CONTENTS
Feature | 4 6
Poetry is Powerful Enough ‘I photograph for work and for life.’: Photojournalist and professor Dr. Gina Gayle takes on reporting on race as a Black journalist
Culture | 9 Then & Now: An Ongoing Fight for Social Change 11 Street Harassment: It’s Not Just White Women Identity | 16 I Am Not The Standard & That’s Okay 18 L’shana Tova from the Duck Pond
ISSUE NO.1
The Intersectionalist Melanie Curry Co-Chair
Eryn McCallum Co-Chair
Ziqi Wang Feature Chair
Emily Cardona
Katiana Hoefle Cultrue Co-Chair
Culture Co-Chair
Shruti Rajkumar Identity Chair
Jilly Towson Social Media Chair
Gabriella Leonel Head Photo/Video Chair
Ricky Kalayci
Photo & Video Co-Chair
Christine Park Graphic Design Chair
Sonali Anand
Mag Design Co-Chair
Liza Xiao
Mag Design Co-Chair
Abby Michaud Co-Copy Editor
Leah Jablo Co-Copy Editor
Letter from the Editors For far too long, journalists of color have assimilated into predominantly white spaces, most of which are embedded in white supremacy, racism, sexism, ableism—the list goes on. Journalists of color feel pressured to leave their marginalized identities behind for the sake of objectivity. The pressure to “fit in” prevents marginalized reporters from dismantling the different “-isms” in newsrooms. We’re here to tell you that journalists no longer have to forgo their morals and ethics on Emerson College’s campus for the purpose of achieving objectivity and unbiased reporting—something that truly does not exist. The Intersectionalist is a news publication on campus dedicated to all forms of intersectionality and anti-marginalization. Intersectionality encompasses so many forms of representation, and each identity should be represented fairly and equally in the media. On-campus media organizations have repeatedly harmed marginalized reporters and underrepresented communities by putting objectivity and unbiasedness at the forefront of the reporting process. The Intersectionalist’s goal is to change that. We hope to provide a space where journalists can engage with sources and become immersed in a project for as long as necessary, learning about their sources and their communities not only as a reporter but as a person as well. But, it’s not just about the journalists and what we need—it’s about sources as well. Sources deserve to be validated, and their communities heard. The Intersectionalist hopes to do just that. Starting this organization from the ground up was stressful and frustrating at times, but also inspiring and exciting. Through this experience, we’ve cried, laughed, smiled, and most importantly, learned. We’ve reflected on the Jewish High Holiday season [pg. 16 ] and explored the intersectionality of being Indian and disabled [pg. 14]. We’ve addressed the relationship between identity and street harassment [pg. 11] and showcased the power of activism through poetry [pg. 4]. And through all of this, we’ve learned. Our writers are experts on their own experiences, and we learned from them throughout the process of creating this issue; and hopefully, you can too. We are extending our sincerest gratitude to everyone, but specifically to our team, who has supported us on this short but strenuous journey. We hope to see more students, guest writers, and content creators join us in the future—more people means more power for our purpose. No longer will we allow ourselves or any other journalist to be molded into something they’re not. Writers and artists with marginalized, intersecting identities deserve the world and that begins with us having the freedom to create what we want and how we want. All the best, Mel & Eryn
By Lily O’Hartenstein
Feature
Poetry is Powerful Enough By Melanie Curry
protests occurring nationally and in Boston. Currently, the account has The pain, anguish, beauty, over 2,000 followers. A few months laughter, and life that develops later on Aug. 12, Firmin created her from Blackness is too deep and too website where she posts her work strong to be held inside. First-year through a blog. Rejeila Firmin’s poems Being Black “Sometimes I didn’t feel is Activism, Brown Sugar Baby, and comfortable in the beginning Breonna Taylor, I Will Never Stop going to protest because it was Saying Your Name originate from just a lot of people, so I wanted to the depth of her mind and soul as find a way I could still engage in a coping mechanism and form of activism from a safe space,” Firmin activism. said in an Zoom interview with On June 3, 2020, Firmin created The Intersectionalist from Boston, an Instagram page for her poetry Massachusetts. “There were so named WordsbyRei as a way to many Black voices not being heard, contribute to the racial protests
