Intersectionality: The Greatest Weapon We Have
By: Charles Falivena
Too often in my two years at Exeter, I have found myself on the side of my non-white and non-male comrades, my queer brethren and differently-abled brethren. We all scream the same words into the void: “We exist!”
When Kirstin Valdez Quade confessed to us at assembly that she’d always felt that her position at the Academy was provisional, I realized that, as an autistic, bisexual, genderqueer person with ADHD, I felt the same way. Not exactly the same way—but similar enough to it that I could empathize.
The issue, then: why is it that all of us are fighting the same battle under different banners? Why is it that some of us feel obligated to fight under their own banners? Why do some of us feel obligated not to help out the others?
As much as I am sick and tired of America and its plethora of atrocities, the phrase “United we stand, divided we fall” is fundamentally accurate and can be readily applied to this situation. I fail to see the utility of drawing lines in the sand when we’re all storming the same beach.
I don’t say any of this to minimize the efforts that clubs on campus have made to connect with each other and their efforts to discuss the intersections between their various causes. I write this piece to invite and encourage more of that kind of thinking (shoutout to Fem Club for making the intersectional merch, by the way. That’s 100% a step in the right direction).
None of this is simple. None of these causes deserve to be sidelined, but the unfortunate reality is that, too often, we give preference to the relatively less marginalized on campus. If the Halloween costume incident last fall had been homophobic instead of anti-immigrant and racist, would members of the student body—would faculty members—have been as vicious to the protesters?
Before you put this article down and accuse me of painting the entire student body as racist, I would like to point out that broad-stroke characterizations are hardly a new thing on this campus, and that’s not what I’m doing. I am merely saying that the liberal attitudes and tendencies prevalent on this campus have the unfortunate mechanism of contradicting themselves when it comes to different social causes (to clarify, I’m not a conservative; I’m a democratic socialist).
In addition to that can of worms this campus can’t seem to open, some disadvantaged groups on campus are still struggling to find their voices as they throw even more elements onto the playing field. The fact that there was a Disability Advocacy Group (run, of course, by non-disabled people) before there was an actual disability affinity group on this campus (shameless self-promotion here, but Exonians with Disabilities and Different Abilities, or EDDA, meets on Wednesdays from 6:30–8:00 p.m.) really says something profound to me.
The feasibility of gender-neutral bathrooms, name-change ability across school platforms and a gender-inclusive Visitations policy on campus is certainly a good thing. But why can’t we achieve universal testing accommodations, sensory rooms in the health center and a bit more than a paragraph in the E Book about proving disability status in order to receive needed accommodations?
This disparity in the resources afforded to different groups on this campus also says something profound to me about how far we have to go.
To quote Queen Latifah, the key to all this lies in a single word: u-n-i-t-y. And I do not mean a “sit around a campfire singing Kumbayah and hope for a better tomorrow” kind of unity. The kind of unity I refer to is not something that the school will reserve days to go over.
We need a coalition of sorts between all groups, in solidarity with each other. When we unite, organization will ultimately give our issues the most airtime, and we will create the most change.
With the Student Council (StuCo) election fast approaching, and both presidential candidates making promises of diversity, equity and inclusion, I have a suggestion for the eventual winner: make and keep a commitment to uniting and bringing to the forefront all marginalized identities on this campus.
Currently, I regard StuCo as yet another layer of bureaucracy to slog through in order to enact actual change, but I am open-minded, and materializing the proposals I noted above would greatly benefit my perception of it.
Still, the bottom line to all of this is that, when multiple groups on this campus are left out in the cold, sticking together preserves body heat. And who knows? Maybe we’ll get let in sometime in the next five years.