We humans adore a simple dichotomy. It’s frightfully efficient. White or non-white. Male or female. Disabled or abled. These binaries promise neatness in a messy world – a cognitive filing system for complex humanity. Yet as philosopher Val Plumwood observed, these “master/slave” frameworks operate through five dangerously slick mechanisms: backgrounding, radical exclusion, incorporation, instrumentalism, and homogenisation. The result? A society perpetually queueing at the wrong post office counter.
The five quiet engines of oppression
Plumwood’s mechanisms work like bureaucratic stealth. Backgrounding treats one identity as society’s default setting – the unmarked “normal” against which others are measured. Consider how medical textbooks historically used white male bodies as universal templates. Radical exclusion rigidly polices borders: trans folk facing scrutiny over toilet access, or mixed-race individuals pressured to “pick a side”. Incorporation defines the “slave” category purely by its relationship to the master (“disabled” meaning “needs help”). Instrumentalism reduces people to tools – like expecting minority staff to fix diversity problems unpaid. Homogenisation flattens groups: assuming all disabled people need identical ramps.
The collateral kerfuffle
The fallout includes the myth of reverse racism, where equality initiatives spark cries of “unfair!” from groups benefiting from centuries of backgrounding. It’s like complaining the deck chairs were rearranged after your yacht sank the Titanic. Homogenisation breeds absurd policies: “diverse hiring” that recruits only Oxbridge-educated minorities. Most perniciously, binaries commit identity violence by denying intersectionality. A Black woman faces compounded racism and sexism – yet policies address either “race” or “gender” separately. Her experience becomes a bureaucratic hot potato.
Small cuts, big wounds
Master/slave binaries fray fastest when pricked by daily absurdities. Take the supermarket’s “ethnic hair” aisle, where coconut oil sits quarantined from “regular” haircare as if dandruff discriminates by race. University accessibility forms offering only “wheelchair user / non-disabled” tick-boxes erase neurodivergent or deaf needs. Restaurant menus diligently mark “(v)” for vegetarian but never “(h)” for Halal. Office thermostats controlled by biologically colder men force menopausal women to smuggle desk fans. Even car park hierarchies whisper violence: “family” spaces placed nearer than disabled bays, silently ranking parenting above paralysis.
Surviving the crossfire
Picture a Black woman in a tech startup navigating racialised sexism (“You’re so articulate!”), gendered racism (assumptions she’s in HR), and class ghosts (“diversity hire” whispers). The trap? Expecting her to lead unpaid DEI workshops and educate colleagues between coding sprints.
Rebellion begins with the “Not My Circus” rule:“My KPIs focus on cloud architecture. Perhaps HR could commission consultants?”
Deploy isolated privileges: a light-skinned woman calls out colourism after ensuring darker-skinned colleagues won’t face backlash.
Redirect homogenising questions: “I speak only for myself, but Ada in legal led a review.”
Weaponise bureaucracy: “Confirming you asked me (sole female engineer) to plan the Diwali party. How does this align with my promotion goals?”
Sharpening the scalpels: precision strikes
or, How to dismantle the master’s house with his own paperclip.
The healthcare double-bind
Scenario: A woman’s menopausal symptoms are dismissed as “normal” by her GP.
Scalpel: “Could we document your decision not to investigate my palpitations? For my records.”
Why it cuts: Invokes clinical accountability. “Document” makes bureaucracy work for you.
The accent aristocracy
Scenario: A Yorkshire accent at a London firm prompts: “How quaint! Where’s that from?”
Scalpel: “A South Yorkshire vowel shift. Fascinating how dialects evolve – like RP emerging from boarding schools.”
Why it cuts: Reframes “quaint” as academic. Mentions RP’s artificial origins.
The parental presumption
Scenario: Childfree staff are excluded from “family-friendly” events.
Scalpel: Email HR: “Could future events be ‘staff & kin’ days? Avoids implying my cat is less family than Dave’s toddler.”
Why it cuts: Humour + logic. “Staff & kin” is bureaucratically elegant.
The faithless form
Scenario: A hospital form lists six Christian denominations but only “Other” for Sikh/Hindu/Buddhist.
Scalpel: Write “Sikh” in the Christian Baptist box + add: “Noting form excludes millions citizens. Shall I forward inclusive guidelines?”
Why it cuts: Forces manual re-categorisation (annoying admin) while offering “help”.
