25 Ways to Be a Better Advocate
Advocacy can be really hard sometimes. It can be difficult to know how, when, and where to put your efforts, especially if you are not part of the marginalized class. Which organizations do I donate to? Which organizations are profiting off exploited queer labor? What labels are offensive and which ones aren’t? Who can I ask if I have a question that might be offensive? Being an advocate can feel like walking into a minefield without a map. It can be strenuous emotionally, physically, spiritually, socially, and financially―especially if you have a queer loved one you are supporting.
In my years of advocacy and professional work, I see some common mistakes that enthusiastic advocates unwittingly make. I recognize most of these mistakes are unintentional, but it is my hope that with more intentional advocacy we can work together to make the world a safe and happier place for all queer folks―young and old, black and white, pansexual and asexual. Deliberate allyship is key to our success.
Here are 25 ways you can become a better advocate, in no particular order.
Be inclusive. The most common mistake I see in queer advocacy is putting on events, starting organizations, or writing books about queer people, but fail to actually include queer people. If you are starting a project, putting on a fireside, or holding an event, be sure to actually include queer people in your planning and execution. A fireside that features straight speakers talking about queer people is not queer inclusive. You actually have to include queer people, not just talk about including queer people.
Listen, learn, and change. If a queer person corrects you, your first response might be to defend yourself. Fight the urge to defend or explain your mistake and instead listen to the feedback given to you at the expense of the queer person. Feedback from a queer person means we care enough about you to continue to engage with you. There are plenty of people I don’t even bother to give feedback to because they simply aren’t worth my time. If you get feedback from a queer loved-one, they are saying “You’re worth my time, trust, labor, and love.”
Make space, not take space. If your advocacy is so loud you can’t hear the voices of queer people, it’s time to pull back and center marginalized voices.
Be intersectional. The queer community is not a monolith. We come from every race, nation, religion, economy, color, shape, and size. A chubby, autistic, black, trans woman does not experience “queerness” the same way a cisgender, gay, white, able-bodied male does. This does not mean you need to silence white, gay men’s voices. No. This means you need to work even harder lift voices that aren’t being heard. Make sure your advocacy includes varied races, gender, orientations, and abilities.
Support queer content. Watch, read, consume, and support media created by queer folks. It is important to watch and read material that is not simply about queer folks but made by queer folks. Listen to what queer folks have to say about their stories, not what straight people have to say about their stories.
Be humble. If you’ve been an advocate for many years it can be tempting to think you’ve got this queer advocacy thing figured out. You might even think you understand it better than actual queer folks. I’m queer. I have formal education in queer theory. I have been published multiple times. I have a queer child. I have been doing this work for years, and I still don’t have queer advocacy figured out. We all must stay humble in our advocacy.
Cite queer people in your work. If you got an idea from a queer person, cite them, tag them, promote them, and give credit where credit is due. If you are an academic, cite queer people in your queer research―even if it’s just a tweet. Queer people are doing the hard work of liberating ourselves through various mediums and you can help by lift queer voices.
Know when to wait on the sidelines. If you are non-queer and you hear a debate within the queer community this is your que to quietly listen as an observer. Do not call queer folks’ concerns and debates “petty in-fighting” when members within our community are discussing how to deal with cis-straight supremacy. If you don’t understand why a queer person feels sad seeing Dan Reynold’s wrapped in our rainbow flag or Sister Eubank talk about queer inclusion, you will never understand if you’re not willing to listen.
Don’t threaten to revoke your allyship when you get offended. I genuinely sympathize with the urge to stop being an advocate. It can be exhausting. Everyone needs a break from time to time. However, when you, as a straight person, threaten to revoke your allyship when a queer person corrects or offends you, you are telling us your are untrustworthy.
Put your social capital behind queer folks. Sometimes straight advocates seem to be more interested in helping other straight advocates than helping actual queer folks. If you’re in a social situation that causes you to put down a queer person to protect your status as an advocate, you’re doing queer advocacy wrong. Of course, helping straight and queer advocates are not mutually exclusive goals, but if you are marginalizing queer folks to protect straight, high profile advocates, there’s a problem.
