Intersectionality: Why Does it Matter?

Photo Credit: Catherine Butler

Click here to see our first post about intersectionality. Today, we will unpack a few implications for an intersectional approach and talk about why such an approach might be important. 

1) An intersectional approach broadens the discussion. 

Some critics claim that intersectionality narrows the discussion by becoming fixated on identity politics. In reality, the more voices we can bring to the table, the broader our perspective will become. Seeking an intersectional approach welcomes us to look at issues through multiple lenses, not just our own.

Also, those who would criticize intersectionality for being too focused on identity politics miss the foundational concept here: we should not be critical of the voices who raise their perspectives, but should focus on listening, learning, and engaging in the critiques raised. Don't level criticism at the person raising the issue; level criticism at the one causing or contributing to the disparity.

2) An intersectional approach helps us to check our privilege, regardless of who we are.

"Privilege" is not an exercise in absolutes. It is not a matter of "That guy has privilege, that one does not." When it comes to examining privilege, there is a hierarchy involved. Intersectionality reminds us that, even if we are part of a people group that has historically experienced discrimination, we might still have privilege that others don't have.

For example, if LGBTQ advocacy is driven primarily by white, cis-gender, able-bodied gay men, it is possible for the movement to fall out of balance. Yes, the group is composed of people who face discrimination, but there is still some level of privilege in relation to, say, Asian LGBTQ people, or LGBTQ people of color.

An intersectional approach helps us remember to check any privilege we might have and use that privilege, no matter how negligible, to create a platform for those who are more susceptible to discrimination than we are.

3) An intersectional approach helps bring visibility to those who are invisible.

The fact of the matter is, people who are in the minority are often ignored, disregarded, or disproportionately represented. An intersectional approach is an exercise in seeking out those who are not being seen and heard.

It is the exercise of asking, "Who in our community are we leaving out? Are there nuances we are missing, insights to be gained? Are there others whose cause overlaps with our own who we might include?"

This raises the visibility of minority groups within our own circles, but it also draws attention from leaders and policymakers. If we make it our business to seek out the most widely ignored, most frequently disregarded people group in our midst, and if we make that people group a prominent partner in our advocacy, we do a service to them and to us.

4) An intersectional approach ensures that no one gets left behind.

It is possible to make great gains for one people group while leaving the experience of other groups unchanged. Worse, it is possible to make gains for one people group at the expense of or to the detriment of others.

For example, a society could see great gains for African American people in the area of voting rights while Hispanic people face greater scrutiny or more overt discrimination.

In the pursuit of civil rights, it is possible to inadvertently pit the cause of individual groups against one another. One might say, "I am only focused on broadening LGBTQ protections under the law, so I cannot contribute to anti-xenophobia efforts." Or, "I know this law will hurt trans people, but it will not hurt gay people."

There is something to be said about being focused and prioritizing individual contributions to local causes. Of course, as a single person we cannot be involved in every cause. But we must be careful not to send the signal that these efforts are in competition with one another. It is not a case of protecting LGBTQ people OR people of color; we must ultimately seek equality for all.

So, yes, it is acceptable and often necessary to focus our attentions on a specific cause or particular organization. But, we cannot allow ourselves to become insulated or isolated, and we must avoid the human tendency to view other groups as "competition." Instead of listing potential threats from other people groups, we must seek out potential points of commonality.

5) An intersectional approach postures us to be more effective through unity in the midst of diversity.Finally, one of the biggest benefits of an intersectional approach is that it opens up the door for collaboration, partnership, and resource sharing in exciting ways.

If a local LGBTQ advocacy group is composed only of white males, it is not only advocacy of others they lack. They lack the tremendous wealth of knowledge, talents, encouragement, and life to be had through partnership with people of color.

We cannot look at intersectionality as an endless process of self-criticism by which we keep kicking ourselves every time we discover we've left someone out. Instead, we must see this as an unending opportunity to expand our community. This is not an exclusive club where we grudgingly agree to let more people in over time; this is an ever-widening circle of supporters, growing in momentum and potential. We should not say, "Oh great, there is yet another group we must let in." We should say, "What new partners can we work with in unprecedented ways?"

Together is better, they say, and intersectionality as a mindset prepares us to unite meaningfully and effectively.

Intersectionality: What is it?

What is intersectionality?

Today we begin a short series of posts addressing the concept of intersectionality.

First, let's get our heads around the concept. (In the next post, we will look at some implications of this idea)

For our uses here on this blog, intersectionality is a social theory, a particular sensibility... it is a way of thinking about identity and its relationship to power.

