Speak up

Our childhood memories stay with us and surface randomly through adult life. 

This morning I woke up after having a strong memory of a girl who was in my first school and second school and who lived around the corner from me.

Everytime I felt scared or was being picked on she would be there sticking up for me. There were many times when I couldn’t speak up for myself, and she would always scare away the bullies who called me names. She would swear and scream at them something really naughty and chase them away.

That was my first encounter with allyship.

Thank you Hayley French…

When people ask me what I think about workplace toxicity, I always think about allyship. When people ask me how to build a strong relationship in the workplace, I always say allyship.

What I mean is this: speak up for someone when they can’t speak up for themselves. And do it there in the moment when it’s happening.

I don’t think it’s helpful when something happens or someone says something rude or undermining or disrespectful and nothing is said, and then afterwards you go up to them privately and say, “That wasn’t right.” True allyship needs to be loud and needs to happen in the moment as it’s happening.

That takes guts.

Because the person it’s happening to might not be able to speak up in that moment. They might be being triggered or might freeze. They might doubt themselves.

I experienced that as a child. People would call me racist names and I wouldn’t feel like I could speak up for myself because it was happening to me. I could speak up for other people when it happened to them, but I couldn’t speak up for myself when it was happening to me.

But Hayley did.

Knowing that she would say something made it bearable. It validated that it was wrong.

So when you’re at work and you find yourself in a situation where somebody is being treated unfairly, undermined, disrespected, or overlooked, say something in the moment.

Be someone’s Hayley.

I see allyship isn’t a quiet conversation afterwards.
It’s courage in real time.

—

Looking back, I notice that my passion for allyship comes from being on the other side of it. It comes from experiencing allyship at a really young age. Only as I’ve gone back through my own timeline and connected the dots have I realised that I experienced allyship very young, and by somebody who probably wouldn’t be celebrated for it. She wasn’t doing it to be a good person. She was doing it because she instinctively knew right from wrong.

It’s interesting because this person at school was probably quite mischievous, in trouble a lot with the teachers. But at the very core, she already had the confidence to execute allyship. And allyship actually requires confidence. You have to be confident enough to get involved in something that isn’t technically your concern.

As children we’re often told to mind our own business. There is a fine line between minding your own business and getting involved in something where you could actually stand up for somebody. And I don’t know if it’s a Brit thing, but “mind your own business” can actually be quite a problem in business.

There are also deeper cultural layers to this. In many Black families, because racism was so violent in the 50s and 60s and before, grandparents would tell parents, and it would pass down the generations: keep your head down. Don’t cause too much trouble and don’t get any attention, try to go unseen.

Trying to go unseen became safety. Because being seen could mean danger. Being noticed could mean being attacked, harmed, or worse. So staying quiet wasn’t weakness. It was survival.

And when something is ingrained through generations, it doesn’t just disappear because the world changes. On a cellular level, for many people of colour, it has been safer to stay quiet.

So when we now tell people to speak up, to challenge, to call things out, it requires going against instincts that were once protective.

That’s why allyship matters.

Because sometimes the person being mistreated isn’t just silent. They are navigating history, culture, survival, and memory all at once.

This morning, half asleep, that memory played in my mind. And I wanted to honour it.

Because one loud, mischievous little girl taught me what courage in real time looks like.

—

On the way to school, I was talking to my sons about allyship, and I was explaining in more detail what actually happened. How she would swear at them, chase them, and sometimes even hit them and punch them. And then she would get in trouble.

And I think the message it sent was this: when you stick up for somebody, you might get in trouble. And no one will actually acknowledge that you were in trouble because you were sticking up for somebody.

Maybe then, at 12, she didn’t have the communication skills or the emotional capacity to respond in a mature way, but she responded in her own way.

As adults now, we have a duty to our fellow work colleagues and fellow humans that when we see somebody being treated unfairly and it’s nothing to do with us, I encourage you to say, “This is an opportunity for me to be an ally here.”

And until you’ve had someone be in allyship to you, I don’t think you’ll ever really understand how wonderful it is to experience allyship, to be on the receiving end of allyship.