Affirm queer feelings and experiences. Sometimes advocates want to tell queer folks how their reactions wrong―suggesting that a queer person should be more angry, sad, grateful, happy, or patient. Queer people get enough voices telling them they’re wrong that they don’t need fellow advocates telling them how their emotions, feelings, and reactions are wrong. Affirm them instead.
Don’t take the side of the bully. This one really hurts and it happens a lot. Telling queer folks to change themselves to fit the demands of a bully is not allyship. Here’s an example. “Intersex children should have surgery so they don’t get made fun of by others.” Though this is well intentioned, you are teaching your child that bending to the bully’s demands is more important than autonomy over their body.
Do not expect gold stars or cookies. Advocacy is about the people you’re supporting, not social status. If you’re doing it for the gold stars, cookies, or social status you might want to rethink you motives and how they are effecting the marginalized groups you profess to be advocating for.
Stop asking queer folks to be angry. Too often I see allies enraged over queer trauma and expect queer folks to be just as upset as they are. However, this isn’t new for us. We know our trauma. This is our world. You’re allowed to be upset about whatever upsets you, but do not ask us to be upset too. Don’t perpetuate our trauma, but constantly showing us our trauma. Some of us are actively avoiding it and live a healthy life. Don’t ask for our queer anger when we are still learning queer joy.
Stop telling us to leave our faith, school, or religion. There isn’t a shortage of people telling queer folks we don’t belong. We get told to leave the Church implicitly and explicitly by exMormons, DezNat, church leaders, professors, family members, and friends. You all sound nearly identical, please stop we don’t belong.
Share our successes. Instead of sharing social media posts about ally rage, which is often justified, try sharing posts about our queer successes. Highlight queer joy over bigoted outrage.
Be a friend. It sometimes feels like you are an advocate only when we are depressed, anxious, or suicidal. Don’t get me wrong, please show up at these critical times, but we are more than our trauma. Be a friend and you’ll find that moments of crisis will decrease.
Support all the letters in the queer community. If you have a gay child and your world is gay advocacy, that’s an excellent start! Thank you for your work and devotion. However, please understand there are many other letters in the queer community that also need your support and advocacy. The queer community is bigger than any single letter.
Make a donation. Advocacy takes money. Make a donation to queer led organizations and projects.
Educate yourself. Read books, sign up for classes, go to conferences, and attend workshops. If you can’t explain what intersex conditions are, take a few minutes to educate yourself. Learn about why intersex people are an import part of the queer community and not just a footnote for queer rights. Some of the most valuable labor advocates provide is basic education. Thank you to those of you who do this tirelessly. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed.
Share what you’ve learned. Teach your children, family, neighbors, and friends to be queer conscious and queer inclusive. Rooting out straight supremacy is a collective effort.
Get involved. Pick up the phone, participate in a rally, and vote. Call your representatives and government officials and let them know your concern for the LGBTQ+ community. Talk with your bishops, ministers, neighbors, and church leaders. Engage in the hard conversations that need to happen. I see so many of you doing this and I hope more follow your example.
Stretch yourself. Go outside your comfort zone and befriend people who are different than you―especially queer folks who are a difference race, faith, ability, or economic status than you.
Persist. Advocacy is tiring and exhausting. It can feel even more daunting when you have a voice in your head constantly pointing out the errors of your advocacy. I see the struggle, and I’m thankful for your persistence. Rooting our straight supremacy is a lifelong journey, but I trust we can persist together.
Queers, we need to be better advocates for each other. When a person in our community has a problem or concern, we should be the first to recognize and address their concern, not gaslight them out of their experience. Our differences aren’t weapons, but rather opportunities for understanding and inclusion. Let us be a shining example of our community motto: LOVE WINS.
If you made it this far, thank you for reading. I appreciate all that you do to help our community and I know my existence is better for it. May we rise together.
