Cold Spaghetti

The guy who draws PhD Comics, Jorge Cham, came through New Orleans on a trip to the Gulf Coast and wrote a comic about some of what he heard and saw in his most recent installment. Click on the comic to go directly to it on the web:

One of the people I most enjoyed was a wife of one of Paul’s cooler co-workers, who is the Department head of the Math Department of a local high school and teaches AP Calculus and AP Statistics. She and I were discussing the importance of women in Mathematics and Sciences when she came out with this: “I have a class of 28, and each year, about 21 of them are female and all of them consistently outperform their male peers. Our student government is always female. So what I want to know is: WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING IN COLLEGE????”

A brilliant question placed so nicely within the observations and experiences of someone who faces it everyday. What is happening to women?

Once upon a time, Paul and I made similar observations about friends and acquaintances, noticing that they shared the same college: we joked that this particular university had a curious way of beating dreams and aspirations out of women. This particular university is also well-known for having faculty who openly have flirtations and affairs with students — and write about it — and maybe this isn’t a coincidence. What happens in college, and what happens after, and why is it so toxic to the promising potential in the talents of women?

Maybe it isn’t necessarily what happens in college, but is instead what happens afterward? She gets hired by Company X and gets stuck working with the guy with the roaming hands. This guy is pervasive everywhere and is typically one that everyone seems to like (or is maybe tolerated out of some strange peer-pressure fear), and while it’s well-known that he is inappropriate, he remains untouched by an indifferent management (make the environment more friendly to women? what is that a requirement of management?) Worse, he may be her boss. Or, her boss totally ignores her, calling in for the first time on the day she resigns. She gets paid less than her male peers, receives less promotions, and is hounded on her personal life (marriage and kids makes a working girl distracted, ya know.) Are all of these things illegal? Well, maybe, but they are all active and real… as part of corporate culture as power ties and pumps. Maybe my use of the word ‘corporate’ unfairly fingers business, which is not my intent: it is even worse in academia.

So what does the world offer to women, professionally? Well, I’d argue it offers all that it offers to a man — at a reduced pay, of course — IF the woman is willing to act like a man.

For a woman to be successful, she must remain aloof, act tough, rough, and hard (which will label her a “cold bitch” but is preferred to the alternative, patronizing treatment). She is constantly observed for signs of female-ness: did she marry, buy a house, or (gasp!) have a baby!? These are all connected to risk within the robot-male business model, where one must have no emotion to any thing but the job, dedicate all time to it, and reject life outside of work. Forget that 30 hours a week of work is the most efficient, connected to more completed in a work week, healthier employees, and a better overall company: you are required to be at work, even if you’re not doing anything at all, 12 hours a day, everyday. Not performing at this level is a feminine slip, a sign of weakness, and shows lack of dedication. Want to push back that 4pm meeting to 3pm so that you can make Tommy’s soccer game? Tisk, tisk… your priorities are all messed up. (Incidentally, if your male boss makes the same request, he’s just “being a good Dad.”)

A day of sexual harassment, hours and hours of extra work with little reward, pay out of whack with peers, and diminished opportunities for advancement… who would willing and openly choose this life? Staying home with babies (who actually need to be with their Mothers for more than the ridiculous 6-week window) does not sound like a “choice” but a rational path made by smart women who are lucky to have enough resources available to them so that they do not have to endure the torture of a sexist, hostile work environment.

If the work world was structured to be family friendly: to offer part-time opportunities with benefits (or have university health care so that benefits were not a requirement for families), and work options that allowed for quality jobs with less hours and more flexibility; if maternity leave was reasonable; if childcare was affordable and on-site for nursing mothers… in short, if women and families were valued, then I believe more women would remain in professional positions in all fields. Women “choose” to leave the work force because there is no other choice to make. I don’t think it a coincidence that so many women have part-time independent businesses, photography studios, craft endeavors, design consultant services: these are flexible areas where women can control their professional lives. Signs that women want to continue to develop themselves outside of their family identity and responsibilities, but cannot do so in the professional world. So they look for other places to do so.

So what happens to women to take them out of mathematics and sciences (and the professional world, in general?) Well, they get beaten. Enough licks and anyone with a ripcord will pull it to get out.

The whole situation sucks for men, too, who are expected to work, expected to find well-paid employment to support a family, expected to work too much, and expected to not notice that they are missed at home. What would it take to re-think how we work and who we expect to work? Is it too much to encourage young women to think beyond a life in homemaking and allow men to pursue art or craft-making without looking at him as irresponsible?

