This is part of my (new) monthly series of musings, usually pertaining to what I am working on, worrying about, or looking forward to. Each one will have a “main story” and a few short musings. It’s mostly a reason to make this website earn its keep.
Good Enough Might Not Be Good Enough
Last semester, I completed an important milestone when I passed my qualifying exams and became a PhD candidate. This earned me a new, hopefully temporary acronym: ABD, “all but dissertation.” It’s a big accomplishment, especially when you factor in the state of disarray I was in over Christmas (for example, I spent all of Fall blissfully unaware that I was one member short of a full dissertation committee). Thankfully, despite expecting the worst, my conversation with the committee was lively and generative. Even the criticisms, all of them fair, were ones I saw coming and even agreed with.
While I was excited to earn my passage to the next level, I have found it hard to get going on the dissertation itself. Part of that is post-prospectus fatigue. The prospectus, a sort of dissertation proposal, is a lot of work in and of itself, so much so that it feels like I’ve got no energy left to actually write the dissertation I proposed. Part of it has to do with trying to figure out how one even dissertates at all. Where to begin? The introduction, I guess? No, they say you should write that part last. Maybe I should read more? You know what, I’ll just clean my room instead, that way I’m getting something done.
Anyway, if the actual process of prepping and writing a dissertation wasn’t tiring enough, I also have to face a troubling reality: a rapidly shrinking, already-very-small-to-begin-with job market. Even before the pandemic, stable jobs in my immediate field were scarce. After the pandemic, when hiring freezes spread all across the country, the pool shrank even more, and there is no guarantee it will refill anytime soon. That these jobs were thin on the ground is a fact I recognized early in the journey, and yet now it is really, truly hitting me that the path I have been on may lead me nowhere, or at least nowhere near the job I am being trained for. It sounds naive, I know, but I guess I just trusted myself to work hard enough and be nice enough to come good. That’s something we all get told at some point: work hard enough, play by the rules, and you will get ahead. Unfortunately, I failed to appreciate that there simply are not enough spots for all the people doing at least as much as I am – and in many cases much more, sometimes despite institutional barriers I don’t even have to deal with. In any case, now is the time to really internalize the truth: when it comes to actually landing a job in my field, being good enough might not be good enough.
Ironically, the idea that being good enough might not be good enough is nothing new. It has been ingrained in me by a life in the theatre, an arena in which rejection is a constant. At some level, whether they are submitting plays or auditioning for a part, every theatre artist has to accept that competition is fierce and a myriad of factors will influence whether or not they get the job, regardless of how qualified they may be on paper. When you’re on the job hunt, many of these factors can seem maddeningly intangible: timing, particular skillsets, “chemistry,” connections, “type,” etc. It’s not uncommon to be told that your work is good but that it’s “just not right” for whatever it is you want. Nevertheless, we are trained to accept that answer. In some ways, that’s healthy: whether or not we get the job, we can often take some solace in knowing we have inherent worth. And besides, sometimes the intangibles really do matter; sometimes what you bring to the table really isn’t right for the room. However, that same ethos can be used against artists to keep them hustling for their “breakthrough,” to the point that they can be taken advantage of or even flat-out abused (this is to say nothing of the discrimination many artists face, some of which masquerades as the same “intangibles” mentioned before). Unfortunately, being taken advantage of, or at the very least begrudgingly accepting low compensation and high risk just to get in the door, is often normalized, too. Sure, few people really go into theatre for the money, but they should go into a job hoping, if not expecting, to be treated fairly.
While academia is supposedly a fairer, more stable space, it has its own problems. The aforementioned scarcity of jobs is exacerbated by the fact that tight budgets often force departments to hand classes over en masse to adjuncts, many of whom have to cobble together a living by taking on an exorbitant load every semester, or to graduate students like myself, who are eager to please and cheaper than a new full-time hire. Like other “industries” that aren’t industries, modern academia is a numbers game run from the top down: the lower the overhead, the greater the revenue and the greater the competition for spots. This means it pays to have more people who work for less money but nevertheless churn out quality stuff for a slim chance of moving up. Publishing, committee work, conference presentations, outside productions – a lot of it is low-paying or unpaid, but it’s all expected to be on the resume, even if you’re a fresh graduate. This stuff is hard work, too, but in a field this crowded, even those who put in the hours may not get their due, not when the margins are so thin and there’s little even department leadership can do about it.
