Growth spurts hurt. We know this, right? Growing pains are just a part of getting older – they’re uncomfortable, but we accept them because at least they mean we’re evolving.

Now, I haven’t had physical growing pains in years. I mean, I stopped getting taller when I was 12 years old. But every now and again I find myself experiencing emotional or intellectual growing pains; they’re intensely uncomfortable, but I know that they will be worth it in the end.

This has most recently (and most often) come in the form of me realizing my flaws as an ally to marginalized people of every intersection. Though since the election I had been experiencing increasing levels of personal unease, it wasn’t until someone I know posted this document that I was able to truly have a frank conversation with myself about what I’m doing well as a co-conspirator, and what I need to do better. (I’m trying to slowly remove “ally” from my vocabulary; I use it in the headline and sometimes in this article because, while sometimes a rather empty word, it is most widely recognizable.)

I know we’re supposed to wait until the New Year to start making resolutions, but this is too urgent. After this frank inner conversation, it seemed important to me to make a list of all my shortcomings as an accomplice; by recognizing them, I resolve to work to do better.

So now I share them with you. Though it makes me feel incredibly vulnerable, my hope is that it could help someone else to have that conversation with themselves. Here are my shortcomings, for all to see:

1. I sometimes fall into easy “liberal” narratives.

On the political spectrum, I would consider myself to be progressive, or very liberal. This itself isn’t a problem, at least in my book. What I am not proud of is the myths that often circle the privileged bubbles of this so-called progressive community: the myth that the Democratic Party is the non-racist party and Democrats are non-bigoted people, that Barack Obama is perfect, that colorblindness is the answer, that the two-party system can be fair and effective, that the sole cause of Hillary Clinton’s demise was her womanhood…I am not proud of the leftist culture of educated people thinking they know what is best for everyone, or falling into white savior narratives, or shaming people for not indulging in a lifestyle that is inaccessible to them (example: how dare poor people eat McDonald’s instead of organic foods).

And yet I have found myself falling into some of these myths and cultural ideas. Why? Because, a lot of the time, it’s easy for me. I can join Pantsuit Nation on Facebook and enjoy all of its merits (storytelling, a sense of togetherness, a place for people to vent) without directly experiencing the pain of most of its drawbacks (white people constantly patting themselves on the back for solving bigotry, using “they go low, we go high” as an excuse not to call out bigotry, a somewhat gross loyalty to the Democratic Party). I have to remember not to become beholden to a party that often uses minorities as props to declare its superiority or insist on remaining in a system that rarely works for everyone. There is a fine line between engaging in an imperfect system to create positive change and becoming attached to said system. I’m trying to learn to walk it more carefully.

2. There have been times when I’ve acted (or haven’t) out of fear of being seen as a buzzkill, rather than out of the conviction to stand up for what is right.

Have you ever been with a family member or friend, and they say something a little…off? Maybe not the most problematic thing you’ve ever heard – maybe it’s clearly meant to be a joke, or is discreetly vague – and yet it is still at the expense of other people who perhaps are not in the room? Have you ever, maybe even despite yourself, let it slide?

I have. I’m not proud of it, and I try not to let it happen because I know better – hell, I'm constantly telling other people about how to intervene. And yet, I still find myself in situations when as soon as I go to open my mouth to say something, I hear the voices of people I know taunting me for being a buzzkill, or shaming me for bringing politics up.

When you are defending the dignity, rights, or safety of a fellow human being, that’s not called “politics,” that’s called kindness. That’s called doing what is right, fighting the good fight, being a co-conspirator. And if some call it politics, then you have to learn to be comfortable with that label. It’s hard to re-train yourself to call people out (perhaps especially for women, who have largely been taught to remain silent), but we must value what is right over what is easy.

Sometimes you have to pick your battles. But, sometimes, you just have to fight.

3. I am a talker.

This is something that I have been working on for a while. If you have ever taken a class with me then you’ll know I love to talk, especially about topics that I’m passionate about. This is great and all, but a lot of the time the main role of allies/accomplices is simply to listen, and to let people with first-hand experiences hold space. Looking back, there have been several instances where I have become a dominating voice in a discussion about an oppression that does not apply to me. If I am in a room with only other privileged people, then that is one thing. But if there are people present who are actually experiencing said oppression, then I need to hand them the mic and, quite frankly, shut up for a minute.

