#i think like. okay i tend towards acts of service and my primary gender identity is always Butch. i want to be efficient and helpful

[calamitys-child]

Something about like. Longitudinal dysphoria. Like it's well known at least in groups ive chatted to that a lot of people get dysphoria about stuff sorta one thing at a time, most commonly people who wanted top surgery but not bottom surgery getting rid of the primary focus of their dysphoria at their chest and deciding subsequently that they Do want lower surgery bc they are now more cognizant of that dysphoria. Like fork theory. Get the big fork out and you suddenly notice the little forks more. Anyway I'm at peace with my build and my chest, and I love my shit lil beard and body hair, and respect where my voice is at, and I don't want bottom surgery. I don't. I don't get dysphoria about the fact I have this anatomy, and I do not yearn for the results of that surgery at a level which outweighs the effort it would take to seek, undergo, recover from, and continue with the results of that surgery. I think what I Do always get dysphoria over is simply the Inconvenience. Having to wait to use a stall in the typical men's toilets one stall four urinals set up always always pisses me off (pun intended) purely because its so ANNOYING. My gender is man (inconvenient) and normally I get to play and enjoy and relish in that Inconvenience but every time I'm standing in a tiny public bathroom trying to stay out everyone's way bc I have to piss in the one (1) stall it fucks me off like. I've been on t for 3+ years when do I get to surpass this hurdle in my physical being (never without invasive surgery with an intense recovery for results I don't really want) like CMON man have I not put enough xp into transsexualism to be good at pissing at urinals yet. I deserve this for pure efficiency's sake if nothing else

[scientificphilosopher]

I’m still learning how to be an effective ally in the pursuit of social justice. Part of this, for me, comes through figuring out how to best support other allies, how to effectively engage with them, even when they’re not as well-versed in the issues as I’ve become through many years of education. I often ask myself this: How can I balance meeting people where they’re at while also holding people responsible for their ignorant and harmful actions and beliefs? Is there a place for compassion and patience toward well-meaning allies, even when they unintentionally harm others?

What I want to focus on for this blog post is the phenomenon of what I’m calling “anxious allyship” — what it is, how it manifests in certain spaces, and what I do to prevent myself from both being an anxious ally and driving others into anxious ally behaviors via things like gatekeeping.

Anxious allyship, in short, is the tendency for well-intentioned allies to shut down and fail to meaningfully engage with social justice work — be it online or in person — out of fear of saying something wrong or appearing ignorant or racist. Now, it’s important to keep in mind that there are MANY reasons why an ally might fail to show up. There are various elements at play that lead to white people’s fear of appearing ignorant or racist in the first place. For the sake of this blog, I want to focus on how this crops up in online spaces full of predominantly white, left-leaning allies and the tendency for these spaces to partake in gatekeeping (though much of what I’m talking about can extend beyond just conversations with allies — that is simply what I’m focusing on for now). By gatekeeping, I mean for members of these spaces to be overly hostile toward people who are presumably not as knowledgeable in the topic or who say problematic things. In some cases, this type of gatekeeping results in driving people out of the spaces or even harassing them. This type of gatekeeping can be seen as self-righteous bullying, both deliberate and unintentional. At its core, it’s shaming people for not knowing what you know and using that to drive people out of an online space. Again, this can be done with the best intentions. Sometimes gatekeeping occurs out of righteous indignation, to really show that problematic fool how wrong and ignorant their views truly are. More often than not, though, it’s done for the sake of showing off; it’s done to signal to others just how knowledgable and committed of an ally you truly are. To be clear, I am not speaking about justified criticism or the moderation of certain spaces in the service of keeping discussions civil. There are often good reasons to call people out; there are good reasons to react with anger or exasperation; there are good reasons to ban people from certain online forums or refuse to take the time and effort to have a fruitful discussion with them. Just because an ally has good intentions doesn’t mean they are immune to criticism. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, as William James said. No, what I’m talking about is white folks lording their knowledge over fledgling allies for reasons like sanctimony and virtue signaling.

Just to be clear as possible, I want to emphasize what I am not saying throughout this post. I am not saying that there is no room for anger (there is). I am not saying that I shouldn’t call people out — allies or otherwise — for their harmful ignorance (I should). I am not saying that patience and effectiveness should always be the primary focus when engaging with allies. I am not saying that there is a singular way of doing any of this. The last thing I am interested in is tone policing. I am, instead, advocating for a pluralistic approach, and that means leaving space for people to be angry, enraged, unresponsive, disengaged, or any other manner of reaction. It is not my place to say that one should not react in anger or ridicule to a well-intentioned but harmful comment simply because it might not be the most effective way to engage with that person, to get them to understand or change their mind. Express your anger if you're angry. Be angry. There is a whole helluva lot to be angry about.

