What It Is, Why It Matters, and How It Shows Up in the Real World
Let’s talk about a word that’s been tossed around like it’s a trendy accessory on the intellectual runway but rarely given the depth it deserves: intersectionality. You’ve probably heard it in think pieces, on activist panels, maybe even from that one coworker who went to a weekend social justice seminar and now starts every sentence with “As a cisgender, non-disabled, upper-middle-class Pisces…” But strip away the buzzword fatigue, and you’ll find one of the most powerful tools we have to actually understand how inequality functions.
Intersectionality isn’t a new idea, even if it’s newly trending. It was coined by legal scholar and civil rights advocate Kimberlé Crenshaw back in 1989—not as a philosophical treatise, but as a desperate, practical response to a brutal oversight: Black women were being erased in legal frameworks that addressed racism or sexism, but not both at the same time. The courts, in all their wisdom, essentially shrugged and said, “Pick one.” Crenshaw said, “How about we don’t?”
At its core, intersectionality is the recognition that people live layered lives. Our identities—race, gender, class, sexuality, ability, immigration status, religion—intersect in ways that create unique experiences of privilege and oppression. You can’t untangle them like separate necklaces in a drawer and pretend they don’t affect each other. Because they do. Every day. All at once.
Imagine This:
A white gay man and a Black gay man walk into a bar. (This isn’t the setup to a joke, I promise.) They may both face homophobia. But the Black gay man also navigates racism, potential profiling, and a lifetime of being read as a threat. His experience isn’t “more” or “less” than the white man’s—it’s different. More complex. And any attempt to flatten that complexity is not just intellectually lazy—it’s dangerous.
Intersectionality Shows Up Everywhere—If You’re Willing to Look
In healthcare? Check. Black women in America are three to four times more likely to die during childbirth than white women. Not just because they’re women. Not just because they’re Black. But because the medical system often ignores their pain, disbelieves their symptoms, and offers care through a lens that centers white male bodies as the default.
In the workplace? Absolutely. Ever notice how “diversity hires” usually translate to one kind of diversity? A board might pat itself on the back for hiring women, but if all those women are white and straight, is it really progress—or just a sleeker version of the same old system?
In media? Constantly. When LGBTQ+ stories are told, who gets to be the face of the movement? Too often it’s white, cisgender, conventionally attractive men. Trans folks, queer people of color, disabled queers—they’re still fighting to be more than a plot twist or sidekick.
Intersectionality doesn’t make things more complicated. It reveals the truth of how complicated they already are. And in that truth is the only path to real change.
Why It Matters Now More Than Ever
We are living in a time when oppression is increasingly camouflaged. It doesn’t always show up in burning crosses or slurs shouted across a street (though let’s be clear, those things still happen). These days, inequality is often polite. It wears a suit. It says things like, “We just didn’t think you’d be a culture fit,” or “There’s not enough market interest in your story,” or “We value diversity, but we have to think about the bottom line.”
Intersectionality calls bullshit on that.
It reminds us that systems of power—white supremacy, patriarchy, capitalism, ableism—don’t operate in silos. They overlap. They reinforce each other. You can’t dismantle racism without addressing classism. You can’t fight for LGBTQ+ rights and ignore disability access. You can’t claim to support feminism if your feminism stops short at trans women.
It also forces us to check our own privilege. Because we all have some. Yes, even you. Even me. I’m a gay, biracial man who has experienced poverty, abuse, and homelessness. But I’m also able-bodied, college-educated, and English-speaking. I’ve worked hard—but I’ve also benefited from things I didn’t earn. Recognizing that doesn’t negate my struggles. It just makes me less of a jackass about them.
But Let’s Be Real—Intersectionality Isn’t Easy
It means giving up the fantasy of being the main character in every story. It requires listening more than talking. It asks us to hold space for truths that don’t align neatly with our own. And it definitely complicates activism.
It’s a lot easier to make a catchy sign that says “Equal Rights for All” than it is to sit down and ask, “Whose rights are being ignored within our own movement?” It’s a lot easier to post a black square on Instagram than it is to hire Black leadership. It’s a lot easier to say “Love is love” than it is to fight for trans asylum seekers or queer sex workers.
But if our activism isn’t intersectional, then it’s performative. If our solutions don’t reflect the full complexity of human lives, then they’re just band-aids on bullet wounds.
So What Can You Actually Do About It?
- Educate Yourself Beyond Surface-Level Reads
Go deeper than Instagram infographics. Read work by people like Crenshaw, Audre Lorde, Mia Mingus, Roxane Gay, and Ijeoma Oluo. Sit with the discomfort their work might stir in you. - Support Organizations That Get It
Donate to or volunteer with grassroots groups that prioritize intersectionality. Often, the most effective work happens at the local level—by people who live the complexity every day. - Diversify Your Media Intake
Pay attention to who you’re reading, watching, and listening to. If your social media feed is full of people who look and think like you, you’re in an echo chamber. - Interrupt Bias in Your Circles
Whether it’s calling out racism in a feminist group or pushing for accessibility at a Pride event—use your voice where you have influence. - Check Yourself—Lovingly, But Often
This isn’t about guilt. It’s about growth. Ask yourself: Who’s missing from the table? Who’s being talked over? Who’s paying the price for your comfort?
Intersectionality isn’t a trend. It’s a mirror—and sometimes, what it reflects back is uncomfortable. But if we’re serious about building a better world, we have to be serious about understanding the full, messy, interconnected ways inequality operates.
Because no one lives a single-issue life. So no issue can be solved in isolation.