So what does this mean for my academic journey? For starters, it means taking these next two (hopefully!) years to build out my skillset for jobs outside of teaching. As much as I want to teach at the university level, I have to acknowledge that it may not happen, no matter how good my record is. To be fair, part of this has to do with how the field is changing (in some cases for the better) and with my own choices of expertise; other people will get jobs that they more than earned and are much better suited for than I am. Fortunately, I have experience doing other rewarding work at a university thanks to my time with the East Lubbock Promise Neighborhood grant. Maybe that’s a path worth retreading. Heck, maybe what’s best for me isn’t even on a campus at all. I came in with frustrations about the field already; maybe the answer is to look elsewhere for places to apply myself. To be clear, none of this means giving up. After all, I have a lot to be proud of and a lot to look forward to, and I still plan on working hard on this dissertation and the rest of my projects. I also have the opportunity to get wise about how academia works and figure out how I might apply what I have learned to create a more equitable spaces wherever I end up. In short, I don’t say all this to be defeatist, just pragmatic.
Speaking of, if anyone asks, I dusted off my LinkedIn profile and will happily respond to connections.
Wait Around All Day…: For all my worries about the market, I am fortunate to have some projects coming to fruition soon, namely three publications of varying lengths. Funnily enough, the (lovely) editors of all three sent me proofs and notes to consider within two days of each other, all with quick turnarounds. No blaming them: like me, they probably wrapped their semester and immediately got to work on all the other stuff they have to do. It’s one of those classic “wait around for a project to edit all day and then three show up at once” situations, and it makes me think about academic time. In one sense, academic time ebbs and flows with the rhythms of the semester. In another sense, it’s chopped and pulled in lots of different directions. All three of these projects operated on very different timelines, yet they will all converge with similar release dates. Something to bear in mind with the next projects: not everything ripens at the same rate.
Chidi (Not So) In Charge: I recently finished The Good Place, a show that had been on my list for a long time, and I loved it. Apart from enjoying the high concept shenanigans (which the team did a commendable job of refreshing every season), I really identified with the character of Chidi Anagonye, a philosopher and professor of ethics. Not just because he was an academic, mind you, but because he overthought everything, just like me. Seriously, even the most benign of decisions, like what kind of muffin to have, absolutely incapacitates this guy. What struck me deeply was how harmful that indecision could be toward others, especially those who depended on him for a certain emotional stability. It’s something for me to bear in mind going forward. Here’s to good academic representation in media – and to Sandra Oh in The Chair on Netflix!
In Their Own Words: Earlier this year, as I completed revisions on one of the projects mentioned above, I decided to arrange for some interviews with a few of the artists involved. I was able to chat with three out of the seven cast members of The Fall, a South African piece based on the #RhodesMustFall movement. All three were generous with their time and insights, sometimes confirming and sometimes expanding what I thought I knew about the play. These interviews happened around the same time I was dramaturging Waiting for Iggy Pop, a play by Julia Marks featured in the Magic in Rough Spaces workshop at Rorschach Theatre Company. The play was a fun challenge, not to mention a great opportunity to refresh my playlists with some punk and hip hop. More importantly, getting to talk with Julia and the team was refreshing, partly because being in a rehearsal room (even a Zoom one) is a rarity for me these days. Anyway, this is something I want to integrate more into my research: conversations with artists. There tends to be some suspicion over taking an artist at their own word when it comes to their own art, and I respect that. However, engaging with an artist, and even sharing my research with them, can be invigorating in a way that straightforward critical reading isn’t. It also strikes me as especially important to incorporate an artist’s perspective when they come from a lived experience very different from my own, as was very much the case with The Fall. That’s not to say the work, or the artists, cannot be critiqued; like a lot of good research, it’s about holding things in tension, not about forcing resolution.