The age-ist algorithm
Scenario: Job ad requires “digital native (born after 1995)”. You’re 50.
Scalpel: Apply + attach: “My 1985 Micro certificates + 2023 AI ethics cert. ‘Native’ often overlooks adaptive expertise, no?”
Why it cuts: Proves competency while highlighting bias. PDF forces human review.
The coffee class system
Scenario: Your office “Pantry Equality Policy” prices espresso at €3.50 while instant coffee remains free.
Scalpel: Leave a neatly typed note by the machine: “Admire the transparent bean-based hierarchy! Suggest reclassifying the instant as ‘Working Class Warmth’ and the espresso as ‘Bourgeois Steam’. For audit purposes, obviously.”
Why it cuts: Exposes how petty luxuries replicate class binaries. “Audit purposes” makes it sound helpful, not hostile.
The surname shuffle
Scenario: At parent-teacher night, staff mispronounce “Chowdhury” thrice before sighing, “Can we just call you Chloe?”
Scalpel: Sweetly reply: “How thoughtful! I’ll call you ‘Brenda’ then – same energy, yes? Or we could practise ‘Chow-dhury’ for 17 seconds? I’ve timed it.” Proceeds to stare at wristwatch.
Why it cuts: Forces discomfort calculation: 17 seconds of effort vs. lifelong microaggression.
The accessibility charade
Scenario: A “wheelchair accessible” museum has a ramp leading directly to a 3-step staircase.
Scalpel: Request the manager and muse: “Marvellous installation! Is the staircase a conceptual piece on false promises? Brilliantly meta. Could I get that interpretation in writing for my DisGo blog?”
Why it cuts: Reframes their failure as “art”, demanding they endorse the fiction.
The gendered gifting
Scenario: HR distributes “wellness packs”: scented candles (women) and stress balls (men).
Scalpel: Swap yours with a male colleague’s, then email HR: “Loving Dave’s lavender candle! Really soothes my coding rage. He’s adoring the pink stress ball – says it ‘challenges his masculinity’. Shall we document these breakthrough outcomes?”
Why it cuts: Creates data-points of non-compliance. “Document” is the honey trap.
The pronoun pantomime
Scenario: Colleague mocks your email signature (“they/them”): “Bloody snowflakes! I identify as a teapot!”
Scalpel: Send a meeting invite: “Re: Teapot identity exploration – 2pm Thursday? Agenda: Assess kettle compatibility; Strategise spout maintenance; Serious question: Why does this threaten you?”
Why it cuts: Literalises their absurdity while smuggling in the lethal final line.
The universal scalpel whetstone
When binaries bite, you can choose to use the Three-Step Bourgeois Bafflement Technique™:
- Mirror their absurdity verbatim (“So to clarify: you’re saying ramps should approach stairs but never replace them?”).
- Reframe as bureaucratic curiosity (“Fascinating! Could we add this to the accessibility audit as ‘aspirational ramp theory’?”).
- Document relentlessly (“Noting for the minutes: Dave prefers stress balls in corporate mauve”).
The rebel’s toolkit
Precision outpunches volume. A single documented email (“As per my note May 3…”) erodes systems faster than ten rants. Practice bureaucracy jiu-jitsu: “Under GDPR, may I see the diversity assessment for this policy?” When handed emotional labour, redirect gracefully: "‘Inclusive Employers UK’ has excellent webinars. Shall I CC you?"
The tea test
Even this sacred beverage defies binaries. Is builder’s brew “proper” tea while chai is “exotic”? Must drinkers swear allegiance to milk or sugar factions? Absurd. Demand “prefer not to say” options on forms. Compliment an alopecia hairstyle as “interesting”, not “brave”. Book “accessibility audits” – not “diversity training” – focusing on spaces over faces.
Why papercuts win wars
Binaries rely on silent complicity. Each scalpel act forces visibility (taping storage boxes in disabled loos), creates paperwork (emails requiring replies), and wastes oppressors’ time (making them re-tag, re-file, re-explain). Like water wearing down stone, it’s the relentless drip of corrections that collapses master/slave frameworks. Stay sharp. Stay petty. The cabinets will bleed.
Special thanks to
To the woman who corrected “ethnic hair” aisle signage with a label gun. To the engineer who left pink-tax receipts in the gents’ loos. To all who weaponise bureaucratic tedium.
Final Thought: “A taxonomy is only as moral as its misfiles.”