"“Do you ever stick up for me?”
That question has been quietly nagging at my friendships with men since last fall when the “Access Hollywood” tapetore through the news cycle. The sound of Billy Bush snickering as Donald Trump talked about women in the most dehumanizing terms was devastating in its ease, and in how little it surprised me.
I know that my male friends are privy to those kinds of conversations, even if they don’t take part. I also know that some of them do take part. I know that they consider themselves to be good people who fundamentally care about women’s safety and equality...
What if fixing Pao’s toxic workplaces hadn’t fallen to her alone? I’m frequently contacted by young women weighing the (iffy) benefits and (massive) costs of calling out sexism in their male-dominated industries. I always think: Why is this even our responsibility to fix? Women didn’t invent sexism. Men did.
What we could really use, my guys, is some loud, unequivocal backup. And not just in public, when the tide of opinion has already turned and a little “woke”-ness might benefit you — but in private, when it can hurt."
I think one of my major, awful transition moments from child to adult was when I realized that most of my friends probably don't stand up for me. It probably hasn't even occurred to most of my friends that it's part of being a true friend to me.
Allyship is so simple, really, it's recognizing that by having one slightly shitty interaction you are sparing someone else a truly traumatic interaction.
Also, thinking about this, I trust my male friends to be "sticking up for me" more than my white friends... way more, actually.
FB: "“Do you ever stick up for me?” sounds childish, but I don’t know that gussying up the sentiment in more sophisticated language would enhance its meaning. It isn’t fun to be the one who speaks up." <-- actual question I want to ask my friends all the time but I'm scared of the answer?
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