[and] there was so much stuff to touch upon. And, I had to say a lot about it.” Firmin said she wanted the account to be a space for Black voices to be heard by white people and by other Black people. She said she was tired of Black voices being overlooked and wanted to do something to showcase the pain the Black community experienced from the murders of people such as George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, etc. “They would have done it to me too; they would have done it to any of us; they will do it to any of us,” are three lines from Breonna Taylor, I Will Never Stop Saying Your Name. Firmin transferred her pain and fear into stanzas, detailing the frustration she experienced after hearing the verdict for Breonna Taylor’s case. Most of her poems are centered around activism and her personal experiences. Growing up in Milton, Massachusetts, Firmin experienced microaggressions frequently and turned these experiences into ranting sessions through By Gabriella Leonel / The Intersectionalist her short stories and First-year Rejeila Firmin uses her poetry as a form of activism to uplift Black poems. Typically, Firmin voices and showcase the beauty in Blackness. writes every day, using her
The Intersectionalist experiences from race to her everyday life as inspiration. “I guess, I’ve always been writing about subjects that would be considered activism,” Firmin said. “That can range from love and relationships to political activism to empowerment.” Surprisingly, her love for poetry wasn’t an instinct. She experienced her self-discovery journey in her pre-teens when she initially debated becoming a chef. However, during this middle school quest, she accidentally stumbled upon her passion for poetry while struggling in English class and doodling in her journal as a pastime. “English was very hard for me, so I found it very telling that I liked to write, partly because it challenged me in ways history and math didn’t,” Firmin said. Doodling turned into writing, and eventually her interest in cooking was replaced by this new found hobby. Her focus from pots and pans changed to pens and parchment. Poetry wasn’t the first form of writing she explored. Initially, writing served as a ranting session for her frustrations, and towards the end of middle school, short stories became her focus. In her sophomore year of high school, Firmin’s guidance counselor recommended EmersonWRITES, a free urban, creative writing program that offers workshops to high school students enrolled in Boston Public Schools. From October of 2017 to February of 2018, Firmin participated in EmersonWRITES where she learned from Emerson College graduate students about
the different forms of writing and how to write both short stories and poetry. Firmin said this program gave students of color and marginalized voices the opportunity to receive an education outside of their school, learn what it means to be a writer, and what the writing industry looks like.
Being Black is Activism An empowerment piece. She swims in a pool of honey, as the summertime sun paints her skin gold. Her brown skin is glowing from within. Her touch is tender and she moves with intention. You’ve never seen effortless beauty like this before. Beauty like this is the epitome of raw. She’s sweet like brown sugar. Like cocoa butter and affection. But there’s more to her than complexion “[EmersonWRITES] taught me that as a woman of color, I do have a place in the writing industry,” Firmin said. “It’s not something that’s unrealistic, especially since at the time, that’s what I was hearing
5. at home. WRITES was sort of that outlet that I had to find my confidence in my writing that I didn’t find anywhere else.” The transition from short stories to poetry came from Firmin’s teacher in the program. During their class, her professor required students to free-write about any topic in any form of writing. Firmin said her writing initially gravitated towards shorter forms of writing until it became condensed into poetry. Despite most of her work being poetry, Firmin said she doesn’t consider herself a poet. She hasn’t picked her focus for the Creative Writing program and is weighing her options between non-fiction and poetry. “I'm definitely passionate about poetry, and I find that it’s a lot easier,” Firmin said. “It’s like the form that I turn to when I want to be the most creative.” In addition to being a writer, Firmin is also a photographer and has taken all of the photos on her website. She said she enjoys taking photos of Black people because she wants to accurately depict the beauty of Blackness in her pictures and dismantle negative perceptions of the Black community. “I wanted to make my own portrayals of how I see us, because you always hear about these white saviour movies and how white people will make us feel seen,” Firmin said. “But, I think it’s important that we make ourselves feel seen, and we make ourselves have the image that we actually have in real life.”
