Women are leaving their “I Voted” stickers on suffragist Susan B. Anthony’s tombstone in Rochester, New York. But Evette Dionne, a senior editor atRevelist, is asking them to save some of these stickers for Ida B. Wells and other black women who paved the way for women’s rights.
Ida B. Wells was an African-American journalist and pioneering intersectional feminist, who fought for women’s right to vote and against the lynching of black men. Susan B. Anthony was an undeniable leader for white suffragettes, but also had a real history of racism.
On Wednesday, The Nation leaked a draft order titled “Establishing a Government-Wide Initiative to Respect Religious Freedom” that could allow any organization to discriminate against the queer people on religious grounds. But one thing that was really great about the rally is that it welcomed ALL forms of intersectional identity, advocating especially for the rights of queer Muslims and queer immigrants.
Yea see, the problem is, with all the talk of “we accept lgbt aces and aros!!!” and “we only exclude cishet aces and aros!!!” is you can’t really do either.
I’m a bi trans aro. For my mental health and for my personal feeling of safety, I need somewhere to talk about and get support for ALL of my orientations. I need community that understands the intersection of all my identities. I need to be able to turn to people who are willing to help with my trans issues, my bi issues, and my aromantic issues.
If I am part of a community that actively says “we don’t have space for an a-spec community,” I am being excluded. My needs, and those of all the others like me, are being sacrificed in order to keep out (the actual minority of us) “cishet” aces and aros.
If I am part of a community that insists my identity is “just a modifier,” my orientation is being invalidated. If I am part of a community that says “aros face no real problems,” I am not going to receive the support I need. If I am part of a community that says first that “a-spec identities are all mental illnesses,” then say that my mental illness is not “allowed” to affect my other identities, I am not safe. If I am part of a community that generalizes “all aces and aros” as bad, and forcefully labels all aces and aros as “cishet” I will never have equal respect as anyone else.
If I get told my aromanticism makes me inherently abusive and that my being aro inherently sexualizes everyone else, I will never be accepted into the community.
Please explain how I am welcome at all in the LGBT, as a bi trans aro. Please explain to me how this is supposed to “not target” people like me, but “just the cishets.”
Explain to me how I wouldn’t be treated like a second class member if I am treated like one of my orientations is an embarrassment and that I don’t deserve any support or community for it.
Cause either you’re that damn ignorant, or you’re lying our your asses as you knowingly and forcefully remove LGBT people from the only community they have.
From 19th century author Anna Julia Cooper, who saw the agency of black women as central to gaining equality in America, to actress and singer Zendaya, who urges all women to let their voices be heard, take a look at how a handful of black women have defined feminism for the past several centuries. Read more
Legislation to “defund” Planned Parenthood will hit people who rely on federal insurance and public health programs. That’s largely people who already face barriers to accessing health care as people with low incomes, people of color, people who live in rural areas — who make up the majority of Planned Parenthood’s patients. Meanwhile, the impact of “defunding” Planned Parenthood on people in the LGBT community and whose identities intersect would be particularly acute.
With the aim of shutting Planned Parenthood down completely, national “defund” legislation would close health center doors to at least 60% of Planned Parenthood’s patients — those who use public programs like Medicaid (the government-funded insurance plan for people with low incomes) and Title X (the government-funded family planning program, which helps people with low incomes).
Of course, public programs are already prohibited from covering abortion. “Defunding” keeps people who use public programs from getting preventive reproductive and sexual health services like birth control, STD tests, breast cancer screenings, and family planning education at Planned Parenthood health centers. Many of these patients couldn’t get these services anywhere else — and, like we said, many of them are people with low incomes, people of color, and people who live in rural areas.
Impact of “Defund” on People of Color
People of color in the U.S. are less able to access quality health care due to the intersecting consequences of racism, sexism, classism, xenophobia, and other systemic barriers. So, they’re more likely to rely on federally funded programs to access health care.
The Black Community
“Defunding” Planned Parenthood would be devastating to Black communities. Key points:
Of the 2.5 million people who rely on Planned Parenthood for health care every year, 370,000 identify as African American or Black.
Among nonelderly Americans on Medicaid, 11 million are Black.
If they were prevented from accessing Planned Parenthood, many Black patients would have no other place to go for the services Planned Parenthood provides.
This harmful legislation wouldn’t just keep Black patients from getting care – it would undermine their ability to obtain full reproductive freedom. Too often, Planned Parenthood is the only health care provider many patients access. That means their care is more than just reproductive health services – Planned Parenthood connects patients with resources to improve other areas of their lives.