There are two basic ideas captured by the concept of intersectionality: 
1) an individual can face discrimination based on more than one aspect of their identity, such as race, class, gender, and sexuality

2) these aspects of identity overlap with one another and are not easily separated

The term intersectionality was first coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw in her 1989 essay "Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence Against Women of Color." In her studies, Crenshaw drew attention to the plight of black women, who were experiencing discrimination on two fronts: sexism based on their gender, and prejudice based on their race.

Crenshaw drew attention to this overlap, calling it intersectionality. She also pointed out that the cause of black women was being overlooked and ignored by both the feminist movement of the time and the anti-racist movement. The cause of "equality for women" and the cause of "racial equality" were operating in separate silos, without any apparent connection.

This cartoon by Catherine Butler captures the concept well:

Discussions of intersectionality first began in reference to women of color, but the term has grown into broader usage as the same phenomena have been observed in relation to different people groups. 

Think about it like this: the more minority groups a person is part of, the more potential for discrimination they face. 

Picture by AChange is Coming

A Hispanic man may face racism because of his race, and xenophobia because he is an immigrant. A gay, Jewish man may face homophobia and discrimination due to his sexuality and also antisemitism because of his Jewishness.

In one of the most frightening examples of intersectional dynamics today, trans women of color face violence and discrimination at rates higher than any other group.

Trans women of color face:
1) Anti-trans prejudice
2) Misogyny and sexism
3) Racism
4) And, due to lack of understanding of trans issues, they may face homophobia too.

There are implications here. In addition to this hierarchy of power when it comes to identity, intersectional experiences often point out disparities in our systems.

Check out this example, from an article on Care2Cause

Often, the problems intersectional experiences reveal is not that individual people are overtly sexist or racist, but that the legal and policy mechanisms we have in place to deal with complaints like, for instance, an immigrant woman who doesn’t speak English trying to report her abusive husband, are stacked against people with a multiple minority identity by, for example, not having interpreters on hand, or not understanding enough about the woman’s particular cultural heritage to understand the best way to deal with her situation.

That, in a nutshell, defines the concept of intersectionality. More to come in subsequent posts. 

Lena Waithe, Thanksgiving, and Master of None

Last month, Lena Waithe became the first African-American woman to receive an Emmy nomination for comedy writing. Having seen the work which garnered this Emmy nod, I am very pleased and not at all surprised. 

Lena Waithe's historic nomination comes for her writing on an episode of Master of None. If you aren't familiar with the series, Master of None is a program on Netflix produced by and starring Aziz Ansari. Primarily, the show follows Dev (played by Ansari), a second-generation Indian immigrant, as he navigates life in New York City.

And, the show is hilarious. (Readers be advised, the show is rated MA for strong language and sexual themes).

Now in its second season, Master of None is no stranger to tackling social issues. Past episodes have covered topics such as religion, race, aging parents, and immigration. 

Episode 8 of season 2 is called "Thanksgiving." The episode tells the story of Denise, as she discovers and comes to grips with her sexuality. Lena Waithe co-wrote the script with Aziz Ansari, using her own life experiences coming out as a lesbian to frame the episode. Aside from writing the script, Lena also stars as Denise, a fictionalized version of herself.

Angela Bassett and Lena Waithe in "Thanksgiving"

This ingenious and powerful episode is told through the portrayal of five different Thanksgivings over the course of 22 years. In a series of scenes, spanning decades of her life, we see landmark moments from Denise's life, including her own personal realization that she is a lesbian, her revelation of this aspect of her identity to friends and family members, and bringing a girlfriend home for the holidays for the first time.

You should watch it. The episode stands alone, telling a story that is unconnected from the rest of the series, so it is possible to enjoy this one episode without committing to the entire series. At this time, Netflix streaming service is the only place to watch.

This recent piece from the LA Times explains:

Waithe wanted to highlight cultural expectations within the black community. Last year, the film “Moonlight” subverted ideas of black masculinity in its story of a young, gay black boy growing up in Florida. Waithe was offering a female perspective on what it means to be black and gay. In the episode, a young Denise opts to wear baggy jeans and a baseball cap instead of a dress.

“Girls get away with it for a while, actually,” Waithe says. “Because it is less taboo for a girl to be a tomboy than it is for a young man to be effeminate. “But that’s why I thought it was so important to show that,” she says, “but also show how a mom, a black mom especially of that generation was like, ‘No. Wear the dress. We’ll make it fit.’ There's that desire for appearances, but there’s not that much worry.” But when it confronts her, whether it’s me coming out or me bringing another girl home, she doesn’t like it too much.”

Guest star Angela Bassett portrays Denise's conservative mother in the episode, also receiving an Emmy nomination for her performance. Bassett was drawn to the role because of her respect for the show in general, but also because she saw the poignant and funny script as a way to generate conversation.

