Real Friends are Allies Too

by Vanessa Freeman and Monnica Williams

When considering what it means to be an ally, this is perhaps exemplified by a remarkable young woman named Vanessa Freeman and her fight for her friend that became something much larger. “My classmates liked to believe they were progressive, politically aware, and diverse,” she said. “But, when people are confronted with differences outside of their experience and comfort zone...it can be hard to remember how to be accepting and accommodating.”

John had to change in the girls' locker room.

Source: publicdomainstockphotos/Dreamstime

Her friend—let's call him John—was one of only two people in her high school who openly identified as trans. She had known him for many years and witnessed his gradual transition, name and pronoun change over that time, believing that in a school as forward-thinking as theirs, he would be easily accepted. She was surprised at how hard it was for people to get his name right, and angered by those who provokingly referred to him as “it.” She remembers John having to change in the girls' locker room and getting berated when he attempted to correct his pronouns.

What is an ally?

Allies are members of a dominant group that work to dismantle systems of oppression experienced by people in stigmatized or marginalized groups. Allies include white people who work to end racism, men who confront sexism, heterosexual people who fight against homophobia, and non-indigenous people who engage in decolonizing processes. Allies recognize the unearned privilege they receive from society’s patterns of injustice and take responsibility for creating change. To be an ally, it is not enough to simply claim allyship, refrain from discrimination against others, or have positive attitudes about diversity. Allies actively support justice, promote the rights of others, and work to eliminate social inequalities that may benefit allies. Allyship is hard.

Vanessa recalls a school trip to Barcelona, with John sitting on the hot beach in an oversized sweater, sunburnt and dysphoric, as she begged permission from the teachers to take him back to the hotel. A teacher shook her head at them, saying he should just remove the sweater or go swimming, and that “everybody is self-conscious of their body.” There seemed to be a disconcerting lack of education surrounding the issue, and even worse, a disturbing lack of concern. But even though Vanessa attended a progressive American school in Berlin, she was no stranger to these ideas.

Fear and Hate

“I used to spend my summer vacations in America with my cousins,” Vanessa shared. “One summer, something incredible happened. Same-sex marriage was legalized in all fifty states.” While people all over the country were celebrating, riding home from church, she was confused by the tense atmosphere inside the car in contrast to the loud parades down the street. She remembers her aunt's stone-faced expression as they drove past the celebrating crowds. “Homosexuality is a sin,” she said. “Homosexuality is a sin.” Vanessa parroted back to her mother that Fall. That was the last summer she spent with those relatives.

“There are only two genders,” Vanessa had been told. “Perhaps if people had seen what I saw or had been subjected to the terrible things he was subjected to,” she said, “they would realize the uselessness, the unimportance of that idea.”

The school bathrooms became unsafe, as people judged and berated John until he stopped using them altogether. When the issue was brought up with the school administrators, they suggested bringing in a portable or allowing some faculty bathroom access. These “solutions” seemed absurd—asking a student to go outside, like a dog, or granting a designated bathroom break was degrading. Every floor of the school had at least two bathrooms, and yet the prospect of making even one into a gender-neutral bathroom seemed unfathomable.

Making a Difference

Vanessa considered ways to help teachers better understand the profound discomfort her friend was experiencing in a way that was not at odds with the traditional values or reputation of the school. “Compassion can coexist with tolerance,” she noted. When ongoing construction conveniently left five sign-free bathrooms on the new floors, and the request for gender-neutral bathrooms was stalled, allies hoped and planned and lobbied for a week for some accommodations. By the end of the week, however, the bathrooms all had their respective signs, none of which were gender-neutral.

Undaunted, she wrote a carefully worded email to the headmistress and prepared a presentation hoping to educate her classmates and rally support for trans-rights. She was gratified that the planning and organizing started to bear fruit—the presentation was permitted and not censored!

The presentation garnered a mixed response, with some students acting congratulatory, and others condemning, but it was clear that there was no going back. Persistence, and the idea of equality of access for all students, seemed to have an effect. The school accepted the proposal allowing a single gender-neutral sign on one top-floor bathroom. It was a victory, of sorts.

Vanessa and the others who helped push through this small victory were most grateful for the support of forward-thinking teachers and others whose minds were changed during this process. However, although they were able to change the school, it was sobering to recognize the inability to make a change in the minds and hearts of so many fellow classmates. It was frustrating how little they seemed to understand or were willing to learn. It seemed impossible for them to grasp that a person's dignity was more important than their own temporary discomfort or inconvenience. In the end, it became apparent that they would have to be carefully taught on matters of compassion and empathy but could not be moved in that moment.

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A year later, Vanessa is now a freshman at Bryn Mawr College and still considers John a friend. “I wish we could have done more,” she says wistfully. “I hated seeing John climb eight flights of stairs just to use the restroom.” Nevertheless, that all-geneder bathroom is still there.

“We changed something of importance. We granted some dignity to a person who was forgotten, belittled, and considered unimportant.” And that change, in and of itself, is significant.