The Latino Community
“Defunding” Planned Parenthood would be devastating to the Latino community. Key points:
Around 575,000 Latinos come to Planned Parenthood health centers annually (nearly a quarter of Planned Parenthood’s patients).
Among the nonelderly Americans on Medicaid, 18 million are Latino.
If they were prevented from accessing Planned Parenthood, Latino patients may have no other place to go for the services it provides.
Planned Parenthood sees patients regardless of immigration status and is one of the only places undocumented people can turn to for care. Given that the majority of undocumented immigrants in the U.S. are Latino, “defunding” legislation would have a disproportionate impact on them.
What’s more, “defunding” would put two crucial Planned Parenthood programs at risk of disappearing: Raíz, which helps Latinos access health care and sex education, and Promotores de Salud, which brings reproductive health education into Latino homes and community-gathering locations.
Impact of “Defund” on People in Rural Areas
If patients who rely on public programs are blocked from care at Planned Parenthood, many would have nowhere else to go. There simply aren’t enough other reproductive health care providers out there. In areas where other providers do exist, many don’t take patients who rely on public health programs. Key points:
21% of counties have no safety-net family planning alternative should their local Planned Parenthood health center close.
More than half of Planned Parenthood’s health centers are located in rural and underserved communities.
More than two thirds of states already report difficulty ensuring enough providers for Medicaid.
Providers of ob-gyn care who accept Medicaid, such as Planned Parenthood, are in particularly short supply.
Impact of “Defund” on the LGBTQ Community
“Defunding” Planned Parenthood also would negatively impact LGBTQ health. Members of the LGBT community face greater health challenges than their heterosexual peers because of stigma and discrimination. People in the LGBTQ community who also are people of color, or have low incomes, or who live in rural areas — or whose identities intersect — have even more obstacles to reproductive health services. For example, LGBTQ people of color face particularly high rates of discrimination from medical providers, and systemic harassment.
Planned Parenthood understands that LGBTQ people have the right to safe abortion services, access to contraceptives, STD testing and a range of other health services free from stigma, discrimination or coercion. Losing Planned Parenthood would lose this safe space for LGBTQ people seeking basic health care.
Say It Loud: #IStandWithPP
If anti-abortion politicians “defund” Planned Parenthood, shut down its health centers, and block its 2.5 million patients from care, a national health disaster would ensue — and the groups mentioned in this blog would be hurt the most. Take a stand against cutting them off from care. Take action to stand with Planned Parenthood and its patients!
The potential for creating empathy around issues greatly affecting our youth greatly excited me and motivated me as we moved forward. So many of our youth experiencing homelessness are youth whose lives touch on many intersections – whether they be gender identity, gender expression, race, class, sexual orientation, religion, citizenship status. My intention in creating this project is not only to educate and create healthy, productive and healing civic dialogue and safe spaces, but it is also to create empathy. It’s to create empathy for our youth in a world that is sorely lacking it.
When someone on Twitter asked Emma Watson, “Are you a white feminist?” they likely were not prepared for the informed soliloquy that would follow. In a viral tweet photo, Watson explained that she wants nothing short of inclusivity and has launched many efforts to raise up voices that aren’t her own.
Like many other black women, I was conflicted about participating. That a group of white women had drawn clear inspiration from the 1963 March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, yet failed to acknowledge the historical precedent, rubbed me the wrong way. Here they go again, I thought, adopting the work of black people while erasing us.
I’d had enough before it even began. 53% of white women who voted in the 2016 presidential election did so for a man who aims to move society backward. Were white women now having buyer’s remorse? Where were all of these white people while our people are being killed in the streets, jobless, homeless, over incarcerated, under educated? Are you committed to freedom for everyone, or just yourselves?
For weeks, I sat on the sidelines. I saw debates on list-serves about whether or not to attend the march, the shade on social media directed at the “white women’s march.” Unconvinced that white women would ever fight for the rights of all of us, many decided to sit the march out.
Yet as time went on and the reality of the incoming Donald Trump administration sank in, something began to gnaw at me. Do I believe that a mass movement is necessary to transform power in this country? Do I believe that this mass movement must be multi-racial and multi-class? Do I believe that to build that mass movement, organizing beyond the choir is necessary? If I believe all of these things, how do we get there and what’s my role in making it happen?
I decided to challenge myself to be a part of something that isn’t perfect, that doesn’t articulate my values the way that I do and still show up, clear in my commitment, open and vulnerable to people who are new in their activism. I can be critical of white women and, at the same time, seek out and join with women, white and of color, who are awakening to the fact that all lives do not, in fact, matter, without compromising my dignity, my safety and radical politics.
