Healthy Communities
What’s intersectionality? Textbook speak explained, using lived experiences
03 July 2020 - by YMCA of Greater Toronto
Editor’s note: this content was adapted from a newsletter that a YMCA staff member writes independently, in their capacity as an anti-racism and anti-oppression activist. We’re sharing it with our YMCA family because it contains valuable information that can help us all do a better job of championing diversity and social inclusion. Though they are eager to get their message out and consented to having the following piece published on this blog, the author wishes to remain anonymous.
I’m writing this at the bottom of a new low for me. As the weeks slowly pass and the movement starts to slowly disappear from my timeline, I feel a sense of sorrow slipping into my emotional flux and flow. The social media algorithms are slowly losing their grip as more and more people who I at some point considered friends feel brazen enough to start posting about the discomfort the Black Rights movement is forcing upon them, failing to acknowledge how uncomfortable it is to be discriminated against based solely on the colour of your skin. I already recognize my tone in writing this week is more despondent than it has been in the past, but this is a reality I’m living in.
Regardless, I want this to be a place of learning and understanding; a place of sharing and growing. In particular, I want to use this space to show Black and Indigenous Womxn some appreciation. To be quite candid, being a minority in more ways than one is incredibly difficult. The voices of BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) Womxn are often drowned out by the mainstream media, well-intentioned “allies,” our overall social structures, and our peers; they’re also silenced through a disregard for intersectionality.
What’s intersectionality?
Kimberlé Crenshaw, a civil rights activist and legal scholar, is credited with coining the term in the late ‘80s. She used it to explain how Black Womxn were being left out of the Feminist movement and the Anti-Racist movement. (You can watch a great TED Talk by Crenshaw here.)
If you look it up in the dictionary, you’ll see intersectionality defined as: “the complex, cumulative way in which the effects of multiple forms of discrimination (such as racism, sexism, and classism) combine, overlap, or intersect especially in the experiences of marginalized individuals or groups.”
For me, no dictionary definition can capture the complexity of intersectionality. For me, intersectionality is defined by how individuals experience their unique relationships with discrimination. It’s about a variety of social and political factors and how they overlap to shape your personal experiences.
Lots of people have criticized the concept of intersectionality. You might have heard jeers about “the oppression Olympics” — which showcases how misunderstood the concept is. Intersectionality isn’t about “competing to be the most oppressed.” In fact, one of the main points intersectional theorists try to get across is that oppression isn’t additive; you don’t experience proportionately more oppression by the more oppressed groups you belong to. Intersectionality tells us it’s more complicated than that. No two people have the same experiences of oppression, because their unique experiences intersect in unique ways.
Intersectionality asks us to recognize that our position in society is not solely based on one part of your identity. Race, socioeconomic status, gender, religion, ethnicity, language, sexuality, education, culture, ability, and a long list of other categorizations help shape the ways you learn to navigate the world. Ideas like “all lives matter,” "colour blindness,” or “the oppression Olympics” erase the depth and gravity of discrimination that people in our communities face every day.
My life, from an intersectional perspective
I am Black, I am a Woman, I am of low socioeconomic status. Society lets me know that these categories are undesirable by stereotyping them, and attaching those stereotypes to me.
Here is how intersectionality works in my case. I’m Black, and therefore when I am being assertive, I am often labeled aggressive. I’m a woman, and therefore when I express my feelings, I am labeled overly emotional. I’m low-income, and therefore I am often labeled lazy, despite overexerting time and effort into my career. Stereotypes are pervasive and often filter our perspectives of the world around us.
Other Black, low-income Womxn don’t necessarily experience the same realities I do, and all experiences lead to unique results. My experiences with intersectional discrimination as a child caused me to withdraw when I didn’t see myself represented. I was always afraid of being completely misunderstood. I’m happy to say that is an issue I’m now able to identify and work to improve. But it is a very real, lasting issue that will probably never go away completely.
When your body’s beauty is measured against Eurocentric standards; your voice muted by patriarchal structures; your individuality ripped away by stereotyping; your experiences rebutted; your intelligence questioned; your culture disrespected, frowned upon, and repackaged to suit the needs of a dominant culture; your efforts unrecognized; life can get absolutely unbearable. Yet, we Black and Indigenous Womxn still stand, having learned to adapt and overcome, making sacrifices we didn’t want and never should have been expected to make. Still fighting for equality, yet denied access to the outcomes of the movements we stand on the front lines of.
We are here. Hear us. See us. Accept us.
Continuing our learning journey
Intersectionality is a lot to digest. It opens up a very intricate, arcane puzzle that takes so much to unpack. I hope my brief explanation can be used as a jumping point for you to delve deeper. We can’t let misunderstanding and misrepresentation continue. Intersectionality helps make room for the people who don’t fit the very narrow narrative of the latest news cycles and history textbooks. It helps amplify unheard voices and diversify the palette of human experience.
