Brave Man: rejecting ‘allyship’

With the release of Will Young’s Brave Man came a discussion about what it means to be a trans ally. Our guest writer ‘How Upsetting’ takes issue with the concept of allyship and asks who does it really benefit?


No-one would have predicted that a Will Young video would inspire comment pieces at all, let alone in 2015. Yet Brave Man inspired two Guardian pieces in one day due to its depiction of a trans man, played by a trans male actor. As these pieces note, reaction to the video was mixed and it led to a (small) reignition of the debate around the concept of ‘allies’ (the subject of Owen Jones’ column.) As a result, Paris Lees took to Twitter to praise some ‘trans allies’:

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This list was illuminating for all of the wrong reasons. Aside from overwhelmingly being made up of celebrities and ‘the commentariat’ (which I’ll come back to later), it implicitly suggested a particular definition of ‘trans’. It did not, for example, suggest that any trans people could be harmed by Islamophobia (see Cathy Newman’s lying about being ‘ushered out’ of a mosque), racism (Grace Dent’s appalling take on teenagers who join ISIS, suitably deconstructed here) or the use of AIDS and ‘tranny’ as casual punchlines.

The inclusion of the managing editor of The Sun, renowned for its bigotry and extreme right-wing views, was particularly breathtaking but perhaps unsurprising as Lees writes for it. What the list seemed to represent, then, was less ‘allies of all trans people’ than ‘allies of trans people like Paris Lees and Paris Lees’. Indeed, Owen Jones was included in the list and returned the favour by liberally quoting Lees in his column defending allies:

“Paris Lees is passionate about winning trans allies through the impressive awareness raising project All About Trans, and is irritated when there’s ‘a big backlash against anyone who tries to be an ally’. They should be given space to grow and educate themselves, she believes. But she puts the anger of many trans activists in an important context: ‘I don’t know of any trans people not deeply damaged by discrimination, and so there’s lots of angry people out there.’ An ally will get it wrong and upset those they want to support. But the reaction surely is to listen and understand an anger that erupts from a toxic mixture of prejudice and marginalisation.” [Owen Jones]

Jones is savvy enough to anticipate the pitfalls of defending the concept of ‘allyship’ in his opening paragraph, suggesting you may get accused of ‘drowning out’ minority voices or ‘making it about you’. Yet of course this is what the column does, with its lengthiest paragraph being about Jones’ previous experience of writing about trans rights. Someone who identifies as an ‘ally’ to trans people writing in defence of ‘trans allies’ can’t help but seem somewhat self-indulgent, especially when you’ve been criticised for e.g. sitting on a panel called ‘How To Be Happy And Transgender‘. Even Jack Monroe’s column is angled as a defence of the video from those criticising it.

The inclusion of the managing editor of The Sun, renowned for its bigotry and extreme right-wing views, was particularly breathtaking but perhaps unsurprising as Lees writes for it.

Yet if someone trying to be an ally should, as Paris Lees suggests, ‘be given space to grow and educate themselves’, why approach criticism largely originating from other trans people as unwarranted and unhelpful? The framing of ‘ally’ here is quite a typical one: it suggests that people deserve props for ‘trying’ and for ‘speaking out’. This implies that there is some place we arrive at where we are ‘enlightened’, whether that be with regards to gender, sexuality, race, disability or whatever. There is no such place. Whomever we are, we are always engaged in an everyday battle to overcome the mental barriers of what bell hooks calls white supremacist capitalist patriarchy. We cannot escape this and, as hooks’ term underlines, we particular cannot escape the myriad of ways in which these oppressions interact and intersect

The concept of ‘allies’ largely negates this idea of constant struggle, replacing it with the risible notion that you deserve praise for ‘trying’ not to be racist, transphobic, sexist or homophobic. For me, it lessens the complex humanity of those at the sharp end of these kinds of oppression and positions them as abstract groupings. They are presented as learning tools, as chances to show how ‘good’ you are (note Lees’ ‘who’ve gone out of their way to be friends to trans people’ as if it’s a project) and at its most cynical, as marketing opportunities. It’s notable that, in the LGBTQ+ world at least, the term is most commonly applied to the kind of people Paris Lees listed: celebrities and those in positions of some power. Take this recent Gay Times tweet:

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‘A straight ally in every sense.’

What does this even mean? It seems to boil down to ‘he says he thinks homophobia is bad, loves his gay fans and poses in his pants with a rainbow painted on his torso’. It’s absolutely nothing to do with oppression and everything to do with boosting his profile. In the process of celebrating this drivel, we are complicit in being patronised and erasing the many differences within our communities. Attitude gives an award called ‘Honorary Gay’ to straight people (who, if recent recipient Lorraine Kelly is anything to go by, merely say nice things about gays) while many lap up the self-serving ‘charity’ of Ben ‘gays love grooming‘ Cohen or the Warwick Rowers with their UKIP supporting ‘leader‘.

This implies that there is some place we arrive at where we are ‘enlightened’, whether that be with regards to gender, sexuality, race, disability or whatever. There is no such place.

It’s a neat bait and switch: having benefited (in varying degrees) from white supremacist capitalist patriarchy, ‘allies’ then elevate themselves again by feigning to oppose aspects of it in the most weak manner imaginable. Yet we see ‘allyship’ actually serving to reinforce aspects of this by policing the kind of ‘minority’ we’re supposed to (aspire to) be – e.g. as a gay man ‘allyship’ tells me that I am supposed to fit into white supremacist capitalist patriarchy as far as possible rather than challenge it. “Look, this rich and successful white man thinks gays should be able to get married – and you complain?!

