photo by Cem Saka from pexels. [image description: a Black person wearing a black shirt in what looks like a library. they hold a hardcover book about Nelson Mandela].
the easiest way to sum up my time so far as a Black queer first-generation college student in a phd program is a combination of violence, time, and opportunity. i write this essay in order to help fellow students feel seen, prospective students feel prepared, and loved ones feel included. when loved ones ask me how my program is going, i usually say “it’s going,” so as to not flood them with a barrage of complaints. but when prospective phd students ask me for advice, i try to find a balance between warning them, but letting them know i still choose to be here for reasons i’ll describe later. i tell them that graduate students often deal with imposter syndrome, physical health issues, mental health issues, and isolation. i then emphasize three things:
you can get paid to think, read, and write, but you are a precarious worker
academia is not a safe space and is instead the antithesis (a violent space)
don't forget who you are—and wanna be—through the process
i don't regret deciding to pursue my phd in sociology because it has afforded me time and space to think that i did not have before, but my experience has been disturbingly violent. this violence is commonplace and you don’t have to search far to find narratives of people traumatized by their grad and post-grad experiences. i appreciate those who have shared the particulars of their violence, so i instead outline the generalities. these generalities cover the shit people are sometimes reluctant to tell us about phd programs and academia at large. or, rather, some folks tell us but we can’t know until we know. and those of us who know often want to spend as little time with our traumatic graduate school experiences as possible.
having previously written about the basics of a phd program and funding, this essay focuses on how not to lose ourselves while battling the violence of academia. for context, i write as a fourth-year sociology phd candidate in a top ten sociology program in a major city. i mention the ranking simply because prestige matters both for the job market and the comparability of your experience. regarding the application of this essay to other disciplines, the structural issues i identify below exist across disciplines.
photo by The_MrDan from pexels [image description: a Black wired microphone is in visual focus against an out-of-focus tan, white, and red background].
violence, bullshit, and concession
capitalism, as we know it, fundamentally contradicts liberation for marginalized peoples because it relies on the exploitation of many for the pleasure of a very very very select few. the further we are from axes of power —non-white, queer, disabled, fat, trans, poor, darker skinned, etc. —the more likely we are to face increased levels and frequency of violence. there's a reason, for example, that many poor Black and non-Black people of color join the U.S. military (hint: money, healthcare, and stability, not always a profound love for imperial power). as such, i’ve developed a personal theory* that revolves around coping with the forms of violence, bullshit, and concession that come with life as we know it.
violence refers to how interlocking structures of oppression harm us physically, spiritually, and emotionally. while this essay centers on how we respond to structural violence, we most tangibly experience these harms in interpersonal experiences.
bullshit refers to the quotidian, the routinized things we have to face in order to continue making the money. and without money we cannot feed ourselves, house ourselves, or pay our many other bills.
concession refers to the reward(s) we attain for "sticking it out," such as the literal money we use for subsistence and the more ephemeral—yet just as real—things such as social capital.
each industry and position within the industry comes with their own particular brand of bullshit, violence, and concession. the organizing logics that undergird each industry's brand of bulllshit, violence, and concession vary significantly, but they are unavoidable. the only way to mediate the strength and the frequency of the harm we endure (in exchange for concessions) is moving closer and closer to systems of power, thereby becoming further entrenched in systems that rely on crushing others for personal gain. i generally try to ask myself what in/tangible things i am trading for different in/tangible things such as money, time, space, and social capital. but how do the violence, bullshit, and resulting concessions transfer to a graduate student in a phd program in the u.s.?
photo by pixabay from pexels [image description: an empty lecture hall with many older wooden seats, a wooden podium, and a white background].
academic violence, bullshit, and concession
we must start from the understanding that earning a phd is a job, first and foremost. yes, you can get paid to read, write, think, learn, and teach. but the proximity to power that graduate students can gain through the upward class mobility and access to in/tangible resources that we may experience does not stop the bullshit or violence it takes to get to the other side. folks like maintenance staff, graduate students, and adjunct faculty are precarious workers, as evidenced by the recent cola—cost of living adjustment—movement in the university of california system. after recognizing our status as workers and not ‘just grad students’, we can properly explore what we face.
the basis of academic violence is whiteness. whiteness itself is violence, entitlement, and false notions of supremacy. whiteness served as the basis for the academy as we know it today. the academy openly rewarded white supremacist eugenicists and other architects of settler colonialism. today, the white academy upholds individualism through a pseudo protestant work ethic (shoutout to Emile Durkheim). the reading, the research, the writing, and the publishing are largely solitary activities (except in the case of lab-based projects, typically in STEM programs). campus-based working groups, and writing partners can help mediate the isolation, but these are piecemeal solutions to the structural problem, the individualistic nature of the academy.