Not really. Just thought it summed up the weekend.

We’re back. Some lessons:

— Flying without children is a treat, no matter what happens. You can sleep, read, use the bathroom, and actually have that bag of pretzels and cranberry juice from the attendant. These are true luxuries, even when they happen in coach.
— Shots pushed into your hand from someone who maybe a boss of your spouse is a very different type of peer pressure. Especially when you’re the one in the room giving out Mardi Gras beads.
— I have become the one who can handle cold. Paul complained of impending frostbite in the 20-degree weather on Sunday (granted, that hard wind was bitter, and I was dragging him all over monuments on exposed hillsides) while I surrendered winter gear to ease his pain. Make no mistake: the cold still hurts, but I didn’t find it particularly bad — and my ears were as exposed as Paul’s and I was wearing less layers and a lighter jacket. Still, I was shocked when (I-love-hockey) Paul admitted, “there is no way we can ever move to back Michigan.” Either he drank so much the night before that his thinned blood couldn’t take the cold, or my cross-campus marathons over iced paths and brutal winds hardened me more than I thought. It was a surprise: as long as the sun is shining, 20 degrees and freezing winds are no huge deal to me.
— We really do love DC. We mean that as DC, the area across the Potomac, where one is taxed without representation. There is no great desire to live there, although we admit that living in the District would not destroy us. Paul is perhaps less interested in the idea as me (and by interested, we mean “not 100% against the idea as something to do if we had to” and by had to, we mean “otherwise would suffer ignoble destruction”) — mostly this is because he is certain that the likelihood of the city being hit by a Really Big Bomb in our lifetime is at the same level of risk of New Orleans’ flooding once again. We’ve done one of the two and would like to stay with experience.

The point of the trip was for Paul and I to attend his company’s post-holiday (“no, we always planned it to be a post-holiday”) party. Thank goodness for the post-holiday idea, which is a brilliant one. Bummer was that it coincided with Krewe du Vieux and blasted those plans. But it was too hard to not take the opportunity: professionally, socially, politically.

The party was at Clarendon Grill, set in a flashy area of Northern Virginia located near Metro stops and built up with all the accouterments of the urban yuppy: huge Pottery Barn, Crate & Barrel, Whole Foods, Container Store, and even an Apple Store… all glowing new and shiny with ‘clean lines’ and ‘simple design.’ It’s a fun area; young and hip, single and swinging. The hotel was perched on a hillside 2-blocks from Courthouse Metro and offered easy access to all the area’s offerings.

The party was fun, mostly because of some really cool and interesting co-workers. The rest of the fun was due to the incredible band, Gonzo’s Nose, a local cover band… a really, really, reeeally good cover band. You can’t have a bad time when them on the stage, nor can you avoid the dance floor all night (although Paul gave a valiant attempt, he eventually gave in over “Jessie’s Girl” and once broken in, became a permanent fixture to the pit). We brought throws in the requisite Endymion bag… beads of all types, a light-up crawfish, a few spears and tomahawks, Frisbees, some stuffed toys. Just a little NOLA spirit going out in party shwag.

I am officially a Candidate for the Doctorate of Philosophy in Public Health.

And hot damn and hallelujah for that. I don’t ever have to go through it again! (The candidacy part, that is.)

It wasn’t that bad, the ‘deliberation’ took maybe a minute (one of the shortest I’ve seen) and the only revision I have to make is to construct the full field guide (usually done collaboratively, but they want me to produce my own full copy before hiring anyone). With some of the questions and discussion that occurred, I was pretty surprised that I wouldn’t be doing more. The discussion was extremely supportive and most of the talk was literally about what choices would make things easier on me — which, in retrospect, was really wise. My committee had a lot of different views and comments and them all hashing over my prospectus was a great lesson in why diverse teams can be strong: it is great to have many viewpoints.

So, my “prospectus results” form was completed with the “approved” box checked. Once I do the changes they want, I turn in the full prospectus to the Dean. Then, I actually have to start doing all the things my committee agreed I was qualified to do. Honestly, it’s hard to celebrate this milestone mostly because the work isn’t over… it’s sort of like it’s just started. The celebration part is that I don’t have to pass any more qualifying milestones… I just have to complete the research I proposed.

But that can happen later. Right now, I want to focus on some holiday fun — and maybe treat myself to a massage or something tomorrow…?

