Hypertext Magazine asked Dani Putney, author of Salamat sa Intersectionality, “Why did you decide to use the word ‘intersectionality’ in your book’s title?”
By Dani Putney
Besides being part of the eponymous poem’s title, “intersectionality” has all the baggage I want for my poetry collection. It’s simultaneously the most apt description of me—a queer, non-binary, mixed-raced Filipinx, and neurodivergent individual, with each of these intersecting identities explored in my collection—and it’s a highly politicized word, one many individuals scoff at or, perhaps even worse, misuse. I wish to expose the word’s various connotations.
To provide a little history about the term, “intersectionality” was introduced by American lawyer and philosopher Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw. In her work, she famously references the 1976 DeGraffenreid v. General Motors case wherein five Black women argued that they were discriminated against during a “seniority”-based layoff. Although they were qualified to hold office roles at the company, they were Black, and such positions were, in practice, only filled by white women. Rather than consider the intersection of being Black and women—how these identities overlap to create a different kind of oppression—the courts viewed each identity separately and dismissed the case.
With this history in mind, I want my readers to truly reflect on the word “intersectionality”: its implications, its misconceptions, its baggage. I hope people can understand that it’s more than simply a buzzword and that it legitimately relates to all of us in tangible ways. We all exist on multiple axes of oppression and privilege that intersect differently or, dare I say it, uniquely. That I’m a queer, non-binary, mixed-race Filipinx, and neurodivergent individual—I’m always proud to name my identities à la Audre Lorde—makes my experience in this country, in this world, its own beast.
In regard to Salamat sa Intersectionality specifically, I can’t imagine, or maybe I refuse to imagine, the intersections of my identity being disregarded when people read my book. I may not explicitly mention all my identities in every poem, but each one is certainly present. When I write about sexual experiences, for example, I may be focusing on my queerness, but how can I forget about my mixed-race Filipinx heritage and the ways in which Asian men have historically been relegated to “subordinate” roles in the gay porn industry? Conversely, when I write about my mixed-race Filipinx heritage, how can I forget about the queerphobia that exists in many Asian cultures and the acts of violence that have been directed toward my people (queers) by my own people (Asians and, yes, Asian Americans, too)? I can’t ever exist as just queer or just Asian because I’m always both.
“Intersectionality,” then, was the perfect choice. When I see my book’s title, I know it’s right and, more importantly, that it’s me. Besides, the two earlier titles for my collection—Discord and Scrapyard Affair—were lackluster and failed to represent the multiplicitous nature of my work. At the very least, I couldn’t have used one of those titles, right?
[cmsmasters_divider shortcode_id=”uasww6mnf” width=”long” height=”1″ position=”center” margin_top=”50″ margin_bottom=”50″ animation_delay=”0″]
Dani Putney is a queer, non-binary, mixed-race Filipinx, and neurodivergent writer originally from Sacramento, California. Their poems appear in outlets such as Empty Mirror, Ghost City Review, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Juke Joint Magazine, and trampset, while their personal essays can be found in journals such as Cold Mountain Review and Glassworks Magazine, among others. They received their MFA in Creative Writing from Mississippi University for Women. While not always (physically) there, they permanently reside in the middle of the Nevada desert. Salamat sa Intersectionality is their first poetry collection.