The Intersectionalist
‘I photograph for work and for life.’: Photojournalist and professor Dr. Gina Gayle takes on reporting on race as a Black journalist By Ziqi Wang Dr. Gina Gayle grew up sneaking into her father’s darkroom, mesmerized by watching photos develop to highlight the Black members in her community. Years later, she followed his footsteps by becoming a photojournalist, reporting on those same communities to document the Black experience. “I noticed how my father documented our community growing up and during a final interview, he stated that he always tried to show his people in their best light and their glory,” Gayle said. “I decided it would be my life-long project to do that [too] so whatever city or space or place I am working in or living in, I document the love and positivity of and in our community because it isn’t hard to find.” Gayle joined Emerson College’s journalism department this fall 2020 semester as one of four Black journalism professors, teaching Foundations of Journalism and Photojournalism. She is the first woman of color to work for the San Francisco Chronicle’s photography department, echoing the same experiences of her late father, James F. Gayle who was the first Black photographer at the Cleveland Plain
Photo Coutesy of Dr. Gina Gayle
Dealer. Most of her work utilizes multimedia elements to storytell aspects of Blackness. Some of her pieces include New Orleans Zulu project, which documents the recovery of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, and Picture Me, a project that tells the stories of children in foster care waiting to be adopted in Mississippi. The Intersectionalist spoke with Dr. Gina Gayle from her home in
Boston, Massachusetts about her philosophy of journalism and goals while teaching at Emerson. The following interview has been edited for clarity and style. The Intersectionalist: What led you to decide to teach at Emerson? Gayle: I heard about Emerson a year or two before I applied. I think they had [an open] position, but I wasn't ready because I was
The Intersectionalist still in my PhD program at the Newhouse School at Syracuse. Then, when this position came about, I met [Raul Reis, Dean of the School of Communication], and Janet Kolodzy, [the Chair of the Journalism Department] at a conference. Boston wasn't my destination, but there were jobs. And then I got here, and it's everything that people were saying. The students are amazing, my co-workers seem very dedicated, and I like the conversations that we're having. The Intersectionalist: What do you hope to accomplish while working here? Gayle: If we are able to train the new generation—the newest journalists going out there to be innovative—it’s going to help the industry. What I hope to accomplish here, with my big mouth [and] my own projects, is changing the industry, because we have to have a strong journalistic entity in this country, and it's being attacked. The Intersectionalist: Before this interview, I researched you and came across a speech you made earlier this year on the benefits of diversity in photojournalism. You spoke of your experience of “being the diverse one in the room.” I also experienced this struggle when I first arrived at Emerson in fall 2017. Initially, I tried not to be the “Chinese expert,” so I didn’t report on either Chinatown or Emerson’s international student community.
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What does this mean to you? Do you see it as an opportunity to educate people, or you think it’s just who you are as a person?
The Intersectionalist: What does intersectionality mean to you? How has being a Black woman influenced your career?
Gayle: When I talk to other people [about what it’s like] to be the diverse one in the room, it's not to take away from the issues and the situations that people of color, Black people, and Black women have. But it's a way for people to understand differences.
Gayle: [Intersectionality is] such a new word for me but I will tell you that if I had to think of myself in terms of intersectionality, I would say that being a Black person is the biggest and the most important part of who I am.
I get what you're saying [about] how you tried not to be the Chinese student, and the poster girl for writing what is going on and correcting people because that gets tiring, exhausting, and overwhelming. It's [important] for other people to do their own research. Now, when they are too lazy to do their own research correctly, then I do have to correct [and] educate them. But that’s not my job. I can't educate someone on the entire Black community. I can educate them on some stupid stereotypes that they might have. I can educate them on my experience—that's what I set out to do. What the media portrays about us is not my entire experience. There's so much about me that is “diverse” or not the norm. I don't have a problem helping people understand or to try and see the diverse parts of themselves. Then, they can think about other people's experiences, other people's diversity, and the stuff that they have to offer to society, [their] community, and the world.
I know what you were saying about [how] you didn't want to be pigeonholed, and that's a fine line to balance. You want to be able to tell different stories, because a [lot] of non-Chinese and non-POC have told our stories, and so if they can do it, [then] how come we can't go out and tell every story? It’s interesting to talk about intersectionality because I just bring all of it with me. Wherever I go—here comes me as a Black person, here comes me as a woman, here comes me as a loud Black woman, here comes me as a big Black woman, and now here comes me an educated, loud, big Black woman with a PhD. The Intersectionalist: What made you want to be a photographer? What are some of your most memorable projects? Gayle: My dad was a photographer for the Cleveland Plain Dealer in Ohio. So, I grew up with a darkroom in my basement, and I loved it. I remember sneaking in the basement, knowing not to open the door but to knock on it. It was pure magic, watching a picture
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The Intersectionalist evolve in this chemical group. It was just amazing. I hung out with him, going to photograph bar mitzvahs, weddings, and family reunions. That's what we did for fun. I was this little assistant, and I held the flash for him.