Sandwiched between other protesters like a sardine in a can, I spoke with demonstrators in the crowd who said this was their first time participating in a mass mobilization. I saw people for whom this wasn’t their first time at a demonstration, but who thought that the days of protesting for our rights was over. I asked them what brought them there. They said they wanted to stand up for all of us. They realized that they, too, were under attack. They wanted to live in a world where everyone was valued, safe and taken care of. They were in awe of just how many people were there, just like them, to oppose the values of President Donald Trump’s administration. They wanted to do something besides feel hopeless.
That evening, I participated in a town hall meeting that drew more than 700 people and had more than 1,100 on the waiting list. Those gathered were mostly white, though there were also people of color present. About half the room said that the Women’s March was the first time they’d participated in a mass mobilization. They were willing to learn about how change happens and how they could be involved. And that was just the beginning.
Checking my social media feed that evening, I read comment after comment dismissing the march — an experience that was transformative for hundreds of thousands of people. I wondered what would have happened if, instead of inviting people in, I’d told people to fuck off and go home. Would they come back? Did it matter if they didn’t?
Anger has an important place in transforming our political consciousness, and should be valued as such. The white lady with the pink, knitted “pussy” hat that came to the march was angry as hell when her future president talked about grabbing women by the pussy. Though she may have been sitting on the sidelines up until now, she decided that she was going to do something about it. Anger at the way America depends on immigrant labor yet forces undocumented immigrants to live in the shadows may lead them to join the movement. Black Americans mad as hell about the ways that this country strips us of our humanity might join the movement, even though they didn’t before.
I agree with Solange when she says, “I got a lot to be mad about, and I have a right to be mad.” But that anger is not enough. It is insufficient to build or take power. Anger will not change the fact that Republicans have taken control of all three branches of government and control both chambers of the legislature in 32 states. Anger will not stop vigilantes from terrorizing our communities, and anger will not change an economy that deems too many of us as disposable.
More than a moral question, it is a practical one. Can we build a movement of millions with the people who may not grasp our black, queer, feminist, intersectional, anti-capitalist, anti-imperialist ideology but know that we deserve a better life and who are willing to fight for it and win?
If there was ever a time to activate our organizer super powers, this is it. I’m not going to argue that black people or other people of color need to stop holding white people accountable. White people are not going anywhere, but neither are we if we don’t start to think and do differently.
Hundreds of thousands of people are trying to figure out what it means to join a movement. If we demonstrate that to be a part of a movement, you must believe that people cannot change, that transformation is not possible, that it’s more important to be right than to be connected and interdependent, we will not win.
If our movement is not serious about building power, then we are just engaged in a futile exercise of who can be the most radical.
This is a moment for all of us to remember who we were when we stepped into the movement — to remember the organizers who were patient with us, who disagreed with us and yet stayed connected, who smiled knowingly when our self-righteousness consumed us.
I remember who I was before I gave my life to the movement. Someone was patient with me. Someone saw that I had something to contribute. Someone stuck with me. Someone did the work to increase my commitment. Someone taught me how to be accountable. Someone opened my eyes to the root causes of the problems we face. Someone pushed me to call forward my vision for the future. Someone trained me to bring other people who are looking for a movement into one.
No one is safe from the transition this country is undergoing. While many of us have faced hate, ignorance and greed in our daily lives, the period that we have entered is unlike anything that any of us has ever seen before.
We can build a movement in the millions, across difference. We will need to build a movement across divides of class, race, gender, age, documentation, religion and disability. Building a movement requires reaching out beyond the people who agree with you. Simply said, we need each other, and we need leadership and strategy.
We can tell people a hundred times over that because they haven’t been here, they have no right to be here now. But I promise that the only place that will get us is nowhere.
Here’s to all of my LGBT+ people who have intersecting identities.
Here’s to all of my LGBT+ people of color - Black people, Chinese people, Asian people, Native American people, Pacific Islanders, Rromani people, Latinx people, Indian people, mixed race people.
Here’s to all of my disabled LGBT+ people - amputees, those with chronic pain, those with chronic diseases, those with anxieties, those in wheelchairs, those with leg braces or crutches, those with motor disabilities, blind people, Deaf people, people with learning disabilities.
Here’s to all of my neurodivergent LGBT+ people -
Autistic people, borderline people, antisocial people, narcissistic people, histronic people, avoidant people, anyone with PTSD, depressed people, people with disassociative personality disorder, people with anxiety, ADHD people.
Here’s to everyone with a host of different identities even in the LGBT+ community - people with three, four, fix, six, more different labels, obscure labels, a gender that only they have, pronouns based on nouns, people who don’t pass.
