There’s a difference between recognizing sexism and being a performative ally, and understanding this distinction matters more than many men realize. The first is about developing clearer perception of the world as it actually exists. The second is about public demonstrations of virtue that often make everyone uncomfortable while crossing important personal boundaries.
When a man learns to recognize sexism, he’s essentially upgrading his understanding of reality. He starts noticing patterns he previously missed: the way women’s ideas get attributed to men in meetings, how professional competence gets questioned differently based on gender, the constant low-level vigilance women maintain in public spaces that most men never have to think about. This recognition doesn’t require announcement or performance. It’s simply seeing what’s there, the same way you might learn to identify different bird species and suddenly notice them everywhere you’d previously looked without truly seeing.This kind of awareness changes how you move through the world. You make different choices in conversations, you question your own assumptions, you understand why certain policies or practices create unequal outcomes even when they appear neutral on paper. You become better at your job because you understand your colleagues’ experiences more accurately. You become a better friend, partner, or family member because you’re responding to reality rather than a filtered version of it. This is fundamentally about personal growth and understanding, not about being seen as good.Performative allyship is something else entirely. It’s the guy who makes a point of loudly calling himself a feminist in every conversation, who turns every discussion into an opportunity to demonstrate his enlightenment, who positions himself as the interpreter and explainer of women’s experiences. It’s exhausting to witness and often deeply uncomfortable for the people it claims to support.
The performative ally treats social justice like a personality trait or a resume item. He wants credit for his awareness. He seeks validation from women for understanding things that are simply… true about their lives. There’s often an unspoken transaction at play: “See how much I understand and support you? See what a good person I am?” This creates an obligation where none should exist. Women end up in the awkward position of either validating this performance or seeming ungrateful, even though they never asked to be anyone’s proof of moral goodness.
Worse, performative allyship frequently involves boundary violations. The man who appoints himself the defender of every woman in his vicinity without being asked. The one who shares women’s personal stories of discrimination or harassment as if they’re his to tell, stripping away the agency of the people who lived those experiences. The one who inserts himself into women’s spaces or conversations, assuming his voice is needed and welcome. These actions, however well-intentioned, treat women as props in someone else’s story of becoming a good person.
The irony is that genuine recognition of sexism naturally leads to respecting boundaries rather than crossing them. When you actually understand the dynamics at play, you realize that women don’t need you to speak for them. They need you to listen when they speak, to not interrupt or talk over them, to believe them when they describe their experiences, and to make space rather than take up space. You understand that supporting women isn’t about inserting yourself into their narratives but about examining and changing your own behavior.
Real awareness also means recognizing that you’re going to get things wrong sometimes. You’ll miss things, misunderstand situations, benefit from systems you didn’t create but participate in nonetheless. This isn’t comfortable, but it’s honest. The performative ally can’t afford this honesty because his entire project is about being seen as beyond reproach. The man who simply wants to understand the world more clearly can accept his own limitations and blind spots without it threatening his identity.
The practical implications of this distinction show up in everyday situations. In a meeting, recognition without performance might mean noticing when a woman’s point gets ignored and then credited to a man who repeats it minutes later. You might address this by explicitly attributing the idea when you reference it, or by checking your own tendency to do the same thing. You wouldn’t make a big show of your observation or demand praise for noticing. You’d just act on what you understood.
Performative allyship in the same situation might involve loudly interrupting to announce that the woman said it first, making her the center of awkward attention she never wanted, or later seeking her out to make sure she knows you noticed and to confirm what a good ally you are. The first approach treats her as a peer whose contribution deserves proper credit. The second treats her as someone who needs rescuing and whose experience exists to validate your moral development.
Understanding sexism also means recognizing that it’s not about you. Women’s experiences of discrimination, harassment, or marginalization aren’t teachable moments for your personal growth, though you may grow from understanding them. Their stories aren’t yours to share or use to demonstrate your awareness. Their need for professional networks, social spaces, or support systems isn’t an invitation for you to prove you’re one of the good ones by joining in.This is where personal boundaries become crucial. Performative allyship often involves a failure to recognize where your involvement is appropriate and where it isn’t. There are conversations, spaces, and decisions that simply aren’t yours to be part of, regardless of how supportive you consider yourself. Respecting this isn’t about exclusion—it’s about understanding that not everything needs your input or presence, and that sometimes the most supportive thing you can do is absolutely nothing.
Men sometimes resist this distinction because it feels like being told their support isn’t wanted. But that’s a misunderstanding. The issue isn’t whether support is wanted but what genuine support actually looks like. It looks like believing women when they describe their experiences without needing three forms of verification. It looks like examining your own behavior and assumptions without needing applause. It looks like making concrete changes in how you act rather than performing changes in what you say. It looks like respecting boundaries rather than seeing every situation as an opportunity to demonstrate your enlightenment.
None of this means men should never speak about sexism or advocate for change. But there’s a difference between acting on understanding in contexts where you have responsibility and influence, and performing that understanding in ways that center your own goodness. When you’re in a position to change hiring practices, push back on discriminatory jokes in your friend group, or mentor younger men about respectful behavior, that’s acting on understanding in appropriate spheres. When you’re demanding recognition for your awareness or inserting yourself into spaces where you haven’t been invited, that’s performance.
The goal isn’t to never get it wrong or to achieve some perfect state of awareness. The goal is to understand more of reality than you did before, to let that understanding inform your choices, and to respect that other people’s experiences and boundaries aren’t raw material for your personal growth story. It’s actually quite simple, though not always comfortable. See clearly, act accordingly, and resist the urge to make either your awakening or your virtue the main character in someone else’s story.