A young Dev and Denise take part in Thanksgiving in an early scene of the episode.

As she grows and learns about her own sexuality, Denise's story is compelling. Equally compelling is the story arc of the mother, as she comes to terms with her daughter's identity. When Bassett and Waithe are together on screen, there are moments of pure electricity.

Aside from the razor-sharp writing, the episode features some brilliant design work, capturing the look and feel of each time period represented. A Jennifer Aniston poster during the height of her Friends fame, discussions of Hilary from Fresh Prince, music videos on MTV, and fashion styles from the era all feature prominently in the episode. These specific references are also drawn directly from Lena's life story (she truly did have a crush on Jennifer Aniston, for example).

When I first watched the Thanksgiving episode with my wife earlier in 2017, I said to myself, "This better win a lot of awards." I was struck by the specificity of the episode. This is not a generic coming-out story (if there could ever be such a thing). This tells the intensely personal story of a young black lesbian woman.

In a joint interview with Aziz Ansari (a fun read, if you want to know how the episode came to be), Lena Waithe told Vulture:

I don’t think my story as a queer black woman is so crazy and random, but it’s very specific. Especially in my community there’s a lot of images in the media or social media about, “Oh, this is what a black lesbian is and what she looks like.” I thought the more specific we could be about it, the more interesting it could be. That’s also what Aziz gravitates toward. He’s like, “How specific can we get?” We felt like it didn’t look like anything I’d seen on TV before, and that’s our litmus test. Have we seen this before? What’s the most honest way to tell this story?

The beauty of telling such a personal story is that it provides a way to address various aspects of the characters' personhood. Intersectionality is a word that might be used for stories that touch many different areas of a person's identity. Aside from telling the story of a young lesbian coming out, the episode tells the story of a black family. We see scenes in which the family discusses OJ Simpson around the dinner table, as well as the case of Sandra Bland. 

The episode packs an emotional punch, deftly handling important and heavy topics. And, the episode is hilarious. A devious Dev, insisting on poking fun at Denise's new girlfriend, and conversations with an outspoken Aunt alongside a blunt grandmother stand out as funny moments.

Watch it, if you are able. And keep an eye out for Lena Waithe. She writes and performs for various shows, and recently wrapped up filming on the upcoming Steven Speilberg film Ready Player One.

Ally? Get Over Yourself, Part 3

The rocketing conclusion! Over the past few weeks, we have been studying Ten Things an Ally Should Know, as inspired by a piece by Jamie Utt. Here are the final thoughts in this series. If you missed the first two parts, you can click here for numbers 1-4 in the series and numbers 5-7.

8. Allies focus their influence on others like them.

Jamie Utt points out, "As a person who benefits every single day from White privilege, it is not my place to engage People of Color in a discussion about what is or is not racist. That’s not solidarity."

As a straight person, it is not your job to convince LGBT+ what is or isn't offensive. However, straight, cisgender people can play a unique role in the ally discussion: namely, talking to other straight, cisgender people!

Jamie says is best, "Beyond listening, arguably the most important thing that I can do to act in solidarity is to engage those who share my identity.

As a man, I have a specific responsibility to engage men in building a more positive masculinity and standing up to misogyny and sexism.

As a White person, I have a responsibility to stand up to racism and work to bring White people into the anti-racist conversation in a way that they can hear and access.

As an able-bodied person, I have a responsibility to call out examples of everyday ableism."

 

9. Allies apologize, act accountably, and change.

“If you choose to do social justice work, you are going to screw up – a lot. Be prepared for that. And when you screw up, be prepared to listen to those who you hurt, apologize with honesty and integrity, work hard to be accountable to them, and make sure you act differently going forward.”

When you inadvertently cause offense or act/speak inappropriately, it is not enough to simply listen.

First, you must avoid telling the other person they are not offended or wrong to be offended. It doesn't work that way.

Second, above and beyond listening, a sincere apology is the first step in setting things right.

Notice I said first step. An apology itself if not enough. You are accountable to those around you. You have a responsibility to work at acting differently in the future.

10. Finally, allies never monopolize emotional energy.

One of the biggest mistakes we can make as allies is to tax the emotional energy of  those people we are trying to ally with. We should not expect energy from those we claim to be supporting.

Yes, you may need to process your feelings of guilt and shame from mistakes you've made in the past. Process that with another ally; do not dump your feelings of guilt onto your LGBT+ friend. You cannot simultaneously be their ally and treat them as your personal therapist.

