My Adoptive Family Through the Lens of Intersectionality

“Intersectionality, sweetheart.”

That was my answer to my daughter’s curious question as I sat reading one evening. She was 9 years old and wanted to know what I was learning. When she pressed me to explain, I told her she was too young for the conversation. Not because I was afraid of the topic, but because I knew the weight of it. Some knowledge, I told her, is too heavy for children.

Intersectionality is one of those heavy concepts. It began as a legal observation: a person could face discrimination both as a woman and as a minority. But what started as an attempt to understand certain injustices has grown into a worldview shaped by critical theory a lens that sees all human relationships through the struggle of power and oppression.

This worldview assumes three things:

1. Every human interaction is framed by oppressor and oppressed categories.

2. These roles are determined by group markers like skin color, sex, age, or even weight.

3. Disparities are always evidence of discrimination.

The “solution,” according to this framework, is to elevate the voices of the “oppressed” while silencing the “privileged.” Yet, instead of healing divisions, this approach often deepens them.

How This Affects My Family

Our family is a living tapestry of different ethnic backgrounds. My wife and I have five children four by adoption and one biological child. Our home is filled with shades of color ranging from dark to light. Two of our children are from Ethiopia, one is from Mississippi (likely of Haitian descent), another from Atlanta (with Cherokee, African, and Caucasian roots), and our youngest biological son is white.

So when my daughter asked about intersectionality, the thought struck me what does this ideology say about us? According to its logic, are my children and I supposed to relate to each other as oppressors and victims? Should my brown-skinned daughters distrust my white-skinned son? Should we question whether we are a “real” family because we don’t fit a single category?

The answer, of course, is no. But intersectional thinking can easily sow these kinds of doubts. It reduces the richness of our story to shallow categories, teaching children to see themselves through the lens of grievance and power rather than grace and belonging.

False Compassion

Intersectionality can masquerade as compassion, but it often undermines true dignity. It tells my children that they may not succeed because the world is against them. Or, conversely, that they will succeed only because others feel pressured to give them an advantage based on their skin color. Both messages are demeaning.

It is not compassion to tell a child that they are defined by the failures or sins of others. It is not compassion to instill a belief that their future rests on the moral improvement of an entire society. True compassion tells them the truth that they are created in the image of God, loved by Him, and called to live with courage and hope.

What I Want My Children to Know

The best way I can protect my children from harmful ideologies is by teaching them who they really are. I want them to know three truths:

1. You are made in the image of God.
Their worth does not come from how society labels them but from the God who made them. Our shared humanity, rooted in creation, runs deeper than any superficial category of color or status. Genesis reminds us that all people come from one family line Adam and Eve and all bear God’s image (Genesis 1:27).

2. You are part of this family.
Our last name is Hunter, and that means something. Adoption doesn’t make them “less real” as our children it’s part of their beautiful story. In our home, we celebrate each child’s uniqueness, but we do not divide based on skin tone or background. We are brothers and sisters, sons and daughters equal in love and dignity.

3. You are citizens of this country.
While our ultimate citizenship is in heaven (Philippians 3:20), our earthly citizenship is also a gift. I want my children to see themselves as participants in the community and nation where God has placed us, not as outsiders defined by the color of their skin.

A Deeper Identity

Above all, I want my children to know they are Christians. They are sinners saved by grace, united by the blood of Christ to believers from every tribe and tongue. The cross tears down walls of hostility and creates one new family (Ephesians 2:14–19). Intersectionality says we must earn forgiveness or power through grievance or penance. The gospel says Jesus has already accomplished what we need most reconciliation with God and with one another.

Our local church is where this truth comes alive. It’s not perfect no church is but it’s the safest place I know because Christ is at the center. There, my children are not tokens or statistics. They are part of a body knit together by love, where the Lamb who was slain receives the glory (Revelation 5:9–10).

Why Intersectionality Fails

Intersectionality claims to fight for justice and diversity, but it fails because it replaces grace with suspicion and love with resentment. It thrives on keeping people divided, always calculating who owes whom. The gospel, on the other hand, unites people across every human difference. At the cross, all of us stand on level ground needy sinners who have been given everything in Christ.

I tell my children this often: the world will try to label you, but Jesus names you. The world will tell you to fight for power, but Jesus calls you to love and serve. And while others may focus on the color of your skin, Jesus sees the condition of your heart.

The Intersection That Leads Home

In 2020, my daughter’s question about intersectionality caught me off guard, but it also reminded me of what I most want for her and her siblings. I don’t want them to navigate life fearful of who they are or who others say they should be. I want them to know that Christ has already carried the heaviest burdens sin, guilt, and shame so they can walk freely as children of God.

At the intersection of race, adoption, and identity, Jesus gets the right-of-way. He is the one who defines our worth, unites our family, and calls us to love one another deeply. And because of Him, I can answer my daughter’s question with confidence: Intersectionality may be scary, but our Savior is greater.

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