For something that’s supposed to improve relations between groups in America, “intersectionality” theory is one heckuva bad idea.

The idea behind it is that it’s hard enough being a minority group member, but for people who are in more than one group at the same time, the oppression gets worse. One page lists five interacting categories: race, disability, sexual orientation, nationality and gender identity. Those are the categories that count. People who live in their intersections “face multiple forms of oppression.”

I get that, to an extent. To be Spanish-speaking and disabled, for example, has got to present difficulties greater than the mere sum of its parts. Kimberlé Crenshaw had some real injustices in view when she coined the term. But as often happens, it’s been taken too far, giving privileged status (I use that word intentionally) to a very few categories of pain. Others’ stories get reduced to, “Nah, not so important.” That’s a great way to provoke anger.

Intersectionality, illustrated from a deck by Russell Robinson; found at Wikimedia

We’ve all got stories of pain and recovery, grief and joy, loss and gain. You’ve got your story, and it’s real. So do I. Some of our stories involve oppression, some of them are just really hard situations we live with. I’m coming up on my sixth major foot surgery in seven years. You cannot imagine how disabling and disruptive it’s been. I mean, over and over again — but hold on, you don’t need me launching into all that now. The point is, we all have stories, and everyone’s story matters.

But “No,” whispers intersectionality to someone like me. “Forget your disability; it’s only one minority status, and you need at least two. Besides, you’re a ‘cis’ white male. Your struggles don’t live up to ours.”

I clench my teeth. I pray to God for the ability to respond in grace, and I say, “Oh, you have no idea.” No one has any idea. No one knows what another’s life is really like.

Comparing Pain Is Impossible

I take a cue from my sister, who’s been afflicted with multiple major disabilities from the day of her birth. People tell her, “You have it so much harder than anyone else!” They think they’re being sympathetic. She’s not very sympathetic in return; instead she corrects them. “How do I know I have it harder? Everyone has their own pain. I don’t know what theirs is like, so how can I compare?”

That’s wisdom speaking. One person is disabled. Another person came from a broken home. Another one’s baby died in childbirth. Another person has impossible financial problems. We’ve all got more than one of these going on — our own intersections.

Intersectionality treats people like categories, and it assigns special value to a handful of those categories. But categories don’t have pain; they don’t have experiences; they don’t live lives at all. People do. Members of minority groups have a much higher probability of discrimination than others do, yes, of course. But I’ve never sat and had coffee with a probability. Only with people.

I’ve never sat and had coffee with a probability. Only with people.

If we lived as categories, then yes, whites have a far better experience here in America than blacks. English-speakers have had it better than people who speak other languages. The able-bodied have it better than the disabled. The rich have it better than the poor.

Why Not Add Even More Categories?

But why stop there? If we’re going to pretend we live as categories instead of individuals, let’s keep right on going! People in solid, whole families are better off than those in broken families. Smarter people have an advantage over less-smart people. Athletic people have it better than non-athletic people. People who go to great schools have an advantage over people who go to average ones. People with healthy genes are better off than people with cancer in their families. Thin people do better than heavier ones. Tall people get treated better than short ones. People whose families have never experienced violence are better off than those who have. People who weren’t flooded by Hurricane Harvey have it easier than those who were. People with relatives in Congress have privileges other people don’t have. People with great complexion can enjoy their skin more than people with pimples. Men with a full head of hair have it better than bald men.

Think I’m getting ridiculous? Ask a teenager whose friends are shunning her because of her acne. Listen to her story. Please, let’s hear each other’s stories. For that’s what this is about: recognizing we live our lives as real people, not as category-members. You can’t tell much about a person’s life from just five or ten specially chosen groups they may or may not belong to. I respect the challenges their intersections may pose, but I want to know them as persons, not as points plotted on a Venn diagram.

Intersectionality discounts too many stories — too many individuals’ lives. That’s divisive. It’s anger-provoking. It’s the wrong way to heal a fractured society.