The Intersection of Racism and Sexism on the Cape

I recognize that, even as a black, first generation American woman, I have privileges. I was born in the United States to English speaking parents, speak English as my first language with an indeterminate transatlantic accent, am cisgender, have been well educated, grew up in the suburbs mostly in a single family home, am straight, living in a smaller body in a society that is fatphobic, am not living with any known disability and believe that I have solid mental health. These are just a few amongst a slew of other privileges that I won’t itemize and that perhaps I am not fully aware of myself. I recognize that these advantages named and unnamed result in inequitable opportunities and outcomes often to my benefit and that I myself am not fully aware of the good or danger that they might bring me and others in the world.

My family is fortunate generally. My siblings and I have all had the opportunity to attend college and three of us hold advanced degrees. My mother, who has her doctorate, owns a successful small business, which has afforded us things like private school education, travel, exposure, and a summer house on the Cape near enough to the beach to be fun without costing a fortune in flood insurance.

That house has been a refuge for our family. We gather there without fail for the big American summer holidays, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day, and sometimes at Thanksgiving. My mother and stepfather go down nearly every weekend year round. We host our friends there. I held my son’s…