“Oppression Olympics” Isn’t a Thing

Well-meaning folks who assert that we shouldn’t do “oppression olympics” often say this as a call for solidarity. The logic is that comparison can breed contempt, as folks can end up feeling that their own hardships have been erased, their own concerns minimized. Mutual recognition is the goal, so we shouldn’t place a hierarchy on experiences with oppression.

But this assertion has two effects (aside from its intent): it diminishes the extent to which certain forms of oppression (for example, anti-blackness) are unique in degree and in kind within the American context, and promotes the idea that visibility will lead to less racism (i.e. the more people see it, the more likely they will stop engaging in it interpersonally and institutionally).

The problem is there actually is not a competition like the phrase denotes—some experiences with oppression are demonstrably worst. For example, mounds of research shows that both historically and currently, Native Americans suffer some of the largest racial inequities in education, income, housing, health, sexual assault, etc., with Black people not far beyond in some areas, but exceeding in others.

Some folks reading this might see mentioning the above is in and of itself a form of “oppression olympics.” What’s odd about this claim is though some experiences with oppression are in fact…