I've wanted to write a blog for years, but I've always talked myself out of it. The main reason? A voice in my head asking, 'Who the f--- do you think you are? What could you possibly have to say that anyone else wants to read?' Yet, here I am, finally writing one. So, what's my answer to that question?
Honestly, I don't have a perfect response. I'm a cis-het white man, and a first-year PhD student. My experiences aren't exactly unique; people who look like me are the majority in science, and I'm not far enough along in my career to offer profound wisdom. I'm tempted to say, 'But I'm not like the others, I grew up poor.' While that's partly true, hear me out, and I'll circle back to try and answer that core question.
Since I first applied to college, I've often felt like I didn't belong. This feeling is also partly rooted in truth. I never really cared about grades; my main concern was just passing to avoid failing or retaking classes. As you can imagine, my grades were awful. After high school, I knew I wanted to go to college but, due to laziness and apathy, I waited until the last possible moment before applying to the university in my hometown.
The story in my head is that both of my parents were drug addicts. When my older brother was around six and I was around three, my parents divorced and both got clean. I ended up living with my dad, and then he had a stroke, and we grew up on welfare. Some people who haven't experienced anything like that are bewildered by this background, while others, like me, just see it as part of normal life. I want to be absolutely clear: I want zero pity about this story.
Eventually, I obtained associate, bachelor's, and master's degrees, making many more mistakes along the way. But there I was again, applying to colleges with unimpressive grades, and somehow, again, making it into a PhD program.
I unfortunately have a tendency towards classism and elitism. I feel jealousy towards the 'haves' while angrily placing myself among the 'have-nots'. It's not fair that some people got into a good school because someone taught them the importance of good grades. It's not fair that some people got prestigious opportunities because they knew where to look while I did not.
So, back to the original question: why am I even talking to you? Why do I feel like I have something to say? I don't think I'm special, but I do think transparency can improve all our lives. I'd like to think I deserve everything I've gotten, but in reality, it often feels like I just come across as a genuine and likable guy, and maybe other people deserved the chances I received more.
Maybe by sharing our unpolished, non-heroic narratives, we can collectively build a more honest picture of what it means to navigate academia, or life in general. Perhaps it's less about offering "sage advice" from a pedestal of achievement and more about providing a hand-drawn map of a messy, ongoing journey.
So, yes, I'm talking to you because I hope that in this shared vulnerability, we can all feel a little less alone in our imperfections and a little more entitled to our own unique paths, however we stumble upon them.
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