My Journey as a Male Ally – And What I’m Still Figuring Out

My journey as a male ally began long before I had the language to describe it. But it became impossible to ignore in 2019, when I was teaching at an all-boys school in South Africa during the aftermath of the horrific murder of Uyinene Mwetyana. Standing in front of hundreds of boys, I felt a responsibility to say something, anything, that might challenge them to reflect on the world they were contributing to.

My intentions were genuine, but in hindsight, some of my words missed the mark. I used the familiar line, “How would you feel if someone treated your mother or sister poorly?” It took time, reading, and honest conversations to understand why this framing was flawed. By telling boys to imagine harm only through the women connected to them, I was unintentionally reinforcing the idea that women’s worth is relational, not inherent.

That moment was uncomfortable, but pivotal. It pushed me into a period of learning that I’m still deeply engaged in. I read widely, listened more than I spoke, and watched female family members, friends, and colleagues model allyship in ways I had never fully noticed. The most powerful lessons came when they challenged me, not to shame or embarrass me, but to help me grow. Their belief that I could do better made me want to be better. (And a sister who is  a force of nature, didn’t hurt)!

When I moved to Australia and began teaching in another all-boys school, I realised that this work doesn’t end because the location changes. In fact, the responsibility felt even heavier. Boys are currently trying to form identities while being bombarded by the noise of the manosphere, fractured online communities, and a culture that often rewards dominance rather than empathy. Simply standing in front of them and saying, “Respect women,” is no longer enough. If anything, a constant lecture can push them further away.

What I’ve learned is that allyship with teenage boys requires patience, creativity, and real examples they can connect with. It comes alive through conversations with respected female staff, through seeing boys listen to the actual experiences of women in their community, and through practical actions, like signing a pledge against violence on White Ribbon Day, that allow them to step forward on their own terms. These small but significant rituals provide a foothold for boys who may not yet understand the full weight of gendered violence or everyday sexism but want to try.

I also remind myself often that I didn’t “get it” at their age either. I lacked the maturity, the experience, and the perspective. Young men are not blank slates, but nor are they finished products. They need guidance, accountability, and opportunities to see the real-world consequences of their actions. Growth demands both encouragement and boundaries.

Through all of this, what keeps me grounded (and inspired) is the strength and generosity of the women I work with. Many of them have faced their own painful experiences with safety, gendered harm and sexual harrassment, yet they continue to show up, lead courageously, and invest wholeheartedly in the boys in our care. Their resilience gives me hope. It reminds me that allyship isn’t about centring myself; it’s about taking responsibility for the space I occupy, using my influence purposefully, and continually learning.

I’m still figuring it out. I suspect I always will be. But if there’s anything this journey has taught me, it is that allyship is not a label, but it is very much a practice. A commitment to doing the work imperfectly, consistently, and with humility. And if the young men I teach can see even a glimpse of that, then maybe they’ll begin their own journeys a little earlier than I did.

DISCLAIMER:

This article has been written by a HASSL Ambassador as part of our community content initiative. While all ambassador contributions are reviewed for clarity, tone, and alignment with our values before publication, the views expressed are those of the individual author and do not necessarily reflect the views or official position of HASSL.

These articles are intended to amplify personal perspectives, lived experiences, and knowledge from our wider community. They are not authored by the HASSL team, and HASSL does not claim ownership over the content.

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