Today, we’re talking about a topic that is painful, necessary, and critically important to the integrity of any movement: the difference between genuine allyship and performative danger. We’re sharing a story, deeply anonymized, about a dynamic that played out recently in an advocacy space. This isn’t about drama; it’s about holding a mirror up to behaviors that can genuinely threaten lives.
Chapter 1: The Transactional Drain
For almost a year—let’s call it nine months—a certain pattern was established between two people in our orbit. We’ll call them The Confidant and The Performer.
The Confidant is, frankly, an empath. They were a constant, open-door resource for The Performer, listening to, supporting, and counseling them through endless trauma dumps, drama, and personal chaos. The Confidant never asked for this role; they simply showed up out of genuine kindness and capacity. The relationship, however, was unilateral. It was a continuous, one-way extraction of energy, time, and emotional labor.
The Performer, meanwhile, seemed like the ultimate ally—highly vulnerable, often sharing “woe is me” narratives, appearing full of concern and good intentions. But this is the key: The Performer was a classic covert narcissist, a sophisticated energy vampire who feeds on the empathy of others to prop up their image. They’re often more dangerous than a malignant narcissist because their self-centeredness is cloaked in vulnerability and kindness. They leech your energy while campaigning as a saint.
Chapter 2: The Moment of Betrayal
The test of a true friend and a true ally comes when the tide turns.
The Confidant, after months of giving, hit a moment of personal crisis. They needed a friend. Crucially, The Confidant did the responsible, trauma-informed thing: they reached out to The Performer and asked directly, “Do you have the spoons for this? Can I confide in you and get your insights?”
The Performer’s response was emphatic, enthusiastic, and immediate: “Yes! Absolutely.” This is vital. This person was actively presenting themselves in social circles as wanting to be a peer support specialist for serious issues, including suicide prevention. They claimed the capacity.
But what happened next was a deliberate act of abandonment.
Over the course of an entire weekend, The Performer dismissed, deflected, and ignored The Confidant’s request for support—not once, but three separate times. They chose to drop the ball entirely, leaving The Confidant completely isolated and vulnerable.
This neglect was not just a terrible lapse in friendship; it was a profound failure that had immediate and devastating consequences. When the support they were promised vanished, The Confidant was thrown into an emotional state that triggered suicidal tendencies.
The person who claimed they wanted to prevent suicide had, through callous neglect, actively contributed to a friend’s suicidal crisis.
Chapter 3: The Accountability Crisis
On Monday, The Confidant chose a path of difficult honesty. They confronted The Performer, explaining the full gravity of the neglect and the direct, harmful consequence it had caused. The moment was not about attacking; it was about asking for accountability and repair for severe harm.
And here is where the mask completely dropped.
The Performer’s response was a textbook case of narcissistic deflection. They chose to:
* Diminish the severity of the situation.
* Dismiss the Confidant’s pain.
* Recentering themselves and all of their own personal problems back into the conversation, effectively turning their failure into their own victim narrative.
And if you need the ultimate proof of this kind of cold, callous evasion, listen for this phrase: “I’m sorry you feel that way.” That is the most narcissistic statement that can be uttered. It says, “I am sorry that your reaction is inconvenient for me, but I take zero responsibility for the action that caused it.”
They refused to admit responsibility. They chose to perceive the confrontation as an attack, proving that for them, accountability is simply unacceptable.
Chapter 4: The Danger to the Movement
The final, glaring fact solidifies the danger: Weeks passed, and The Performer never once tried to resolve the issue, never offered a genuine apology, and never reached out to check on the friend they had left in a suicidal crisis.
Yet, they still believed they had the right to parade and pretend like they belonged in the very social causes advocacy group the Confidant was heavily involved in.
This is the definition of a performative activist. They want the proximity to activism, they want the applause, but they have absolutely no capacity for the actual care, responsibility, or self-reflection required to protect vulnerable people.
When this kind of person is faced with genuine accountability, particularly if they benefit from systemic advantages, they will immediately resort to defensive tactics—including using deflective emotional appeals or what we might call “white woman tears”—to dodge the necessary responsibility.
A person who will abandon a friend in a suicidal moment cannot and will not protect a marginalized community in a moment of crisis. They are a danger. They are a fake ally. And when you see this pattern, you must do the difficult, necessary work of pruning them away from your shared spaces.
Our commitment must always be to the safety of our most vulnerable members. Anything less is a compromise we cannot afford.
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