Allyship: Beyond Words and Appearances
Written by Jamad Hassan
Everywhere I turn these days, conversations about allyship are taking place. The word “ally” pops up on social media, in professional bios, and at conferences. It has become woven into how we talk about our values and the kind of people we strive to be. The title of ally is often self-declared and spoken with confidence. At first, hearing someone call themselves an ally may feel reassuring and signal safety or solidarity. However, that promise often goes unfulfilled.
As a non-Indigenous member of pipikwan pêhtâkwan, I continue to ask myself what being an ally means in practice. What am I learning from Indigenous Elders, colleagues, and communities? How am I showing up, and where do I still have work to do?
The Origins of Allyship
The term “ally” comes from the Latin word alligare, meaning “to bind together.” Originally, it referred to nations or groups joining forces during times of conflict for survival or to achieve a shared purpose. Allyship was rarely permanent and evolved as circumstances changed. In the historical context of settler colonialism, settlers frequently claimed to be allies of Indigenous communities. Often, these alliances were maneuvers to gain control of land and power, turning the word “ally” into a mask for inequality. This mask operated in subtle, yet damaging ways. On the surface, the language of allyship projected partnership and goodwill. However, beneath this promise lay deeply asymmetrical relationships, where settlers maintained power, controlled systems and defined the rules of engagement. In modern times, the title of ally remains most frequently claimed by those with more power and visibility within society, echoing this history.
When we use the word ally today, we should consider the legacy of the term, and how those origins may show up in its usage.
Allyship vs. Alignment
Reflecting on this history uncovers a distinction between allyship and alignment. Alignment is being in a state of agreement. It can manifest as policy commitments or joint ventures with marginalized communities. Alignment can be fleeting and may change when circumstances shift or when discomfort arises. In some circumstances, alignment may not require personal or organizational risk, and may show up when a cause is already accepted or funded. Being in a state of alignment with marginalized communities does not necessarily transform or challenge existing power structures, nor does it build collaborative spaces and partnerships. Instead, alignment may say, “I agree with you,” rather than, “I am accountable to you.” In this perspective, alignment can be strategic rather than relational.
Allyship as Performance
Similarly, performative allyship is more concerned with how support appears than how it serves. The focus of this approach is, “How are we being seen?” instead of, “How are we showing up?” Performative allyship often manifests in public statements and campaigns, rather than in meaningful collaboration and sustained action. Public acknowledgments may be made, yet Indigenous voices remain underrepresented in leadership positions and decision-making spaces. This appears as a rush to be seen as supportive, with little patience for the process of learning from and working alongside Indigenous Peoples
Relationship Instead of Recognition
Through my journey with pipikwan pêhtâkwan, I have come to learn that intentions are not measured by what you say about yourself, but by how your actions are felt and experienced over time. Trust and relationship develop gradually when nurtured by presence and reciprocity. It is important to take the time to visit without expectation and to understand what respect looks like to each individual and community.
Practicing humility means stepping back from your own perspectives and embracing the role of a learner and listener. For me, this involves showing up with openness, asking thoughtful questions, and being willing to adapt based on what is shared. Support is most meaningful when it responds to the actual needs identified by Indigenous Peoples and communities, rather than what you might assume is needed.
Education also plays an important role in this work. Learning about Treaty, Indigenous Rights, and the ongoing impacts of colonization is necessary, but it does not replace the wisdom that comes from lived experience. Honouring lived experience means valuing what is shared with you and allowing those stories to guide your work.
We all have responsibilities to one another in the work of decolonization and reconciliation. At pipikwan pêhtâkwan, I have the privilege of working alongside colleagues from a wide range of backgrounds and life experiences. Each person brings their own perspective and commitment to this important work, and together, we are learning what it means to support Indigenous communities in meaningful ways.
Continuing the Conversation
As this work remains ongoing, I’ve invited fellow non-Indigenous colleagues to join me in reflecting on the question:
What is one thing you have learned or changed in how you think about allyship in your role?
“To me personally, allyship means giving space, deeply listening, being respectful, compassionate and curious. It means speaking up in rooms where people are misinformed and/or speaking disrespectfully.
Other people's lived experiences should never be diminished or questioned. I believe being an ally means taking the time to really listen and absorb what people are telling you about their experiences. How do other people experience the world? Am I aware of my biases? What are they? I keep in mind that the information, stories and perspectives shared with me are gifts and need to be treated that way. For more allyship to occur, people need to be open, curious and patient. Listening to understand, without judgement or preconceived ideas is an important step towards developing allyship.”
Jill McKenzie, Strategy and Media Relations Director
“My long-held view about allyship is that it’s never self-serving and it takes time and effort to build connection and become in touch with other people’s humanity. It’s about standing with and supporting people who have been historically excluded and discriminated against. As a Black woman, I recognize that oppression is experienced differently by various groups, so in being an ally I allow the group affected by the issue to lead the advocacy for that issue, while I support in ways they find helpful, not how I think the support should be. I’m always learning from and creating inclusive and respectful spaces for those experiencing discrimination and injustices to be heard and prioritized.”
Shawna-Kay Thomas, Director, Corporate Communication and Culture
“Allyship isn’t a term I think about or use specifically that often. In fact, when I’ve been referred to as a “good ally” I feel a bit shy. I think what it does mean to me is first, to be a good Treaty person and to honour that relationship. These Lands are not mine, despite what I was raised to believe in colonial culture. I am a newcomer, and respect for the Land and all beings is critically important to living in a good way here. The privilege of spending time with Elders and Knowledge Keepers comes with responsibility, and anything I learn has to be lived. If I am an ally, it is to the degree to which I recognize and live that responsibility in my daily life. In my work with pipikwan pêhtâkwan, I support the amplification of voices, perspectives and stories that only resonate in the context of a respectful relationship with First Peoples and the Land. To me, allyship is a way of being, respect, and living what is shared with me.”
Brian Golightly, Media Relations Manager