Some images have been published as singles, some as picture packages, some as photo stories, some as books or multimedia
from minority communities that are going into journalism? Gayle: First of all, I would say, especially for students, get involved in some kind of professional organization. I'm a member of the National Association of Black Journalists. I know there’s the Asian American Journalists Association, Native American Journalists Association, and the National Association of Hispanic Journalists. I won't say it's life-saving, but it's soulsaving. When we used to be able to go to in-person conferences, it was like a family reunion.
Then, when I got out into school, I went into undergrad for marketing. I did a bunch of other stuff, and nothing was ever as fulfilling. I was afraid to be a photographer when my father was alive because I didn't want to compete with him, and I didn't want to be worse than him. I never thought that I was going into multimedia The work of storytelling BIPOC people Photo Courtesy of Dr. Gina Gaylegoing into because I was a still photographer. journalism is to Photo of Malcolm X taken by Gina’s father, James F. Gayle, in But the most find a place that Cleveland, Ohio, 1960s. important thing you are passionate is that I'm a about, that you storyteller and multimedia gives me projects, and then there are “life believe in, and [you] don't back more tools in order to tell the story. projects” that end when they end. down. Let them hear you because if you are not there, then that So this is how I, and perhaps some The Intersectionalist: What kind viewpoint, your message, your other photojournalists, look at it: I of suggestions would you give to way of telling stories—they won't photograph for work and for life. BIPOC people, or people coming happen.
Culture
Then & Now: An Ongoing Fight For Social Change By Melanie Curry
to people of color by prohibiting unequal treatment in education, public spaces, employment, and criminal justice, among others. While these laws were created, they did not actually create a systemic effect as Black and brown people are still disproportionately discriminated against in these very areas. “We legally have the same rights as everyone else now—which I’m not disregarding, I think this is extremely important—but it doesn’t change the fact that the system was never created to include us, and
the system isn’t made to punish itself when it treats us differently,” Hackett said. “We may have equal rights, but we are not treated equally.” The criminal justice system continues to blatantly violate this act by disproportionately targeting and unjustly murdering Black Americans. Well-known victims such as Trayvon Martin, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd are representative of thousands—often unreported—Black people who have been murdered by the police. The lack of accountability for
The movement against systemic oppression seems never-ending. When a new system of oppression dissolves, another one rises up again—stronger and more powerful than the last—and makes it just that much harder for the newest generation to continue a fight longstarted by their ancestors. This perpetual fight for equality and equity leaves many Black people wondering: is anything actually changing? “The hard part comes when it feels like nothing is changing in the past few months, and since the Civil Rights Movement overall,” junior Azriel Hackett said in an interview with The Intersectionalist. It was only 56 years ago that African Americans received equal rights by the United States government, but having equal rights and being treated equally are two different things. With systemic oppression embedded in our society, the Black Lives Matter movement is reigniting the generational fight for equitable By Emily Cardona / The Intersectionalist change—which was initially started The Black community has experienced police brutality for decades. Now, by the Civil Rights movement. The Civil Rights Act of 1964—an with the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Elijah McClain, and others, activists are accomplishment of the Civil Rights redemanding to defund and abolish the police systems. movement—gave equal rights
The Intersectionalist said murders reignited the fight for social justice against police systems—that of which originally stemmed from the Civil Rights Movement. Thus, the Black Lives Matter movement was born, and the organized resistance against police brutality began once again. “Although BLM emerged as a result of the killing of an unarmed Black man, it has come to also represent a collective call within the Black community to reclaim our freedom from oppression—to jog, to work, to drive and to breathe,” Sylvia Spears, Vice President of Equity and Social Justice at Emerson College, said in an interview with The Intersectionalist. Hackett said the Civil Rights movement set the foundation for BLM because it was the first movement to advocate for Black people’s human rights. By tackling institutional racism first, however, the movement could not address the systemic forms of oppression embedded in society—which is one of BLM’s goals today. “[The Civil Rights movement] could not focus on systemic racism in the way that Black Lives Matter does today, mainly because they had to tackle the issue of getting basic rights first,” Hackett said. “The Civil Rights Movement was important, of course, in making sure Black people had equal rights. The Black Lives Matter movement is calling out the people in power for still treating us as sub-human.” Another difference between each movement is the lack of inclusivity for all Black lives in the Civil Rights movement. According to their website, BLM’s fight for
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By Emily Cardona / The Intersectionalist
The American legal system protects police officers who’ve racially profiled and murdered Black people. Few police officers have been convicted for these murders, and most experience little-to-no consequences. Protests are expected to persist.
