Intersectionality: a Straight, White, Male's Perspective

A personal essay by Samuel Jardine

In the current world of rampant racism, sexism, and classism, I seem to be the unwitting serial culprit. Am I truly responsible?

We live in a world replete with suffering. It is human nature to seek the source of suffering and point fingers at it and today, I feel those fingers being pointed squarely in my face. Ever since I was young, I was willing to own up to mistakes I made. When I broke the porch lamp playing basketball, I went and told the neighbors. When I scratched the car parking, I left a note. 

With that being said, am I truly responsible for rampant racism and hateful xenophobia plaguing society based solely on my race? When accused of being a racist, is it wrong of me to feel that I am being falsely accused? The reality for me is that while I may not believe that I am perpetrating racism or any form of discrimination, I am a beneficiary of the current system.

Early Beginnings

I was raised in a “traditional” family with a loving father and mother. I am the oldest in my family and I feel intense responsibility towards my five younger siblings. My mother fulfilled traditional roles of cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry, helping us with our schoolwork, etc. My father was the provider and my mother was the homemaker. I didn’t think anything of it. I knew that my parents both loved me and I didn’t really stop to think about any other way a family could be structured. Living in Farmington, UT, the majority of my friends came from similar situations.

As a young boy, I was not very aware of the world around me. My first exposure to “feminism,” as I recall, was the “women and the priesthood” movement. As a young boy, I saw very little difference from the women protesting at the conference center and the protesters who stand outside General Conference sessions. Feminism held a very negative place in my mind. These women seemed to be overstepping their societal bounds. Being raised in a “traditional” family, I couldn’t understand why women would want the priesthood. My family seemed to be doing just fine with a righteous father and loving and caring mother. I felt that these women were just trying to get attention and that they had no real claim to the priesthood. I was surprised when I heard of many of these women being excommunicated, but I didn’t disagree at the time and I put it out of my mind for several years.

As I was preparing for my mission, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints made a very controversial decision about the children of LGBTQ+ children being unable to be baptized. I didn't stop to think about the repercussions of that decision for a single second. One day however, a respected  church leader pulled me aside and told me of an experience he had had. "Sam, have you heard about the new church policy?" he asked. "Yes, of course." I responded quickly. "When I first heard about it, I left work and came home to ponder and pray for guidance." "I have several nieces and nephews who are gay," he continued "and they are doing their best to be active members of the church and I simply hope that this doesn't destroy their testimonies." I looked at his tear-stained cheeks and took a mental picture. He steadied himself and taught me about the importance of finding our own answers no matter how difficult that may be. I will never forget seeing this man that I looked up to, struggle so completely with something that I had quickly discounted. 

New Perspectives

I put ideas of intersectionality far from my mind as a missionary and didn’t begin to think about societal reform until my first year at BYU in my English 251 class. It was a class about different ways of studying literature. We got to one theory that was a little difficult for me to understand. You’ll never guess what it was. That’s right, Feminist theory. I remember doing the reading for the class and seeing that there were a lot of different ways it could be used and I thought it was interesting. When we started the class however, things kind of took a different direction than I had been expecting. As the professor began teaching, a student in my class raised her hand and she talked about a scary experience she had had years ago for a young woman’s activity. What the bishop had requested they do is teach the young women to iron white shirts so that they would be able to serve their husbands. This experience made her so mad that tears were coming to her eyes. 

My initial reaction was to think that this was a singular event and conclusions could not be drawn about the entire society of the church through it. My father had taught me to think critically and that is what I thought I had been doing. As I thought about it though, there was something that made me a little uncomfortable. I realized that I was discrediting this girl’s experiences because they didn’t align with my own experiences. I could never imagine anyone I know doing something like that and I didn’t want to accept that women have been mistreated. It was easier for me to discredit this girl’s experience than to consider that the world was not as perfect for other people as it was for me. Instead of thinking of this girl’s experience as representative of an entirely suppressed culture, I preferred to decry it as a singular event and assume that this girl was just overly sensitive. I didn’t want to even consider the possibility that women were being seen only as additions to their husbands.

