As long as humanity has roamed the earth, hate has existed in various forms. While some may prefer to ignore the sins of our past, the roots of bigotry in a nation founded on stolen land and the forced labor of enslaved people may never fully be eliminated.

Today, bigotry appears in countless ways, sometimes so subtle it may not even look like hate at first glance. For example, a support group for LGBTQIA+ individuals affected by religious trauma is about to launch in my city. On a Facebook post announcing the group, a woman commented, “What if I’m not LGBTQIA+ but I’m an ally with religious trauma—I’m a recovering Catholic?”

At first, this comment may sound harmless, even supportive. However, rather than practicing true allyship, the commenter attempted to center her own story in a space created for a marginalized community. By labeling herself an “ally,” she shifted the focus away from those the group is designed to support and turned the spotlight onto herself.

This moment reminded me of something I learned in my counseling studies: Allyship is not a title we can give ourselves, nor should it be used as a form of virtue signaling. Instead, it’s about how our actions are experienced by those we claim to stand with, and only they can decide whether we’ve earned that title.

What Does it Mean to be an Ally?

Have you ever been harmed by someone’s actions, only to receive a half-hearted apology like, “I’m sorry, it was never my intention to…” followed by a desperate attempt to remind you what a good person they are? Did it feel like their reputation mattered more than how you were affected?

Or maybe you’ve done this yourself. I know I have. We could delve into the psychology of why people center themselves, but that could take some time. Instead, let’s talk about how this idea applies to being an ally to marginalized communities.

The simple truth is: It doesn’t matter whether we “mean well.” It only matters whether we “do good.” If we want to make amends for past beliefs or behaviors, it will take much more than a statement in our bio.

We must begin to define “ally” as action, not identity, a verb rather than a noun. Being an ally is about the steps we take, big or small, to speak up for, love, and protect individuals who have experienced marginalization.

Just like that Facebook commenter, when we label ourselves as allies, we risk shifting the focus away from the community that needs support and onto our own experiences. Not only that, but when we begin to believe we’ve already “done the work” and achieved the goal of being an ally, we can become complacent and close ourselves off to further growth and healing. One of the most damaging effects of self-proclaimed allyship is the silencing of those who have been directly impacted.

Accountability, Humility, Relationship

Privilege and marginalization are not a simple dichotomy. Many of us have experienced both, often simultaneously. Any privilege we have should be leveraged to, as Proverbs 31:8 (CEB) says, “Speak out on behalf of the voiceless, and for the rights of all who are vulnerable.” This must be done with humility. We need to be open to correction, listen more than we speak, and prioritize our actions over our words.

Developing genuine relationships with marginalized individuals is essential, but no relationship should be entered into with ulterior motives. We should never befriend marginalized individuals just to “be a good person” or use them as tutors. It’s a fine line to walk, but honesty, self-reflection, and accountability can help. Remember: Allyship is an ongoing effort, not a lifetime certification.

Live it Out

Instead of focusing on labels that make us feel good about ourselves, let’s focus on the ways we can show up for marginalized communities through our everyday choices.

Quick to Listen, Slow to Speak

One of the most meaningful ways to support marginalized communities is by creating space for open conversations with individuals who have personally experienced marginalization. When the dialogue begins, step back and listen with intention. Let their perspectives take center stage, and resist the impulse to immediately share your own story. While everyone faces challenges, and many of us carry deep pain from our own experiences, there is a time and place to share those. In moments like these, our role is not to compare or redirect but to validate and hold space. By honoring the experiences of marginalized groups, we foster safety, understanding, and the kind of genuine support that allows healing to take root.

Believe Survivors

When individuals share their experiences of harm, oppression, or discrimination, believe them. Rather than immediately responding with defensiveness or attempting to justify your own actions or those of others, take a moment to pause, reflect, and continue listening.

Many of us were raised in environments where stories of harm were routinely dismissed as exaggerations or false accusations. It can be uncomfortable to realize how often we may have overlooked or invalidated these painful truths. Sitting with that discomfort is a necessary part of growth, which allows us to acknowledge the reality of experiences we once doubted.

True allyship requires learning to validate experiences that may be unfamiliar or difficult to understand. It is not enough to simply hear these stories; we must actively work toward understanding them. This ongoing process helps us become more empathetic allies who honor and support the voices of those who have been harmed.

Educate Yourself

Don’t rely on friends, colleagues, or acquaintances to educate you about their communities. Take the initiative to learn by following authors, educators, and activists who speak from lived experience. TED Talks, podcasts, books, blogs, and articles by individuals from marginalized backgrounds are all great resources.

When I first read The Color of Compromise by Jemar Tisby, I was already deep into my own process of deconstructing my faith. The injustices and harm I had personally experienced within the evangelical church had left me disillusioned and searching for answers. While my experiences were different from the racism Tisby describes, his book added a whole new layer to my understanding. It revealed just how deeply racism is woven into the fabric of institutions I once trusted, and challenged me to confront realities I hadn’t previously considered.

Since then, I’ve made it a priority to seek out and follow people with a wide range of backgrounds and perspectives on social media. I regularly read books, articles, and listen to podcasts by those whose experiences are different from my own. This ongoing learning isn’t just about gathering information—it’s about challenging my assumptions, broadening my empathy, and reminding myself that allyship means never assuming I know enough.

Intervene When You Witness Harmful Behavior

How many of us have remained silent while inwardly disapproving of a racist, homophobic, or sexist joke? It can be intimidating to confront people who tell offensive jokes. Although many of us grew up hearing “sticks and stones,” the fact is that words can and do hurt—especially when directed at people who have experienced marginalization. We must speak up when harmful words are spoken, as well as when words turn into violence. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” Now more than ever, this is true. People are being harmed in real time, and those who aren’t directly affected must speak, act, and use their privilege to make a difference.

Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Achieving equity requires personal time, money, and effort from all of us. Use your resources to support businesses, organizations, and initiatives led by marginalized people. But it’s not just about where you spend your money, it’s also about where you refuse to spend it. We all saw the impact of the Target boycott. Although many say, “Too little, too late,” they changed their policy and replaced their CEO. Imagine what could happen if we brought these efforts to our own communities. Those who peddle hate are organized and focused. We must be, too.

Never Stop Learning

Growth and healing require ongoing self-reflection, learning, and challenging biases. Continue reading, listen to diverse perspectives, think critically, and question even the most trusted sources. If you’re called out for harmful behavior, avoid defensiveness. Instead, pause, reflect, and change your actions.

Show up consistently.

Whether through advocacy, volunteering, or simply being present in difficult conversations, living as an ally takes time, consistency, and genuine effort.

Am I Really an Ally?

This post is certainly not exhaustive, but I hope it serves as a good starting point. You can begin your path toward becoming a better ally today with a moment of self-reflection. Ask yourself, “Do my words and actions prove I’m the ally I want to be? If not, what needs to change?”

Let’s Reflect Together

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

If you’re putting in the effort to be a more supportive ally, what are some ways you’ve found to be supportive without centering yourself? What challenges have you faced, and what have you learned along the way?

If you have experienced marginalization, what does an ally look like to you? What kind of support has made a real difference in your life? What would you like more people to understand?

Please share your experiences or questions in the comments. Let’s learn from each other.