4. There have been times when I have found myself caring about my reputation as an ally or “woke” person as much as actually being one.

This is something that I am uncomfortable admitting. But, hey! Discomfort is the name of the game. I need to be content with being a part of these movements even if there’s nothing in it for me. Sometimes it can be hard to tell these motivations apart, but we need to make sure that we are not looking to our marginalized friends to validate our activism. Think of it this way: before you do something (donate to a cause, go to a protest, educate yourself, confront bigotry), ask yourself, “would I do this even if nobody could ever find out about it? If social media didn’t exist, or I was sworn to secrecy, would I still be taking these actions?” These questions should help you (me) to discern underlying motivations.

5. Sometimes my fear of messing up causes me to remain stagnant.

Figuring out the nuances of how to be involved in promoting social justice can be hard. Thoughtfulness about when and how to speak and act is not in vain, but sometimes the fear of getting it wrong can cause us – or me – to do nothing at all. Here are some truths I’m learning: 1) there is no single philosophy for how to go about all this; we can only listen to multiple perspectives and trust those who are experiencing oppression first-hand. 2) You will mess up. Being called out does not mean that you are a terrible person or a failure, it simply means that you’ve been given an opportunity to learn.

Be thoughtful about your actions, but don’t let over-thinking keep you from taking any action whatsoever.

6. I get too comfortable letting other privileged people stroke my ego.

I write about politics quite a bit. Oftentimes after I write an article that addresses racism or homophobia, etc. I get a lot of comments from other privileged people telling me: “You’re my hero!” or “Wow, you’re so smart/aware/brave!”

Now, who doesn’t love to hear these things? Compliments are awesome. But here’s the truth: standing up for others should not be special. I call myself an ally, and so by writing these articles I am literally just attempting to do my job. A barista doesn’t get a gold star for making a coffee, a teacher isn’t considered special for showing up to class, and so an ally shouldn’t be heralded as a hero just for speaking up about issues that don’t personally affect them. While praise is nice and helpful for anyone doing their job, it is not required.

And yet this is not usually my response to these comments; instead, I simply say thank you and move on. Now, saying thank you to a compliment is not a sin, but I shouldn’t allow the conversation to always end there. I can’t let my personal need to be praised get in the way of normalizing privileged people standing up for the rights and safety of others. While it’s nice to be “special”, in the world that we are fighting to create the very thing that I often stand out for would have to become completely commonplace. I need to be okay with that.

Honestly, part of me feels as though this article could be a shortcoming as well. After all, I am taking entire movements that are specifically not about me, and turning them into an article that is entirely about me. So here’s what I don’t want: I don’t want this article to be a simple check on my ego box. I do not want to pat myself on the back for identifying my flaws and then doing nothing to actually change them. I don’t want this to be shared by privileged people simply as a way to feel like we’re doing something when we’re not, and then for us to continue with the same old same old.

So here’s what I would like instead: If you are a privileged person who likes or shares this article, write a list of your own. How can you improve yourself? What specifically are you going to do to get there? Share one of your flaws publically, and make challenging it your new ally resolution. Even better, make it your accomplice resolution. Hold yourself to it and hold your friends to theirs (and if you know me, please hold me to mine). And while we’re at it, check out these articles, which list concrete steps that you can take to help right now:

http://jezebel.com/a-list-of-pro-women-pro-immigra...

1788752078?http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/17/opinion/a-12-step-program-for-responding-to-president-elect-trump.html

http://www.teenvogue.com/story/support-the-black-lives-matter-movement

http://www.transequality.org/issues/resources/52-things-you-can-do-transgender-equality

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/qasim-rashid/16-ways-you-can-support-a_b_8901854.html

http://agonyandagony.tumblr.com/post/153133958068/homojabi-pictured-is-an-image-of-text-that

The time has come for me to step up my game. I hope you’ll join me – together, we may just hit our greatest growth spurt yet.