Instead, I am arguing that overprivileged people such as myself should, perhaps, harbor some sense of responsibility in thinking about how to respond in ways that are more inviting to allies based on where they’re at in their educational journey, especially since it has increased potential for maximizing effectiveness and minimizing anxious ally behaviors. I am coming at these issues from a very different place than a lot of marginalized folks. It does not require as much emotional labor for me — an overprivileged white male — to discuss race with people as it might for many people of color. As Audre Lorde — a queer black woman — put it, “Frequently, when speaking with men and white women, I am reminded of how difficult and time-consuming it is to have to reinvent the pencil every time you want to send a message.” White men should, I think, be more willing to sometimes take on the time and effort to reinvent that pencil, especially since other white men are more willing to see us as “objective” and authoritative merely by merit of our maleness and whiteness. In a clear case of cosmic irony, white men will listen to other white men, even in regard to realities like racism, about which we tend to be utterly inexperienced and grievously ignorant. And to further the injustice of that irony, those very white men are the ones who are more likely to harbor power and social capital, thus the ones who can leverage our platforms in ways to most swiftly bring about systemic change. That is why I think those of us in privileged positions have a moral responsibility to learn to engage effectively on these issues.

Still, I’ve certainly found myself attacking people on social media, sometimes looking for that mic drop moment, and in hindsight, I realize I was doing it simply out of self-righteousness or to look smart to my virtual onlookers. If I had taken time to step back and evaluate what was motivating me to say what I was saying, I would’ve recognized that unproductive performative allyship showing its face. I don’t want to lend my energies to creating spaces that are needlessly hostile to people, including other allies. Spaces that are highly judgmental of their participants will engender performative behaviors precisely because people become anxious that they will mess up and get shamed for it. Not a feedback loop I want to amplify.

So, what can I do? Well, I don’t know, exactly. Probably a lot of things. One thing I try to do when interacting with other people who might be in the early stages of exploring their privilege or learning about race, gender, oppression, etc., is that I remind myself of my own journey. As an exercise in perspective and compassion, I reflect on the fact that education is largely a privilege. I have been absurdly lucky to learn the things I’ve learned, to have the resources and support in my life, the patient and empathic teachers. I remind myself of all these privileges, privileges that are not present for many people. Next, I meditate on the many ignorant, problematic beliefs and behaviors of my younger self. I was still me, just a version of me who was oblivious to the fact that a world existed outside the scope of my perspective. I harbored deeply racist, sexist, homophobic, and self-serving beliefs — because I was raised in a deeply racist, sexist, homophobic, self-serving culture. We all are. And I still grapple with these things today, and I imagine I always will. Of course, it is emblematic of privilege that some of us learn about oppression in more academic, impersonal ways, rather than having to confront its realities on a day to day basis. For overprivileged folks such as myself (and, really everyone to some extent), learning about the experiences of marginalized identities is an ongoing journey. None of us comes fully equipped. I remind myself of these things in order to temper my criticism with kindness and compassion. It is an exercise in humility and empathy.

I’ve also alluded to “effectiveness” throughout this post. How can I most effectively engage with other allies? Exercises in compassion and humility are good for me for a variety of reasons. They are humanizing. They are perspective-giving. They are, also, practical. I care deeply about social justice and I want to do what I can to keep privileged eyes and hearts on progressive change. One strategy that I find particularly effective is to meet people where they’re at, ask questions, and engage with them as if they were sitting in the room next to me. I try to remember that this computer screen acts as a veil of anonymity, which gives me a felt sense of licensing in treating people more coldly or harshly than I otherwise would.

So, in discussions with fellow allies, I try to exercise compassion and humility, while still keeping an eye on effectiveness. But this post isn’t solely about what I personally do to prevent others from becoming anxious allies. It’s also about how I try to recognize and combat the anxious ally in myself. Personally, I try to steel myself against some of these more toxic tendencies by practicing these things:

Being Okay With Mistakes. In fact, I have to work to get to a place where I embrace my mistakes. I have to be ok with being dumb and ignorant much of the time. I have to embrace the fact that I will mess up plenty. I have a wrinkly monkey brain and I know somewhere in the vicinity of none percent about the world. I am human, I am fallible, I am ignorant, and my understanding of reality is inherently limited by insulating and unequal social systems. One of the most insidious symptoms of privilege is how its benefits tend to be concealed from those who reap them. White people don’t need to think about racism; men don’t need to think about sexism; able-bodied people don’t need to think about accessibility, etc. This is all expected and understandable; it’s how we respond when our privilege is challenged that matters.