By Emily Cardona / The Intersectionalist
This summer, support for BLM hit its peak after the brutal and inhumane murders of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd by police officers. Protests occurred both nationally and internationally, fighting for the end of systemic oppression within police systems. police brutality and liberation includes Black queer and trans folx, undocumented immigrants, women, and so on—identities that were often not acknowledged
during the Civil Rights movement. Sydney Logan, Associate Chair of Protesting Oppression with Educational Reform, said she is representative of the
The Intersectionalist intersectionality and inclusiveness that exists in the BLM movement. “BLM has centered Black, LGBT women, which many people— myself included—note the Civil Rights movement failed to do,” Logan said in an interview with The Intersectionalist. While powerful and influential, the Civil Rights movement upheld the gender barriers at the time
with mostly religious Black men in leadership roles. In comparison, BLM was created by three Black women and continues to put Black women in leadership roles, thereby tackling systemic suppression internally. By extending the fight once started by the Civil Rights movement, Black Lives Matter is moving toward a fight for
11. transformative change for all Black people. “Although it’s obviously tragic that we have to literally fight for our humanity to be recognized, I think that the movement is powerful,” Hackett said. “It has shown me what can happen when Black people come together to fight against a common enemy, and I’m proud.”
Street Harassment: It’s Not Just White Women
By Katiana Hoefle
Sophomore Kierstan Taté is street harassed every time she makes the seven-minute weekly walk from her dorm room to the COVID-19 testing center in downtown Boston. “I could be with a friend and I would still probably get catcalled,” Taté said in a Zoom interview with The Intersectionalist from Boston, Massachusetts. As a Black woman, this experience is not unusual for Taté. Since she started college in fall 2019, she said she has experienced street harassment multiple times every week. Black women, women between the ages of 18 to 24, and women who belong to LGBTQ+ community are the highest affected demographics of sexual harassment, according to a 2019 national study. Emerson College does not publicly report students’ experiences with street harassment. The Clery Act—which states
all college administrations must release their yearly crime statistics—only requires administrators to report certain instances of sexual assault including rape, fondling, incest, and statutory rape. Like all forms of harassment, street harassment is difficult to encapsulate into one category as it can consist of actions such as unwanted whistling and flashing. Stop Street Harassment—a nonprofit organization seeking to document and end gender-based street harassment worldwide— defines gender-based street harassment as unwanted comments, gestures, and actions forced on a stranger in a public place without their consent due to their actual or perceived sex, gender, gender expression, or sexual orientation. Street harassment is an all-encompassing term of the more commonly used phrase catcalling, which usually refers to sexually suggestive and threatening comments made
towards someone publicly but does not necessarily imply action. While Emerson’s Clery Compliance Report does provide information for categories such as stalking and aggravated assault that can be correlated to street harassment, it does not explicitly provide a report or category of all of the types of street harassment students might experience over the school year. Harassment can be experienced by people from all ages and demographics, but each experience can play out differently depending on the social context. College students face a unique set of challenges by living on-campus with their peers—potentially including someone who has previously harassed them—and attending academic environments where they could face harassment. “That’s really some of the roots underlying Federal Title IX,” Melanie Matson, the director and counseling/advocate of Emerson’s Healing and Advocacy Center,
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The Intersectionalist said in a Zoom interview. “People should be able to study and work in educational environments and there are things that are limiting people’s ability to study or participate in education.” All forms of harassment can have a number of mental health and physical effects for survivors, yet due to normalization, Matson said they often aren’t acknowledged. They said some of the common effects of harassment are second guessing or blaming oneself, feeling unsafe going out in public, and feeling anxious and depressed. “If I experienced harassment near where I am going to get tested at Tufts or in Tufts, then if I’m in a similar environment, my nervous system is taking in that information around me,” Matson said. “My neuroception—which is very important as it takes care of ourselves—is then causing me to respond as if I am going to experience that experience again,
or relive that experience.” Matson said harassment and fears of reliving trauma can often be stressful and lead to physical reactions such as headaches, stomach aches, and the inability to eat, sleep, or concentrate. They suggested that people who’ve experienced harassment listen to their bodies’ natural instincts and engage in self-care. Some self-care methods include making tea, going on a walk, or having a nap, Matson said. Identity—particularly race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, disability, and religion—has shown to have a strong correlation with street harassment as people from marginalized communities are disproportionately targeted by street harassers due to power dynamics and systemic oppression in the United States. For example, the 2019 national study discovered that 18% of white women and 16% of white men experienced
assault or harassment in the last six months, while 35% of Black women experienced it in the same time frame. Systemic structures built on racism create a chain of power. The power structure between white and Black people starts with white men at the top, then trickles down to white women, Black men, and Black women. The order of power fluctuates depending on the identity;for instance, with sexuality, straight white men are at the top. The acknowledgement and treatment of street harassment differs based on the identities of the victims and perpetrators. Michelle Taylor—more commonly known as Feminista Jones—is an activist and writer who created the #YouOKsis to raise awareness for street harassment and encourage people to check in with women of color who are being harassed. In an interview with The Atlantic, she explained a scenario where a Black woman is street harassed by a Black man in front of police officers and receives no intervention because the officers perceive it as a domestic dispute. “If a white woman is in a Black neighborhood and yells at a Black man, ‘Leave me the fuck alone!’ and the police are around, they’ll come up and ask, ‘Is everything all right?’” Taylor said in the interview. “But with us they won’t do that.”
