Intersectional Feminism
Smithâs and hooksâs definitions are intersectional, a term that means that they do not only focus on one issue such as gender but broaden the analysis to encompass other vectors of identity and of human domination such as race and racism, social class and classism, sexual orientation, colonialism and imperialism, disability, national origin, religion, and age. This wide-ranging approach, which has created a paradigm shift in Womenâs Studies, Ethnic Studies, and other fields, has come to be known as intersectionality (Crenshaw) but is also variously termed âBlack feminist thoughtâ (Collins), âmultiracial feminismâ (Zinn and Dill), âmulticultural feminismâ (Shohat), âUS Third-World feminismâ (Sandoval), âmultiple consciousnessâ (King), and multi-axial approach (Brah 189). Intersectionality can be traced back to African American activist-intellectuals Sojourner Truth and Anna Julia Cooper in the nineteenth century. While others had also made connections between some issues such as gender and class, gender and sexual orientation, race and class, or race and colonialism, the focus on race, class, gender, and sexual orientation as profoundly interwoven and interlocking vectors is an original contribution to scholarship by 1970s and 1980s US feminists of color.1 They theorized the interrelatedness of race, gender, and imperialism (e.g., Elizabeth âBetitaâ Martinez in 1972; Mitsuye Yamada in 1981); race, gender, and class (e.g., Angela Davis in 1981); race, gender, class, and sexual orientation (e.g., the Combahee River Collective in 1977; CherrĂe Moraga and Gloria AnzaldĂșa in 1981; Audre Lorde; and Adrienne Rich); colonialism, race, class, and gender (e.g., Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak in 1985). Starting around the 1990s, scholars from various countries addressing the intersections among gender, race, and nationalism (e.g., Ella Shohat; Deniz Kandiyoti; Floya Anthias; and Nira Yuval-Davis) and among disability and other vectors such as gender (e.g., Susan Wendell) and gender, race, and class (e.g., Rosemarie Garland Thomson and Jenny Morris) have made important additions to this scholarship. By the year 2000, gender identity had been added as a key factor that LGBTQQI (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning, and intersex) activists urged must be considered in discussions of oppression and identity. This is explored in this chapter and in Chapter 5. A central lesson feminists have learned through debates between single-focus and intersectional approaches is that our standpoint (our worldview, the ways in which we make sense of our life experiences and of the world around us) is influenced by our social location (the time and place in which we live and the information to which we have access, as well as the social categories or groups to which we are perceived as belonging).
The readings in this introductory section illustrate some of the main issues discussed above. Chicana creative writer Sandra Cisnerosâs chapter, âMy Name,â from her acclaimed novel The House on Mango Street, first published in 1984, opens the anthology. The character of young Esperanza shares her standpoint with readers with respect to the difficulties of having multiple identities in a world that fragments you because it expects you to be only one thing. Bilingual and bicultural, Esperanza struggles to find her place. Her first name, Spanish for hope, is also related to the verb esperar, to wait. This double meaning reflects her sense of double belonging â being between Anglo and Latino cultures â and her hope for a better future for women. Her sense of connection to the strong woman in her lineage after whom she was named makes her reflect on the dual meaning of her name â both hope and waiting, a metaphor for the need to be able to fit in your lineage and cultures without letting them completely determine your identity or your place in society. Her attentiveness to various levels of linguistic meaning reflects her awareness of the different value associated with Anglo and Latino cultures in the United States â her âsilverâ-sounding name in Spanish sounds like âtin,â a much less valued metal, in English.
In her book The Politics of Reality (1983), from which a portion of the chapter on âOppressionâ is excerpted here, white lesbian feminist philosopher Marilyn Frye provides a critical definition of oppression as âa system of interrelated barriers and forces which reduce, immobilize and mold people who belong to a certain group, and effect their subordination to another groupâ (33). Oppression is a system that unfairly targets certain people based on their perceived group membership (for example their perceived race, gender, social class, or sexual orientation), rather than judging them on their individual characteristics (7â8). It includes specific unpaid or poorly paid functions that members of the oppressed group are expected to provide to members of the dominant group. Frye gives the example of women being expected to provide service work of a personal, sexual, and emotional nature for men (9). She highlights the fact that oppression is made to appear natural so oppressed people internalize it through socialization (33â34). Internalized oppression leads people who are the target of one form of oppression to believe the negative messages against their groups and sometimes to end up acting against their own self-interests. Conversely, internalized domination leads members of a dominant group to believe that they are naturally entitled to a superior status and to the advantages derived from that status. It thus serves to hide the existence of dominant group privilege (see Adams, Bell, and Griffin).
Afro-Caribbean lesbian writer Audre Lordeâs essay âAge, Race, Class, and Sex: Women Redefining Differenceâ (1984) develops central concepts for wide-ranging feminist social justice projects: the dangers of a world view that arranges perceived group differences into hierarchical binary oppositions such as male/female, white/black, mind/body, self/other, or culture/nature2; the ways in which various forms of oppression are structured similarly to create a norm that is seen as superior (the âmythical normâ); the need to recognize each otherâs oppression and resistance (âthe edge of each otherâs battlesâ); the need to learn from histories of oppression and resistance so we do not have to reinvent the wheel generation after generation; and the need for intersectional activist approaches so that an inclusive feminist agenda does not solely focus on gender issues but includes a commitment to fighting for racial and economic justice and against heterosexism (the primacy of heterosexuality) and ageism (privileging adults versus older people and children). In beautifully evocative language, Lorde invites us to imagine âpatterns for relating across our human differences as equals,â a project that is as central to a socially just future today as it was in the early 1980s when she first articulated it. For instance, pretending to be color-blind and to not âseeâ differences (especially racial ones) only leads us to conceptualize equality in terms of sameness and to feel guilty over noticing differences, thus resulting in avoidance of the topic and immobilization rather than social justice activism. The ideology of color-blindness implies that difference is bad and that it is therefore impolite to notice or dialogue about differences. More problematically, it encourages the denial of racism (Frankenberg) and of the existence of power differences between groups, makes racism a taboo topic, and signals that people of color are expected to act white and assimilate (Sue). Instead, Lorde invites us to explore differences and create new ways of working together as equals through differences.
Because feminists active in the movement have tended to be the ones with more access to financial resources, time, and education, the leadership of the movement has historically tended to be primarily white, middle/upper-class, and heterosexual. Debates over whether feminism should focus on gender issues narrowly def...
