The Advocacy of Counterparts, and Why We Listen

To be heard by others is a privilege I think so many undervalue. One that's routinely shadowed by our desire to speak, to mindlessly express our thoughts for the sake of speaking. It's all well to want to express your opinions, however, how often do we acknowledge the gift of being heard? Truly being heard. Of our words carrying their weight and value into the minds of those listening. This might not seem like a privilege like others, but that's because it isn't. It's one that we place equal value alongside others without even realizing it. It's only when we list the privileges of wealth, status, reputation and health does the privilege of being heard fail to measure up. This is especially true when it comes to the discussion of Civil Rights. There is, however, a person that can shatter the blindness to the privilege of being heard, and that person is your counterpart. Yes, your counterpart.

We've always known and studied the eras of those within a minority status (women, POC, LGBT) advocating for civil equality. What's consistently left out is the phenomenon of civil right's advocacy of counterparts and the distinct value they carry. Whenever a minority group has set their passion ablaze, demanding equal treatment in the eyes of the law, their call has always been answered. The passage of federal laws aimed at protecting the three major minority statuses are proof of that. The laws don't stop daily cases of sexism, racism and homophobia from arising of course, but now there are protections at the federal level. Yet, even in view of these successes, as civil rights continue to fight to remain undisturbed, there seems to be a voice that attracts more ears than those of a member of an actual minority community. That minority community's counterpart.

Why is it the voices of minority counterparts carry such a special tone? Why do we lend an attentive ear to those who advocate for a community to which they aren't a member themselves? It's because we have become so attuned to minority's own stake in their advocacy, that hearing the echoes of a counterpart's words now carry further. They're the change in scenery. The odd one out. A rebel without a cause: someone openly opposing a system that offers them privilege, in place of discrimination. Here's a look at the counterparts of the three major minority communities, and we why listen.

First up: The Male Feminist. It's always refreshing to witness a man speak for the respect of his female counterparts. It gives hopes to the ideal the sexes are truly equal. It inspires men to be better and deals a righteous blow to the disease of misogyny. Despite this admired advocacy, it seems as though the weight of man's plea for gender equality spreads further than that of a woman's. We've grown accustomed to two images within the fight for gender equality: one is the sight of famed female actresses and advocates calling for equal treatment, and the other, the harsh reality females face in public life via sexual harassment. These days, the sight of a man speaking for the end of misconduct against his female counterparts is a most coveted position, primarily due to the latter image. When we witness a female speaking for rights, we flash a smile and move on. When a man performs the same task, however, he's enshrined and praised. He's different, ''he's not like other men.'' He's an evolved form. Taking on the societal bias that leans in favor of his sex. Whether that be in the workplace, academia or even government. But why are men evolved for advocating for the same ideals any standard woman fights for? It's because deep down, behind the scenes, we, like those who contribute to the bias his sex enjoys, now place a higher value on his stance.

Next up: The Progressive. If there's an image portrayed as a human being modeling what it means to be progressive, look no further than the white civil rights advocate. Just as we've grown numb to the sight of women advocating for gender equality, the same apples to racial minorities and their rallies. We see the fiery passion of racial minorities in their rallies, standing against the institutionalized racism they've sought to dismantle for so long. It's an inspiring sight. Although this inspiration can be outweighed at the first sight of an outlier. That outlier being a lone or small cluster of white citizens marching hand in hand. Whereas the racial minorities are acknowledged for their brave stance against inequality, the white attendants are seen as something else entirely. Unique, progressive and ahead of the times they must be. They've got nothing to lose, yet are consistently seen as progressives. For what you may ask? For advancing the same belief the races are equal as the thousands of marchers beside them do. How else can they be seen? After America's centuries of enforced slavery, those who bare the same complexion as the once southern masters must be two steps ahead of everyone else. This is why the voices of white civil rights advocates carry such a heavy tone, one that commands the attention of those listening and watching.

Last one, and perhaps the most chivalrous: The Revolutionary. There is perhaps no greater compromise to a man's masculinity than identifying as LGBT. Given this perspective, what is more brave, more chivalrous, more revolutionary than a heterosexual speaking up for LGBT equality? This is especially true for heterosexual men, who for this part I'll focus more on. This isn't to say women can be brave advocating for their lesbian counterparts, but they do enjoy less controversy given a woman's more autonomy in defining her sexuality. For a heterosexual man to speaking up for his gay counterparts it perhaps the most revolutionary figure of all. No act will condemn his own sexuality and worth as a man to scrutiny, which is exactly why those who advocate despite this are seen as the creme of the crop. Such confidence and security it must take for one to advocate for those whose masculinity is always questioned. Doing so, we seem to have a habit of casting the heterosexual LGBT advocate as a revolutionary. He's at risk of being seen as ''in the closet'' or someone who can't come to terms with his own sexuality. In the face of all this, these heterosexuals have voices that can change attitudes and perspectives. They can shift mindsets of those who hold prejudice against LGBT and eventually may desire to become 'revolutionaries' themselves. This is why we listen and this is the power of their voices. It's because pleas for LGBT rights aren't echoing from a member of the minority community, but someone apart from it. A member of the majority, of which over 95% subscribe to the same sexual orientation.

Now, it's important to say by now that none of the counterparts mentioned aren't valued within civil rights battles. This also isn't to dismiss their sincere, helpful advocacy on behalf of minority communities. The same actions and participation from these communities advocates helped past movements a great deal. They also teach the invaluable lesson that one doesn't need to identify within a marginalized community to fight for what is just. These same advocates are ones that even risk their own security within their communities, and can often be ostracized because of it. There is, however, consistently pockets of those within non-minority status that do seek the labels discussed solely for the purpose of appearing as that is the way they are. In my opinion those who advocate for minority communities should always been given the benefit of the doubt, but we should also remain vigilant for those few who are less genuine in their ''advocacy.''

So this is the case for why those who don't identify within minority communities can often times have significantly more value voices. When it comes to the subject of civil rights, regardless of your community, always understand why your voice may be heard less than that of your counterparts. They can both help advance or seem to 'take over' the conversation concerning civil rights. But this is the advocacy of our counterparts, and this is why we listen.