In today’s polarized world, the oppressor/oppressed lens shapes how we talk about morality, justice, and power. From social media to workplaces, this framework—dividing society into oppressors (those with power) and oppressed (those without)—is often used to judge right from wrong. It’s a powerful tool, rooted in the struggles of marginalized groups, but is it enough to guide our moral decisions in a complex society? In this blog series, I’ll argue that while the oppressor/oppressed lens has been vital for naming injustice, it falls short as a universal moral compass. Over the next few posts, we’ll explore its origins, its modern applications, its limitations, and what a better framework might look like.

Where It All Began: The Roots of the Lens

The oppressor/oppressed lens emerged from thinkers and activists who sought to understand systemic inequality. One of its earliest articulations came from the Combahee River Collective, a group of Black feminist activists in 1977. In their groundbreaking statement, they argued that Black women faced “interlocking” oppressions—race, gender, class, and sexuality—that couldn’t be separated. Their work inspired the concept of intersectionality, a term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989.

What Is Intersectionality?

Intersectionality is the idea that different forms of oppression (like racism, sexism, or classism) don’t exist in isolation—they overlap and compound each other. Crenshaw used the metaphor of a traffic intersection: a Black woman standing at the crossroads of race and gender faces dangers from multiple directions, often ignored by systems that focus on only one form of discrimination. Intersectionality asks us to see how identities interact to shape unique experiences of privilege or marginalization.

A Real-World Example

Consider a Black woman named Maya applying for a tech job. She’s highly qualified but faces rejection. A hiring manager might unconsciously favor candidates who fit a “tech bro” stereotype (often white and male). Maya’s race and gender intersect, creating barriers that neither a white woman nor a Black man might face to the same degree. If she complains, HR might dismiss her concerns, saying the company is “diverse” because it hires women or Black men. This misses how Maya’s specific experience—being both Black and a woman—shapes her reality. Intersectionality helps us understand and address these layered injustices.

Around the same time as the Combahee River Collective, Brazilian educator Paulo Freire was shaping the oppressor/oppressed lens through his 1970 book, Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Freire argued that oppression dehumanizes both the oppressed and the oppressor, and liberation comes through “critical consciousness”—understanding and challenging power structures. His problem-posing education model encouraged dialogue to awaken learners to their class-based oppression, rejecting the “banking model” where students passively absorb facts. However, Freire’s focus on class consciousness has drawn criticism. By prioritizing ideological awakening, his methods often de-emphasize factual knowledge and rigorous, open-ended critical thinking. Critics argue that his approach risks replacing one form of dogma with another, steering learners toward a Marxist view of oppression rather than fostering truly independent analysis. While empowering, Freire’s framework laid the groundwork for a binary lens that can oversimplify complex moral realities.

These thinkers made the oppressor/oppressed lens a revolutionary tool for giving voice to those silenced by racism, sexism, and classism. But even then, its binary framing—amplified by Freire’s ideological focus—had limits, often overlooking the messy realities of human experience.

Intersectionality Today: Misuse and Oversimplification

Intersectionality and the oppressor/oppressed lens are now mainstream, from corporate diversity trainings to online activism. But as they’ve spread, they’ve often been misused in ways that undermine their original purpose. In some settings, intersectionality is reduced to a checklist of identities—race, gender, sexuality—used to rank people as “more oppressed” or “less oppressed.” On social media, this can turn into a kind of moral one-upmanship, where individuals are judged not by their actions but by their demographic categories. For example, a viral X post might call out someone as “privileged” based solely on their race or gender, ignoring their personal struggles or context. This flattens intersectionality’s nuance into a rigid hierarchy of victimhood.

In corporate or academic spaces, the lens is sometimes applied dogmatically. Take a workplace DEI (Diversity, Equity, Inclusion) workshop: employees might be told to “check their privilege” based on broad categories like whiteness or maleness, without considering class, disability, or other factors. This can alienate people who might otherwise support justice efforts, fostering resentment instead of understanding. By treating the oppressor/oppressed lens as a moral absolute, these applications risk shutting down dialogue and oversimplifying complex issues.

The misuse of intersectionality doesn’t negate its value—it’s still a vital tool for understanding layered injustices like Maya’s. But when it’s wielded as a blunt instrument, it can divide rather than unite, turning a framework for empathy into a tool for judgment. This is why we need to question the oppressor/oppressed lens as a universal moral guide.

What’s Next?

The oppressor/oppressed lens, with intersectionality at its core and Freire’s class focus as a foundation, was born from real struggles. But its ideological roots and modern misapplications show it’s not the whole story. In the next post, we’ll explore how the lens is used today, drawing on thinkers like Robin DiAngelo and John McWhorter. Then, we’ll dig into its deeper limitations with insights from bell hooks and Joe L. Kincheloe. Finally, we’ll propose a more nuanced way to navigate morality in a complex world.

Have thoughts or experiences with intersectionality or the oppressor/oppressed lens? Share them in the comments—I’d love to hear your perspective.

Sources: Combahee River Collective Statement (1977), Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970), Kimberlé Crenshaw’s “Mapping the Margins” (1989), Peter Roberts’ “Paulo Freire and the Politics of Education” (1999).