What does allyship mean to you?
An active support for the rights of a minority or marginalized group without being a member of it. That is the definition of allyship according to Oxford Languages. To me, when I think of a perfect example of an ally, I think of someone who is by my side. Not a savior or someone to take pity on injustices faced, but someone who acts without fear of consequence or shame. An ally is someone who is on your side, without having to say so.
When I reflect on my definition of an ally, I think of William Lloyd Garrison. Born in 1805, William was an American journalist who created his own newspaper exclusively based on the topic of anti-slavery called the “Liberator”. His thoughts for his first newspaper issue were controversial to say the least. “I do not wish to think, or speak, or write, with moderation. I am in earnest–I will not excuse–I will not retreat a single inch and I will be heard.” William deeply felt the effects of injustice against African Americans to the point where he was moved to make a difference. At a time where his words meant death, he advocated for the emancipation of all slaves. His words were his weapon, his skin was his shield, his actions and stance were clear. He was on our side.
The bad
My first experience with someone who I thought was an ally is not a story I like to tell. Before I share my story, let me give you a little context. As a multicultural person, I pride myself on being surrounded with people of all different cultural backgrounds. Because of my experience, I learned how to carry myself around different people. Let’s be honest, I learned how to carry myself around white people. Since birth my parents taught me how to navigate difficult, racially centered conversations that may arise while in college or at work.
This was my takeaway from their lessons as a young woman: If you want to exist in a safe space, be yourself when you’re at home, but not when you’re around white people.
When racial tensions started rising and social media helped expose unarmed minorities being killed by police officers, I observed everyone. “Why do they always have to resist?” and “If they didn’t resist, they would still be alive” are just a couple of things I would commonly hear from my white counterparts. It was hurtful. It left me angry and confused. I thought, “Is this what being an ally means to them? Being able to provide insight to things they think that only minorities should have experience with?”
The ugly
One night, I was riding home with a few friends, one of whom is white. It was late and we had been out all day at a gaming tournament. We were almost home when we were pulled over. When I looked over I noticed the look on my friend’s face. He didn’t need to explain how he felt at that moment, I just knew. I knew because our skin ensured we would grow up with shared experiences of discrimination and pre-made notions.
The officer came up to the window, never greeted us or explained why he pulled us over. He immediately asked if we had drugs in the car. When we asked why we were pulled over we were told to get out of the car. One hour later, after a physical search as well as a K-9 search of our vehicle nothing was found and we were released from detainment. No explanation, no apologies. Before we got back in the car, I heard one of the officers say to my white friend “Be careful with them, find some safe friends”.
While he didn’t say “white friends” I knew what he meant. We rode in silence the rest of the way home. I was livid! Not only did I feel victimized and powerless but I felt betrayed by my friend. Their actions spoke clearly. To them being an ally meant being in proximity to us, but not sharing our experiences, our confusion but most importantly – our pain.
The good
Because I am an optimist, I saved the good for last. Ironically, the person who has been the best example of an ally to me happens to be a blonde haired, blue eyed, white, police officer. This was during the peak of 2020 racial tensions, it was easy to see who was who. Once I drew a line in the sand that silence means complicit, I lost friends who I thought were allies but gained some as well. For the sake of anonymity–we will call my good friend–our good ally–William.
William has always been a straight shooter. He says what is on his mind, so you never have to wonder. One day we had a conversation about George Floyd. I immediately got tense. Past experience taught me that discussing these topics with people who did not look like me would not turn out well. I really valued William as a friend and did not want to lose him.
To my surprise, he started the conversation by apologizing. Not only for the death of George Floyd but that someone from a shared race, working in the same profession as him had committed such a deplorable crime. William didn’t make excuses. Not once. He listened to me. He heard my concerns and listened to my criticism of his profession’s practices as it relates to race. William didn’t try to change my mind or discredit my experience because it benefits him and others who look like him. The thing that William did to prove to me that he is an ally was never try to convince me that was an ally. He just was.
Allyship means community.
There is no such thing as a perfect ally. We are all humans living imperfect lives but what matters is intention. You cannot center others while centering yourself. You cannot be a good ally to the community until you realize one simple truth: you are the community. To explain this further, I will quote a passage from Nikole Hannah-Jones in the book titled, “Four Hundred Souls”.
“Would America have been America without her Negro people? We cannot fathom it. Black Americans, by definition, are an amalgamated people. Our bodies form the genetic code—we are African, Native and European—that made America and Americans.”
At the center of every successful movement, there are allies. To be a good ally, you have to decenter yourself in order to advance a group who has been intentionally left behind or overlooked. True allyship is selfless. It is realizing that projecting other voices doesn’t mean diminishing your own. Being an ally is rewarding but hard work. There are no gold stars on this journey, but there is community and that is priceless.
About Sarah Rivera
