gaI worked in retail management for 11 years, for a major retailer in its biggest location in the world. As with any retailer, a manager’s primary duty was to keep the troops in line. Keep the sweaters perfectly folded. Make sure the denim wall was crisp. Ensure that every salesperson was delivering top-notch service. On any given day, the job of a manager was quite similar to that of a teacher. I constantly told the sales team to spit out their gum and stop leaning on the racks and proactively approach confused customers instead of waiting for them to ask for help. Some days, it was such repetitive work that I just let some shit slide. I was reminded by my superiors that, every time I let shit slide, I was giving my silent seal of approval.
I understood the objectives of my job, and I never once thought it was okay for a salesperson to ignore a customer. It’s just that every day of work didn’t carry the same weight of importance. Some days I cared more than others. And sometimes, those days I didn’t care cost the company money. And consequently, those days probably chipped away at my credibility as well.
Unfortunately, some of our so-called allies are taking the same approach. Except it’s not about selling a pair of jeans. It’s about protecting our freedoms. And some days, our allies aren’t as enthusiastic about showing up for the job.
Remember last year when troves of people started wearing safety pins? It was a show of solidarity for disenfranchised groups. For LGBTQ people and black people and Muslim people, the safety pin was meant to indicate support. It was meant to identify strangers amongst a crowd that you could turn to in a moment of discomfort.
However, a safety pin isn’t the boldest choice. We don red ribbons for AIDS awareness and pink ribbons for breast cancer awareness so everyone can see our support from a mile away. Compared to safety pins, those ribbons are the symbolic equivalent of shouting from the rooftops. A safety pin is a symbol you can easily miss if you aren’t looking for it. It’s a tepid lending of support. It’s there if you squint hard enough but everyone doesn’t need to know about it.
You may not know the difference between the silent allies and the true supporters in your circle, but there are telltale signs. A silent ally is the co-worker who loves her gay friends at work but votes for anti-LGBTQ politicians to run the country. A silent ally is the parent who gushes over your marriage but pretends you’re still single when his friends ask about you. A silent ally is the worst kind of ally. Someone who hopes wishful thinking and a smile is enough to make you feel loved.
Silent allies are notable for being, well, silent. They’re content in knowing the difference between right and wrong, but they don’t necessarily need everyone to know about it. In a time when the opposition has no problem speaking up, they aren’t the kind of allies we need.
If they don’t want to speak up, they might as well cross the line to the other side. Their silence on major LGBTQ issues is complicit with fighting against us. Their muted support isn’t helping anyone. In fact, it’s doing quite the opposite.
This isn’t a time to be timid. As we’ve seen, we’re living in an age where the nation’s most powerful people will stop at nothing, inclusive of bending and reshaping the truth, to get what they want. If further disenfranchising the LGBTQ community is on their list, which it is, they’ll push forward to succeed without a second thought. If the silent allies feel bad for us but they don’t say anything about it, we all get steamrolled together. Or maybe, they step to the side with tears in their eyes while they watch us get steamrolled.
It doesn’t matter how heartbroken they feel about all the bad things happening to our community. If they keep their mouths shut, they’re giving their silent seal of approval. A pair of jeans. Gum chewing. Leaning on a fixture. Robbery of basic human rights. Point it out every time or we’ll all lose any time.