Floorish Newsletter đź—Ł Beyond Silent Allyship

Welcome to the eighteenth edition of the Floorish newsletter dedicated to providing you with insightful data, ideas and views on diversity, equity and inclusion. In this newsletter, taking no more than 3 minutes of your time, I aim to keep you informed and inspired with thought-provoking content, practical tips and inspiring stories.

Personal Reflections: A Growing Concern

This week, someone told me their queer child is worried that what’s happening in the US could spill over into the UK. Will it? Someone I met years ago at an LGBTQ+ leadership event in Berlin messaged me to say she was leaving social media and asked for my email to stay in touch. Another friend, whose partner is trans, is taking a break from the news entirely. And yet another gay friend confided that he’s been struggling to sleep.

It’s been a while since I’ve written. Life with two young children – one and four – in a country where my family isn’t around the corner and caregiving responsibilities never really stop is demanding. But with everything happening right now, I feel compelled to write – not because I have all the answers, but because silence feels wrong.

Right now, I’m lying in bed with our eldest beside me. He likes to fall asleep with one or two of his mothers nearby. Watching him, I’m reminded of how children live entirely in the moment. They exist in the “now” – until the day they begin asking tough questions about the world.

I try to protect them from those tough conversations for as long as I can. But being present with them requires me to be fully in the moment too – not just physically there, but mentally. With everything happening in the world, especially Trump’s recent actions, it’s been harder to stay fully present.

Silent Allyship: A False Comfort?

I always thought that my generation would be the one that would no longer have to fight for basic rights for minorities, at least in the countries I lived in. Growing up in the Netherlands and later moving to Germany and then the UK, I assumed we were heading towards a world where these issues would no longer feel so pressing. I was wrong.

While I did see progress—through movements like #MeToo, women’s quotas (policies ensuring a minimum level of female representation in leadership and decision-making roles), and trans rights—resistance never fully disappeared. It quietly lingered in jokes and dismissive comments about gender, race, and sexual orientation—remarks so subtle they were easy to ignore. But in recent years, it seems to have grown louder. Then came the lawsuits, causing women who had been abused by men to be suddenly portrayed as perpetrators, while the men became the alleged victims. And now, I start to fear resistance has roared back in full force, undoing years of progress.

Women’s rights, trans rights, and the rights of other minorities are at stake. This is no longer just rhetoric. And the most unsettling part? Too many people who know it’s wrong are staying silent. Silent allyship—the quiet support, the head nods, the donations made in private—is no longer enough. Silence, even when well-intended, enables oppression. People might not want to speak up because they fear backlash, losing friends, or getting it wrong.

But the cost of staying quiet is far greater than the discomfort of speaking out.

Where Do We Go From Here?

The rollback of rights isn’t just an attack on progress – it’s a reaction to fear. Fear from those accustomed to holding power. Fear of a world where privilege is shared rather than hoarded. But fear doesn’t justify persecution, and the consequences are clear: policies that strip people of dignity, rhetoric that emboldens hate, and actions that normalise dehumanisation.

We’ve been here before. History is full of moments where rights were clawed back under the guise of fear and control. Each time, silence allowed the worst to take root. The question that haunts me is: what happens next? If we begin invalidating certain identities, how far will it go? Whose rights will be next? Maybe the answer lies in more stories, more conversations, and louder, more visible allyship. But I don’t know for sure.

What I do know is that I refuse to let my children inherit a world where exclusion is normalised. So, I’ll keep speaking up – even when it feels like shouting into the void. Because history has taught us one thing: silence is never neutral. It sides with the oppressor. We need people to stand up, to speak louder – not just for themselves but for those who can’t.

It’s not just about being an ally. It’s about refusing to let hate win.


I hope these insights have sparked your curiosity and I invite you to share any data, ideas or views you believe should be highlighted in future newsletters. Stay tuned for the next edition.

Warm regards,

Floor Martens

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