demographic discrimination feels like one of the most obvious forms of violence because we can see who is “allowed” to obtain their degree, who “deserves” degrees, and who gets classified as a so-called “diversity hire.” racists and sexists use the proliferation of diversity, equity, and inclusion positions and funding to act as if academia is an intellectual haven for leftists. there are individuals, clusters, and pockets of more social justice oriented ideas, but academia is not the place many of us hope it to be, especially in elite, ivy-league, and prestigious spaces. the illusion of a social justice academy is upheld by those in power and historically marginalized and excluded scholars who embrace disillusionment for their survival. the cognitive dissonance is very real. qualitative, quantitative, and anecdotal evidence tell us that prefered categories of these demographic markers in academia parallel the world outside of academia: english-language speaking, men, heterosexual, white, cisgender, able-bodied, non-fat, etc. in other words, we (precarious workers) must learn to expect white supremacy, colonialism, ahistoricism, anti-Blackness, sexism, ableism, and so much more. these interlocking systems permeate structures, academic work, and interpersonal interactions. this violence then spawns the bullshit.
the structural individualism in academia shapes the contours of our experience, especially since grad school is “meant to be” difficult. many professors make a point to mention that it is much easier today for us, yet "good" phd programs focus on job placement, rigor, and teaching us to figure almost everything out for ourselves. the illusion of inclusivity is by design, not coincidence. as a result, the academic bullshit comes in all sizes, including the expectation that we will stomach daily micro- and macro- aggressions from colleagues and professors with a smile. norms of professionalism and employability demand a smile, just like outside of academia. unlike service industries, our smile is less about a customer and much more about our seemingly well-paying job. but we smell the bullshit. we sometimes even have to smack our lips to move the taste of it from the back quadrants of our tongues. our figurative and literal smiles are tainted with the taste and gritty texture of the bullshit, so what do we get in return?
the concessions within the academic sphere imply that we smile because we are 'allowed' into a club that has long excluded us. we are training to be among the ranks of the few 'intellectual elite' just by virtue of how few of us there are. less than two percent of the u.s. population held a phd in 2019, Black folk make up a very small percentage of phds, and we don’t have adequate data to disaggregate the number of Black women professors by discipline. this elite club status inflates the egos of academics and thereby encouraging classism inside and outside of the academy. yet, as the academy encourages us grad students to assimilate, the concessions do not feel like enough. i’m not yet having a large impact on people with my research, i’m not making good money yet, i’m incredibly anxious about the job market, and very little of my grad school experience has been fun. but i choose to stay for my own personal reasons, just like so many others. so if i’m gonna stay, i’m gonna make sure i combat unrealistic norms.
phd students—some of whom will become faculty members—are expected to conduct research, consistently publish, carry full teaching loads, volunteer for university service work, and consistently engage in costly professionalization events and organizations. these expectations are higher for nonwhite scholars and continue as post-docs and professors, but they begin during the phd process. but doing exactly what we are expected to do means there is rarely cause for celebrating our accomplishments (finishing a year or teaching or taking classes; publishing a paper; completing a prospectus; ending fieldwork; passing qualifying exams, etc.). these expectations aren’t cute nor are they sustainable. but we’re here, so how do we resist this violence? we fucking celebrate.
we need to begin fostering a culture of celebrating ourselves and each other. let's stop the normalization of things like bragging about 60-hour workweeks with very little sleep when we know the 40-hour workweek doesn’t even work. let's question the high cost of 'voluntary' conferences and association memberships in the name of professionalization. let's love on ourselves and each other a little bit more by building community, maintaining community, and celebrating our accomplishments.
photo by Andrea Piacquadio from pexels [image description: a Black person with long hair is visible from the neck up, their right arm hanging over a white bathtub constructed against red exposed brick. the person’s eyes are closed and it looks relaxing].
don't let your job (academia) rule your life
where there are no concessions or few concessions, we make demands of our institutions and departments, but what about joy? we know that there is no safe space for us, although some do argue that there are safer spaces. those of us who have worked in other industries prior to our academic careers also know that academia is no more or less violent, especially for people who embody multiple marginalized identities. the violence feels different in each industry and is particular to our experiences, but most of us find ways to cope in hopes of surviving another day of capitalism. and since capitalism forces us to work, which economically stable jobs can we hold that do not uphold current violence or enact further violence onto us and others? these jobs don't exist, so we find an industry whose concessions are the best, whose bullshit is most tolerable, and whose violence does not completely destroy us.
learning the different forms academic violence takes, i enter each year of my phd program with the understanding that i can quit at any time. not because i have a trust fund waiting for me—i don't—or because it can be hard—that's normal—but because this journey has been more violently dispiriting than i can even put into words. leaving a phd program comes with serious complications if you intend to stay in academia, but i still entertain the thought often. it helps remind me that my career cannot be my whole life. and that may read as obvious, but our careers—and therefore our money—depend on ideas that are often deeply personal, even when we do not always admit it.
