2015 was a difficult year for the University. It was difficult because the University was confronted with the ghosts of “past” culture and “past” policy. As students, we thought ourselves ready to face and overcome these challenges. We, the millennials, armed with the promise of change, well-versed in trigger warnings and tired of politics as usual, in order to form a safer space, geared up for the fight, went out and protested. But then we hit a wall.
It wasn’t a new wall. It was a wall many social movements and politically-minded peoples deal with all the time. In addressing gender-based violence and racial violence, we found our coalitions weak, our empathy shallow and our allies fickle. Winston Churchill once said, “To each there comes in their lifetime a special moment when they are figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a very special thing, unique to them and fitted to their talents. What a tragedy if that moment finds them unprepared or unqualified for that which could have been their finest hour.” In 2015, tragedy came to the University when white liberals allied in the struggles against gender-based violence, racial violence and many other violences imposed on the marginalized were not prepared to engage the issues facing the University productively for the groups they claimed to support.
I witnessed one such moment of an unprepared ally at a protest against police brutality. The fellow protester, a white male I shall call “Bob,” began yelling at some of the police officers on the scene, getting into their faces and yelling, “F— the police and you f—ing pigs!” Bob was unprepared for this protest. At a nonviolent protest about police brutality, to antagonize police officers beyond the necessary disruption of business as usual not only detracted from the moment but endangered the lives of non-white protesters. Bob forgot that he could antagonize police with little to no consequence, while around the country black men, women and children were being assaulted for merely existing as black people. Black bodies are often already inscribed with danger before they act. Had the police officers felt threatened by Bob as they are with black bodies, then all of our bodies were subject to whatever punishment they administered because of Bob’s aggression. Bob forgot his positionality and his moment to allyship became unproductive. Later I recounted the story to a friend involved in social activism on the West Coast. She was shocked by Bob’s behavior because at her school they had often discussed protest techniques. Understanding positionality they have actively thought about where to place white bodies during confrontations with the police.
In that conversation I realized that our activist circles at the University, full of liberal and sympathetic whites, are not trained in the methods of social activism. As a result our protests movement fall short in supporting their marginalized peers at the University. Going forward, those who identify themselves as allies must figure out the methods of allyship tailored to differently marginalized people at the University and beyond. How they negotiate such moments will be the difference between productive social progress and social change as the “cool” thing to be a part of.
“Allyship” as a term was popularized in the United States by the LGBTQ movement. We were taught how to approach the issue and the ways in which we could best aid our friends and families in navigating complex social dynamics. “Allyship” as defined by the dominant LGBTQ movement is a readily available starting point for allies to understand their role in supporting marginalized people, but even this model has its own complications. Though the popular LGBTQ movement did not and still does not reach the depths of queer identities, it’s a zeitgeist of successful techniques for social movements. It is important we start translating what being an ally means to different social issues and here at the University.
Being an ally at the University could be many things. It could be learning how to properly protest, going to events outside your social circles or even as simple as not questioning people’s experiences unless they feel safe enough to share them with you. But here I too hit a wall. It is a wall that many academics, proselytizing from behind our computer screens encounter, turning words into action. I cannot tell you how to be a good ally to everyone. I can only tell you how to be a good ally to me. This means that the most important part of being an ally is the ability to be open to your friends and strangers. Allyship is about meeting people where they are and being good to them. As of now the best I can do is to write to spark dialogue and action on the matter. What’s next is up to all of us.
Jacqueline Akunda is a Viewpoint writer.