Enough Words: Allyship Demands Accountability to All Women

The Tarnished Legacy of Allyship

The term “ally” has been tarnished, warped by performative allyship—shallow words, empty promises, and actions designed more for appearances than change. Women’s skepticism toward so-called male allies is deeply earned. Generations of broken promises and systemic harm have eroded trust in the word itself. When men call themselves allies, the reaction is often distrust rather than hope—and it’s not hard to see why.

What Performative Allyship Looks Like

Performative allyship thrives on appearances. It’s about hashtags, public gestures, and apologies crafted to earn praise without addressing harm. True allyship demands more—advocating for systemic changes like pay equity, gender-based violence prevention, and diverse representation in leadership. Without addressing these barriers, gestures remain hollow.

Some men go further, weaponizing their “alliance” to gain trust only to exploit it. This betrayal leaves lasting damage, eroding trust in potential allies and making it harder for genuine solidarity to grow. Performative allyship doesn’t just fail women—it reinforces the very inequalities it claims to fight.

The Broader Impact

Performative allyship doesn’t just fail women—it actively enables harm. From wage gaps to bodily autonomy to the glass ceiling, systemic inequalities persist because too many men prioritize comfort over action. Allyship must mean more than words; it must mean challenging the status quo and dismantling structures—especially when it’s uncomfortable.

For men who’ve been called out during the #MeToo movement—and for those complicit through silence—you’ve caused immeasurable damage. You’ve betrayed trust, perpetuated abuse, and made it harder for genuine allies to be seen and believed.

Accountability and The Roots of Distrust

Accountability isn’t about self-preservation or public image. It’s about centering the needs of those harmed, listening without defensiveness, and ensuring lasting behavior changes. It involves dismantling systems of inequality, using your privilege to advocate for systemic change, and creating safer spaces where harm is less likely to occur.

My distrust of men doesn’t come from nowhere. It’s rooted in lived experiences—of silence, inaction, and systemic failures. When I’ve called out or reported problematic men, the responses I’ve received have been anything but reassuring. Too often, I’ve been met with silence—or worse, watched as the man in question faced no consequences at all. These experiences have shown me that even when harm is reported, the systems in place are designed to protect the perpetrator, not hold them accountable.

For men who have actively harmed women, accountability means owning it, facing the music, exiting power positions in which they might do so again, committing to reparative work — not to redeem yourself, but because it is what is owed. Anything else is just perpetuating the problem. Accountability is not just personal — it’s systemic. Allies must confront the systems of oppression that magnify violence against women by also becoming activists fighting to dismantle those systems.

Intersectionality in Action

True allyship centers all women, particularly those whose voices are often ignored—women of color, trans women, women with disabilities, and other women from marginalized groups. These women face intersecting oppressions that amplify systemic harm. Allyship that isn’t intersectional isn’t allyship at all.

Addressing systemic harm requires collective effort, but it also begins with personal accountability. I don’t and never will claim to have all the answers, but meaningful allyship involves a willingness to confront and address these layered oppressions. This might mean listening to and amplifying voices of marginalized communities, backing policies that attack inequities or learning from those already leading these efforts. It’s about being present where the change needs to happen and continuing even if doing so is uncomfortable or new.

Movements like #MeToo wouldn’t have come to exist without the leadership of marginalized women, like Tarana Burke, whose contributions are often downplayed. Men must not only recognize this but actively work to uplift these voices and dismantle the unique barriers these women face.

Lessons in Allyship

Addressing systemic harm requires collective effort, but it also begins with personal reflection and meaningful action—something I’ve learned through my own missteps. In my younger years, I thought being an ally meant speaking up loudly. Over time, women taught me that allyship often means stepping back—listening, creating space, and supporting quietly. It’s about actions, not labels.

This is why I no longer use phrases like “ally of all women” in public spaces or social media bios. Too many men have co-opted this language, turning it into a hollow signal. Real allyship is in what we do, not what we claim.

For years, I’ve done my work to amplify the work of women, to point out sexism in professional environments, to make sure women are credited and heard in creative collaboratives. I am far from perfect, and I hold myself accountable with myself to keep learning and improving. Allyship is not a destination, it is a continual, often messy, process of unlearning and growth that is rooted in humility and accountability in our daily actions.

The Path Forward

To the men reading this: allyship isn’t about asking for forgiveness or applause. It’s about showing up where you’ve failed to before—consistently and meaningfully. Women have led the way; now it’s your turn to follow, amplify, and help dismantle systems of harm. Are you listening more than you’re speaking? Are you calling out harmful behaviors, dismantling inequities, and amplifying women’s voices in your circles?

Few men have shown they are willing to meet these demands, but those who do prove that meaningful change—though rare—is possible. Allyship isn’t a badge; it’s a lifelong responsibility. Their actions remind us that change, while uncommon, is not impossible. True allyship is a choice—one that requires courage, humility, and unwavering consistency.

From Skepticism to Action

My distrust of men may be unshakable, but my trust in women is unwavering. Women have led the fight for change, often without the support they deserve. They’ve built movements, demanded accountability, and created spaces for equity. Their resilience and leadership are proof that even when men fail, progress continues.

To the women reading this: your distrust of men is valid, and your resilience is the backbone of progress. But you shouldn’t have to carry the weight of change alone. You deserve allies who act—not for recognition, but because accountability is what’s owed. You deserve to step back and focus on self-care while men finally take responsibility for dismantling what they helped create.

Women have long been at the forefront of movements for justice and equity—not because it’s their responsibility, but because too often, men have failed to step up. The fight continues because of you, and it’s time for men to finally take responsibility—not to lead, but to stand with you in dismantling what should never have been allowed to stand.