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When conversations about race in America turn to “performative allyship,” Get Out provides one of the clearest, most unsettling dramatizations of how it works. Jordan Peele’s 2017 film doesn’t just expose individual racism — it critiques the smiling, self-congratulatory façade of liberal white allyship that masks deeper systems of control and exploitation. The Armitages and their guests go out of their way to appear progressive and racially enlightened—praising Black culture and athletes, name-dropping Obama, and insisting they’d vote for him a third time—all while preparing to violate Black bodies for their own gain. These gestures, far from challenging systemic racism, serve to disarm their victims and reinforce their own power. In this way, Get Out reveals how performative allyship doesn’t just fail to challenge inequality; it actively supports and conceals it, making exploitation even harder to detect and resist. 

Dean Armitage is so keen to demonstrate that he’s supportive of Chris’s relationship with Rose (and that he’s definitely not a racist) that every single conversation with him becomes about Chris’s Blackness. Instead of making Chris feel welcomed, Dean’s excessive efforts—not to mention cringe-inducing turns of phrase like describing Rose and Chris’s relationship as “this thang”—just highlight Dean's underlying anxiety about race. His behavior seems forced and awkward, and it gives the impression that he’s always self-consciously trying too hard. If he were genuinely accepting of Chris, he would try to get to know him as a person, but instead Dean relies on cultural stereotypes to relate to his daughter’s boyfriend. This makes his interactions with Chris very hard to watch. For example, he repeatedly says he would have voted for Barack Obama “a third time,” as if this claim should somehow prove his openness to Chris’s presence at his house. Although Dean’s excessively polite and friendly behavior towards Chris initially seems sincere, if poorly executed, his blustering attempts to relate conceal his true intentions. His surface-level progressivism is a mask for his sinister participation in violently and horribly exploiting Black bodies. Dean might claim to think that Barack Obama was “the best President of his lifetime,” but that certainly doesn’t stop him from abducting and lobotomizing other members of the Black community. 

Similarly, Rose Armitage initially positions herself as Chris’s advocate and protector, but her real intentions are far more sinister. Early in the film, she confronts the police officer who unjustly requests Chris’s identification after Rose hits a deer with their car. Rose's confrontation with the cop creates an initial impression of sincere allyship. Rose tries to call the police officer out on his behavior because she knows she has no reason to fear violent reprisals or arrest when she’s pulled over by a squad car. Because she’s never been in Chris’s position, Rose has no idea how dangerous antagonizing a law enforcement official might be for a young Black man. She relies on her privilege to protect her, knowing that by challenging the cop she can build Chris’s trust in her allyship and sow doubt about any later indications that she’s in on her family’s scheme. This moment illustrates how performative allyship like Rose’s can operate strategically. By “defending” Chris against the cop, she’s shoring up a false impression of solidarity between them to manipulate him with later. 

There’s a much more overt version of performative allyship on display at the Armitages’ garden party. The older and middle-aged white guests treat Chris like a museum exhibit, presenting their totalizing and racist views on Black sexuality and Black physical attributes as compliments. One woman even directly asks Rose if sex with Chris is better than it is with white men. Polite comments and seemingly harmless remarks hide deeper racial prejudices. Chris faces continuous subtle racism masked by politeness or the semblance of meaning well. Because nothing they say to him is delivered aggressively or rudely in context, it makes it difficult to confront directly. When Chris does express discomfort, he worries his objections will be labeled as overreactions or he’ll be seen as ignorant and ungrateful. This familiar dynamic of suppressing his responses silences Chris, ensuring the status quo remains unchallenged. The admiration of the party guests reduces Chris to an object of fascination. He’s just a physical specimen to them, rather than a fully-realized person worthy of genuine respect and understanding. The party guests’ performative allyship shows Chris that they’re not interested in him as an individual at all. When they look at him, they see what they see in all Black men. Their “compliments” don’t acknowledge their shared humanity with Chris. Instead, they dress up objectification as appreciation. 

The Coagula cult’s goal of “transmuting” white consciousnesses into the Black bodies they fetishize exposes their performative allyship for what it is: a cover for exploitation and cultural theft. Rose, Dean, Missy, Jim, and Jeremy al express admiration for Black people in sports, politics, and culture, yet their true aim is to steal Black bodies and control their perspectives. Through the Coagula procedure, white people can literally take possession of Black bodies. Instead of appreciating and supporting Black excellence, the Coagula cult reduces cultural appreciation to an excuse for domination. The “transmuted” cult members appropriate the Blackness of their victims in the most literal sense possible, brutally stealing it and using it for their own gain. 

Chris’s unlikely escape and survival are an argument in favor of decisive action against the institutions that oppress people of color. Get Out exposes the discomfort of realizing that performative allyship is itself an insidious form of racism. The movie challenges audiences to evaluate their behaviors in the light of the Armitage family’s cringey gestures and chillingly cruel intetions, and recognize the harmful implications of superficial, self-important support of people of color. By illustrating how performative allyship has become foundational to systemic oppression and exploitation, Get Out asserts that authentic solidarity is the best weapon against systemic oppression. 

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