The Slope is Not That Slippery and Other Helpful Tips for Countering Oppression.

It seems like every time we try to unlearn and undo harmful ways of thinking and being, the same arguments raise their heads. At this time in my community, the topic is ableism, and it seems like we need a refresher course on about how oppression works and why it matters. Here are some helpful tips:

1. Oppression is about systems. It doesn’t matter if you feel differently or have a black friend or know a disabled person who has another opinion. Some women weren’t bothered by being told “mankind” meant everyone. Some trans+ people like the binary just fine. And some people with disabilities prioritize building access over inclusive wording. You will always be able to find someone who agrees with your argument about why we don’t need to fix things. The thing is, it doesn’t matter. Oppression is a system and we need to dismantle it from every direction, in every way, for everyone. We need to move on from arguments about individuals and their feelings. The stakes are too high. The majority (studies indicate between 83 -97%) of disabled women will be sexually assaulted. Trans women of color are murdered regularly and trans youth commit suicide at an alarming rate. Black people can be executed by police on sight without repercussion. Dismantling oppression can’t wait for everyone to agree on every detail. In fact, long arguments that go nowhere are a way of keeping us distracted. We need to learn to follow (or at least get out of the way) when people experiencing oppression take the lead.
2. Because oppression is systemic, we don’t vote on human rights. (Okay, we do, but this is why we shouldn’t.) We don’t vote on whether trans+ people should be able to pee safely or whether to make our communities accessible because the marginalized don’t have the numbers or the power to overcome the discomfort of those at the center. The more powerful will always define the terms in ways that advantage their own position. They will always consider the marginalized troubled or trouble-makers. They will always defend the status quo. They will always have more money, more people in Congress, more fear-mongering television commercials. The reason human rights are guaranteed in constitutions, principles, and covenants is that there are some things so important that we safeguard them from the painful vagaries of majority rule.

1. People are more important than words. Experience is more important than theory. I can’t believe I even have to say this, but when people tell you that words hurt, believe them. When they risk sharing the experiences that were painful and dehumanizing, don’t argue with them about how it wasn’t intentional or could be interpreted another way. (Remember, we need to prioritize impact over intention.) Don’t minimize or rationalize or theorize about another person’s pain. Treating people’s experiences as if they are theoretical — as if your ideas about them are the same as their reality— is like slapping the back of someone who was just injured in a car wreck and telling them “Buck up! I know all about this and you’ll be fine.” No one’s experience of injustice is up for debate. Your job is to listen and learn, not judge the worthiness of someone else’s pain.
2. Words are just words. They also have power. Both things are true and everyone knows it. The people working to change the words we use understand metaphor and how it works, so crying, “It’s just a metaphor!” is remarkably unhelpful. Here’s the thing: how you let people talk about you is how they will treat you. Words that diminish the value of a person or group of people are never harmless. If we don’t constantly reflect on the ways our language excludes and demeans people, we end up being accomplices to injustice. We may find that to sing about love and justice, we have to find new words.
3. We have done this work before and it has not caused the end of metaphor. In fact, it opened up new areas of creativity and meaning-making as we tried on new genders for God or broke out of the limited images of white and light as good and black and darkness as bad. Some people seem to think that engaging in reflection about the words we use will destroy language by disallowing depictions of embodiment and every literal or poetic description of human experience. First, calm down, everybody. The slope is not that slippery. Jumping to the worst possible conclusion is sloppy argument and feeds unnecessary anxiety. No one has asked that we never talk about bodies or even that we never sing songs that rely on metaphors of running or walking. Instead, we’re being asked to think about the impact of our words in specific situations and to come up with a variety of solutions. Perhaps the words we use for our central campaign for justice should be held to a high standard of well… justice. Maybe in other contexts we put our creativity to use and write new songs, engage more metaphors, and discover what there is to learn by doing so. The invitation is not to less language but to more abundant images of working, living, and being together in Beloved Community.