
When I talk about diversity I often hear about allies. Gay Straight Alliances and various ethnic and racial identity groups talk stress the importance of allies. This is interesting, because I don't think we, as a culture, know what it means to be an ally.
Too often we think to be an ally means simply to not openly endorse oppression. I don't own a pointy white hat...I must be an ally. Not true, friends.
Last week I had the (cough, cough) pleasure of listening to a group of 1Ls talk about the over representation of African-Americans in the prison system. The group consisted of two African-American men, a white lesbian, a white woman, and two white men. The white woman claimed that African-American men where inherently more dangerous than white men. As evidence, she cited a statistic that there are eight times as many African-American men in prison as there are white men (pretty sure she made that "statistic" up). Obviously, the overtly racist belief was startling; but, what I found more interesting was the silence of the other white people at the table.
The two black men both attempted to make jokes and change the topic but the white woman wouldn't back off. Eventually, the black men attempted to defend their race, the conversation got heated, and the woman stormed away. The other white people at the table looked around awkwardly and said nothing.
Why is that?
As an ally or anti-racist you have a duty to speak out against racism (or any -ism, really). Especially when it comes to talking to people with racist beliefs, the voice of someone from dominant group is going to be easier to hear, seen as less adversarial, and seen as having more legitimacy. Not to mention, it takes some pressure off the underrepresented people in the group who are already feeling attacked.
Thankfully, I can also say I've been on the other side of a true alliance this week. Over the weekend I found myself in a rather lively conversation about race, gender, and oppression with three men from fairly privileged backgrounds. I'd been defending my race and gender for a while when one of men made an analogy I took issue with. Though the analogy dealt with race and gender, I was more than happy to pass the oppression-fighting baton when a white male ally decided to point out the flaw in the analogy. It wasn't that this ally was speaking for me; it was that he saw the flaw in the argument as well and didn't think that a woman of color was the only person who could or should voice opposition. His comment reminded me that I wasn't alone in my opposition to oppression, and it felt good.
The tricky part about being an ally is that it's both easier and harder to speak out. On one had, allies are allowed to speak without representing their race, gender, or sexuality. Accordingly, they are often seen as less threating and/or confrontational (we hear about 'angry black women' not so much about 'angry white men'). On the other hand, allies tend to be less practiced. Talking about -isms can be scary and these well intentioned people often worry about being offensive to the very group they are trying to support.
Talking about identities and oppression isn't easy...but it gets easier to practice and team work.
So, just to recap, here is my handy guide to being an ally:
1. Throwing away the white hood wont do it. You have to do more than just not be overtly racist.
2. Speak up. If you feel uncomfortable with something be said around you, it's always OK to say so. Opposition to oppression that comes from the dominant group is particularly powerful.
3. Embrace community building. Don't take away someone else's voice.
Almost all people are capable of protecting themselves, but it's always good to communicate that they don't have to... they can count on you for help and support.