A surprise email came in this morning from Nairobi. Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles! Committee member number 4 is back to Nairobi from far west Kenya, got my last draft (sent last night), says it looks great, has no concerns or comments, and will be available this afternoon for the defense! (Although it will be 11pm her time; she’s 9 hours ahead.) Yesterday, we thought we were just going to go with the requisite 3 members and press on. So today will be a great test of Kenyan mobile phone service (very pertinent since this is a main research interest of said committee member). I cannot believe that this is working out.

One issue remains.

I realized that the one Very Important Detail I had completely looked over was my outfit. I’m a bit of a clothes horse (what can I say? I’ve got a theatre background… it’s all about the costume). Having forgotten about the outfit was a new one for me. Maybe it wasn’t so much forgetting as not having time to think about it.

Once upon a time, in a world without children, I possessed a fabulous wardrobe comprised of gorgeous hand-me downs from my Mother’s exquisite professional collection (my Mom is the Queen of classy dressing) and beautiful suits that said Mommy bought for me to use for the various wedding-related things that happened the summer Paul and I got married (thanks, Mom!) I used these outfits for Every Single Special Event I attended over several years… until I got pregnant. I finally gave up the ghost this summer (let’s face it, I’ll never be able to button a size 8 blouse again) and donated or consigned the bulk of my professional collection (worn when I worked for the Government). I kept those wedding-summer outfits because they are just too good to part with. Maybe Kate will wear them someday. (Don’t laugh: a major portion of that professional collection were clothes that my Mom saved from when I was as young as Kate is now. And those who know me from high school know that I wore outfits from my Mom’s high school days — straight outta Grandma Betty’s closet — all the time.)

But today, in the here and now, I am woefully lacking in the wardrobe apartment. I’ve been a grad student or working in contexts where fancy dress is not appropriate for so long that I have nothing respectable to call on.

For the Bat Mitzvah last October, I bought a pair of dress shoes (the only ones I own… bright red patent leather flats that are awesome*), a beautiful pair of part-silk brown pants from Talbots (hugely on sale) and a fancy orange v-neck sweater (also on sale). I dressed it up with a scarf I bought years ago in India and pulled it all together to be just fancy enough for the party. The one issue… I didn’t have time to go to the Bead Store and make jewelry to accent the ensemble.

It isn’t the best outfit for a defense, but this morning I thought I could wear it, if I could finish the jewelry. I made a necklace weeks ago (the nicest one I’ve made yet) with wooden beads of different shapes and colors. But I wasn’t sure about doing the crimps on the ends and didn’t think I had the right materials to finish it off. My intent was to visit Georgia on the way downtown to finish it. But this morning, I had to play with it… so I took it out, decided to add a little length, took off the tape securing the edge… and dropped it. Beads went everywhere. No more necklace. *sigh*

What else do I have? I’m not even sure. The brown pants are the only nice pants I have. I do have a white blouse (really cool, ties in the center) also from that Talbots sale. But it needs ironing (it’s washable, but requires ironing afterward). This is a problem as we do not own an iron or an ironing board. Maybe I can go to a neighbor’s and iron it there? But will it even work with the pants? (It would be best with a more fitted black pant.)

Oh, and then, there is the issue of my hair. Which has not been cut, highlighted, styled, or otherwise by anyone qualified in almost 9 months. Do I even own makeup? I’m fairly certain that there is no lipstick of any variety within my entire house. I did give myself a little manicure last week, so at least my nails aren’t offensive. In my defense, I at least was thinking about my hair… I asked Paul a few weeks back if I should cut it, or color it (I’ve done highlights about once a year for about 10 years), or something different? I think he’s exact words were “hair? what hair? you’ve got hair?”

Bright side: I’m no longer worried about the defense. I’m worried that I’ll look like myself: a woman who has not spent an ounce of time or effort on her appearance in over 7 years.

*I have not tried on the shoes since I broke the foot. I still cannot wear the majority of my shoes and am terrified of the reality that these will kill my right foot. My back-up plan is to wear a slipper or something to the room and then just ignore the binding pain for the defense. I just have to stand in one place, so it shouldn’t be too bad…

…is out to committee.

Practice defense (with requisite invitation having been sent to all doctoral students) is tomorrow morning. The actual formal defense to the full committee is Thursday.

I cannot wait for this to be done and am on pins and needles. I don’t know how I am going sleep over the next few days.

One more important question remains (maybe the most important): Where is the party Thursday/Friday night???

This time of year always feels rushed… not enough time for anything. But this year — this year makes all the other years look like a cake-walk.

