The Language Of Inclusion: Intersectionality Needs Power, Not Just Representation

Chethana V

Across international conferences, UN assemblies, and foreign policy statements, the language
of inclusion has become familiar. Governments and global institutions now speak of
“diversity,” “empowerment,” and “intersectionality” with confidence. On the surface, it
appears that the world has finally started acknowledging the complexity of women’s lives.
But when we look closely, a gap emerges between what is promised and what is practiced.
Intersectionality has entered policy vocabulary, yet the deeper hierarchies of global power
remain largely unchanged.

To understand this contradiction, three questions become central: Which women are being
added? Who decides the priorities and language of gender justice? Who receives power and
not just recognition? These questions help us evaluate whether intersectionality is reshaping
global systems or has simply become a convenient term that signals progress without
bringing real change.

The first question, “which women are being added?”, reveals an uncomfortable pattern.
Women are certainly more visible in global policy spaces than before. However, most of the
women given access tend to be those who are already positioned closer to privilege. They are
usually urban, English-speaking, formally educated, and comfortable with the language and
expectations of international institutions. Their experiences matter, but their inclusion does
not disturb existing structures of power. Meanwhile, women who face layered
marginalisation like Dalit women, Indigenous women, Black working-class women, migrant
domestic workers, women with disabilities, queer and trans women, and the like, remain at
the margins of global decision-making. When they are invited, it is often to share personal
stories rather than to shape decisions. Inclusion becomes selective, and the world applauds
diversity while the most oppressed women continue to be unheard.

The second question, “who decides the priorities and language of gender justice?”, points
toward a deeper issue. Even when diverse women are physically present, the power to define
agendas often remains in the hands of diplomats, donors, think tanks, and policymakers who
already hold institutional authority. Discussions are organised, themes are selected, and
budgets are allocated without meaningful leadership from the women whose lives are most
affected by global inequality. This creates a situation where grassroots women are allowed to
speak but not to decide. Their lived realities may be acknowledged, but their knowledge is
rarely treated as a foundation for policymaking. An Indigenous woman may describe land
protection as central to the safety of her community, but the conversation shifts back to
traditional military security. A migrant domestic worker may explain abuse in global care
supply chains, but the discussion returns to entrepreneurship or skill training. In such
moments, intersectionality becomes an aesthetic addition rather than a guiding principle.

The third question, “who gets redistributed power and not just recognition?”, is the most
decisive one. Visibility cannot be mistaken for justice. Awards, panels, leadership
fellowships, and representation do not automatically change the material conditions that
shape women’s lives. When economic and geopolitical systems remain untouched, symbolic
inclusion becomes a substitute for structural reform. For instance, a woman of colour may
head a corporation, yet thousands of women of colour in the same company remain in low-wage, insecure jobs. A Parliament might have more women, but austerity measures that
disproportionately harm single mothers, informal workers, and rural women continue
unchanged. A Foreign Policy may call itself feminist, yet support arms sales, border
militarisation, or sanctions that put marginalised women at greatest risk. Under such
conditions, representation becomes a way to celebrate progress without redistributing power.
Intersectionality is referenced, but inequality persists.

These patterns show that the mainstream adoption of intersectionality has not necessarily
challenged the foundations of global power. Instead, it has often softened a radical idea into a
comfortable one. Institutions now know how to talk about race, class, caste, and gender, but
they do not want to reorganise authority or resources based on that understanding. The
system prefers a version of intersectionality that fits its interests rather than one that questions
them.

Yet it is important to recognise that intersectionality is not failing everywhere. Many
grassroots movements across the world have been practicing intersectional politics long
before the term became widely known. They understand that women’s rights cannot be
separated from land rights, labour rights, racial justice, caste justice, or climate justice. Dalit
feminist movements in India connect gender violence to caste-based labour and land
dispossession. Black feminist organising in the United States and Brazil links police violence
with housing, healthcare, and reproductive rights. Indigenous women across Latin America
fight not only for safety but for sovereignty over land and water that sustain their
communities. Trans and migrant domestic worker collectives highlight how borders, care
economies, and gender norms intersect to determine who is protected and who is exploited.
These movements do not treat intersectionality as jargon; they treat it as a strategy for
survival and dignity.

The lessons are clear. Intersectionality becomes meaningful only when those who bear the
highest burden of inequality also gain the greatest share of leadership and decision-making
power. It is not enough for marginalised women to be present; they must be able to set
priorities, influence budgets, and veto policies that harm their communities. Without this
shift, intersectionality risks being reduced to a word that makes institutions appear
progressive even while structural inequality deepens.

The future of intersectionality in global politics depends on whether there is the courage to
move beyond symbolic inclusion. If institutions can respond honestly and act accordingly,
intersectionality can remain a tool for justice rather than a slogan. If not, global politics will
continue to speak about equality without creating equality. A world that truly believes in
intersectionality will not only invite women who have been historically excluded; it will trust
them with power. Only then will inclusion stop being an illusion and begin to transform the
lives of those who have been left behind the longest.

About the author

Chethana V is a doctoral scholar and researcher currently serving as the Chief Executive
Officer of Statecraft IAS Academy, Bengaluru. Her research interests lie in the fields of
gender justice, public policy, and governance.