Becoming an Ally

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Becoming an Ally

2 Min Read

Allies are not born; they are made. And the first tool of an ally is self-awareness—an unflinching willingness to explore one’s own privilege, assumptions, and impact.

— Anne Bishop, Becoming an Ally (1994)

I am a gay man in recovery. I know marginalization. I know what it’s like to be othered, stigmatized, pushed aside. But I’m also white and male—which means my voice carries weight in rooms where others’ voices get ignored. This is intersectionality: we all hold multiple identities at once, experiencing both disadvantage and unearned advantage. Both truths exist simultaneously, and the work is learning to navigate both with integrity.

Anne Bishop is a Canadian community organizer and adult educator who has spent decades working toward social justice. In her book Becoming an Ally, she draws on her own experience as both oppressed and oppressor to explore how people with privilege can authentically support those facing different forms of marginalization. Her work helped establish “ally” as a core concept in anti-oppression movements.

Bishop teaches that all oppressions are connected, part of one complex system. My liberation as a gay man with concurrent disorders is bound up with the liberation of Black people, Indigenous people, women, trans people, disabled people—everyone the system has marginalized. When I work only for my own freedom, I’m still playing by the oppressor’s rules. We rise together or not at all.

Good intentions aren’t enough. Systems of power shift not through empathy alone, but through humility, accountability, and courage. Allyship isn’t an identity to claim; it’s a practice. A verb. It begins not with speaking up, but with creating space to listen.

Recovery gives me a framework for this work. Step 10 teaches me that self-examination is daily practice—I continue to take personal inventory and when I’m wrong, I promptly admit it. Step 12 teaches me to carry the message not as a savior but as a companion in a common struggle. This is what allyship looks like: showing up in solidarity, not superiority.

Bishop distinguishes between guilt and responsibility. Guilt paralyzes—it centres on my feelings instead of others’ freedom. Responsibility moves me toward action. Allyship means using privilege with intention: listening more than speaking, amplifying voices that often go unheard, showing up consistently even when nobody’s watching.

In recovery rooms, this isn’t abstract. Who gets heard? Who gets dismissed? Who feels safe enough to stay? These questions determine whether people live or die. If my recovery community isn’t safe for everyone, it’s not truly safe for anyone.

Where do I still centre on myself instead of those most impacted?

Who am I not listening to?

What concrete action can I take today to move from good intentions to real impact?

How can I practice solidarity with the same dedication I bring to my recovery?