When I tell people what is it that I do, I’m usually met with one of three reactions: awe, indifference or disdain. More often than not, it’s indifference and disdain rather than awe. Indifferent because I’m not a scientist – let’s face it, it’s not like I’m going to be saving lives or humankind or any endangered species. Nor am I interested in doing so for that matter. Heck, what good can a cultural theorist bring but ask hypothetical questions based on observations that do not reflect the “real” practical world anyway. Disdain is usually followed by a jibe about still being in school, and some snarky comment about not wanting to be ‘part of the real world’.
Imagine their horrors when I tell these curious Georges that I actually do enjoy being in research, and that contrary to popular belief, I haven’t been inside a classroom in ages unless it’s to attend a lecture, workshop or on the occasional coincidence, a conference where I’m the one who’s giving the paper. The enjoyment of the research process stems from the fact that I don’t have to deal with people all the time. Yes, I supposed I don’t like people all that much – can you tell?
Fine and dandy, you might think. Leave these escapists to their own devices. What do they do but read a ton of books, experiment on something (or someone) and write a book about it. What do they know about the real world? Indeed.
Well, allow me to offer you a slight glimpse into the professional and personal world of academia. And to add to that, a female perspective too: a single, Malaysian-born Chinese who’s a first generation scholar. Let me assure you this identification all fits into and relate to one another in the end!
For starters, regardless of the field one is in – science, humanities or arts – it’s a boys’ club. The pioneers of feminist theories? Not all of them will be hardcore feminists in real life – trust me! I’ve had close encounters with one for the last 5 years. Academia is as jam-packed with internal and personal politics as your everyday 9-to-5 workplace. It’s not about a bunch of pale-looking nerds with thick glasses and bad clothes; you’ll find your Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Gil Grissom at every corner. Though, I must add, a Fox Mulder or Dana Scully is more than welcomed to cross my path anytime soon! Hierarchies exist, and are very much dependent upon the school you attend. So if you’re an Ivy Leaguer or have Oxford and Cambridge attached to your degree, your path will be nothing short of a blaze of glory.
And as if these professional politics are not enough to make your head spin, there’s the personal life of the PhD student. This is where the first-generation scholar, single, Malaysian-born Chinese amalgamation comes into play. It is no secret that everything we do demands a level of commitment from us, and to be able to sustain 3-5 years worth of research interest into one specific area demands, well, a high level of obsession. Usually, this obsession is a lifelong one, especially when it’s going to be your life’s work.
Therein lies the complication - the taboo of obsession. I’m not talking about some knife-wielding emotionally disturbed person who’s obsessed with his/her partner. I’m talking about an obsession where you have to live, breathe and sleep your research topic.
Sometimes, one just has to sequester themselves into their own world to be able to produce the body of work demanded and required of them. And I confess, this is something that my own parents find difficult to accept. Time and again, I see them trying to ‘save me’ from this damnation. The whole stigma of being alone, which definitely isn’t helped by my obsessive tendencies. One gets so lost in their work that the finer points of life such as sensitivity towards others’ feelings becomes secondary notion. You’re not as in tuned to the needs of your immediate family. Does this make me a bad daughter? Possibly.
I’m not saying this is the fate of every PhD student; it’s largely just me. I believe in choice, and my choice has always been to put emphasis on work rather than human relations. When it comes to human relations, I lack the tact to soothe or empathise with the drama of everyday life. To be honest, most of the time I really just can’t be bothered, especially when I don’t understand. So when my mother worries that my increasing tendencies to shun human contact and to be a recluse is going to put a damper on my so-called social life I’m supposed to have as a single, late 20-something, you can imagine I’m less than pleased.
It is also NOT about being better than everyone else, as families tend to immediately assume. There is an underlying psychological dilemma attached to it, one I’d much rather not go into here as I don’t consider this a soapbox for personal problems. I also don’t subscribe to the whole ‘talkshow phenomena’ of sharing my problems with the world so it could be solved – I do like the way I am. What I’m tired of, is the neverending barrage of emotional dramas thrown at my face because I had unconsciously ‘created’ them.
I am the way I am: I need space from the everyday dramas because I lack the emotional component to deal with them to the family’s wishes. I will say things that pop up in my head when I get agitated, and occasionally I get very grumpy for no apparent reason other than for the sake of being grumpy.
After all, if I was one to play by the rules, I wouldn’t be who and where I am right now. I would have found a decent job after my undergraduate degree, returned to the home town and strive to accomplish the white picket fence, 2.5 children dream that most parents would want their kids to have, despite their insistence that they only want what’s best for their children. Or perhaps, this is a defense mechanism against those who have reacted with disdain and indifference to my choosing this path I’m on.