By Christine Park / The Intersectionalist
The Intersectionalist Street harassment is a modern representation of the power dynamic between white men and their attempts to exert ownership over Black women and their bodies. This power imbalance showcases the long-held fetishization and control of Black women’s bodies by white men. This power dynamic has been shown historically through women such as Sarah Baartman, a Black woman who was paraded around “freak shows” and put on display for white audiences due to her accentuated features. “Some of the root causes I see are connected to settler colonialism and decolonization,” Matson said. “That sense of, I’m going to move in and take the land—which is how our country, the U.S., is founded and continues to play off of—and extract the resources or take people and exploit them, whether it has been the U.S. history of enslavement or elimination and extermination of especially Black, Indigenous, and people of color.” The intersectionality of multiple identities provides another layer of danger for many Black women as they are not only targeted because of their race, but also for their gender, sexuality, disability, or religion. Maliyka Muhammad, a board member of Stop Street Harassment for over six years, is a Black Muslim woman who has experienced the intersection of prejudice when being catcalled by men who have more power over her because of her race and religion’s place in societal structures. On one occasion, Muhammad was harassed while wearing religious headcoverings, which is an example of this layered
power dynamic. "The more I'm covered, they're intrigued so now they want to see what's under that,” Muhammad said. “[When] I'm not covered, they want to know how much more they can see.” As the mother of a Black son, Muhammad said she consciously teaches her son the power a man can hold over a woman, while also acknowledging the systemic struggles he will face being Black in the U.S. "One of my jobs is to raise a son who is not endangered, but is not a danger to others as well,” Muhammad said. "Every day I fight and I scream and I cuss and I holler because I am the mother of a Black son, and I hate that one day I will have to have a conversation with my son about how to react when a police officer stops you.” While it is important to teach the next generation about street harassment, it can also be pivotal that bystanders know how to take action if they can. Matson said when someone is being harassed, it is helpful for bystanders to create a distraction so the victim does not focus on the harassment. If the situation is appropriate or safe depending on the power dynamics, having a conversation with the perpetrator about their actions can be important as well. "I think that with silence being complicitness, when we are silent, it sends the message that the behavior is okay or normal when it's not,” Matson said. “And if we believe that it's not, we have to say and do things that show that it's not. That shouldn't fall on the person's shoulders who's experiencing the
13. harm." When advocating for the end of street harassment, Matson also said activists need to be cautious and make sure that anti-harassment efforts do not criminalize and punish those already considered disposable to our society such as unhoused or mentally ill individuals. They said an example of harmful street harassment activism is the viral video released by Hollaback!, a grassroots initiative dedicated to combating street harassment. This video shows a white woman walking in New York City for 10 hours as she experiences street harassment. The video has been largely criticized by various media news outlets for providing an inaccurate portrayal of harassment as it only showed a majority of men of color catcalling. This reinforces the stereotypes of white victimhood and the fear that men of color are inherently dangerous. "We need to be careful that our movements aren't reinforcing some of the very things that we're trying to dismantle,” Matson said. “How do we do anti-harassment and antiviolence work without reinforcing some systems around punishment and ableism and [imprisonment]? How do we make it so that the harassment and violence and harm stops without playing into prisons and policing and punishment being the answer?"
