What Is…Intersectionality?

Today’s post is the next installment on the “What is _____?” series, where I go over terms used commonly in social justice circles that may sound like jargon to many.

Today’s “What is_____?” post will be on a very big term in social justice circles these days: intersectionality.

Intersectionality is a term to describe how different forms of discrimination overlap, combine, and yes, even intersect, with each other. While the term was originally used by Kimberlé Crenshaw 30 years ago to describe how the discrimination of women of color differed from even that of white women, the definition has since expanded in a way that the term can be used to describe how different forms of discrimination intersect to create a set of interwoven prejudices in daily life.

A few such cases where I’ve seen intersectionality at play include the following:

  • Women with disabilities of various kinds, including my mother (who has fibromyalgia and arthritis), often face ableism from people who don’t believe that they should accommodate for someone else’s aches and pains. At the same time, many of the women I know who have chronic illnesses have said quite openly that the fact that they’re women has, without a doubt, made them less likely to be believed when talking about their disabilities with friends and doctors. In the case of women with disabilities, ableism and sexism often intersect.
  • Transgender women of color face discrimination for being transgender, for being a woman, and for being a person of color. Each of these individual statuses (being transgender, being a woman, or being a person of color) is often enough, in many cases, to be at risk in certain ways, but the combination of these three identities has arguably resulted in transgender women of color being disproportionately represented in murder counts, even in the transgender community.[1]
  • Younger people with disabilities (whether visible or invisible) are often thought to be “faking it” because they look “too young” to have a disability. This attitude, and its results, means that there are a lot of young people with disabilities face discrimination at the intersection of ageism and ableism.

An understanding of intersectionality is important because, quite frankly, intersectionality also allows us to have a basic understanding of how different groups of people, even within a community that faces discrimination, can face other forms of discrimination too (or further discrimination because of another oppressed identity). Such an understanding can result in greater empathy for others on an individual level, but also hopefully better policy on the governmental level.


[1] The majority of transgender people who were killed due to violence in 2018 were transgender women of color: https://www.hrc.org/resources/violence-against-the-transgender-community-in-2019

Shared Post: On COVID, Part 5000

I haven’t shared another blogger’s post on here in some time, but I think the post I have here today is worth sharing.

I think it’s important to elevate the voices of people in populations most vulnerable to the virus. Therefore, I thought it was important to share a post that Jackie at Disability & Determination wrote a few days ago about the consequences of overwhelmed hospitals for people with disabilities. I’m not going to spoil her blog post, but they are immense, and in many cases, deadly. I am sharing a link to her blog post as well as her blog below.

Read Jackie’s blog post here

Read Jackie’s blog here

On Using Friends as a Defense Against One’s Own Prejudice

“I’m not racist. I have Black friends.”

“How can you possibly suggest that I’m homophobic? I have a lesbian friend.”

When some of us feel that we are accused of being prejudiced, we can give a response along these lines. We defend ourselves against the accusation of prejudice (whether real or perceived) by pointing out that we have a friend or friends who are of the race, sexual orientation, gender identity, religion, etc., that we are accused of being prejudicial toward.

This language does one thing: it uses the people you call friends as a defense against an accusation of prejudice, often without the permission of said friend or friends. This is problematic on a number of levels.

For starters, the friend(s) you’re using as a defense often have no say in whether they are actually okay with being talked about and used in such a way. Given that fact, it is unfair to put friends in the middle of a controversy surrounding your potential prejudice. Your friends didn’t do anything to merit being in the middle of a controversy of yours, so the right and compassionate thing to do is to, well, not put your friends in the middle of one of your controversies.

Even if said friend(s) were okay with being talked about in that way, the “I’m not racist” or “I’m not anti-Semitic”, comments don’t do anything to address the form of prejudice being talked about. Saying that you’re not a racist usually does nothing about the racism that does exist in our society. Saying that you’re not sexist does nothing about the sexism that does exist in our society. All it does is attempt to convince yourself or others that you are not prejudiced in a particular way.

If anything, the “I’m not ____” comments are sometimes used to defend a word, phrase, or action that is prejudiced. I’ve read people say that that “most Blacks are lazy” (not making this up), an overtly racist comment, and then defend their racism by saying that they have friends of color. I haven’t seen this happen in my conversations too often, thankfully, but when it has happened, it has been disgusting.

Finally, your friends are a poor defense against prejudice because you can have friends of a particular group and be prejudiced toward said group at the same time. Albeit, if you’re prejudiced towards a group that a friend is a part of (for example, if you struggle with ableism and your friend is physically disabled), then that likely hinders your ability to be a good friend.

All in all, I would strongly recommend against using your friends as a defense against accusations of prejudice. It does no favors to you, your friend, or the cause of reducing prejudice in our world. You’re better off responding to those accusations, whether real or perceived, with self-reflection,[1] signing petitions, and/or donating to causes that address the prejudice you’re accused of.

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[1] Sometimes, with self-reflection, you might realize that something you didn’t realize sounded offensive to you was offensive to those around you.

Shared Post: The Cost of Being Disabled

With the election process in 2020 ongoing, I wanted to share a post that fellow blogger Karly shared on the cost of being disabled. While people with muscular dystrophy (what Karly was diagnosed with at a young age) might experience different costs from someone with a different type of disability, one thing that is universal is that American health care often makes it miserably expensive to have a disability. Since Karly’s hope is “to highlight the importance of voting with disabled people and health care in mind,” I figured that sharing her post at a critical point in the election process is ideal.

You can find Karly’s post here.

You can find Karly’s blog here.

Why the Anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act Felt Bittersweet

A few weeks ago, many disability rights advocates celebrated the 27th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). On July 26, 1990, President George H.W. Bush signed this landmark legislation into law.

I wanted to be in a celebratory mood on the anniversary of the ADA. Yet, as I suddenly remembered how far people with disabilities still need to come before they have the same opportunities as able-bodied people like me, the anniversary felt a little bittersweet.

Now, don’t get me wrong—in spite of the statement I just said, I think that the ADA is arguably the most significant piece of civil rights legislation in the last fifty years (the Voting Rights Act was passed in 1965). It is a piece of legislation that improves the lives of millions of Americans, and it is a piece of legislation which, in many cases, enables disabled people to have access to the same opportunities that their able-bodied counterparts have.

While the legislation has improved the lives of millions, it still has a way to go to give disabled people the same access as able-bodied people.

For example, while transit access has improved for people with disabilities, they don’t have access equal to their able-bodied counterparts. One need not look further than the fact that subway systems in New York, Chicago, and Boston, for example, do not have universal wheelchair access (though New York’s situation is much worse than that of Boston or Chicago).

Furthermore, while many buildings now have ADA access, the quality of that access (in the form of things like elevators and ramps) can widely vary. Sometimes the ADA access is top-notch, and sometimes the access leaves something to be desired (everyone can probably think of examples of unreliable elevators).

There is the potential for people with disabilities in many cases to have opportunities similar to able-bodied people like me. But in many areas, that potential hasn’t been fully realized, even though the ADA was passed over a quarter century ago. And there is a certain disappointment, a certain bittersweetness, that I feel as a result of this potential that hasn’t been fully realized.

But why should you all, as readers, care about my being bittersweet about the anniversary of the ADA, let alone one of the reasons I feel bittersweet? I think all of you should care because my bittersweetness is a reminder for all of us that the advancement of disabled persons’ rights did not end with the ADA. Instead, the uneven progress in accessibility for people with disabilities is a reminder that there is still much to advocate for.