The True Cost of Performative Allyship

In 2020, the world turned its attention to Black lives. Many Black-led organizations witnessed an outpouring of support, a surge of donations, solidarity statements, and bold promises. For a moment, it seemed like a reckoning was underway. But as headlines shifted and the momentum faded, so did the commitments, revealing once again the gap between words and lasting change.  

Bethlehem Mulat, founder and director of the Vancouver Black Therapy & Advocacy Foundation (VBTAF) shared her insights on how the surge of allyship has masked a deeper, systemic issue in the long-standing underinvestment in Black communities. What began as a grassroots effort to fill critical gaps in care has since become a case study in how performative allyship undermines meaningful change. 

A Response Born of Necessity 
Mulat’s journey into mental health advocacy began long before the formation of VBTAF. “I was working on the downtown east side as a frontline mental health support worker and saw firsthand the bleakness of a system not built for Black survival,” she recalls. Raised in a resilient immigrant household, Mulat’s passion for advocacy was instilled early on. “I was already volunteering at AIDS organizations from the age of 15, advocacy was something that was just a part of me,” she explains. 

As the Black Lives Matter protests gained global momentum in 2020, Mulat observed the challenges faced by Black individuals in Vancouver, one of Canada’s least diverse major cities. Many were struggling with grief, trauma, and exhaustion, from witnessing the unrest of the protests to reflecting on the broader impact of the movement yet had little access to mental health care. In response, she launched a GoFundMe campaign with the modest goal of providing ten therapy sessions for ten Black individuals, prioritizing refugees, low-income, disabled, and LGBTQIA+ community members. “I started VBTAF out of necessity,” she recalls. 

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Within hours, the fundraiser met its $20,000 goal; within a month, it had surpassed $200,000. This outpouring of support made it clear that an organization was needed to not only support Black mental health in the area but to also transparently distribute the funds received. The unexpected success of the fundraiser exposed a harsh truth: why should community donations be necessary to meet such a basic need?  

The Reality Behind Performative Allyship 
For Mulat, the surge of temporary support during crises is symptomatic of a much larger problem. “People think a one-time donation removes their obligation to take further action,” she states. The spectacle of solidarity, while compelling, quickly fades when public attention shifts. Black-led initiatives are then left scrambling, without the sustained funding or systemic change they desperately need to continue their work. “These donations reflect a broken system that places the burden on us to fix our own care,” she explains. 

Beyond financial instability, this cycle of performative allyship places psychological and operational burdens on Black individuals and the organizations fighting for change. Black-led mental health initiatives like VBTAF must face inconsistent funding and fleeting public interest, all while shouldering the emotional labor of justifying their existence. “It’s retraumatizing to see waves of support that last only as long as we’re in crisis,” Mulat says. With limited resources, the pressure to deliver immediate results makes sustainable solutions nearly impossible. “We’re expected to be the ones harmed and the ones responsible for fixing the harm,” she adds. This short-term concern not only undermines long-term mental health care but deepens the systemic issues that create the need for it. “It’s not about us; it’s about them wanting to feel on the right side of history. True allyship isn’t convenient, it isn’t conditional.” 

Systemic Barriers in Black Mental Health 
At the core of the issue lies a mental health system that was never designed with Black communities in mind. Traditional therapeutic practices, rooted in Western models, ignore the unique challenges faced by Black individuals and often impose a trial-and-error process in finding appropriate care. “Therapy is a very Western practice,” Mulat explains, noting the gatekeeping Black people often face as they must constantly prove their pain to be considered worthy of help. “You can’t just call up a random therapist and assume it’s going to be a match,” she adds. 

This flawed approach is compounded by historical and systemic forces. “Capitalism, white supremacy, and colonialism have built an infrastructure that disregards Black lives,” Mulat emphasized, linking mental health with the broader realities of being over-policed, underpaid, and excluded from benefits many take for granted. In this context, “healing goes beyond traditional therapy,” she says. “It’s about dismantling structures that continue to harm us every day.” 

