Today, I was thinking about my first encounter with fellow graduate students in the department where I got my Ph.D.
One of the first things I heard at this top tier university:
“So, um, when you’re excited about something? Well, like — why do you talk like you’re Black?”
One of the first things I heard at this top tier university:
“So, um, when you’re excited about something? Well, like — why do you talk like you’re Black?”
“Poor,” Dear Reader.
She meant “poor.”
She meant “poor.”
https://twitter.com/msentropy/status/1519399850063765504?s=21&t=s17QwPBUnUOp31Hkl1Xuhg
That shitty introduction to, and memory of, my first baby steps into the hallowed ivy covered [racist, sexist, and classist] halls of *angels singing here* Higher Education —
— it got me thinking some thoughts
juuuuuust for you
#AcademicTwitter
— it got me thinking some thoughts
juuuuuust for you
#AcademicTwitter
(Immediately after this exchange, I was informed what “Coach” was. See, I had always assumed it meant “flight I can afford.” Never knew it meant “Purse Brand More Expensive Than My Public State Undergraduate Degree And Favorite Catalogue Reading Material Of My New ‘Colleagues’)
I shouldn’t have been surprised.
My first Fulbright fellowship, straight out of undergrad, thanks to my fellow grantees, was a massive lesson in —
“Sorry, wait — you went to a *state* school?! Oh… that’s… interesting.”
— academic “meritocracy.”
My first Fulbright fellowship, straight out of undergrad, thanks to my fellow grantees, was a massive lesson in —
“Sorry, wait — you went to a *state* school?! Oh… that’s… interesting.”
— academic “meritocracy.”
I was all wide-eyed, idiotic, thinking God’ll bless me with my people at last! We made it, fellow “workaholics hell bent on making the world a better place” / ‘bootstrappers’
except
“FULBRIGHT’S LIKE CANCUN SPRING BREAK BUT ON MY RESUME HOW MANY NATIVES CAN I SLUM IT WITH”
except
“FULBRIGHT’S LIKE CANCUN SPRING BREAK BUT ON MY RESUME HOW MANY NATIVES CAN I SLUM IT WITH”
Out of the entire Fulbright fellow group that year, only two of us came from public, non-Ivy League universities.
And yet — ODDLY ENOUGH
Guess who actually did their research projects instead of just drunkenly banging locals at the “Marine House” keggers (yes, these exist)?
And yet — ODDLY ENOUGH
Guess who actually did their research projects instead of just drunkenly banging locals at the “Marine House” keggers (yes, these exist)?
Another Fulbright fellow (Ivy League undergrad) deadass told me — zero irony, fuckall self-awareness, straight face af:
“Now I understand what it’s like to be Black.”
(wait for it)
“Moroccan merchant overcharged me just because I’m an American — $2! That’s so…WRONG.”
“Now I understand what it’s like to be Black.”
(wait for it)
“Moroccan merchant overcharged me just because I’m an American — $2! That’s so…WRONG.”
ICYMI
“I now know how Black people are treated in the US because I — a 22-year old white American man receiving the same salary as a tenured Moroccan senior professor (paid by the Moroccan government) — was overcharged $2 for the tacky tourist pillowcase I wanted to buy Mom.”
“I now know how Black people are treated in the US because I — a 22-year old white American man receiving the same salary as a tenured Moroccan senior professor (paid by the Moroccan government) — was overcharged $2 for the tacky tourist pillowcase I wanted to buy Mom.”
Anyway rest assured I’ve got a looooong stream of thoughts headed your way post-migraine about this, but for now:
They know you don’t belong.
They want you to know you don’t belong.
Let them underestimate you — it’s worth it.
(TBC)
They know you don’t belong.
They want you to know you don’t belong.
Let them underestimate you — it’s worth it.
(TBC)
https://twitter.com/MsEntropy/status/1519401178970263552
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