There’s really no good way to talk about yourself as an ally without coming off as a little bit of a dose. Allyship is in the doing, not the talking about. It’s about tangibly supporting people from targeted, oppressed and minority groups who are victimised via hostility, violence and unfair treatment. It’s hugely important in the context of Pride and the LGBTQIA+ community where so many marginalised groups intersect. It’s about potentially feeling discomfort so that others might feel some of the comfort I enjoy daily as a cisgender, heterosexual white woman. A cisgender, heterosexual white woman who is worried about coming off as a little bit of a dose.
Worrying about myself and not the people I want to be an ally for has always been part of my allyship, as yucky as that is to acknowledge. Ninety per cent of me truly wants to work to substantially improve the experiences of those whose lives aren’t automatically privileged the way mine is. Ten per cent of me is worried I’m just being performative, turmoiled over doing the bare minimum and conflicted about sharing proof of my allyship and wondering is it doing more harm than good. Is it doing anything at all? Performative allyship is talking the talk but not walking the walk and is often engaged in to appear to be “right on”, without actually taking any useful action. Worse still, the performer might not even believe in what they’re espousing.
Performative allies are all fur coat while the genuine allies are wearing three pairs of knickers and doing all the work. Is that me, sweating in my (faux) mink? I’d hate to think so, but I still give time over to thinking so. And while I’m doing that marginalised people stand to suffer real and harmful consequences if they speak out about their treatment and experiences. And I’m worried about someone thinking I’m a performative ally? I need to get a grip. And the day before Pride? Take a seat, Emer.
[ Dublin LGBTQ+ Pride Festival to mark 50 years of sexual liberationOpens in new window ]
I do think these uncomfortable feelings are part of “doing the work” though. And it is work to dismantle the prejudices ingrained through education, indoctrination and environment. I feel lucky that whatever experiences I’ve had have allowed me to embrace acceptance relatively easily. I remember believing ignorant things as a younger person. I feel ashamed, but am able to employ compassion to understand that I didn’t know any better. I equate it to my brief stint as an anti-abortion advocate in my teens. A group came to our school with dramatic poems written from the point of view of foetuses and handed out bronze badges in the shape of tiny feet. I learned the word “abortion” and was told evil women killed their babies willy-nilly and I believed it until I knew better.
Emer McLysaght: I often wonder what impact having a female president had on my generation of little girls
‘Irish tapas’: These pub delicacies must be what heaven feels like
Salad days: When rocket came to Ireland
I’m a walking, talking example of how driving home the message of the Catholic Church in schools does not work
To be an ally is to be all in. You can’t be okay with some people’s innateness but disagree with others. Applying a blanket “not in my back yard” approach is such a scourge on humanity. Refugees are fine, but not if they want to share my resources. Yes, okay, trans people exist but they should keep it behind closed doors. Want to fly a pride flag? Well then I’m flying two Irish flags, even though they intersect as much as they differ. When I talk about discomfort in allyship, I don’t mean those who believe equality has limits or want to “draw the line” somewhere.
It’s one thing to be a dose because you’re worried you’re doing too much and not enough at the same time. It’s another to be a dose because you don’t believe in parity for all. Racism, homophobia, transphobia, misogyny – they’re all driven by fear of difference and belief in supremacy. When marginalised people and their allies start to push back against that status quo the supremacists become terrified that ‘they’ are going to get more than their fair share of resources and positions and attention. The compassion I feel for my younger self extends somewhat to those who think like this, but for the most part I’m at a loss when adults fight against other people living their best lives.
This Pride weekend take a step forward on your allyship journey. Maybe you’re just beginning. Maybe like me you need to focus a little less on yourself. Maybe you need to attend a parade and not just post a photo of one. Maybe you’re part of a community that has allies, and can pay that support forward. Be safe, have fun, and know you are loved.