I have mentioned before that I expect to have balance in my quality of life and the way I am compensated. If I were to enjoy the work I was doing or the space I was occupying, I could tolerate a small salary. If I did not enjoy my job, I could make my peace because my income is compensating for my time spent not enjoying my job. In the academy, I have arrived at a juxtaposition of unsatisfying work and unsatisfying pay. Something has to give and it is not going to be me. 

Over the last few months I have been reflecting heavily on the time I have spent in the academy and how at every twist and turn someone has tried me. I have had faculty touch my hair. I have had faculty tell me that I need to spend time in the sun to nourish my blackness. I have had faculty rap to me and expect me to know the song because of my blackness. I have had faculty call my draft for a mock grant “superficial and clearly last-minute” because they regarded my work as low quality. I have had faculty question my work ethic and commitment to my project, simply because I enjoy sleeping and smiling from things other than the progress of my project. I have had faculty ask for screenshots of my schedule. I have had faculty therapize me without my request of them to do so. I have had faculty accuse me of taking advantage of research assistants after I asked them to help me with a task because I was asked to speak on a panel. I have had faculty tell me that an injury I was suffering from was a consequence of poor mental health “manifesting” in other parts of my body. I have had faculty shit talk about my peers to me. I have confirmed faculty have shit talked about me with my peers. I had to switch advisors and departments. I had to change fields. I had to learn a completely new batch of techniques. I had to tolerate the loss of several family members. I have been told to tolerate my discomfort. I have been told I can analyze data while I cry. I have had faculty tell me they are scared to hurt my feelings. I have had faculty tell me they fear I will get left behind. I have had faculty call me sweetheart. I have been tried daily in the academy. I have done this with a smile and grace the academy does not deserve.

The academy is a scam. Your commitment to your project is evaluated based on your tolerance of violence being inflicted onto you by an anti-black establishment. I expected my greatest struggle in graduate school to be that I would not understand the material. I expected that I would struggle academically. I am brilliant. I have always been brilliant. I pass everything. I have a track record of always passing everything. I also have a track record of always tolerating shit thrown at me. I have a track record of taking blows while climbing up a mountain of increasing slope, and never questioning what awaited me at the top. The academy is not training me to be a scientist. The academy is training me to be a digestible black. A Pepto-bismol black. A good little compliant black girl scientist who does as she is told. They want to instill this in me now so that when I arrive in the anti-black workforce, I’ll carry myself accordingly. My compliance is a direct measure of the efficacy of this new age slavery. 

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I swore to hell and high water that getting a PhD would make them respect me. That there was a credential the academy could give me that says, she belongs here, don’t bother her. Now, all the PhD symbolizes to me is that I am the perfect person to bother. I am a specialist in allowing people to bother me. This PhD actually has nothing to do with science. 

The PhD is an apprenticeship. An opportunity to learn a trade and apply it to a career. A career is a job for which one is trained AND for which one has taken a permanent calling. I have not taken a permanent calling to be tried. I have not taken a permanent calling to be bothered. A job is a piece of work done for pay and to afford one’s basic needs. A PI is a term used to disillusion you from the fact that you have a boss and you are being surveilled. A boss keeps you busy and is not concerned with your wellness unless you deliver on your tasks. If I kept this career, wellness would remain a luxury. I have decided this is going to be my job, not my career. 

Until next time, 

Stef