Yet, even when support does arrive, it is often short-lived and reactionary. While an initial surge of donations may offer temporary relief, it does not address the deeper, generational need for sustained, structural investment. “A donation doesn’t repair the wounds created by generations of neglect,” Mulat points out. This inconsistency in support is not just an issue of short-term funding; it highlights a systemic failure to invest in long-term change. “No institution will ever save us,” she says. “We have to save ourselves by creating systems that are for us, by us.” 

Redefining Healing 
In response to persistent barriers to Black mental health, VBTAF has adopted an approach rooted in community needs. Rather than expecting individuals to conform to a system that’s not designed for them, VBTAF tailors traditional care models to prioritize accessibility and inclusivity. To create a truly supportive environment, she emphasizes that, “all of our counsellors follow anti-oppressive practices, because that’s the only way to really meet people where they are.”  

Recognizing that healing extends beyond traditional therapy, VBTAF also integrates non-Western, ancestral healing practices to address deep-rooted trauma. “Therapy alone isn’t always enough,” Mulat notes. “For many of us, healing comes in different forms, whether through movement, creativity, or connecting with our ancestors.” She shares her own experience, “I’m an artist, and I believe in the healing power of creativity. Hot yoga, making music, and other creative outlets are my medicine.” By combining traditional therapy with culturally grounded methods, VBTAF offers a safe space for Black individuals who have long been underserved by mainstream mental health systems. 

VBTAF also actively works to break down structural barriers that make mental health care inaccessible to Black communities, including challenges related to language and technology. Mulat explains, “We have patient navigators to help those who may struggle with the application process. We also partner with organizations that serve Black newcomers and refugees, ensuring those who might not otherwise hear about our services get the support they need.” 

Providing care is just one piece of VBTAF’s work. The organization is also reshaping how Black communities view mental health. Through education and advocacy, they are raising awareness and challenging misconceptions, particularly the idea that mental illness is a ‘white problem.’ She says, “There is still this idea that seeking help is a sign of weakness.” However, Mulat has seen a shift. “Year by year, more Black men are applying for support, and it’s beautiful because it shows people are acknowledging their pain and choosing to heal.” 

A Call to Genuine Allyship 
Collaboration is key. “We need government, healthcare, grassroots organizations, and community leaders to stop working in silos and start moving collectively,” Mulat urges. True allyship goes beyond statements of support, it requires dismantling oppressive systems and building new ones that center Black communities. “When we receive the infrastructure we deserve, we can create model’s that don’t require us to justify our pain for support,” she explains. 

She stresses that meaningful allyship is about sustained, structural action. “Donate and fund Black mental health initiatives,” she insists. “Uplift Black therapists and challenge the status quo in your own communities.” It’s about using privilege, power, and platforms to drive lasting change, not just when it’s convenient, but every day. By showing up consistently and investing in healing, allies can help amplify voices that have long been marginalized. 

As VBTAF continues to grow, from online initiatives to plans for a physical community space, Bethlehem Mulat’s mission remains clear. It’s not about growing for growth’s sake; it’s about ensuring that resources and care are equitably distributed to those who need them most. “We want to create spaces where Black mental health isn’t treated as a trend, but as a fundamental right.”  

If you or someone you know could benefit from these services, the Vancouver Black Therapy and Advocacy Foundation offers several ways to access support. For those living in Vancouver, VBTAF offers a free counseling program that connects Black individuals with culturally competent therapists, with applications opening once a year. For those seeking ongoing support, a low-cost option is available year-round on a sliding scale, ensuring accessibility regardless of financial barriers. To learn more about these programs and stay updated on intake periods, visit their website. 

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the interviewee(s) and do not necessarily reflect the position of the Network for the Advancement of Black Communities (NABC). NABC is committed to providing a platform for diverse voices across the Black community sector and sharing stories that deepen understanding.