Betty Friedan in her book "The Feminine Mystique" addresses this very issue in sexism. According to Friedan, many women felt that there was something with them when they felt that their lives were devoid of meaning as they did the laundry and cooked all day every day. Here I was though, perpetrating the very thoughts Friedan warned against over forty years earlier. I naively thought that there was something wrong with women who accused men of general oppression (I was aware of situations of abuse and was very against that). From that fateful English 251 class I learned another important lesson. I am a feminist. Feminism is defined as a person who believes in the equality between gender. I had a misconception that a feminist was someone who marched up to the conference center demanding the priesthood. Many of my discomforts towards intersectionality are based on a few different foundations. The first one was, as already mentioned, the idea that my world was essentially perfect and that it could be no different for anyone else. The second thing holding me back was my belief that because I don’t act in a racist way or a sexist way, that I am not part of the problem. In many ways, I thought that I had been discriminated against in an anti-racist way.

Pushing Back

I was slowly becoming more aware of the suffering surrounding me. In my third year of college I took a class that would change my views forever: English 390. This was a class that ended up getting merged with a global women’s study class. It is important to note that I would never have signed up for a class focused around common abuses of women, people of color, native Americans, among many others. Once again, my purpose in avoiding these types of struggles is not because I condone them, but because I feel powerless to make any changes. In this class, as I learned about suffering, I learned a few important lessons, chiefly, that I needed to listen. When people in my own country are suffering such terrible offenses, my initial reaction needs to be to listen. I am a bad listener. I want to fix things immediately and move on with my privileged life. In this class, I learned to carefully listen to people and to not push my opinion on people. This is a lesson taught to me by Professor Matthews at BYU.

I remember a distinct lecture where we were talking about discrimination and I felt that I could listen passively no more. I raised my virtual hand and Professor Matthews called on me. I expressed many of the sentiments I mentioned earlier in this paper, such as the idea that I was being discriminated against because of my race and gender. I think I scared the class a little, which I am not proud of, but Professor Matthews gently invited me to take this opportunity to listen. She told me that as a member of the societal majority in a class of societal minorities, listening would be very appreciated. I learned that if I were to try to fix the problems of the entire class or add problems, that I would simply be acting as the majority always has thinking they’re the center of the universe. I sat in that class and I listened. As I listened without denying and dismissing people’s experiences, I experienced an increase in sympathy. 

Coming to Terms with Privilege 

Just as sunrises slowly light the surrounding world, I began to see with new eyes. I found my answer to the question: Is there a place for me in intersectionality? The answer is a resounding “Yes!” That place, however, is not the driver’s seat. It may not even be a seat on the committee. My place in intersectionality is the back seat. It is my duty and privilege to listen and support those who have been oppressed. This is the best way for me to use my privilege. Were I to try and head up the charge of feminism all I would be doing is reasserting my societal power. Conversely were I to ignore the desperate pleas for help from people suffering, allowing them to do their best on their own, I would also be asserting my privilege. When people in power ignore cries for help, I have found it is because their life isn’t affected by the issue and it would be affected by the solution. My place at the table of intersectionality requires a sacrifice of my “escape pod.” There will be no retreat from issues that make me uncomfortable. The power and privilege I was born with will be most effective in the fight for societal justice by deferring the driver’s seat to those being oppressed.

In an unexpected twist, I have learned that my life is better after I make the hard decision to listen to people who are suffering. I feel better about myself when I offer my privilege to those who desperately need it. I may not be able to change the world, but there are some essential things I can do. The first thing I can do is take time to be listen to those I love and support them as they request. The second thing I can do is be brave enough to see the world through others’ eyes and not my own. As I put away my defensive nature and immediate rejection of any blame or guilt, others will hopefully begin to feel loved. As people love and feel love, the world will change and situations will improve for all, even those born with privilege. Increasing the quality of life of neighbors, friends, brothers, and sisters, will result in a higher quality of life for self. The best way for me to be happy is to help others be happy. My name is Sam Jardine and I am a white, straight, religious, intersectional man.