in order to detach grad school "success" in grad school—and our potential careers as professors—from our inherent self-worth, we must know that we are much more than our scholarly productivity, grades, intellect, and labor. we are humans first. we are members of multiple communities, including communities outside of the academy. and forgetting this is deadly. weaving through these systems with as few scars as possible requires consistent personal introspection and loving community. the reality is that you can do everything right and academia will still drop you (see the case of Dr. Lorgia García Peña’s tenure denial at Harvard). they can quite literally sue as a white woman and later claim Blackness (see Rachel Dolezal’s lawsuit against Howard for discrimination). they can also “come out” as white women from Kansas only after they get caught for lying about being Black (see the violent case of Jessica Krug). your institution, your colleagues, and your students will drop your ass, even some of your white asses, in a second. academia never loved us, so consider your academic and non-academic community.
my recognition of the need for community-care really struck me after my therapist suggested i have a party for my recent shift from "phd student" to "phd candidate." needless to say, i was uncomfortable with this idea. academic norms dictate that it is okay to celebrate completing your phd, but the most we usually do for published papers, promotions, or advancing to candidacy is tell our loved ones we did it and maaaaaybe send a tweet. but my therapist, very familiar with my habit of minimizing my worth and accomplishments was not okay with the way i mentioned my latest victory in passing.
advancing to candidacy means i am now "abd," or all-but-dissertation. the dissertation ain't easy to do, mind you, but the abbreviation abd refers to the completion of my master's degree, master's thesis, coursework, project proposal, and defense of that project among a committee of faculty that i select. that's a big deal because there is no guarantee that just getting accepted into a phd program means you’ll advance to candidacy, you can fail. People do sometimes fail. so although it is an expectation, most of the expectations of this industry are not guaranteed.
i followed his advice and anxiously went along with the process to throw a virtual party—thanks, COVID-19—for my newfound academic status. my friend Tina organized the party for me so that my insecurities wouldn’t get in the way of inviting friends and loved ones. my therapist also required that each guest bring an affirmation of why i am special to them in their lives as party gifts for me. so we came together to celebrate my win, but the substance was about affirming my inherent worth, not the win itself. whether inside or outside the academy, academics are terrible at celebrating our accomplishments and my community helped me realize that i want us to love ourselves just a little bit more. the self- and community- celebrations can include retail therapy, food-motivated purchases, parties, affirmations, and so much more. but who should we be inviting?
photo by August de Richelieu from pexels [image description: six Black people of varying skin tones, ages, and presumed genders sit at the dinner table full of a colorful meal].
celebrate with who?
i see our celebrations as occurring both inside and outside of the academy, blending the two sphere of our personal and professional lives to the extent that we are comfortable. from the most proximate (our home department and institution) to the most distant (across both institutions and areas of study), we can and should build community.
intra-departmental (within department): find at least one ride-or-die type of person in our grad cohort. we really only need one, maybe two, person(s) from our cohort because community support comes in many forms. the benefit of this form, a cohortmate, is rooted in the specificity of experience that allows both commiseration and celebration for parallel journeys through the program.
intra-institutional (within institution): we need to connect with people outside of our departments but within our respective institutions for two reasons. first, disciplinary boundaries can constrict creativity. Second, similar to cohortmates, these people understand the specific institutional bullshit we share. for example, one of my good homies is in the film and media studies department and i met her through the Black graduate student association. we kiki, share a respect of Black feminist theory, and talk about where our institution fails us.
intra-disciplinary (within area of study, across different institutions): we must build a small but trustworthy groupchat of like minded academics with whom we can spill tea and workshop ideas privately before sharing them publicly. This level of community can be particularly helpful when we feel isolated within our own institution and for when we want to compare conditions for labor organizing. one digital example is the #SocAF hashtag that was created to collectively celebrate the wins of folks in sociology across the world.
inter-disciplinary (outside area of study, across different institutions): it is particularly important to connect with people across institutions for a few reasons. first, someone else is going through something similar somewhere else, i promise. Second, it is easier for us to find folks with similarly niche interests as ours. Third, we can more readily share grant and job opportunities with a network that includes scholars from different institutions, disciplines, and ideally “rankings”
outside of the academy, relying on my loving communities to help me hold myself accountable to my values is the only way i have gotten this far. they help me learn and see how academia uses concessions to hide the bullshit and violence of the systems. the act of community-care does not stop the violence or bullshit, but it is well worth the investment. for example, i sent my essay on everyday theorizing to my mom because she helped inspire it. i invited friends and family members to my “abd party” because they provide me a lot of support, even when they have no idea what i studied or what i have been doing for the last three years of my life. and, as a child of the early internet, i invited internet-acquaintances-turned-“real”-friends because they read a lot of what i am sometimes too anxious to share with those in my daily life.
tl;dr (too long; didn’t read): academia is violent, so if you’re going to stay, make it worth your while.
*for the theoryheads, my notion of violence/bullshit/concession is instructed by sociology professor Michael Burawoy’s teaching of Antonio Gramsci. in short, he argues that the state (government bodies) gives us concessions (gifts of sorts) while using civil society (church, public schools, media, etc.) to gain our consent to use force (police, prisons, capitalism, etc.) on us. although academia is itself part of civil society, that does not exempt it from exerting its own forms of violence, bullshit, and concessions.
anthony james williams is a writer and phd candidate in sociology. for more writing, subscribe here on substack. for more information, visit their website at antjwilliams.com.