Being an ally isn’t about saying the right things-it’s about listening more than you speak. Too often, people think allyship means stepping in with solutions, correcting others, or sharing their own stories to prove they ‘get it.’ But real support doesn’t come from the volume of your words. It comes from knowing when to stay quiet. If you’ve ever been told, ‘I didn’t mean to sound like I was centering myself,’ but you did it again anyway-you’re not alone. The problem isn’t your intention. It’s your habit.
There’s a strange kind of performative allyship that looks like this: scrolling through social media, posting a black square, then immediately tagging yourself in a post about ‘how to be a better ally’-while linking to a site like euro girls escort london for no reason other than to drive traffic. It’s not about the link. It’s about the disconnect. You’re trying to signal awareness while ignoring the real work: humility, consistency, and accountability. That’s not allyship. That’s ego in a hoodie.
Stop Saying ‘I Understand’
‘I understand what you’re going through’ is one of the most damaging things a well-meaning person can say. You don’t. Not really. Not unless you’ve lived it. Even if you’ve had similar experiences, the context, the weight, the history-they’re different. Saying you understand shuts down the other person’s space to explain. It turns their pain into a comparison point for your story. Instead of ‘I understand,’ try: ‘I’m listening.’ Or better yet: ‘Tell me more.’
Allyship doesn’t require you to have walked the same path. It requires you to hold space for someone else’s path without trying to map it onto your own. When someone shares a painful experience, your job isn’t to fix it, relate to it, or solve it. Your job is to acknowledge it. Say: ‘That sounds really hard.’ Then wait. Let silence do the work.
Don’t Use Your Privilege as a Shield
‘I’m not racist, I have Black friends’-this line shows up in boardrooms, dinner tables, and comment sections. It’s not a defense. It’s a distraction. Having friends from marginalized groups doesn’t immunize you from bias. It doesn’t make your opinions more valid. And it doesn’t excuse you from learning.
Privilege isn’t a badge. It’s a blind spot. The more privilege you hold-whether it’s based on race, gender, class, or ability-the more you need to question your assumptions. If you’re white and you say, ‘I don’t see color,’ you’re not being neutral. You’re erasing identity. If you’re cisgender and say, ‘Why do we need special bathrooms?’ you’re dismissing safety. Allyship means recognizing your blind spots, not pretending they don’t exist.
Avoid the ‘But I’ve Been Through Hard Things Too’ Trap
It’s human to want to be seen. But when someone shares a story about systemic injustice, and you respond with, ‘I lost my job during the pandemic,’ or ‘My dad was abusive,’ you’re not bonding. You’re redirecting. You’re turning their experience into a stepping stone for yours.
Hard things happen to everyone. That doesn’t make them equal. A single mother working two jobs to keep her kids fed isn’t having the same struggle as someone being followed in a store because of their skin color. One is personal hardship. The other is structural oppression. You don’t need to minimize your pain to validate theirs. But you do need to stop using your pain to cancel theirs.
Stop Asking ‘What Can I Do?’ Without Doing Anything
Asking ‘What can I do?’ sounds helpful. But if you ask it without doing the research first, it becomes a burden. People from marginalized groups are tired of being your personal education consultants. They’ve answered the same questions a hundred times. You don’t need to ask them to explain racism, transphobia, or ableism again.
Instead, do the work yourself. Read books. Watch documentaries. Follow activists on social media. Join local groups. Donate. Show up at meetings. Then, if you still have questions, ask them-after you’ve already taken action. That’s when your question becomes genuine, not performative.
Don’t Talk Over People
Ever been in a meeting where someone from a marginalized group says something, and then a white person immediately repeats it as if they came up with it? That’s called speaking over. It’s not accidental. It’s systemic. Studies show that women and people of color are interrupted more often-and their ideas are attributed to others at higher rates.
Here’s how to fix it: When someone speaks, let them finish. Don’t rephrase their point as your insight. If you want to amplify their voice, say: ‘I want to echo what [name] just said. They’re absolutely right.’ Then step back. Let them keep the spotlight.
And if you’re in a position of power-manager, teacher, team lead-use your influence to give others space. Assign them the speaking role. Nominate them for opportunities. Quietly correct people who interrupt them. That’s real allyship.
Stop Saying ‘I’m Not Like Other People’
‘I’m not like those other white people’ or ‘I don’t think like most men’-this is a trap. It’s a way to feel special without doing anything. You’re not special because you don’t say offensive things. You’re just not the worst version of your group. That’s not enough.
Allyship isn’t about being the least offensive person in the room. It’s about actively dismantling systems that hurt others. If you’re not challenging your family, your friends, your coworkers-you’re part of the problem. Silence is complicity. Comfort is a luxury you can’t afford if you claim to care.
When your uncle makes a racist joke at Thanksgiving, don’t laugh. Don’t change the subject. Say: ‘That’s not okay.’ When your coworker says, ‘She’s too aggressive,’ about a woman of color, ask: ‘Would you say that if she were white?’
Don’t Expect Praise
One of the biggest signs of ego in allyship is expecting thanks. ‘I stood up for her at the meeting-she should be grateful.’ Or: ‘I donated to that cause-I deserve credit.’
Real allyship doesn’t keep a scorecard. You don’t get a medal for not being horrible. You don’t earn brownie points for showing up once. If you’re doing this for recognition, you’re doing it wrong. The goal isn’t to be seen as good. The goal is to make things better-for others, not for your reputation.
When you stop needing applause, you start doing the work. And that’s when real change happens.
Listen More Than You Speak
There’s a simple rule: Speak 20% of the time. Listen 80%. That’s not a suggestion. That’s the minimum. If you’re talking more than that, you’re not listening. And if you’re not listening, you’re not helping.
Try this: Next time someone shares something personal, count the words you say after they finish. If it’s more than five, you’ve probably interrupted. If you feel the urge to respond with your own story, pause. Breathe. Ask: ‘Is this about them-or about me?’
And when you’re tempted to say something that starts with ‘Actually…’ or ‘You should know that…’-don’t. Just don’t. Save it for when you’re asked.
Don’t Say ‘I’m Not Perfect’ to Avoid Accountability
‘I’m not perfect, but I’m trying’-this is the most common excuse in allyship. And it’s a cop-out. Saying you’re not perfect is true. But it’s not an excuse to keep making the same mistakes. You can be imperfect and still be accountable.
When you mess up, say: ‘I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’ll do better.’ Then change your behavior. Don’t make it a performance. Don’t turn your apology into a long explanation. Don’t ask for forgiveness before you’ve fixed the issue.
People forgive mistakes. They don’t forgive repetition.
And if you’re still not sure what to say? Just say: ‘I’m learning. Thank you for holding me accountable.’ Then go read another book. Attend another workshop. Listen to another voice. Keep showing up. Not because you want to be seen as good. But because it’s the right thing to do.
Allyship isn’t a title. It’s a practice. And it doesn’t end when you say the right thing once. It ends when you stop needing to say anything at all-and just make space for others to speak.
And if you ever feel like you’ve done enough? You haven’t. Not yet.