Subscriber OnlyPeople

‘You say identity politics. I say intersectionality. Can’t we get along?’

‘Some men feel patronised not by what I’m saying, but because I’m a woman saying it’

To address inequality, we need to talk about class, race, gender, sexuality, ability and other intersections of privilege and disadvantage. Some people call this “identity politics”; I call it “intersectionality”.

Hey, folks on the left who rail against intersectionality: I need you. That’s the baseline. We can’t create a better world without each other. I propose some conflict resolution, because, while we’re fighting, the Trumps, Mays and Varadkars are industriously demonising folks on welfare while smiling beatifically at their private school banker buddies; they’re implementing eternal austerity; attacking women’s reproductive rights; destroying the environment; stigmatising immigrants; dismantling the social safety nets that our political forebears built; weakening the labour rights and social commitments to gender and racial equality that are the legacy of our movement.

Can we try? Maybe these conflict resolution strategies will help?

Cool down

Anger is valid. But conflict resolution asks us to park the conversation until we’re calm. I’ll start with a compliment: activism addressing economic inequality and attendant class issues like homelessness, incarceration and addiction is incalculably important; people who dedicate their energy to it are heroes.

READ MORE

Find common ground

We want human rights, equality of opportunity and economic justice.

Identify the problem

Some lefties see inequality as fundamentally economic, and discussions of race, gender, sexuality and ability as a distraction from the bigger picture; they worry that intersectionality sidelines class issues and disregards problems that affect ostensibly privileged demographics, like straight white men. Other lefties think that inequality manifests differently for different groups, and that addressing only economic inequality will not solve the discrimination faced, for example, by women, people of colour or people with disabilities.

Listen

If you're a working-class activist who grew up surrounded by poverty, addiction and violence, and you're trying to address Dublin's horrific homelessness problem when some woman accuses you of cultural appropriation for using the term "pow-wow" you justifiably feel that some folks do not have their priorities straight. Worse – the woman is patronising you. You're used to middle-class people assuming they're better informed than you, but then she throws the "straight, white male" bomb, as if your identity and politics can be reduced to your sexuality, race and gender, as if these things render you privileged, particularly in relation to your interlocutor, who's probably off on a yoga retreat this weekend, yaw, now that she's finished her gap year. I agree – that's enraging.

Communicate

Here’s another perspective. I live in Canada now, where First Nations have been the victims of what I do not hesitate to call genocide. This is not ancient history. The residential school system (in which many Irish priests and nuns were complicit) ended in 1996. It took children from their families, destroying languages and cultures. Sexual and physical abuse created ongoing legacies of alcoholism, homelessness and violence. Yet, yearly, white Canadians go to music festivals, often on unceded (read: stolen) territory, and run around bug-eyed wearing “Indian” headdresses.

Just take a minute to think about how grotesque that is. Our ancestors murdered their ancestors, took their land, systematically abused those lucky enough to survive, and now we’re running around on drugs dressed like them for lols? That’s cultural appropriation – the use of the culture of the oppressed to obscure the abuses and discrimination they face. If it doesn’t seem like a big deal in Dublin, it is a big deal to many First Nations here. Every use of First Nations’ cultures by Europeans is not cultural appropriation, but every critique of Europeans using First Nations’ cultures is grounded in knowledge of these painful realities.

And why is some white girl on the case? Intersectionality asks us to stand up for our allies. Intersectionality is the white guy ruining Christmas dinner by telling his mam that her racist rant isn’t cool; it’s the straight teacher on the hiring committee taking her colleague to task for calling a candidate “too camp”; it’s the settled guy at a community meeting proclaiming that he, for one, supports the proposed halting site; it’s the middle-class lawyer writing to the paper to complain about classism in its courts reporting; it’s the man who doesn’t laugh at his mate’s rape joke because his sister was raped. It’s having each other’s backs. Accusations of cultural appropriation might be over-zealous sometimes, but they’re coming from a good place. Is it so hard to put someone’s mind at ease? “Hey, it’s great that you care about folks disrespecting First Nations’ cultures, but that’s not what’s happening here.”

As a woman on the left, I often experience aggression when I disagree with a man. Some men feel patronised not by what I’m saying, but, rather, by the fact that I’m a woman saying it. I can imagine that when a woman flings “straight white male” into the conversation, it is born of similar experiences. I’m not saying it’s okay; I’m saying I understand.

When only one group is satisfied, the issue is not resolved

Intersectional activists need to be more sensitive to the disjuncture between male privilege and class inequality. We need to ensure that sticking up for allies doesn’t descend into holier-than-thou “call-out culture”. Can I suggest that those hostile to intersectionality think about why acknowledging different vectors of inequality feels threatening, about who is silenced when conversations about race, gender, sexuality or ability are dismissed as a distraction from the bigger picture?

Say thanks

Thanks for engaging, even if you disagree.