Out in the Cold: Surviving Graduate School as a Woman of Colour

[The following article is adapted from introductory remarks made on the occasion of the launch of York Stories: Women in Higher Education at York University, on September 29, 2000,] I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood. That the speaking profits me, beyond any other effect. - Audre Lorde(1) * * * When I read these words of Audre Lorde's, I knew that I also wanted to transform my silence into language and action, and that school was one of the ways I was going to do this. That was two years ago. Today I am not so sure. Let me explain. Having excelled academically in my undergraduate years as a fine arts student, and anxious to develop a further critical understanding of the intersection between the arts and socio-political movements, I decided to enroll as a in an M.A. program in Interdisciplinary Studies. Before entering studies, what I had expected from the two-year degree was a relatively safe space within which I could, with dedication and hard work, pursue my academic interests and work my way towards making social change. What I had not expected was the overwhelming pressure to compete theoretically; the rigid institutional codes for learning; and the institutionalized racism, sexism and homophobia of the academy. What I had also not yet realized was that these pressures, codes and discriminations were not mine alone, but were in fact a constant reminder to all those who are marked by difference; that there is indeed a model and a model teaching faculty. My desire to enter higher education, particularly school was fuelled to a large extent by my desire to engage in an academic feminist, antiracist, anti-colonial movement which was linked in its aims with cultural workers and community workers in the city. This desire was intricately tied to my own process of identity formation where I was coming to realize the tremendous anger I felt about racism, sexism, heterosexism, classism and numerous other structural inequalities and the potential this anger held for change. Perhaps I had entered academia with a certain naive optimism in that I wanted to work for a cause that went beyond its interior halls. No one had warned me, however, that what I was stepping into was a game that would zap me of my confidence and strength and lead me to reevaluate my reasons for being there. Recently, I have been wondering if being a graduate student is really more about being a professional academic than being a student. One of my disillusions about school is the intense emphasis placed on presenting, publishing, and building a curriculum vitae. Judging by the vast number of conferences, the corresponding culture to participate in these conferences, and the constant rumours of the need to publish or perish, I am curious as to exactly which academics can devote their time to such endeavours. Looking critically at such a culture, I am led to believe that professionalization is really a code word used to maintain a particular hegemony of white male, middle-class scholarship. And it is not that any one of us can not or do not compete or are not concerned about the advancement of our education and our careers, but it is useful to ask, under what extra pressures do we do this? And if indeed professionalization is what we want? If conference participation and academic publishing are one of few measures of success, then where, I ask myself, is the time left to commit ourselves to important struggles outside of academia? And further, if what is valued within academia is professionalization, then how can there be value given to community participation and grassroots involvement? Could it be that to be an academic means we must remove ourselves from the exigencies of daily challenges? …

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