I Taught Rumpelstiltskin

A posting just went live for a fellowship that my mentor sent me. I clicked the link in my email to see what it was saying.

My strategy: get in contact with this center a bit regularly so I have a better understanding of what they do, then shoot my shot the next year or the year after. It's a prestigious fellowship at Harvard, and I can approach it from either the academic or professional lens. I am thinking of the latter, but let's see what the fellowship requires.

Thing is, I do not like the academic lens and how it often pigeonholes different minds into the mechanics of production. Call it intellectual capitalism. You are of value to your institution so long as you meet certain metrics. As a student, a professor, the president… no one is exempt. At its core, the educational system is still a business.

It is limiting. It spews with beautiful speech a lot of freedom talk while still holding on to old systems of valuation that are so much more difficult for persons who are different—i.e., anyone the academy was not created for—to actually belong, especially if/when they refuse to be disciplined. I'm talking about queer, BIPOC, Indigenous, immigrant, artist, or alternative-minded persons who are brilliant but in ways that deviate from the academic norm. And some of us are verrrryyyyyy undisciplinable.

Now, the other thing about the academy: I'm not saying it has no space for the alternative and bizarre—which in truth are just ways of knowing the West is just now starting to "respect." And even so, it does it in theory, it still wants you to cite old dead white men to show you know. (Also it is important to know that I am an African Anthropology PhD student. Essentially the subject studying themselves.)

What happened to embodied knowledge? Yes, we still need to cite those as well. But luckily, there are people who look like us who have fought to carve out space and assert that knowledge is not only written—it is lived and performed with and in bodies (somatic). As such, it is not separate from the maneuverings of the body.

Anyway. I do not like the academy and what it stands for. But also, I do not know where I belong or where I would go after I am done—that is, if I am able to manage to finish this damn PhD.

Am I brilliant? Fuck yes. But my brilliance has avoided conferences that have to do with traditional papers because, for the life of me, I do not think in such ways. My brilliance manifests in being funded along with three other graduate students to co-curate a biennial exhibition even before I began my doctorate. It is in two solo exhibitions I have curated, curricula I have created, programs I have seen from ideation to implementation, community engagement that gets resources back to community and also teaching new communities about my Africa. My brilliance is tied to my ability to make shit happen even in the least spectacular circumstances. I dare say, fuck Rumpelstiltskin—because I taught the fool how to spin straw into gold. YES. I know how to turn anything I touch into gold. I just need the trust and the space.

But the academy gives you neither. Okay, maybe a bit of the first. But the second? It says it does—spewing its rhetoric of so-called work-life balance—yet the structure itself is not set to facilitate this. Between course work loads, Teaching Assistantships, constant grant applications (which you are not guaranteed to get), abstract and paper submissions to conferences which you would most likely have to come out of pocket for to a certain degree on your meager graduate student stipend. If you are fortunate enough to have a fellowship that waives your teaching assistant load, perhaps you can factor that in… I mean the life balance part. BUT this assumes you are neurotypical and process the world and information like the average person.

The academy has accommodations for different ability needs, but these accommodations need documentation. And if you are unable to provide those because you have a hunch you are different, and no evaluator has been able to explain the reason you move through the world the way you do—your symptoms and your struggles are just… well… excuses. Excuses to not do the work. Excuses… excuses… excuses. And soon enough you may begin to question whether you belong. Answer most likely is no! But for legal reasons the academic system cannot tell you that you do not. But damn well believe many students feel like this, especially female-identifying people of color.

Statistics have shown that many female-identifying persons of color are more likely to go undiagnosed with neurodivergence. This means a lot of women of color are struggling—and most of these women are what society calls "high functioning." We fit in so well that when we say we are struggling, people do not believe us. For people to take us seriously, we are expected to melt down and fall completely apart. Some may fall apart this way. Some of us struggle with the ability to smile because we have learned how to survive in worlds that never truly see or understand us.

People often ask me: "Why do you paint your eyes? Is it just fashion, cultural (and recently I got asked) spiritual?"

Well, I will tell you why. I began painting my eyes religiously as a way to survive. To survive life. To survive the academy. To survive the hopelessness and isolation I often felt, knowing I was brilliant but not feeling like I belonged. To survive the deeper bouts of depression (which is not the normal PDD that I have been coexisting with). I began painting my eyes as a sign of defiance. As a manifesto that yes, it is hard, but I am choosing life. Even if choosing life is difficult and a good amount of the time, I do not want to do this damn thing anymore.

I began painting my eyes to put my body back into itself. I did not know what it was then, but I now know—going through a somatic sexology program—that taking those 10, 15, or 30 minutes to paint my eyes (depending on how elaborate I wanted it) was me grounding and putting my body back into itself.

So no, I do not like the academy for what it has attempted to do to me. What I keep refusing to have done to me. I do not like the system that IS the academy. But I am grateful for the people who have held me through the structural madness.

Anyway, back to this fellowship.

I looked at the criteria and was excited because I did not have to go in as an academic. However, a closer read for the artist, filmmaker, etc. application option was asking for material I did not have. The last five years of my life have been dedicated to the academy. Anthropology. I know what I do, but I have no idea what the fuck I will do afterwards. Gotta love it.

Also, it said you cannot be an active student to apply. So, while I intend to graduate next year (M'ashallah), I cannot apply because I am still in school. And even after graduation, if I decided I wanted to take the non-academic route, I do not have enough years of "professional experience" under my belt. It is as if my life has not even begun, and I am being blocked in so many directions if I choose not to take the academic route.

Is this the trap of the academy?

Some of us—let me speak of myself—I became a part of the academy as a means to an end. A means to have the space to do the meaningful work I KNOW can and will create impact. But now the academy is beginning to feel like a trap. The snake swallowing its own tail, because… fuck knows why.

And when I choose the artist route, or professional route, I do not have enough chutzpah under my belt, in my arsenal, to make me competitive. Everyone wants five-plus years of experience in something. What if I have been doing these somethings while I am still in school? Vibes and Insha'Allah-ing my way through projects here, there, curations here and there, community engagement when possible, and giving these things 110%. But by being a student—whether it is a PhD or not—I am disqualified from so many spaces where I can showcase my capacity. The mother of a very close friend I consider a sister told me to consider an internship. At 32, possibly graduating at 33 or 34 with a doctorate, I should consider an internship? (Laughs the kind of laugh that is not funny but rather unfortunate.)

It seems like I have to be done with this damn PhD to actually begin my life. And the irony is, I have no idea which direction it'll go, because on top of all of this, I exist between worlds. A queer African immigrant doing work on Africa, but not fully living there, and so not having established enough clout to know the right people who can support my work.

To go the traditional route, everyone wants at least five years of experience. Does school count? Even a PhD?

I am a brilliant artist, project manager, creative designer, and deity in general. There is nothing I touch that does not turn to gold. But see me. In an existential state of WTF is this even for? No wahala. Knowing me, I am still going to read those damn white men, attempt to do this PhD, and as for the corporations, organizations (government, non-profit, businesses, etc.) that are lucky to get my services—know that you are in for a treat. If I can turn straw into gold, imagine what I can do with thread or rope?

Photography: Asantewaa Duah