Worthlessness

I realized a few minutes ago that I truly can not think of anything positive my brother has ever had to say about me, except maybe that I’m his sister. This is due to a lot of factors. I’m upset at him right now for his extremely conservative mindset, the way I treated him while we were growing up never really gave him much positive to see or think about me, and he’s actually made it rather abundantly clear that he thinks I’m rather dim, or at the very least, only shallowly intelligent.

I will freely admit that I treated all four of my younger siblings with extreme dysfunctionality. I’d hug too tight, then turn right around and smack them, or try to as they got as big and then bigger than me. Part of that was the dysfunction that was modeled for me by my parents, but at least as much of it was just me. I had a seriously nasty temper, and tended to lash out when I was frustrated, usually at my younger siblings. I have probably spent my entire life trying to prove my superiority over them one way or another.

As much this hurts, even knowing the reasons behind it, it also occurred to me that it’s an interesting metaphor for white feminism. White feminists are oldest children in a dysfunctional family. The parental figure oppresses us with glass ceilings, madonna-whore complexes, and a whole lot more, but we in turn smack around the “younger kids” — trans*, women (and sometimes men) of color — anyone who isn’t cis, hetero, and white. Desperately trying to prove our superiority over someone because mostly white men make us feel small and helpless. And when the ones we’ve turned and made feel small and helpless start yelling out about what we’re doing, we knee-jerk and whine that can’t we all just get along and whining when they hit back that they started it. The metaphor breaks down in the details, but the gist is there.

That’s why my feminism is intersectional, and inclusive. Because even when I’m made to feel like crap for being a woman, or fat (I am morbidly obese), or for whatever reason, turning around and making someone else feel like crap might make me feel temporarily a little bit better, but that temporary feeling of superiority is bullshit.

My feminism will be intersectional or it will be bullshit. (With due credit to Flavia Dzodan.)

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