Lately, I’ve been reflecting on what advocacy actually means—and what it doesn’t. The landscape is noisy. The pressure to speak up is constant. And in a world shaped by algorithms and outrage, it’s easy to forget that meaningful change doesn’t happen through performance. It happens through connection, clarity, and consistency.
I’ve had experiences—inside and outside the running world—where the well-meaning energy of advocacy morphed into something out of step, misaligned, and in some cases, deeply harmful. And I think it’s time we talk about it.
When Advocacy Becomes Ego in Disguise
One of the more complicated moments came when a white ally, brought in to support Indigenous athletes, began demanding we speak up about the war in Palestine. While I deeply understand the parallels between global acts of genocide and the historic and ongoing violence against Indigenous Peoples, the way this pressure was applied felt more like a demand for control than a call to solidarity.
She joined our community to support a specific mission. But when we didn’t move in lockstep with her timeline or language, the reaction was dramatic: public shaming, behind-the-scenes tension, and eventually, her departure. It was painful—and revealing.
I’m an Indigenous woman. I’m also a military spouse. My understanding of global conflict is shaped by layers of lived experience, not just what circulates on social media. But none of that was taken into account. The nuance didn’t matter. The expectation was simple: post what I post, or you don’t care.
That’s not advocacy. That’s coercion.
Staying in Your Lane Isn’t Silence—It’s Strategy
I’ve spent years doing this work—not just as a coach, but as someone who mentors, speaks, writes, builds platforms, and holds space for tough conversations. I’ve learned that real advocacy isn’t about being the loudest. It’s about knowing your role and doing it well.
Too often, people show up to "support" a cause without understanding the community, the context, or the history. They take up space rather than hold it. They center themselves instead of listening. And eventually, the work drifts off-mission.
I’m seeing this happen more and more—people moving from cause to cause, issue to issue, always passionate, often well-intentioned, but rarely grounded. And when there’s pushback? They implode or deflect, leaving damage in their wake.
Allyship Isn’t About You
Let’s be honest: social media has warped our understanding of what it means to be an ally. The pressure to speak up quickly, loudly, and constantly is real—but not always helpful.
Here’s the hard truth:
Not every issue needs your voice.
Not every space is yours to lead.
And not every silence is complicity.
Sometimes silence is strategy. Sometimes it's self-protection. Sometimes it's grief. And sometimes, it’s a pause to process, research, or redirect energy toward more meaningful forms of action.
The performative push to “say something or else” often comes from discomfort, not clarity. People want to feel like they're doing something. But good advocacy isn't about feelings—it's about effectiveness.
What Good Allies Should Do
-
Listen before speaking. Especially when you're outside the group you're trying to support.
-
Do your own homework. Don’t expect others to educate you for free.
-
Speak with clarity, not urgency. Take the time to understand what you’re sharing.
-
Act offline. Donating, voting, mentoring, supporting—these matter more than a post.
-
Stay accountable. You’ll make mistakes. Own them. Learn. Keep going.
What Allies Shouldn’t Do
-
Center themselves. Your feelings are valid, but they’re not the focus.
-
Rush to react. Misinformation and drama spread fast—don’t be part of that machine.
-
Expect praise. You’re not here for cookies. You’re here to show up.
-
Treat this like a trend. Allyship is not seasonal.
-
Co-opt the mic. Especially in spaces that aren’t yours to lead.
What I Want Instead
I want to build a world where advocacy is grounded in community—not clout.
I want to work with people who stay on mission, even when it’s uncomfortable or slow.
I want to see more allies who lead with humility, who know when to support and when to step back, and who believe that change is less about being seen and more about being consistent.
I want to remind people that advocacy can look like mentoring a young athlete, creating access where there wasn’t any, or gently correcting someone in a quiet conversation. Not everything needs to be a spectacle.
I want fewer public shame cycles and more honest, relational repair.
I want this work to feel human again.
If You’re Still Reading…
Then maybe this resonated. Maybe you’ve been in a similar situation—feeling the pressure to post, speak, or align with something that doesn’t quite sit right in your gut. Maybe you’ve felt the sting of being called out when you were actually just trying to stay grounded. Or maybe you’re an ally who wants to do better—but doesn’t know where to start.
Wherever you land, here’s the invitation:
Take a breath.
Check your alignment.
Stay in the work.
Discernment is action.
And sometimes, the strongest voices are the ones that know when to listen.
* If you want to hear more about how my lived experiences—menopause, running, coaching, culture, and advocacy—have shaped how I lead, I shared my story on the Women's Running Stories podcast. It’s a look at how I came into running, where I’ve found my voice, and what keeps me grounded in the work.
Listen here:
Spotify
Apple Podcasts
Or head to womensrunningstories.com to explore the full episode archive.