The weight of oppression and discrimination is very challenging to articulate. In turn, learning about oppression and discrimination can also feel really heavy. I hope these feelings don’t deter you from continuing that learning. The path to social justice is a marathon, not a sprint. Take your time, let yourself experience the flux and flow of emotion, take a break if you need it; but always keep looking forward towards a more equitable future for us all.
I’m writing this at the bottom of a new low for me. As the weeks slowly pass and the movement starts to slowly disappear from my timeline, I feel a sense of sorrow slipping into my emotional flux and flow. The social media algorithms are slowly losing their grip as more and more people who I at some point considered friends feel brazen enough to start posting about the discomfort the Black Rights movement is forcing upon them, failing to acknowledge how uncomfortable it is to be discriminated against based solely on the colour of your skin. I already recognize my tone in writing this week is more despondent than it has been in the past, but this is a reality I’m living in.
Regardless, I want this to be a place of learning and understanding; a place of sharing and growing. In particular, I want to use this space to show Black and Indigenous Womxn some appreciation. To be quite candid, being a minority in more ways than one is incredibly difficult. The voices of BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) Womxn are often drowned out by the mainstream media, well-intentioned “allies,” our overall social structures, and our peers; they’re also silenced through a disregard for intersectionality.
What’s intersectionality?
Kimberlé Crenshaw, a civil rights activist and legal scholar, is credited with coining the term in the late ‘80s. She used it to explain how Black Womxn were being left out of the Feminist movement and the Anti-Racist movement. (You can watch a great TED Talk by Crenshaw here.)
If you look it up in the dictionary, you’ll see intersectionality defined as: “the complex, cumulative way in which the effects of multiple forms of discrimination (such as racism, sexism, and classism) combine, overlap, or intersect especially in the experiences of marginalized individuals or groups.”
For me, no dictionary definition can capture the complexity of intersectionality. For me, intersectionality is defined by how individuals experience their unique relationships with discrimination. It’s about a variety of social and political factors and how they overlap to shape your personal experiences.
Lots of people have criticized the concept of intersectionality. You might have heard jeers about “the oppression Olympics” — which showcases how misunderstood the concept is. Intersectionality isn’t about “competing to be the most oppressed.” In fact, one of the main points intersectional theorists try to get across is that oppression isn’t additive; you don’t experience proportionately more oppression by the more oppressed groups you belong to. Intersectionality tells us it’s more complicated than that. No two people have the same experiences of oppression, because their unique experiences intersect in unique ways.
Intersectionality asks us to recognize that our position in society is not solely based on one part of your identity. Race, socioeconomic status, gender, religion, ethnicity, language, sexuality, education, culture, ability, and a long list of other categorizations help shape the ways you learn to navigate the world. Ideas like “all lives matter,” "colour blindness,” or “the oppression Olympics” erase the depth and gravity of discrimination that people in our communities face every day.
My life, from an intersectional perspective
I am Black, I am a Woman, I am of low socioeconomic status. Society lets me know that these categories are undesirable by stereotyping them, and attaching those stereotypes to me.
Here is how intersectionality works in my case. I’m Black, and therefore when I am being assertive, I am often labeled aggressive. I’m a woman, and therefore when I express my feelings, I am labeled overly emotional. I’m low-income, and therefore I am often labeled lazy, despite overexerting time and effort into my career. Stereotypes are pervasive and often filter our perspectives of the world around us.
Other Black, low-income Womxn don’t necessarily experience the same realities I do, and all experiences lead to unique results. My experiences with intersectional discrimination as a child caused me to withdraw when I didn’t see myself represented. I was always afraid of being completely misunderstood. I’m happy to say that is an issue I’m now able to identify and work to improve. But it is a very real, lasting issue that will probably never go away completely.
When your body’s beauty is measured against Eurocentric standards; your voice muted by patriarchal structures; your individuality ripped away by stereotyping; your experiences rebutted; your intelligence questioned; your culture disrespected, frowned upon, and repackaged to suit the needs of a dominant culture; your efforts unrecognized; life can get absolutely unbearable. Yet, we Black and Indigenous Womxn still stand, having learned to adapt and overcome, making sacrifices we didn’t want and never should have been expected to make. Still fighting for equality, yet denied access to the outcomes of the movements we stand on the front lines of.
We are here. Hear us. See us. Accept us.
Continuing our learning journey
Intersectionality is a lot to digest. It opens up a very intricate, arcane puzzle that takes so much to unpack. I hope my brief explanation can be used as a jumping point for you to delve deeper. We can’t let misunderstanding and misrepresentation continue. Intersectionality helps make room for the people who don’t fit the very narrow narrative of the latest news cycles and history textbooks. It helps amplify unheard voices and diversify the palette of human experience.
The weight of oppression and discrimination is very challenging to articulate. In turn, learning about oppression and discrimination can also feel really heavy. I hope these feelings don’t deter you from continuing that learning. The path to social justice is a marathon, not a sprint. Take your time, let yourself experience the flux and flow of emotion, take a break if you need it; but always keep looking forward towards a more equitable future for us all.