Staying Open and Receptive to Criticism. Ok, so making mistakes is inevitable. What do I do once I realize I’ve made one? How am I responding? An unfortunate reality for marginalized identities is that they too often have to undertake the emotional labor of teaching privileged identities all about these issues. This is not fair. It shouldn’t be this way. This makes it all the more meaningful when I get called out for saying something offensive, ignorant, racist, sexist, or bigoted. My initial response might be embarrassment or shame, and I might take refuge in my intentions: “That’s not how I meant it!” But this is defensiveness. This is symptomatic of what Robin DiAngelo calls “white fragility.” More to the point, it’s a bad interpersonal habit. As Cori Wong points out in her TEDtalk on feminist friendship, you would not react with hostility if a friend lets you know you had a big ol’ booger hanging out your nose in public. You might be embarrassed at first, but you’d ultimately thank your friend for speaking up so that you could take care of it (by wiping it inside your shirt like every warm-blooded American would). The same goes for people pointing out my mistakes in regards to social justice. My ultimate response, regardless of my intentions or initial emotional reactions, should be to listen and to give thanks. I have, after all, been presented with an opportunity to learn more.

Engaging With the Literature. Okay, so I’m willing to make mistakes and I’m willing to listen when people say I’ve messed up (at least some of the time). Is that enough? No. There’s still plenty left to do — and I cannot simply count on the emotional labor of oppressed peoples to figure out what to do next. Thankfully, I have incredible resources at my fingertips. I have YouTube channels, I have article after article after article, Instagram feeds, Facebook pages, books, books, books. There’s so much to learn and it can feel overwhelming to get started, but it’s never too late. There’s no better time than now. (I will also be making a blog post that provides a more extensive list of resources.)

What we have now, as mentioned by activist Maya Rupert, is a climate where the only people who are readily talking about race are those who know the least (vis-à-vis Dunning-Kruger effect) and those who engage with it regularly or professionally. The center has collapsed, with too many well-meaning white people sitting in anxious silence, thus reinforcing the very status quo they’re concerned with challenging. This is not an atmosphere conducive to collaboration, democratic and egalitarian participation, and effective mobilization. As an ally, I hope to do what little I can to correct this. I want to encourage other allies to take the leap of getting engaged. Advocating for spaces that are less hostile to newcomers is only a tiny piece of the puzzle, of course. But I think it’s a good step toward combating white fragility, white inaction, and anxious allyship — though white folks must recognize that it is our ultimate responsibility to undertake this.

In short, I want to be mindful of my impact, whether I’m criticizing people for virtue signaling and engaging in counterproductive ways, or I’m the person being accused of that very thing. I strive to foster allyship environments that are more welcoming and more willing to meet people where they’re at, while also fostering a willingness on my end to make mistakes while remaining open to feedback and staying committed to learning and changing. That’s just me though. In the end, a pluralistic approach to effective social engagement is likely what’s needed. It’s not realistic or productive to prescribe a one-size-fits-all approach to such dynamic and prismatic realities. On top of that, it’s clear that what I’ve talked about so far is just the beginning. A single angry Facebook post does not an activist make. Activism is more than simply learning about a topic; it’s getting involved in ways that lead to direct social and political shifts. It’s taking concrete steps. This requires more than reading a book or posting a hashtag (though these are not necessarily meaningless steps either). Remember: this is just the beginning.

Are you an ally of these movements? Are you nervous about engaging with folks, looking stupid or making mistakes? All understandable. The key? Make mistakes! Look stupid! Wade into the muck of it. Get messy. But just be sure to LISTEN and LEARN while doing so. Put down those defenses. Own your ignorance. Don’t center discussions on your own emotional well-being, but don’t render yourself paralyzed to the point of doing nothing either. Engage. Speak up, speak out. Explore ways to be an effective activist. Understand that social justice work is ongoing. You do not arrive into a state of enlightenment. You have to keep fucking up and keep learning. The reward? A better planet. Keep up the momentum, you messy, ignorant ally, you.