I was casually scrolling through an activist social media account when I first encountered

the phrase “white feminism”. The words were jarring. I recoiled at the implication that I was a

bad feminist, and did not fully support all women. Like many white women before me, I closed

the browser, buried my feelings of discomfort, and quietly convinced myself that those words

were angry and wrong. That I was not ignorant or prejudiced. That whoever had written them

was working to divide women rather than bring them together. In hindsight, I am ashamed to

admit that I chose to ignore that call to action, and rather than use the moment for growth, I

reaffirmed my own ignorance.

I have always strongly held my gender as a source of identity. From a young age I was a

self-proclaimed feminist. I wrote a scathing article about the school dress code in my high

school newspaper. I used my position in student government to rally attendance at our relatively

ignored women’s sporting events. In the small, southern Washington town I grew up in, I was

proud to contradict traditional views of womanhood. However, my feminism was a constrained

reflection of my lack of life experience.

During my freshman year of college, I was introduced to the idea of instersectionality in a

Political Science course. Up until this point in my life, my conception of feminism was

profoundly shaped by my privilege. I felt that I could speak for all women, but had yet to

consider the role that race, sexual orientation, and socioeconomic status played for other women.

I was again confronted with the fact that my activism was limited to issues that directly effected

me, and ignored those faced by other women. In this moment, I finally allowed myself to listen.

I realized that aside from my gender, every aspect of my identity had greatly benefited

me. I became acutely aware of the cognitive dissonance between my purported feminism and

overarching ignorance. Rather than close my ears to this contradicting reality, I chose to take
action and continue to challenge my mindset. Taking courses in racial politics, attending

protests, and interning for a LGBT activist and attorney put me in a position to have difficult

conversations. In these circumstances I made the intentional choice to relinquish my pride, and

allow my mindset to change.

Most recently I took on an internship at the Washington Anti-Trafficking Response

Network, a partner of the Seattle branch of the International Rescue Committee. I spend my

days assisting a team dedicated to providing legal, medical, social and economic services to

trafficking survivors. The relationships I have forged in this position have forever altered the

way I understand my current role. I do not assume to know the best for a person. I am not a

savior or saint. I cannot pretend to know the experience of being a person of color, or of

undocumented status, or of the LGBT community. However, I have learned how to embrace

humility, take on a role of support, and listen empathetically.

This is the mindset with which I approach my impending legal education. As a white

woman who intends to represent immigrant communities of color, I know I will have the equal

potential to advocate for individuals and to misrepresent them. However, I can confidently state

that I have taken the initiative to have difficult conversations, check my privilege, and challenge

my perspective. I know that the community at the the Boston College School of Law will

provide learning experiences that continue to expand my worldview, and push me to stand with

people, rather than speak for them.