Intersectionality is Hard (because not everyone likes you)
By Kimberly Dark
“Without community, there is no liberation…but community must not mean a shedding of our differences, nor the pathetic pretense that these differences do not exist.” — Audre Lorde
It’s easy to understand the basics of Kimberle Crenshaw’s concept of intersectionality. You have different aspects of yourself (identities), and they interact to create a whole you that is different from the component identities. A big part of how it all comes together is based on how other people treat you as a result of specific, or combined identities. Maybe you’re an accomplished dancer and most people respect you for that, but then someone finds out you never finished high school and you’re in favor of legalizing recreational drugs, so suddenly you’re off the guest list. It’s not that you and your beliefs and background are causing you internal strife. It’s just too much for someone else (who has something you want) to deal with.
That’s why it’s important to look at systems of oppression with an eye on intersectionality too. Opportunities are different for the gay white man than for the gay black man than for the disabled Chinese-American lesbian. Sure, they have the gayness in common, but then what? We have to listen to each others realities, that’s what. Then we strive for a more equitable world, because it won’t just happen on its own.
“We strive for a more equitable world, because it won’t just happen on its own.” — Tweet this
I was recently at a dinner party where the topic turned to racism. Let me be clear, we all had white privilege and were all opposed to racism. Someone shared a story about a diverse group called together to play a piece of music and thereby learn that their commonalities were stronger than their differences. Another shared a story about a Klansman who quit the clan after working on a project with a black woman and deciding she was human after all.
I hate to rain on someone’s picnic, but these small personal examples (which usually involve some participants being overly generous with their time, given the company they’re asked to endure and the lessons about their own humanity they’re prompted to offer) are worth very little. When I pointed this out, the guy with the musician story said, “Yes, but they’re a start!”
“I’m sick of starting!” I blurted. “Who has time for endless starting? Certainly not those affected by rampant institutional racism!” Grassroots strategies that start with relationships are great, but we also need top-down strategies in which organizations — and yes, governments — say, here’s what’s best for the common good, whether or not it’s comfortable. Let’s face it, often something like the racial or gender integration of the military really begins to shift the tide culturally. Otherwise, people just don’t bump into each other for those mythical projects. The invitation doesn’t often come in the mail for that interfaith choir that would change everything.
So how do we actually build alliances and organizations across issues and identities in order to ensure respect and human dignity for all? As difficult as it is for multiple identities to co-exist within an individual, awareness and consciousness of how those identities chafe is often the road to greater peace. Not so when more than one person is involved. The reason is, not everyone likes you. Maybe they don’t like your views. Or they don’t like your kind. And they certainly don’t like the fact that you brought your friends along. Your very presence can be seen as disrespectful to someone else’s culture or religion or way of life.
“Your very presence can be seen as disrespectful to someone else’s culture or religion or way of life.” — Tweet this
In U.S. culture (and arguably, elsewhere) we are notoriously bad at handling ambiguity. We want a clear difference between right and wrong. Most of us want to feel we’re right and if that means rolling our eyes and flouncing out while others are talking, then so be it. This has become a particular problem in the U.S. political system. As a result of dichotomous thinking and the formalization of it in a two party system, many people don’t even want to know the views and experiences of the other side any more. Those people are mean and stupid and trying to ruin our lives. That’s the sum of it, regardless of who’s speaking. There’s a logic in saying, “I won’t negotiate with someone who wants my erasure.” But look, that person likely feels the same about you. (No matter how incorrect the view may be.)
Here’s another tricky part of the equation. Often times, marginalized groups have been able carve out space to create community exactly because of poverty and colonization. See if you recognize this story. Artists who need cheap working and living space crowd into poor parts of cities and then make those areas so cool they can’t afford to live there ten to twenty years later. It’s a good example, except that it’s often de-racialized. Those artists are usually making the neighborhood whiter than it previously was and where white people go, city infrastructure follows. As soon as there are people from better parts of town attending gallery openings and poetry readings, the police presence shifts from punishment to safety and potholes get fixed and all those rich guys who previously owned empty warehouses are thanking their lucky stars that they now have loft space. See what happens there? The bad part of town just goes “somewhere else” rather than life improving for the original inhabitants of that neighborhood.
And what if the example is rural? Regions where “queer folks” have moved to live their unsavory-to-some lifestyles, their communism, their polyamory, their naked-and-or-pagan dancing in the woods. Usually that’s been possible because they do it in areas that are either unpoliced or unimportant to the “good people” who generally uphold the moral standards. This often means that local cultures, religions and folkways get run over in the process.
But hang on, shouldn’t those local bigots change in order to be more accepting? I mean, the lesbian separatists in the woods have the moral high ground, don’t they? Not if they’re willing to ignore that local poverty is a factor in their success. Part of the reason alternative communities pop up where they do is because of poverty and colonization making things cheap, and lack of infrastructure making the local people easy to ignore.