Here’s to the people who are part of religious minorities - Muslims, Jews, Sikhs, Hindus, Taoists, Satanists, Buddhists.
Here’s to the people who can tick off something from every list, or multiple things from one list, whose intersectionality is important to who they are as a person and how the define themselves.
Here’s to the LGBT+ community and the wonderful, incredible, mind-bending diversity it represents.
Meet Moya Bailey, the black woman who created the term “misogynoir.”
“Misogynoir” is a term queer black feminist scholar and Northeastern University professor Moya Bailey invented in 2010 to describe the specific way racism and misogyny combine to oppress black women.
Some are skeptical of words like “misogynoir” — words that have been invented in the last decade or so and appear to thrive solely on social media.
To anyone who might criticize “misogynoir,” Bailey would say that there’s power in creating a word for something that already exists but, for the most part, remains nameless — and it thrills her with joy to see how the word is being used on Tumblr especially.
also it was just very real and had no contrived storyline or character elements or anything. just regular interactions. it’s like 20 min and i highly recommend to other folks who share the same identity intersections.
Graffiti, Rap, and Sexual Awakening: An Analysis of Dizzee Kipling
This was a paper written for a course I am taking in gender, sexuality, and media on how a character in television or film’s gender intersects with other identities. I chose Dizzee Kipling because he’s one of my faves from The Get Down and I felt this show does a really great job of exploring intersecting identities anyway. This analysis is about 8 pages in Word so if you read it, I totally love you! I’m really proud of this paper and had so much fun writing it!
tbh positivity isn’t at all necessary for groups that enjoy continuous affirmation by the structural workings of society. like i know half-assed positivity posts are in right now but please… i don’t need positivity for being able-bodied. every day that i am able to easily access my university, apartment, and masjid & every day that i am not judged or demeaned based on my ability- i know that i am being affirmed. if you’re white &/or cis &/or straight etc. you will experience privileges similar to this- a world so intentionally created for you it can be difficult to notice how different it can be for others, especially as certain identities intersect.
the affirmations that i receive, unfairly, for my ability do not need to be re-affirmed with “positivity culture”. if you work to recognise your privilege, you already know that a given identity benefits you in tangible ways. positivity only has any power when it counters a norm of what is deemed “good” or “acceptable” within a certain narrow & harmful viewpoint.
like..when i was sixteen-year old sex worker and had just received a positive hiv test result, the declaration that i was not dirty or unworthy of love would have been meaningful and indeed a radical idea. when i was first discovering my sexuality as a woman of colour, the idea of my feelings being natural and good would have certainly made an impact on me.
positivity can be significant. it becomes empty when we start endorsing statements like “i hope all cis boys are having a good day” or “white women are valid your race doesn’t make you any less beautiful” or “able-bodied folks are ethereal” or “straight people deserve better”. it becomes actively harmful when we suggest that “abusive men who yell and punch walls are valid and lovable” or “support straight people who want to destroy all lgbt people because of mental illness” or “it’s okay if you violently hate all women”. like? it’s one thing to uselessly give special support to already supported groups but it’s quite another to reinforce detrimental politics or beliefs at the expense of vulnerable groups lmao.
Among the policies the Trump administration promises to pursue are several that could exacerbate discrimination against already-marginalized groups. The president-elect’s agenda includes
Walking back the Affordable Care Act, which has helped an estimated 20 million people get health insurance and expanded access to affordable contraception
Overturning Roe v. Wade, increasing opportunities for states to limit abortion rights in the U.S.
Defunding Planned Parenthood, which he has acknowledged would decrease access to basic healthcare services, especially for women and families with low incomes.
Predicting Trump’s cabinet will disregard women’s rights and needs is an example of one of the election’s biggest lessons: Hate tends to be intersectional.
Sure, these issues will affect straight, white women. But women of color and queer women — who are disproportionately impacted by pay disparities and more likely to live in poverty — will undoubtedly shoulder the burden of the Trump administration’s most harmful social and economic plans, from childcare policies that favor the rich to increased health care costs.
“We already know these barriers [to health care and pay equity] are being put in place and are impacting women, but disproportionately impacting women of color, who don’t have means to access reproductive care, for instance,” said Christy Gamble, director of health policy and legislative affairs at the Black Women’s Health Imperative. “Black women are more likely to receive care at Planned Parenthood or other care facilities that happen to also have abortion providers. If we’re restricting Title X funding based on a hospital or provider also being an abortion provider … then we’re restricting black women’s access to care.” Read more