Identity I Am Not The Standard & That’s Okay. parents often found alternative solutions so that I could still be involved. If challenges persisted, I Within Indian culture, there is was told “practice makes perfect” a strong value placed on studies or “keep trying, you’ll get it and a successful future, resulting eventually,” even if it caused me in a high expectation for Indian pain to do so. kids to do well in school and join Having grown up in a as many extracurricular activities predominantly white town with as possible. Due to this, my parents very few disabled people my age, pushed me to take piano lessons I was never told that pushing and join the school band, adaptive myself past my physical boundaries tennis, and adaptive skiing. It’s a in order to achieve the Indian universal experience for Indian kids standard was ableist. In 2014, to feel immense pressure to achieve I became connected with the these Indian standards. However, disabled community through as a disabled person, this pressure Twitter and started to reflect how seemed amplified. abled-bodied and Indian standards All of the extracurricular were harmfully being projected activities I participated in posed onto me. an accessibility challenge for me. One of the first activists I Years of piano lessons and playing found online was Imani Barbarin. the flute in my school band would Looking back, I’ve realized that cause me joint pain from my I was drawn to her and her limited dexterity and hand-eye activism because she was the first coordination. A year of adaptive disabled woman of color I had tennis left callouses on the soles ever seen other than myself. As of my feet. During the two years I scrolled through her account, I of adaptive skiing, my energy was came across a hashtag she created drained in minutes, and I became called #AbledsAreWeird, a space close to severely injuring myself on where disabled people tweeted multiple occasions. about their ableist experiences. I continued with these I sat in my bed with tears in my activities for years because I was eyes as I read the tweets under told that they would make me the hashtag and thought: “That a well-rounded individual. If has happened to me too!” and “I inaccessibility presented itself, my hear that all the time.” This was a
By Shruti Rajkumar
moment of clarity, because I also experienced hearing comments and encountering situations that made me feel uncomfortable, but I was never able to identify these experiences as ableist. In an interview with National Public Radio, Barbarin said: “The most impactful result of this hashtag is that disabled people get to talk to one another and feel not alone. A lot of times in the moment, you really don’t know what to say, and you kinda feel like you’re letting yourself down in a way because you’re not sticking up for yourself. But this gives people a chance to revisit those moments and maybe, hopefully, put some of them to peace.” Just as Barbarin had hoped, I started to look back on my past experiences and upon reflection, I remembered the ableist conversations I had in doctor’s appointments as a child. These conversations typically started off with small talk by asking me what I like to do for fun. My mom would always urge me to list the many extracurricular activities I was involved in, even though I never classified them as “fun.” She would then proceed to explain my disability to the doctor and end the conversation
The Intersectionalist by saying, “Our goal is to get her to walk independently without using crutches.” Those appointments reminded me of the path I was put on and the goals I was expected to achieve. I realized that I was forced into inaccessible extracurriculars, so I could assimilate into the Indian and able-bodied standards. My parents projected the Indian and able-bodied standards onto me, so that they could fit me in a box. But, I’ve realized that box was far too small for me, and my body was never meant to fit into it. Today, I am an openly proud disabled woman of color who knows who she is. It took me a while to break free from the cultural standards I was forced to live up to and to figure out who I actually am. Rejecting the Indian and able-bodied standards took small yet significant actions. I first started by dropping piano lessons, which instantly relieved my physical pain in my hands. Then, I stopped taking band class, tennis, and skiing. At the time, I wasn’t consciously rejecting those standards, but rather listening to what my body was begging me to do for so long. It felt odd and almost wrong
to drop all of the activities I had dedicated years of my life to, but in those moments of uncertainty, I reminded myself that this feeling was a product of ableism in our society. Saying no doesn’t mean you’re weak or unwilling, it just means that you know and respect your body’s limits. For most of my life, I felt like I didn’t really know who I was. I dedicated years of my life to activities I never liked doing. After quitting, I slowly began exploring my interests that were accessible to me. I began writing poetry in my free time and playing around with different makeup styles. If my hands ever got tired from typing for too long or were shaky after holding a makeup brush, I allowed myself to rest, which was my way of rejecting the ableist concept that disabled people
15. need to continuously be resilient by pushing through pain and inaccessibility in order to succeed. Initially, I struggled to identify moments of ableism because of its normalization in society. However, I am now able to recognize personal experiences with ableism by acknowledging how my body reacts in the moment. Before I knew what ableism was, I always had this gut feeling that something was wrong. This was my body’s way of warning me about ableism. At the end of the day, I know my body and its limits better than anyone else, and I deserve to be afforded agency. Over the past few years, I’ve become vocal within the disabled community online. This community helped me find my love for activism and writing. I wanted to correct the ways in
By Christine Park / The Intersectionalist
16.
