Ding works in feminist political philosophy, social metaphysics, and philosophy of law. They are currently finishing their PhD at the University of Arizona. Their dissertation explores the often-unexpected ways in which transgender equality not only poses difficult challenges to, but sheds constructive light on, our understanding of the meaning and requirements of gender equality.
What excites you about philosophy?
The questions and the people.
I grew up under an authoritarian state; it was the critical, reflective stance toward the world as well as ourselves—a daringness to be bad in its own way—that first opened my eyes and drew me to philosophy. But it is the people I have been so fortunate to know and cherish—my friends, interlocutors, co-conspirators, mentors, colleagues, and role models, often many at once—who have made space for me to stay.
Of course, that’s not to say that philosophy is all sunshine and roses. I’m incredibly grateful to all the misfits who came before me, who fought—literally and then some more—to make what we do today in trans/feminist philosophy possible. It’s an inheritance that’s important to me, and it’s one that I want to help to pass on.
What topic do you think is under-explored in philosophy?
Oh that’s gotta be just how messed up the concept of equality is in the law.
In the United States, for example, there is a neat little clause in the 14th Amendment that prohibits the state from “deny[ing] to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” The Supreme Court interprets this principle of “equal protection” as a requirement of nondiscrimination, which it in turn treats as a prohibition against wrongful differential treatment. Most philosophical work on discrimination picks up from here and asks what then makes differential treatment wrongful.
That starting point is surprising to me. Is differential treatment the right way to think about what discrimination is? And is discrimination understood as differential treatment the right way to think about what equality requires as a matter of law? These prior questions are right in philosophers’ wheelhouse, but they don’t get much airtime in philosophy, if they are asked at all.
The work I’m doing on the philosophical foundations of gender equality law begins from the realization that the law’s conception of equality is extensionally and explanatorily inadequate, which leads to very real consequences on the ground. Take, for instance, the constitutionality of gender-affirming care bans for trans youth. Upholding such a ban, one federal court of appeals recently said that there is no worry whatsoever about discrimination based on sex, transgender status, or even gender nonconformity, because under the statute absolutely nobody gets to access the care for gender-affirming reasons—it’s the ultimate equality of treatment. That’s bonkers, but courts have been increasingly receptive to that analysis. Unfortunately, the current responses we have are not workable (if not downright demeaning to trans litigants), all while it’s looking more and more likely that the Supreme Court may be eager to pile on as soon as next year.
Name a trait, skill, or characteristic that you have that others may not know about.
I don’t think people usually realize how much I’m into civil aviation—the airplanes, airports, airlines, logistics, everything.
This is going to sound like such a cliché: I do think there is something beautiful in the way civil aviation quite literally transcends what’s possible for beings like us. I also find powerful the cosmopolitan aspiration, however diminished by the shameful reality of borders, in civil aviation as a mechanism that brings the world just a little bit closer. These are the same reasons I’m deeply frustrated by both the military use of aviation and aviation’s contribution to climate change (it’s not just limited to carbon emissions).
And I can go on and on and on, so maybe it’s for the better that people don’t know about this side of me (uh-oh).
What are you reading right now? Would you recommend it?
A few friends and I are doing a reading group on the sci-fi legend Ursula K. Le Guin. We just finished her 1969 classic The Left Hand of Darkness, which tells the story of a society organized around people without fixed sexual and reproductive biology. We are moving onto The Dispossessed, her anarchist/utopian novel.
I used to read a ton, but after five years of grad school I’m finding it more and more difficult to just sit down and read for fun. This is my attempt to pick up casual reading again. It definitely helps to get to do it together with friends, and if that might sound like you too, Le Guin is a great place to start. Be warned, though: our consensus so far is her writing can be pretty irritating (which then makes for fun discussions!).
Where would you go in a time machine?
I’m constantly fascinated by the late 60s to early 70s in the U.S., when the new wave of feminism was just lighting everything on fire. I can only catch a glimpse of what things were like from underground publications, books, articles, documentaries, and occasionally when I luck out, feminists who were there.
I’m sure a lot of this is me projecting my own yearnings (see, that’s where the time machine would come in so handy!), and I definitely don’t want to romanticize away the not-so-subtle racism, heterosexism, and transmisogyny that were part and parcel of much of the women’s liberation movement. What I find captivating about that period was the real sense of possibility in the air, made tangible by a kind of appreciation for theory as practice and practice as theory distinctive of a feminist politics that begins from and ends with the material reality of actual lives on the ground. It makes you feel alive.
If you were an ice cream what flavor would you be?
Strawberry sundae topped with crushed nuts—kind, complex, fun, delicious, but tough.
What’s your poison? (Favorite drink.)
Oh boy. Short answer: gin, chardonnay, and IPA. Longer answer: your relationship with alcohol can be really tricky and weird if your biological dad had a drinking problem. For me, what makes some drinks special is often more the communities and friendships they brew (pardon the pun) than the taste or even the alcohol as such.
There is this formerly dyke bar in Denver (not naming names here as the owners are being sued for racial discrimination and wage theft—surprise, surprise, it’s almost as if commodified, depoliticized pride is not the cavalier that will save us all), where they make an absolutely magical cocktail called “Gin & Tina.” They use a strawberry gin and some delightful tonic water that are practically made for each other. It’s -that- good.
When we were just in New Orleans for the Central, my buddy and fellow IPA snob came upon this local beer, Jucifer, that we immediately fell in love with. Much like the city, it was lively, fun, refreshing, crisp, and cheerful. I miss it a lot. That’s just one of the reasons I wish the Central could be back to NOLA sometime soon—obviously, if I say it on the APA’s blog, that will make it come true, right?
This section of the APA Blog is designed to get to know our fellow philosophers a little better. We’re including profiles of APA members that spotlight what captures their interest not only inside the office, but also outside of it. We’d love for you to be a part of it, so please contact us via the interview nomination form here to nominate yourself or a friend.
Smrutipriya Pattnaik
Smrutipriya Pattnaik, Ph.D. in Social and Political Philosophy from IIT Indore, India serves as the Teaching Beat and Work/Life Balance editor for the APA Blog. Her research delves into utopia, social imagination, and politics, with a focus on the aftermath of socialist experiments on Liberal-Capitalist-Democratic societies. Currently authoring "Politics, Utopia, and Social Imagination."