Indeed, as we see in the columns about Brave Man, anyone who responds to ‘allyship’ with strong criticism quickly finds the limits of how much their voice is truly valued. They will inevitably be accused of being ‘cynical’, ‘ungrateful’, ‘unreasonable’, ‘angry’. The responses to Bahar Mustafa and the consent lessons at Warwick are prominent examples of people feeling attacked by having forms of oppression raised because they think they’re on the right side already. Celebrating ‘allyship’ does not lend itself to self-reflection or accepting criticism but instead places individual ego at the centre of social justice. When I wrote about the absurdity of Ben Cohen appearing on Newsnight to discuss homophobia, I was attacked by Antony Cotton (no  less) who seemed to think I should be grateful for Cohen’s ‘activism’. Any criticism is accepted entirely on the terms of the ‘ally’ and supporters.

The question at the heart of all this, then, is inevitably ‘ally to whom?’ To return to Paris Lees’ tweets as an example, many trans people are clearly excluded by those she deems as ‘allies’ (particularly trans people of colour). When Jones writes that “trans people are basically where gay people were in the 1980s” it doesn’t seem to occur to him that many queer people are still there in many ways. The recent OUTstanding list of business ‘allies‘, meanwhile, includes such luminaries as the union-busting, tax-avoiding Richard Branson and a veritable horde of execs at morally dubious firms. These people are certainly not my allies by any stretch of the imagination yet, in ally discourse, I am supposed to celebrate them because they have LGBTQ+ networks, have diversity targets or enable people to put rainbows on their Facebook celebrating ‘equal marriage’ (which was only ‘equal’ for some).

Indeed, as we see in the columns about Brave Man, anyone who responds to ‘allyship’ with strong criticism quickly finds the limits of how much their voice is truly valued.

Only a robust, intersectional approach which recognises our full humanity can counter this. Of course representation matters but to suggest, as Owen Jones does, that ‘solidarity’ = ‘building coalitions’ = ‘allies’ is wrong. We have to reject the idea that ‘trying’ is worth either our gratitude or our celebration. We try because we are human and because we care about other humans, not because it’s an ostentatiously ‘good’ thing to do. We should always be able to criticise and always open to criticism. We should not be complicit in our own reduction: do not celebrate being patronised by celebrities, do not rejoice when media companies worth hundreds of millions ‘amplify our voices’ without paying us, do not award executives who make positive noises on equality while enabling industrial scale tax avoidance and helping arm dictators. The kind of ‘allyship’ which has entered the mainstream bears little relation to anything of true value. Rather it brings a host of problems and few benefits. I am not an ally.

Follow How Upsetting on Twitter (@How_Upsetting)

2 thoughts on “Brave Man: rejecting ‘allyship’

  1. I’m a white American. Before I had the word “genderqueer” to describe myself, I was wanting to be supportive in the struggles various communities of color face in this country. So I started following various blogs, many of them informal. One thing that struck me was a dialogue that sort of went like, (A white person): “I want to support POC but am scared of messing up!” (A person of color): “It’s cool that you want to be supportive, but you have to be ready to accept that some folks may not want your help.” Later when I found myself in Chicago, living four blocks away from a live sit-in at a public elementary school by Hispanic moms and their kids, I asked my boss/former professor at the time (Anne Elizabeth Moore, author of Unmarketable) what I should do. She told me “If you go over there, that’s cool, but ask them what they need, and just do that. Do only what you are asked to do.”
    So I’ve observed that a lot of people who want to be supportive haven’t come from backgrounds where critique of their work is commonplace. Fields like the arts and sciences, where peer review and class critiques happen regularly. When you attempt to give feedback to someone who hasn’t learned the ability to distinguish what they do from who they are, they get overwhelmed with a cocktail of a bit guilt & shame, mixed with their own defense against feeling those emotions. It’s very exhausting to explain to someone that what they have done or are doing is inappropriate. In my hometown, where we are currently trying to pass an ammendment to the existing non-discrimination policy, there is an organization *entirely staffed by and highlighting the professional profiles of* straight, cisgender business & community leaders. I gave them my feedback as a queer, as a person with community organizing training and much fresh grassroots experience, and as a person who was working on a bachelor’s degree analyzing visual media at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (the program is small and new and sometimes silly but it’s called Visual and Critical Studies). For my feedback I was absolutely shunned by the coalition I was getting involved with, and a lot of this had to do with the straight, cisgender people in leadership in that coalition and the field organizer from the Human Rights Campaign. Karin Quimby made herself infamous when she, a month prior to my meeting her in Jacksonville, told a transgender man that his trans pride flag was not welcome at a rally for marriage equality, because it was off message.

    So, giving feedback to potential allies is an exhausting process. But I know that there were many times that I didn’t quite enjoy my own learning process in being a better supporter of POC. It’s tough to face your own privilege. And I feel that without enough role models in real life (like I had in AEM), fewer people will understand what is an appropriate approach to beinf supportive. Access to intra-community conversations is one way of learning (reading people venting about their bad experiences with allies is a great way to learn what not to do) but you don’t need to add your own commentary all the time!

    Thank you for this!

    Like

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