This essay is specifically written for people who consider themselves allies to the LGBTQ+ community. If you, yourself, are LGBTQ+, then you can either move along or read this thing anyway because reading is fun. I’m not in charge of you. (TW, though — I’m actually going to talk about all the bad stuff that’s been happening.)
And if you’re a cis-het person who doesn’t support queer and trans people, I invite you to fuck directly off until you reach hell forever you absolute garbage shit toilet.
That felt good. Okay.
Now that we have our audience narrowed, I’d like to talk about allyship. Specifically, we’re going to discuss the way things are right now for your LGBTQ+ friends and family, and what you, as an ally, can (/should) be doing about it, especially during Pride month. And thank you, John Oliver, for that format.
Let’s start with how things are going right now. You may have noticed that it’s been getting dicey out there for LGBTQ+ folks. Or maybe you haven’t noticed. It’s hard to pay attention to what’s going on these days without wanting to set fire to whatever building you’re currently occupying.
For those in the latter category, allow me to briefly recap: This is, by far, worse than the Bush years. There is a growing, loud, powerful, violent movement of hate spreading across the country. Anti-LGBTQ+ legislation — especially against trans people — has passed at record levels in state houses across the U.S. We’re the topic you’re not allowed to talk about in Florida schools. Ours are the books that are being banned. Angry men are showing up to drag shows with guns, people are making loud and hateful scenes to push brands to stop supporting the community, and in the past year, every LGBTQ+ person with the smallest social media presence has definitely been called a groomer or a pedophile by more than one person. (“Groomer” is the new “F*ggot,” btw). The rhetoric is venomous and violent. Everywhere. It is undeniable that there hasn’t been a more dangerous time for LGBTQ+ folks in decades.
With all this fire spinning around us, many, if not all, of your LGBTQ+ friends are legitimately, profoundly scared. We don’t talk about it out loud (we, as a group, tend have a lot of practice trying not to bring the mood down). We don’t even discuss it with each other, really. Not often, anyway. But let’s just say there’s a reason the door-twink is looking in your bag, and I’m not the only queer I know who always clocks exactly where the gay bar exits are in case something goes down.
As I hope I’ve effectively established, then — it’s bad and it’s scary and it’s depressing. And now we’re headed into Pride, and we just know, in the midst of trying to celebrate our community and support each other, we’re all going to get screamed at or worse. Potentially much worse.
So… That’s what’s been going on with us…
With things as they are, a lot of cis-het allies are (or should be) asking us what they can do. And Pride provides an excellent opportunity to start practicing behaviors that will keep your ally card active all year round.
First and foremost, please understand that we desperately need you right now. Like — if there’s ever been a time to prove you weren’t just being a poseur with that red equal sign profile pic back in 2012, now is that time. You’re up, bros.
What you can start with is to just check in on us. I know that sounds weird, and even some of the LGBTQ+ readers of this essay are going to roll their eyes a little. But think about this — We’re currently experiencing all of the same life stressors that you experience, and we just got through the same pandemic you did, except we’re also getting yelled at regularly and our government is making our existence illegal. That’s…very hard. So check on us. Bring us a casserole. Send us a fail gif. Whatever you’re good at, especially any time some new dark and depressing attack on our community hits the news. Even if we don’t actually need it at that moment, it’ll show us that you’re paying attention and that you understand how bad it is.
Then — and I can’t stress this enough — the most important job you have as an ally is to show up, both in real life and in virtual spaces. If you’re able, Google your state’s LGBTQ+ advocacy organization and find out when they’re bussing people to the capitol to lobby or protest. List your pronouns in your email signature and push for LGBTQ+ diversity and inclusion programming in your workplace. Be outspoken and confrontational when you see even “mild” bigotry on the train or at the grocery store. Physically stand between the hateful protestors and your LGBTQ+ friends. And never — ever — pass by a comment or tweet that denigrates LGBTQ+ folks without saying something. Ridicule the speaker. Stand up for your friends. We’ve been taking that heat for a while now, and it’s only gotten worse. We need to physically see that we’re not in this alone.
I know that sounds like I’m asking a lot. And I am. In normal times, maybe it would be okay to just put a sticker on your car and get mad at your homophobic uncle at Thanksgiving. But these are extraordinary times, and tweeting “love is love” just isn’t enough right now. We need you to use just a little bit of that beautiful privilege you possess to tamp this stuff down and take some of the heat off. We’re not asking you to take all of it — we’re pretty strong, as a group — but SOME of it, for God’s sake.
If you’re doing this right, you’re going to experience some discomfort. People will yell at you. You might have moments when you feel unsafe. People might even think you, yourself, are a member of the LGBTQ+ community, and treat you accordingly.
When that happens, try remembering two things about yourself, your privilege, and your LGBTQ+ friends. First, confronting hate is less dangerous for you than it is for them. And second, your LGBTQ+ friends are experiencing that discomfort on a disturbingly regular basis. In 2023, that discomfort is a fact of life for us. And that isn’t good for anyone’s mental health.
I think the best way to conclude this is to repeat what I said above — we need you, folks. Yes, we’re strong. Yes, we’ve always fought tooth and nail for our rights, and we’re not stopping now.
But right now, we’re losing. Badly. And we’re not the ones most likely to turn that around — you are.
When we look back at 2023, I only hope that I and your other LGBTQ+ friends will be able to turn to you and say “Thank you for standing up for us back then. Thank you for helping us stop it.”
