Identity is messy. Honestly, trying to pin down a single women of color definition is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands because it’s not just about biology or skin tone. It’s a political statement. It’s a handshake. It’s a history of people deciding that they were stronger if they stood together than if they stayed in their own isolated corners.
If you’re looking for a dictionary entry, you’ll find something dry about non-white females. But that’s not really it. Not in the real world.
The term "women of color" (WOC) isn't just a synonym for "minority." It’s a phrase born out of a specific moment in 1977 at the National Women’s Conference in Houston. A group of Black, Latina, Asian American, and Native American women realized that the "Plan of Action" being discussed didn't actually include them. They needed a way to talk about their shared struggle against both sexism and racism without erasing their individual ethnicities. They didn't want to be "minorities"—a word that implies being "less than." They wanted something that felt like a coalition.
Where the Term Came From (And No, It Wasn't 2020)
Most people think this is some "woke" invention from the last five years. It’s not.
Loretta Ross, a legendary activist and co-founder of SisterSong, has talked extensively about this. She’ll tell you that the women of color definition was never meant to be a biological category. In the late 70s, African American women were working on a "Black Women's Agenda." When they got to the Houston conference, they realized other groups wanted in on that solidarity. They didn't have a word for it. So, they created one.
It was a tool for political organizing.
Think about it this way. If a Black woman in Detroit is facing housing discrimination, and a Vietnamese refugee in California is facing labor exploitation, their lives look very different. But the underlying systems—racism and patriarchy—are the same. By using the term "women of color," they could walk into a room and demand change with the weight of millions behind them.
Why "Minority" Just Doesn't Cut It
The word "minority" is statistically inaccurate in a global sense. People of color are the global majority. Using "minority" centers whiteness as the "standard" and everyone else as the "other."
Women of color, as a term, flips that.
The Intersectionality Factor
You can’t talk about the women of color definition without talking about Kimberlé Crenshaw. She’s the legal scholar who coined the term "intersectionality" in 1989.
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Imagine a literal traffic intersection.
If an accident happens there, it might be caused by cars traveling from multiple directions. For a woman of color, discrimination isn't just "being a woman" plus "being Black" or "being Brown." It’s a unique, fused experience. A Black woman might face a specific type of hair discrimination at work that a white woman (who is a woman) or a Black man (who is Black) wouldn't experience.
It’s complex. It’s layered.
The Nuance We Often Miss
Is a woman from Spain a woman of color? What about a light-skinned Latina who can "pass" as white?
This is where things get spicy.
The women of color definition is often self-identified. It’s about lived experience. If you move through the world with the privileges of whiteness—meaning you aren't followed in stores, your resume isn't tossed because of your name, and you see yourself reflected in every Hallmark movie—claiming the "WOC" label can feel like "identity tourism" to others.
However, colorism is a huge factor here.
- Colorism is the internal hierarchy within communities of color where lighter skin is treated better.
- Erasure happens when we act like all women of color have the same problems. They don't.
- Anti-Blackness exists even within non-white communities.
A dark-skinned South Asian woman and a light-skinned biracial woman might both fit the technical women of color definition, but their daily lives? Completely different. We have to be honest about that. If we aren't, the term becomes a blanket that smothers the actual issues.
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Business and the "WOC" Professional
In the corporate world, this definition is getting a lot of airtime.
Companies love to brag about "diversity," but often, that just means hiring white women. When you look at the "broken rung" in management, women of color are the ones falling through the cracks. According to the Women in the Workplace report by McKinsey & Company, for every 100 men promoted to manager, only 76 Latina women and 75 Black women are promoted.
The gap is real.
When a business uses the women of color definition to track their DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) goals, they need to be careful. If they group all "non-white" women together, they might miss the fact that they’ve hired five Asian American women but haven't hired a single Black or Indigenous woman in a decade.
That’s not inclusion. That’s a loophole.
Common Misconceptions You Should Probably Drop
"It’s the same as 'Colored Women'."
Absolutely not. "Colored" is a slur from the Jim Crow era used to enforce segregation. "Women of color" is a term chosen by the women themselves to describe their political alliance. The order of words matters. Person-first language matters."It’s only for Black women."
While Black women were the architects of the term, it was always designed to be a big tent. It includes Indigenous, Middle Eastern, North African, Latina, Asian, and Pacific Islander women."It’s a divisive term."
Actually, it was created to unify. It’s a way to find common ground in a world that tries to pit different ethnic groups against each other.
What’s the Future of the Term?
Things are shifting. You’ve probably seen "BIPOC" (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) popping up everywhere.
Why?
Because some people felt "People of Color" was becoming too generic. It was being used to hide the fact that Black and Indigenous people often face much more severe systemic violence than other groups. By pulling "Black" and "Indigenous" to the front, the term acknowledges that specific history of chattel slavery and genocide.
Does this mean the women of color definition is dead?
No way.
It’s still the primary way many people describe their social and political identity. It’s a shorthand for "I understand that my struggle is linked to yours."
Actionable Steps for Using the Term Correctly
If you're writing, hiring, or just trying to be a better human, here is how you handle this:
Ask, don't assume. If you’re interviewing someone or writing a profile, ask how they identify. Some might prefer "Chicana," "Black woman," or "Persian." Don't force them into the "WOC" box if they don't want to be there.
Look for the gaps. If you’re a leader, stop looking at "Women" as a monolith. Break your data down. How are your Black women doing? How are your Hmong women doing? The women of color definition is a starting point, not the finish line.
Educate yourself on the history. Read This Bridge Called My Back, edited by Cherríe Moraga and Gloria Anzaldúa. It’s essentially the "WOC" bible from 1981. It will blow your mind how relevant it still is.
Recognize your own privilege. If you are a woman of color who is light-skinned or wealthy, recognize that your experience is vastly different from someone who isn't. Use your platform to bring others up.
Identity isn't about a checkbox. It’s about power. Who has it, who doesn't, and how we can share it better. Using the women of color definition correctly means acknowledging the massive, beautiful, and sometimes painful diversity within that group. It's about seeing the individual and the coalition at the same time.
Stop looking for a simple answer. The complexity is the whole point.
To dive deeper into how this applies to specific industries, research the "intersectionality pay gap" or look into the "Motherhood Penalty" specifically for women of color. The data there tells a much grittier story than any dictionary ever could. Reach out to local community organizations that focus on specific ethnicities to see how their needs differ from the broader "WOC" umbrella. This kind of nuanced understanding is what separates a performative ally from a real one.