Shari Dunn Qualified
Qualified at the Intersection
Reflections on Race, Gender, and the Cost of Survival in Patriarchal Spaces
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Reflections on Race, Gender, and the Cost of Survival in Patriarchal Spaces

They Opened the Door, But Never Changed the Décor
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Good morning, and welcome back to Qualified at the Intersection. Today, I want to talk about the intersection of race and gender in white patriarchal spaces. Specifically, the experiences of the white women who broke barriers but did not break systems.

Recently, I watched two documentaries: one on Sally Ride, the first American woman in space;1 and another on Barbara Walters, the first woman to anchor a nightly network news broadcast.2 Both women were trailblazers. Yet, as a Black woman watching, what struck me was not just what they endured, but what was left unsaid. Their stories were told as singular triumphs that did impact other women, though that was not either’s goal. However, viewed through an intersectional lens, the stories revealed the enduring invisibility of white supremacy as the fountain of patriarchy and sexism in these narratives of gender progress.

When White Women Enter First

After the Civil Rights Movement, there was a widespread belief, driven by the promise of affirmative action, that Black Americans would enter professional spaces in significant numbers. That belief never materialized. Instead, white women were often the first through the door, bringing with them the disadvantage of gender with the privilege of whiteness.

In the documentary on Sally Ride, it is noted that she was a lesbian, a fact she was forced to hide due to the cultural hostility of the time. But what stood out even more was how she and another woman described shopping for khakis and intentionally minimizing their femininity to fit in. “It wasn’t about being a woman,” they said.

That kind of erasure, the ability to avoid bringing one’s full identity into a space, is a function of whiteness. I thought of the “Hidden Figures.” They were hidden for a reason. I could wear the same khakis and cap, but my Blackness would have entered the room before I do, and still does today. For Black women, race precedes gender in every meaningful way, and it shapes how we lead.

Breaking In vs. Breaking Through

Sally Ride’s legacy was profound, especially her later work with youth and STEM education. Yet, the institutions she entered did not have to change much to accommodate her. She adapted to them because it was expected, and it was her expectation. Similarly, Barbara Walters, another pioneering figure, built her career in spaces traditionally designed for men. In the documentary, she says she did not feel she was there for anyone but herself. She simply said she needed a job. And once she had it, she fiercely guarded her position, sometimes undermining other women to protect her standing.

This is the story of many “firsts” who, rather than reimagining the rooms they entered, reshaped themselves to fit the existing decor. As a result, they opened doors but did not change the structure of the rooms behind them. The institutions remained patriarchal, white, and rigid.

The Unchanged Décor of Workplaces

This leads to a deeper question: what would have happened if Black people had entered first, and in larger numbers? I believe workplaces would have had to change, not just cosmetically, but fundamentally. Perhaps that is exactly why the path was structured the way it was. By allowing white women to enter first, the system preserved its foundations while appearing to progress.

When I speak, I often ask people if they know what happened in the United States during World War II. Middle- and upper-class white women entered the workforce in large numbers, and for a time, the United States even had universal childcare. Child care was available in three forms: factory-based, home-based, and center-based services. But when the war ended, women were threatened, physically assaulted, and pushed out of their jobs. The child care infrastructure was dismantled. Not because it failed, but because it succeeded. It enabled a redefinition of gender roles the system was not prepared to maintain.

What if white women had resisted returning to the home? What if they had fought to remain in the workforce and institutionalize child care as a permanent support? Imagine where we might be after 80 uninterrupted years of workplace-integrated child care. That opportunity was lost. This is a fine line I am walking because I don’t want to blame the victims, but I do need to wrestle with the intersectionality and the choices white supremacy forces on us all.

The deeper truth is this: patriarchy and sexism are not isolated forces. They are foundational elements of white supremacy.

Patriarchy: White Supremacy’s Silent Partner

It is tempting to view sexism as a separate struggle. But we must be clear. Patriarchy is not a side effect. It is a deliberate feature of white supremacy. You cannot dominate a people without first dominating women. You cannot maintain a racial hierarchy without maintaining a gendered one.

I recently read that patriarchy is the gateway drug to white supremacy. If white women are convinced to see themselves only in relation to white men, rather than in coalition with women of color, then the formation of a true resistance becomes impossible.

This strategy is ongoing. We are witnessing the re-traditionalization of white womanhood in real time. There is a cultural push toward “tradwives,” a revival of domesticity, the dismantling of reproductive rights, and the unraveling of workplace equity. And yet, the root cause often remains unnamed.

When Black Women Lead

Research increasingly shows that when Black women lead, they do so in more inclusive and expansive ways.3 That reality makes sense. We cannot hide in plain sight. Our identities arrive before we do. That experience trains us to notice what others overlook and to lead with the needs of the many, not just the few.

This difference in perspective often creates friction between Black and white women in the workplace. White women may not see the systems that operate around them because those systems were designed with part of their identity, whiteness, in mind, even when those same systems limit them. That lack of awareness creates distrust, competition, and misunderstanding. What we actually need is mutual aid and shared purpose.

The Path Forward: Naming the Root

White supremacy culture harms everyone. All of us are affected. But if we only name sexism, or only name patriarchy, we fail to address the root cause. We treat symptoms, but we leave the disease intact. The only way forward is through shared truth, cross-racial solidarity, and collective action.

White supremacy is the root. Patriarchy and sexism are its branches. If we want to build a future where we all thrive, we must name these realities plainly, consistently, and without apology.

We will not survive the next three and a half years, let alone build a just society, without each other. Mutual aid, community care, and shared understanding are not optional. They are essential. That work begins by acknowledging what so many documentaries, boardrooms, and mainstream narratives still refuse to say: the door was opened, but the decor never changed.

It's time we redecorate the place, together.

Let’s keep the conversation going.
Have you watched these documentaries or experienced moments where "inclusion" did not mean transformation? Share your story. Let’s build the coalition we need.

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1

https://films.nationalgeographic.com/sally

2

https://www.hulu.com/movie/barbara-walters-tell-me-everything-b51ead94-03b6-4873-9e9f-9d2e3056dc0d

3

https://hbr.org/2018/03/beating-the-odds

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