Maybe you want to feel the relief of being forgiven or accepted by the LGBT+ community. That need you are feeling is real, but it is not the responsibility of LGBT+ people to assuage your conscience, or help you process your need for validation, or allow you to cry on their shoulder.

Allies need support, too. Allies need safe spaces to process their emotions and share about their learning curve. But these things must happen apart from relationships with LGBT+ people. You cannot wander into someone's life and say, "I am here to support you... but I also need you to carry me."

Here's the thing: people who are experiencing discrimination and marginalization are exhausted. If you are contributing to their exhaustion by piling your emotional baggage on their shoulders, you are not being an ally, you are being a drain.

Seek the emotional support you need, but do not siphon it from the souls of those you'd like to support.

Ally? Get Over Yourself, Part 2

Here we continue our examination of Ten Things an Ally Should Know, as inspired by a piece by Jamie Utt. For numbers 1-4, click here.

5. Allies constantly educate themselves.

It is not good to have zeal without knowledge (the Bible said that). If you want to be an ally, you don't have to be an expert on every topic, but you should have some idea what you are talking about. If your learning is portrayed on a graph, the line should be climbing upward.

You should be learning about the issues facing the people you have allied yourself with, the history of their struggle, and the varying perspectives within the people group. There are a wealth of opportunities to learn, including books, articles, websites, organizations, and people.

Quick note: do NOT expect the people you are allied with to train you. Yes, by building relationships, you will learn a lot from friends and colleagues. But ultimately, it is not their responsibility to teach you everything you need to know. Don't arrive on the scene totally clueless and then lean on others to fill you in. Take the initiative and do your homework. Of course, absorb the wisdom and knowledge of LGBT+ people when they choose to share with you, but don't expect them to tutor you in matters you could have Googled.

6. Allies cannot isolate themselves.

It is easy to be an ally on Facebook or Twitter. Theoretically, you could post supportive messages and express your viewpoints online without even having a single LGBT+ friend. You could proclaim yourself to be an ally of a people group you never interact with.

But this type of dynamic lacks accountability. Aside from the complete lack of feedback, this sort of arrangement leaves you vulnerable to a disconnected and incomplete view of the world.

Don't get me wrong. This does not mean you should run out and make friends with a "token gay person." This is not about propping up your ego through connection to someone else, and we must be careful not to create a paternalistic dynamic or savior complex.

Rather than being an ally in isolation, seek meaningful relationships with LGBT+ people. A vibrant and diverse community will offer valuable perspectives, insights from a range of experiences, and the accountability of a well-rounded community. 

7. Allies do not need to be in the spotlight.

"Fear not, people! I'm here! An ally is in the room! Everything is going to be alright!"

We need allies. They play an important role in bringing about equality for all people. But, you should never be an ally for the sake of amplifying your own voice, promoting your own work, or putting yourself on a platform.

Your goal should be to truly support the community you are allying yourself with, not to make a name for yourself.

It's true that there may be times when you are put at the forefront of a conversation as an ally. Your privilege or position in the community may cause others to hand you the microphone from time to time. In those instances, it may be appropriate to speak as an ally, but ultimately, it is ideal for an ally to use such opportunities to turn the spotlight onto those who are being overlooked, ignored, and marginalized.

More to come in the next, and final, post...

Ally? Get Over Yourself

I stumbled across a very helpful blog post by Jamie Utt from Everyday Feminism several years ago, outlining Ten Things an Ally Should Know.

Jamie points out that the ideas in this piece come from the combined insights "of the People of Color, Queer-identified people, women, differently-abled people, poor folks, Jewish people, Muslim people, Atheists, undocumented citizens, and others... Because part of being an ally means giving credit where credit is due and never taking credit for the anti-oppressive thinking, writing, theorizing, and action of the marginalized and oppressed."

If I were to paraphrase the sentiment behind these ten points, I would say, "Ally, get over yourself! It's not about you!"

Over the next few posts, indebted to the author of the original piece and the chorus of voices they drew from, I will summarize the ideas from the Everyday Feminism post.

Ten Things an Ally Should Know

1) Being an ally is about listening.

Shut up and listen! Of course, every person has wisdom and experience to share based on their background, culture, experience, and perspective, including allies. But, when it comes to the experience of LGBT+ people, the ally in the room should not dominate the conversation. Allies should not arrive on the scene and begin lecturing others or giving all the answers. To coin a phrase, don't ally-splain.

It is important to listen to as many voices as possible. You cannot ally yourself with a person and simultaneously disregard their voice.

Keep in mind, though, that a diversity of voices is needed to round out your perspective. Just because one gay man offers an opinion to you, it does not mean that every other LGBT+ person feels the same way. Always be listening.

