment form a Facebook friend. I don’t want to get into an
endless discussion about how they “didn’t mean it that way” or how I’m “just being too PC” or
“sensitive.” People of Color have no choice but to resist racism every single day of their lives.
Women have no choice but to weather the storm of misogyny every day of their lives.
Differently abled people have no choice but to deal with and respond to ableism every day of
their lives. And in the end, part of the privilege of your identity is that you have a choice about
whether or not to resist oppression. And falling back into your privilege, especially when you are
most needed, is not being in solidarity.
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5. Allies Educate Themselves Constantly
Standing in solidarity with a marginalized or oppressed person or people means that we need to
be as knowledgeable as possible. We need to educate ourselves about the issues facing those
with whom we want to be allied and about the history of said oppression. One of the most
important types of education is listening (see #1), but there are endless resources (books, blogs,
media outlets, speakers, YouTube videos, etc.) to help you learn. What you should not do,
though, is expect those with whom you want to ally yourself to teach you. That is not their
responsibility. Sure, listen to them when they decide to drop some knowledge or perspective, but
do not go to them and expect them to explain their oppression for you.
6. You Can’t Be an Ally in Isolation
To a certain degree, it is entirely possible for someone to stand in solidarity with a group of
marginalized people even if they have no relationships with said people. At a surface level, you
can support the cause and advocate in your community for equal rights or speak out against
oppression. But solidarity in total isolation lacks one vital thing: accountability. This is
particularly important for people of privilege, but really any person who wants to act in solidarity
needs to recognize that allyship cannot exist in isolation. This is not to say that your “one Black
friend” legitimizes all of your actions and self-professed “allyship.” In fact, some of the most
important accountability comes from relationships that are not friendships. But without a diverse
community to engage with and without other activists to hold you accountable, your
understanding of “solidarity” can very quickly become paternalism or, worse, outright recreation
of oppression.
7. Allies Don’t Need to Be in the Spotlight
True solidarity means supporting the work of those you’re allying yourself to, not solely creating
a platform for your own voice and work. Sure, your privilege may afford you the spotlight
sometimes, and there are times when you can use that spotlight to talk to people who share your
identity (see #8), but whenever possible, allies turn that spotlight away from themselves, to the
voices that are so often marginalized and ignored. I strive to ensure that my work is grounded
squarely in the scholarship and lived experiences of those with whom I ally myself, and
whenever possible, I work hard to share with or abdicate the spotlight to those with whom I
attempt to act in solidarity. Perhaps I fail more than I succeed in this realm, but it is something I
must continue to keep central in my praxis.
8. Allies Focus on Those Who Share Their Identity
As a person who benefits every single day from White privilege, it is not my place to engage
People of Color in a discussion about what is or is not racist. That’s not solidarity. However, I
have a very specific responsibility in engaging conversations about racism: talking to other
White people. Beyond listening, arguably the most important thing that I can do to act in
solidarity is to engage those who share my identity. As a man, I have a specific responsibility to
engage men in building a more positive masculinity and standing up to misogyny and sexism. As
a White person, I have a responsibility to stand up to racism and work to bring White people into
the anti-racist conversation in a way that they can hear and access. As an able-bodied person, I
have a responsibility to call out examples of everyday ableism.
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9. When Criticized or Called Out, Allies Listen, Apologize, Act Accountably
and Act Differently Going Forward
The single most important thing I’ve ever been told about being an ally came from a professor of
Color who profoundly impacted my life; “If you choose to do social justice work, you are going
to screw up – a lot. Be prepared for that. And when you screw up, be prepared to listen to those
whom you hurt, apologize with honesty and integrity, work hard to be accountable to them, and
make sure you act differently going forward.” There are few lessons more important for “allies”
to understand than this one. When you screw up and damage trust, hurting and angering those
you have allied yourself to, listening is important, but it’s not enough. Apologizing earnestly is
important, but it’s not enough. Working hard to make sure you are accountable to those you’ve
wronged is important, but it’s not enough. In addition to all of these, you have a responsibility to
learn from the mistakes you’ve made and to do better going forward.
10. Allies Never Monopolize the Emotional Energy
One of the things that I love about the “White Privilege Conference” is its commitment to
accountable racial caucusing spaces where White folks can meet with other White people,
holding them accountable as they process their feelings or learning, and People of Color can
process without the intrusiveness of White privilege and oppression. In my experience, the White
caucus can get pretty emotional, but the facilitators are trained and ready to hold people
accountable to their privilege and process. I’ve also heard that the various People of Color
caucuses can be pretty emotional, charged with anger and sadness and hope and community.
That space is vital. Virtually every year, though, there is a White person who doesn’t get the
need for these spaces. A few years back, a White woman burst into one of the People of Color
caucuses, throwing herself on the floor, crying, asking for forgiveness, bemoaning her Whiteness
and her role in oppression. And I honestly think this woman would have considered herself an
“ally.” One of the more common and egregious mistakes supposed “allies” can make is to expect
emotional energy from those to whom we ally ourselves. To once again quote McKenzie, “[T]he
people who experience racism, misogyny, ableism, queerphobia, transphobia, classism,
etc. are exhausted.” The last thing they need is our monopolizing the emotional energy and only
furthering their exhaustion. Surely allies need emotional support, but it must come from other
allies.
Don’t expect marginalized people to do the emotional work for you or feel sorry for you or
forgive you.
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Solidarity is vitally important to any movement toward social justice, but it also runs the
tremendous risk of recreating the very power structures of oppression that it purports to
challenge. Sure, the above list is a start, but as someone striving to work in solidarity, I recognize
that I should never have the final word. So please, what would you add? What else must we who
seek to be allies remember if we hope to advance rather than hold back the struggles for justice?
Jamie Utt is a Contributing Writer at Everyday Feminism.
