Allyship is a Choice

 

Note: This article is not intended to call out, shame, or pass judgment on any specific person. It is meant to encourage reflection and conversation about the choices we make, the values we claim, and the ways those choices can affect others. In the end, each of us has to decide what we believe is right and what we are willing to support.

I keep seeing people say, “I support trans people, but I still support Harry Potter,” and there is an old episode of The Golden Girls that explains why that statement bothers so many people.

In the episode “Dorothy’s New Friend,” Dorothy becomes friends with a woman named Barbara Thorndyke. Eventually, Dorothy learns that the private club Barbara belongs to will not allow Sophia’s date to enter because he is Jewish. Barbara’s defense is basically that it is not HER rule. She does not personally hate Jewish people. She simply belongs to the club.
And Dorothy’s response cuts directly through that excuse:
“Yeah, but you tolerate it.”

That is the part people need to sit with.

I am NOT saying antisemitism and transphobia are identical forms of oppression, nor am I saying watching Harry Potter is literally equivalent to belonging to an antisemitic private club. I am talking about the ethical principle underneath both situations.

At some point, “I personally don’t agree with it” stops meaning very much when you continue financially supporting, defending, promoting, or enthusiastically participating in something while knowing what that support helps sustain. J.K. Rowling’s position regarding trans people is not some ancient tweet somebody dug up from fifteen years ago. She continues to publicly campaign around sex and gender. Her own website says she believes men and women are defined by biological sex, opposes gender self-identification in certain contexts, and has created a fund supporting legal actions related to what she describes as protecting sex-based rights. Rowling herself describes this work as defending women and girls. LGBTQ organizations such as GLAAD describe many of her statements and actions very differently and have documented years of rhetoric they consider harmful to transgender people.

So this is not really a conversation about whether you are “allowed” to like Harry Potter.
Nobody can take your childhood memories away from you.
Nobody can erase what those books meant to you.
Nobody is saying you have to burn everything you already own.
I grew up with things that became complicated later too. That is part of being an adult. Sometimes something we love becomes attached to something that conflicts with our values, and then we have to decide what matters more to us.

And before someone says, “There is no ethical consumption under capitalism,” yes. I know.

There are corporations we depend on that donate to politicians, organizations, churches, lobbying groups, and causes that harm trans people, queer people, religious minorities, disabled people, workers, immigrants, and countless others. Sometimes avoiding every harmful company simply is not possible.
Where I live matters. What stores exist around me matters. What I can afford matters. What I need to survive matters. If Walmart is the only realistic place available to buy groceries, medication, hygiene products, or basic necessities, that is not the same kind of choice as deciding whether I need another Harry Potter game, movie ticket, collectible, theme park trip, or piece of merchandise.

That distinction matters.

“There is no ethical consumption under capitalism” was never supposed to mean, “Therefore none of my choices matter.” It means the system makes completely ethical consumption virtually impossible. So the responsibility becomes harm reduction. We make the choices we realistically can.

We avoid supporting harmful people and institutions when there are reasonable alternatives. We reduce our participation when we cannot completely eliminate it. We pay attention to where our money goes. We listen when marginalized communities tell us that something is hurting them. And when something is a luxury, entertainment, fandom, or simple personal preference rather than a necessity, we should be willing to ask whether our enjoyment is worth the harm our participation may help sustain.

Ethical consumption is not about achieving moral purity. None of us can do that.
It is about refusing to use the impossibility of perfection as an excuse to do absolutely nothing.
There is a massive difference between saying, “I cannot avoid every harmful corporation and still function in the world I live in,” and saying, “Since I cannot avoid all of them, I do not have to examine any of my choices.”
One acknowledges reality.
The other uses reality as permission.

We are never going to eliminate every dollar that ultimately reaches transphobia, homophobia, racism, religious bigotry, misogyny, ableism, exploitation, or hate. But we can limit how much of it we knowingly contribute to. We can choose differently where we actually have a choice. And Harry Potter is one of those places where, for most of us, we do.

But allyship cannot simply mean saying, “I support trans people,” while refusing to examine where your money, attention, defense, and public support are going. Because allyship is not an identity you give yourself.
It is something demonstrated through your choices.
And sometimes being an ally means giving something up.

Sometimes it means saying, “I loved this. It mattered to me. But the person benefiting from my continued support is using their enormous platform and resources in ways that people I claim to stand beside are telling me harms them, and I cannot pretend those things have nothing to do with each other.”
You can still remember Hogwarts fondly.
You can still acknowledge that Harry Potter meant something profound to you.
But there is a difference between loving something from your past and continuing to actively put money into the machinery surrounding it today.

And if your response is:
“But I love Harry Potter.”
Okay.
Barbara Thorndyke liked the breakfast.
She liked the free parking.
That was Dorothy’s entire point.

Sometimes our principles cost us something. If they only apply when they require absolutely nothing from us, I am not sure they are principles. And if someone tells me they are a trans ally while simultaneously defending their right to financially support someone whose current public activism directly conflicts with what many trans people are fighting for, I think it is completely reasonable to ask what that allyship actually means.

Because “I don’t personally agree with her” is only the beginning of the conversation.
The harder question is:
What are you willing to do about it?