2) Ally is not a noun.

Being an ally is not a status. This is not about titles, labels, or credentials you can name for yourself. You can't just flash your ally card as if you've been carded in a liquor store. This is about your words, your thoughts, and your actions.

Consider this quote from Mia McKenzie:

“’Currently operating in solidarity with’ is undeniably an action. It describes what a person is doing in the moment. It does not give credit for past acts of solidarity without regard for current behavior. It does not assume future acts of solidarity. It speaks only to the actions of the present.”

3) Ally is not a self-proclaimed identity.

You don't get to just decide, "I'm an ally now." Yes, your intentions count for something. It is admirable that you want to be an ally. You can strive for solidarity through your words and actions, but keep in mind that others will need to trust you as an ally on their own terms and in their own time.

In other words, being an ally has two components:
- Your intentions, words, and actions as you strive to be an ally
- The trust of LGBT+ people as they recognize your consistent ally behavior

"Trust me, I consider myself an ally," is not enough to cut it.

4) Allies don't take breaks.

Those who are oppressed, marginalized, or ignored do not get to take a break. If you want to be an ally you don't get to retreat into your privilege whenever it becomes convenient.

Part of recognizing your privilege is acknowledging that you get to choose whether or not you're going to engage or resist oppression. Those who are marginalized do not get to choose. Take care of yourself and rest when you need it, but keep in mind that retreating into ease and comfort at every turn is not acting in solidarity, especially when you disengage in critical times of need.

More insights to come in the following post...

My Aversion to Pride

Jason Hanrahan is a wise and thoughtful acquaintance of mine, and a member of Equality Springfield's advisory board. In today's post, Jason shares about his perspective on Pride. This piece first appeared on Jason's website. 

by Jason Hanrahan

I've never been one to participate much in Pride celebrations.  I have used many different reasons since I officially came out to rationalize my aversion to the yearly season of rainbow flags, skin-clad participants and damaged livers.  I make my excuses and plan my events to purposely conflict with the nearby festivals in hope that I can get by one more year without falling into the ‘stereotype’ of being a gay man.

While I have always been aware of Pride’s history and the reason behind the inaugural event (I will let you research that for yourselves), I have always found its current state to be more damaging than helpful to the cause of showing the world that we are ‘normal’.  The internal struggle between whether I was standing up for a good cause or just denying myself at a deeper level has always existed and thus I chose to ignore it altogether.  I tend to do that when I don’t have the mental or emotional capacity to confront myself in any real way.

Recently, I have decided that those things that I stand so strongly against, are more than likely the very things I need to confront.  So, I reluctantly let some friends drag me out to the bars in Dayton this year on the Saturday afternoon of Pride.  The first bar we visited was packed and had its usual programming typical of a Saturday evening, just in matinee form.  Although the entertainment was the same and the drinks were being served as any other evening I would spend there, I noticed a palatable difference.  Not only were there families with young children, everyone seemed to have dropped the air of judgement towards each other and the outsiders that only dare show their colors during this yearly reprieve.  While I initially reacted in shock to there being young children watching the drag queens lip-sync on stage, I gradually grew accustomed to their presence and began to open my mind to what was going on. 

We made our way to another club that opened its doors for a special open stage event that afternoon.  This venue usually has one door you can enter through and requires their patrons be over 18 years of age.  Covers tend to more expensive because of the quality of the show and environment.  On this particular afternoon all of their doors were open, staff were outside greeting those who wanted to come in and entry was free.  We walked in, ordered our drinks and sat in front of the stage to watch the performers who signed up to show off their stuff.  Again, I noticed that there were families in the crowd and everyone was enjoying the afternoon watching their friends and relatives perform.

It wasn’t until the very end of the show when the host, Amaya Sexton, opened the stage for a dance break that I realized what Pride means today.  The crowd was hesitant to join her on stage so she had to pull people up to get the dance break started.  I noticed that she went over to a group of deaf individuals and invited a young girl who was autistic up on the platform.  The girl readily agreed and joined Amaya.  Then, a straight couple who were no older than sixteen years old hopped up on the stage.  A few others rallied behind them and when Amaya cued the DJ to start the music.  Once the music started, everyone on that stage fell victim to the rhythm.  Young, old, deaf, autistic, lame and many others were showing off their moves and enjoying their moment in the lights.  

That Saturday was a day for acceptance and love no matter who you were or your background.  There was a sense of community, not defiance.  I was blessed that day.  Blessed by the open arms that the bars extended to families and those young people who may not currently have a support system.  I was blessed by the way everyone was accepting of each other and what they had to offer.

My wish is that we start to treat every day as if it were Pride.