Opinion: Will ours be a society in which all identities can coexist?

Opinion editor’s note: Strib Voices publishes a mix of guest commentaries online and in print each day. To contribute, click here.

•••

Any day now, the U.S. Supreme Court is set to decide on Mahmoud v. Taylor, a case that challenges whether the public school districts should facilitate opt-outs for books that reflect the lived experiences and existence of LGBTQ children when parents have religious objections. Our book, “IntersectionAllies: We Make Room for All,” was one of nine children’s books referenced in the case.

Hearing the book debated in this way was both humbling and deeply disheartening. We co-wrote “IntersectionAllies” in 2019 when we were in graduate school to unpack lessons of sociology (the study of how society shapes people, institutions and human interactions) in language that people of all ages can understand. Our hope was to show that we all matter — not in spite of our differences, but because of them.

While Mahmoud v. Taylor focuses on LGBTQ stories, “IntersectionAllies” is not a book about one group. It is a book about all of us.

Inspired by research and real-life conversations with children, our book features nine characters from diverse backgrounds who each experience exclusion in different ways. Yet none of them are defined by this treatment; each also carries the power to stand up for others and be an ally — modeling the kind of solidarity that makes space for everyone.

Kate, a nonbinary child, expresses themself by wearing a superhero cape, and Adilah, a Muslim girl, wears a hijab as a religious practice. These characters are not presented as opponents in a culture war but as companions in a shared journey toward safety, dignity and belonging. Just as Kate’s gender expression is sincerely held, so are Adilah’s religious beliefs.

As Adilah says: “My name is Adilah and just like Kate, what I wear inspires endless debate. Some give, some chant, some sing, some pray. My hijab is my choice — you can choose your own way.”

These are not coercive or divisive words. They are an invitation to see the dignity and humanity all people deserve. The same invitation is echoed in another line: “The clothes that you wear never justify hatred. Clothes can be playful, simple or sacred. Covered, adorned, or with casual flair, my body’s my own — I dress it with care.”

Kate, Adilah and the seven other characters in our book reflect the reality that the adults in the courtroom seemed to debate during oral arguments back in April with such distance: People can’t compartmentalize who they are by the day of the week. You are not your gender and race on the weekend and your faith and socioeconomic status on weekdays. You are all of these things, all of the time. You are also either made safer or more vulnerable as a result of other people’s willingness to acknowledge your identities, perspectives and experiences.

The conversation at the Supreme Court and the broader public debate miss this most critical lesson our book tries to teach: intersectionality.

Coined by legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw, intersectionality describes how systems of power like racism, sexism, Islamophobia, xenophobia, homophobia and ableism do not operate independently of one another. They are interlocking, interrelated and interdependent. To understand one, we must look at them all.

But the concept of intersectionality is much older and part of a long American tradition. It builds on the work of Maria Stewart, who in 1832 became the first woman to speak in public advocating for women’s rights, abolition and religious freedom, and on the work of the Black feminist thinkers called Combahee River Collective, who wrote in their 1977 statement, “If Black women were free, it would mean that everyone else would have to be free since our freedom would necessitate the destruction of all the systems of oppression.” What they meant — and what still holds true today — is that when we fight for the liberation of those who are most marginalized, we expose how all systems of injustice are connected and begin to dismantle them for everyone. That’s because the roots of Islamophobia, racism and xenophobia are nourished by the same soil as homophobia and sexism.

The plaintiffs in the Mahmoud v. Taylor case fail to see that who is most marginalized can shift depending on context. While the heart of this case is the question of whether parents can opt their children out from learning about LGBTQ people, when we make it permissible to opt out of acknowledging an entire segment of our society, we set the stage for future harm and denial — whether that’s based on religion, race, place of origin, language or disability. These exclusions are not separate. They are connected. When we exclude any one group, we create the conditions to exclude many more. And when we fail to see that, we all lose.

Some argue that children are too young to understand these complex social lessons, but we wrote this book because children already live them. They see their classmates being treated differently because of who they are. They feel the sting of exclusion. They understand fairness. And they understand love. What they are asking for is recognition. What “IntersectionAllies” offers in return is contextualization and validation, and that does not come at the expense of freedom of religion.

We believe deeply that there is space to honor and affirm sincerely held religious beliefs both within and outside of schools, and that parents and other caregivers are vital partners in that shared work. We also believe that we do not protect children by denying them the language to understand themselves and each other.

The three of us grew up as Black and Korean kids in American public schools in the 1990s. We didn’t see ourselves in our curricula. Our stories, families and cultures were invisible. That invisibility didn’t just shape how we saw ourselves; it also shaped how our classmates saw us. It affected our friendships, our confidence, and our ability to fully belong. That’s why we are so heartened to be part of the change for the next generation. To see children today engaging with stories that reflect the full range of human experience is not an imposition — it’s a promise. A promise that no child will have to learn who they are by learning who they are not.

What’s at stake in Mahmoud v. Taylor is not just a set of books — it’s the future of shared civic life. Public schools are one of the last truly shared civic spaces in our society. That makes them both vulnerable and vital. Precisely because they bring together children from different backgrounds, they have the potential to foster the kind of pluralism and solidarity that democracy depends on.

The Supreme Court now has the opportunity and the responsibility to affirm that public education must reflect the full spectrum of our society. Recognizing difference is not the opposite of unity, but the foundation of it. Acknowledging differences requires courage, and it requires telling the full truth, not just the comfortable parts.

Our hope is that the court and the country can see what children often already know: the path forward is not about choosing which identities are safe to acknowledge. It is about building a world where all identities can coexist, where no one has to shrink to fit in.

That is the world we wrote “IntersectionAllies” to imagine. That is the world we still believe we can build.

If we make room.

For all.

Chelsea Johnson, LaToya Council and Carolyn Choi are co-founders of CLC Collective, an organization focused on making social theory accessible to learners of all ages. Together, they have two children’s books: “IntersectionAllies: We Make Room for All” (Dottir Press 2019) and “Love without Bounds: An IntersectionAllies Book about Families” (Dottir Press 2023). Johnson lives in Minneapolis.