I coordinate the yoga program for one such conflicted retreat center in rural Hawaii. Kalani Oceanside Retreat has been there for more than forty years and the first few decades were a slow, gradual start. Founded by gay dancers, in one of the poorest parts of the state, they had seclusion, affordability — and let’s be clear, bravery. This sort of thing doesn’t always work out. Sometimes “alternative communities” are destroyed, inhabitants threatened and harmed. It’s common for them to face opposition from locals and alliances can be tenuous, fall apart and need to be rebuilt over and over again. The founder of Kalani was tenacious above all else and now, the retreat center is a thriving oasis of white-interpreted-aloha in an area that remains impoverished. And guess what, there aren’t many locals employed there. Most of the staff comes from off island. Thanks in part to Kalani visitors using their disposable income to buy second homes in this beautiful (once off-grid) area, the whole demographic of the coastline has changed. But that doesn’t mean circumstances have shifted positively for the native and local full-time residents of the area. For the most part, they don’t interact with Kalani, except occasionally as customers. And yet, Hawaiian culture is an important marketing draw.
Tricky, no? The new Director, to his credit, wants to be more respectful of Hawaiian and local culture and instill a real sense of place and environmental responsibility in those who visit. Two big issues stand in the way. First, the good reputation of the retreat center has been built on freedom of expression, new age ideas of nature, and wellness. The way visitors challenge themselves to become comfortable with nudity at the pool and at the beach is gorgeous. The way visitors partake in yoga and t’ai chi and digeriedoo lessons etc., is mind expanding. And it’s a culturally disconnected smorgasbord that expands individual experiences without doing much to root people to local culture. It’s fun to sing Hawaiian chants as though they were campfire songs. Because hey, campfire songs are great. We have far too few experiences in Western culture that allow us to feel community, gaze easily into another’s eyes, feel one another’s humanity and enjoy nature. So, is it good that folks are learning a bit of the local culture or bad that it’s being distorted by the expediency of fairly short visits unencumbered by depth of study? Oh yes, Kalani is also a very comfortable place to be queer, gender non-conforming, young or old. All great for folks who don’t always feel free to express themselves in mixed company. Potentially not so great if you’re too poor to move to another part of the island where there’s no tribal thump music and barely-clothed revelers on the road reminding you of your neighbors every Sunday morning.
“We have far too few experiences in Western culture that allow us to feel community.” — Tweet this
This is the second big barrier to instilling a real respect for Hawaiian culture in visitors. A lot of Hawaiian cultural practitioners and long-term residents aren’t so happy with all of that — what’d you call it? — Freedom. Just take nudity for example. Whether it’s the influence of Christian missionaries, or some other aspect of Hawaiian culture, it’s not likely you’ll see a lot of Hawaiians lounging about naked at the beach. The cultural standard nowadays is modesty. In fact, many Hawaiians opt for more coverage than shopping mall beachwear offers. And what about the gayness? Simply put, views vary. So, if there’s going to be an effort to respect the local culture more, then whom should we decide represents the local culture? And if Kalani strives to hire more local folks, which ones? And are they somehow then required to be representatives of their cultures at work? Will they be seen as traitors to their religious communities? These are the challenges of intersectionality.
That doesn’t mean the journey isn’t worth the struggle. Conflict can be divisive or generative, depending on how it’s managed. During my fifteen years of teaching yoga at Kalani I’ve had moments where I go home and think hard about my involvement with an organization that doesn’t always forward my values. So far, the scales always tip toward my involvement being worth the time. I’m a neighbor, after all. Over time, I began feeling not just neighborly, but partially responsible for what the retreat center puts forth. I now host two yoga and writing retreats per year there. I do my best to keep prompting where I see inclusion is lacking. Things like disability accommodations and responsible intersectional analysis of cultural depictions are important to me. I also don’t need to see all of my interpretations prevail in order to remain engaged.
“Conflict can be divisive or generative, depending on how it’s managed.” — Tweet this
We all have lines which we will not cross. Some people think they won’t like me because I’m queer, but if they come to my yoga class or retreat, their pursuit of that “project” might cause their views to shift. If they see that a genuine effort is being made in the difficult work of relationship-across-issues, alliances can form. Joel Tan, Kalani’s Director, told me about a line that he will not cross. As a Filipino-American man, he said, “This I know. I will not be a brown Director of a white organization on a brown island.”
This kind of commitment bodes well for Kalani. It may be frustrating at times that things change slowly in rural communities and that past (and continuing) affronts are hard to navigate. But the paradox is that tenacity and longevity count for something. There is no one way to be “respectful” to “the community,” but there are clear ways to be responsible to an evolving interpretation of place and the way various cultures and identities intersect. Even if some people don’t like you. Even if they never will.
Kimberly Dark is a writer, sociologist and raconteur working to reveal the hidden architecture of everyday life, one clever story, poem and essay at a time. Learn more at www.kimberlydark.com.
Kimberly offers two wellness retreats per year in Hawaii. Yoga is for Every Body. Join her; love your body and transform your life.
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