Mission Accomplished?

The funny thing about getting a PhD, much like most monumental life events, is that it can be a real let down in the moment. So, I toil and stress for 5 1/2 years and then... I am left asking myself, what the hell was I thinking getting a PhD in Philosophy? When I would tell most people that I studied Philosophy one common response was: "So you talk to crazy people"? Well, yes...well, no...well, technically I think you are referring to Psy-cho-lo-gy and not Phil-o-so-phy. "Oh, so you must be deep, tell me your philosophy on life..." Most people have no idea what Philosophy is or what Philosophers do. So how does one translate this degree in a resume? Good question, especially since I had decided, much to the chagrin of my professors and mentors, not to go on the market and pursue a teaching career. Much like them, I too was left wondering what I was going to do with myself. I had a PhD, that wondrous and most auspicious of titles, and no clue what to do with it. After the dissertation was completed, the graduation ceremony concluded, and the giddiness that accompanied seeing my bound dissertation subsided, I fell into a deep depression. I could not shake the feeling that I had just made some awful, unforgivable mistake. I had been a student for 99% of my life on this earth and now I had to go out into the big, cruel world (of Philadelphia no less) and find a job--Yes, Philadelphia. I decided that it was not enough to get married while working on the PhD, I also had to move to Philadelphia and adjust to a whole new city while finishing up my dissertation, in January. Here I am in big, cold Philadelphia trying to finish the dissertation and begin my job search. Scratch that, I was not just looking for a job, I was bucking the system. I had gone against the advise of professors and advisers and decided to forsake the traditional profession of Philosophers--teaching. Hey, I figured that a PhD should be anything but limiting. I remember having a very sad and disturbing conversation with one of my colleagues while I was in graduate school. We were talking about our plans and I was telling him that I did not plan to go on the market. He looked at me and said, "I wish I could do something else, but what else could I do? The really sad thing is that they don't even really teach us how to teach." This sentiment is not unusual. None of my colleagues or professors had ever seen anyone with a PhD in Philosophy do anything but teach Philosophy. I am not knocking the professoriate, but my heart just wasn't in it. I was privileged to have several truly exceptional professors as an undergraduate. These folks loved their jobs and were passionate teachers. I did not want to teach because I simply could not think of something else that I could be doing instead. I wanted to do something that I could be passionate about. I wanted to translate my PhD into a career that I would find meaningful and fulfilling. Even with all of my misgivings, fear, and trepidation I was hired as the Director of College Retention for a non-profit organization in Philadelphia four months after graduation. This is not the work that I plan to do for the rest of my life, but I am passionate about it and, some would say, exceptional. In the interim I have even discovered that I actually like teaching...sometimes.

Graduate School Lessons

I cannot tell you how many times I thought about leaving my graduate program. I knew that the University of Memphis offered a much more supportive environment for people of color in Philosophy. In fact, several other Spelman Alumnae in Philosophy were in that program, and believe me I came close to pursuing that route several times. My decision to stay at Emory did not actually have anything to do with the program there. I was very fortunate to have a loving and supportive community in Atlanta and an amazing fiance'. These were the things that actually kept me at Emory and, in the end, I am pleased that I decided to stay. I have come to understand that being successful in a PhD program has little to do with coursework, exams, or even the dissertation. It is really about learning how to master the process. It is about how much you are willing to give and how much you are able to take away from that process. As a woman of color I was often faced with making decisions about how much of myself I was willing to give to the process. Things like spirituality, African-centeredness, woman centeredness... have no place in a Eurocentric, male dominated academic space. This often meant that I had to hold the things that were dearest to me close to my chest. I also had to learn how to "speak their language" (as demonstrated in my previous post) without forgetting my own. One day, one of my professors pulled me aside for a conversation that proved to be a pivotal moment in my graduate career. He told me that if I wanted to survive and make it through the comprehensive exam I would have to learn how to speak the language. It is not really about what you know or how you think, it is about mastering the technique. You have to master the structures (learn how to talk the talk and walk the walk), because that is what is most important. Once you do that, once you pass that test you will be free to speak your own language and think your own thoughts. I think that he saved my academic life and a major portion of my sanity that day. The wisdom that he offered helped me to understand more fully what I was doing there. That was a recurring question for me, "What am I doing here?". Then the answer came: Getting a PhD in Philosophy, nothing more--nothing less. I was not there to find or define myself, I was not there to defend the legitamicy of the African-American experience, I was not there to change anyone's mind about anything. This does not mean that some of these things did not happen. I am clear that my presence and succes in the program meant something, and had definite ramifications both for the department and for me. I cound not, however, carry that burden. I think that too often "minorities" take on the burden of changing people's minds about who we are and what we can do. In some ways, I think that my refusal to do this actually had a greater impact. I refused to play any of the roles laid out for me. Some of my professors and peers tried to goad me into the ever popular "angry Black woman". I was always polite and personable but was not interested in being drawn into any departmental politics or drama. I came to understand that I had to set up personal boundaries in order to stay sane. I was active on campus; I participated in the Black Graduate Student Association and the Graduate Student Organization (I even served one term as an officer). I sat on panels, traveled abroad, went to conferences, and colloquiums--I did all of the things that I felt were necessary for me to get the most out of my experience as a graduate student. Most importantly, I got my PhD in a relatively short period of time and remained in tact while doing so.

"You must be Lina"

I, like most of you, could write a book about my graduate school experience. There are a couple of stories that I usually tell and I will share one of them. My first semester of graduate school was very difficult. I was the first ever African-American in the department. In my cohort, I was the only person of color AND the only woman. So here I am, a tall, dark-skinned, dread-locked Black woman in a sea of White men. Needless to say, I stuck out like a sore thumb. Whenever I went somewhere on campus people would say, "Oh! Your from the Philosophy Department! You must be Lina!". I don't know if they sent out an announcement in a memo or something... Extra! Extra! Philosophy Department gets a new Negress, READ ALL ABOUT IT! No one seemed to recognize the peculiar nature of this greeting. I should have answered back, "No, my name is actually _____" If I gave a different name each time I could have confused the hell out of everyone and had the whole campus buzzing... Extra! Extra! Philosophy Department got a whole busload of Negresses this year, READ ALL ABOUT IT! I was not nearly as savvy, nor sarcastic, back then as I am now so I always responded, "Yes". Unfortunately my superstar status did not extend to my own department, where I was often treated like an alien from outer space. When I dared to open my mouth and speak in seminar everyone would stare at me blankly before moving on. A few minutes later someone might very well repeat the exact same thing that I just said as though it had not yet been stated. After awhile one of my peers took pity on me and decided to act as my translator. I would say something, "waaah, waaah, wah woh waaa" and he would translate, "What Lina just said was....". I kid you not, this is a true story (I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried). Now, this was quite a shock to my ego. I graduated Magna Cum Laude from Spelman College and I know I speak English! What I came to realize later was that my being there was such a shock to their worldview that they literally could not hear me. What was this Negro woman doing in a graduate level Philosophy seminar! The students were not alone; the largely elderly, White, male faculty did not really know what to make of me either. So how did I get through it? Like we all do, I suppose. I chose my battles, I stayed connected to communities where I felt safe and supported, and never lost focus of why I was there in the first place--TO GET A PHD! Not to have my intelligence or self-worth validated, but to get a PhD. Once I learned that these things were not one and the same, I learned how to be OK with myself in the midst of...