The Intersectionalist which the media reports on the disabled community and give a voice to disabled people. I wanted to change the perception of my community, so I decided to attend Emerson College and major in journalism. Through the articles I’ve written and the organizations
I’ve joined, I finally found my voice. I don’t fit the Indian standard or the able-bodied standard, and I’m learning to be okay with that. It’s taken a while, but I’m realizing that I don’t need to live up to standards that are unattainable for the body I live in. I do not exist to
be perceived by the abled-bodied gaze. I exist solely for me—by my own standards.
L’shana Tova from the Duck Pond By Leah Jablo My favorite custom of the Jewish High Holiday season has always been Tashlik. It’s a ceremony that can be done anytime between Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot. For this ritual, one symbolically casts their sins into a body of water. You stand at the water’s edge with bits of bread in hand and think of the ways you’ve done wrong in the past year. Then, toss a piece in for each sin to be rinsed away. Perhaps, I didn’t start the year off on the right foot. Instead of tossing my metaphorical bread-sins away at Boston Harbor or The Charles River Esplanade as one should, I threw them into the lagoon at the Public Garden. My Jew-friends and I were too lazy to walk too far, so we just let the local ducks swallow our sins whole. L'shana Tova and my deepest apologies, duckies. Next year, I’ll repent for that, too. Just a little context for all my gentile friends reading this whilst
scratching their heads: L’shana Tova is Hebrew for “Happy New Year.” This year’s Jewish High Holiday
season has now come to a close. Time to turn your calendars to year 5780.
The Intersectionalist The High Holy Days mark the beginning of a new calendar year for us Jews and consist of three major religious holidays crammed into the span of just a few short weeks. First, there’s Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Eight days later, there’s Yom Kippur, the day of repentance. Lastly, five days after that, we celebrate Sukkot, the festival of gathering and the harvest. During these two weeks, we engage in practices such as prayer ceremonies and fasting, meant to foster reflection on ourselves and all the ways we could have been better to others in the past year. It’s the time when I ask myself—what exactly do I need to do to be a nice Jewish girl?
By Christine Park/The Intersectionalist
Most years, I think about the same old stuff: the ways I could have been more generous, more respectful, more compassionate, and more trustworthy. But this year, my reflection was different, as the COVID-19 pandemic has challenged my understanding of what it means to be “good.” Judaism, in general, emphasizes actions over faith. In my household, we are all practicing Jews. And, while I’ve never believed in the traditional biblical God, I was raised to understand holiness as a consequence of our actions. Acts may be holy or unholy, based on how they affect others. I’ve always thought that an act that brings joy to another releases a holy spark into the world, whereas an act that inflicts pain releases an unholy one. I still believe this, but now I think it’s more complex than this. My understanding of holiness has become more nuanced, for the pandemic has illuminated some of the ugly facets of human nature. There are so many ways to inflict harm unto others by simply doing nothing at all. This year, I’ve learned how people inflict harm in subtle, selfish ways through willful ignorance. Instead of acknowledging how careless and selfish it is to ignore public health guidelines, we nonchalantly gamble with the lives of others, focusing only on the onus these safety restrictions place on our own shoulders. Instead of offering an ear or warm smile to others in times of uncertainty and grief,
17. we recede into ourselves and worry only of our own anxieties. Instead of speaking up when we see people hurting, we often say nothing because it’s just easier to leave them be. And what kind of sparks do silence, ignorance, carelessness generate? Inaction is not neutrality. It creates sparks that are their own breed of evil, an unholiness so difficult to discern and easy to ignore because we all engage in its production. Yet, failure to recognize the repercussions of our passivity doesn’t mean harm has not been inflicted. I see people, lonely and hurting, all around me, if not due to the disease that’s defined this calendar year, then due to fear of it and grief over the loss of normalcy. To not uplift them is a choice, a choice I believe is indecent and unJewish. So, during Tashlik this year, I scattered bread crumbs across the lagoon for all the times I ignored my peers’ pain and fear; for all the times I didn’t smile or offer a warm embrace to someone who needed it; for all the times I wasn’t careful to protect the lives of loved ones and strangers alike. Then, I let the ducks consume my sins. I hope they don’t get sick from the bread and their stomachs explode (I had a lot of sins to repent for this year.) In the end, I think being a nice Jewish girl is about trying your best to do right by others. We all could try a little harder.
The Intersectionalist