So I’m letting go, or at least trying to talk myself into it. I have enough presents for my children to pass for Santa’s arrival on Christmas morning. (Normally, we would just have Christmas another day but Will has an advent calendar this year and has been pretty savvy with it.) I did manage to (finally) write thank-yous with Will for his birthday, and that is about all I can handle. Everyone else? Think about the fun of opening presents and cards in the New Year!! We love you enough to not be rushed.

Our quick update:
— Foundation is poured, piers and flashing installed, ground level, debris and dirt cleared. Dumpster is ours until next Monday, so Paul started gutting the back today. All the siding is off the back of the house, Will says that “Daddy took the skin off the back of the house.”
— All official paperwork has been submitted and accepted in the Dean’s office. No going back now: I’m defending the prospectus next Thursday. The defense is being advertised throughout the school… I’m afraid I’ll be haunted by the post in the elevators for weeks. Practice defense is Tuesday.
— I’m working to have the next draft to committee by Monday. This is a major feat, since I’m tried, stressed, and distracted by my duties as the one who makes holidays happen in the household. We’ve got a Christmas tree up and decorated and stuff on the house outside… that is as much as I can fight for right now. The kids seem to appreciate it.
— The final happened and class is done. An appeal on my behalf was made to the department chair to not cap my hours and pay me for the full time I worked on the class (roughly 50% more than “allowed”). It would amount to several hundred bucks we weren’t expecting (the hourly rate is less than we pay our babysitters; to have it capped is just insulting). So I’m really hoping that it gets put through. I did really, really enjoy doing it though… despite getting a parking ticket on the last night.
— Took family portraits of Valerie (my friend/mentor from Lima) and her husband and new baby this past weekend (up on the FLC site); great visit with them this weekend.
— Kate needs a blood test as part of her check-up from Nov. 28th and I have to find time to take her to Children’s for the draw. So far, no time has seemed suitable. And where is that doctor’s order, anyway?

This afternoon, 4:45pm.

—-
Me: “So, what’s the next step?”

Committee Chair: “Well, I’m fine with everything.”

Me: “I think that’s everyone?”

Committee Chair: “How soon can you defend?”

Me (joking, a little): “I’d go in an hour if I could.”

Committee Chair: “How about tomorrow?”

Me: “Okay.”
—

WAIT, say dear readers, how can this be? You JUST got your comments Monday! You just finalized committee members! And you’ve been asked to defend… 3 days later??

Well, yes. My committee chair actually made a few phone calls to see if we could move that quickly. But unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, I still have to make the presentation) we couldn’t figure out the logistics with schedules, so we have to wait until at least 2 of the 4 committee members are in town… which will be DECEMBER 20th! I have a defense date! December 20th, 2pm. It seems too surreal to even celebrate it.

To all that is good and right with the world: please help see that my family maintains all current organs and has no reason for glue or stitches. I need at least a semi-calm two more weeks to make changes and get prepared…

Update on The PhD Grind:

— TWO committee members (official ones!) added today. I now have FOUR committee members with various links to the department/school and one Really Good Reader. Both “new” members gave Very Good Substantive comments that came out of their close reading of my prospectus (that alone is worthy of my eternal thanks). Both were very supportive, encouraging, enthusiastic, and complimentary. Both felt that I could defend soon… but I think I want to make changes as per their comments first. I need to find the energy to make these adjustments and push for a defense date… I wish I could just do it now and get it done!
— Even more surprising and delightful: one committee member and I are exploring the mentorship thing. She handed over some Very Raw Data for me to play around with in an attempt to carve out the seeds for a working paper. It’s related to HIV. It’s theoretically rich. And there is no pressure. Perfect.

E-gads! It is starting to sound like I am actually a doctoral student!

In short, exactly what I’ve been hoping for is starting to materialize. I feel a little off-balance as I’m not used to actually getting what I ask for… do a feel a rug loosening under my feet, or can I trust my legs to hold this time around?

It’s World AIDs Day. A day to remember a terrible virus that preys on the marginalized, impoverished, and powerless.

And here’s a thought.

We’ve tracked early cases of AIDs to Europeans decades before (and in Americans at least a decade before) those curious cases of Kaposi Sarcoma started popping up en masse in 1981. So what was it about those cases, in particular, that caught the attention of the CDC? Why had we missed it for so long before?

It was because of who had them: men with access to medical care at established institutions, seeing practitioners who had connections to the CDC. Regular medical care gave them a history of wellness so that providers did not assume them to be chronically unwell, therefore noting when sudden and rare illnesses and common infections flared to cause a seemingly quick death. Who were those previous cases? The ones long before the 1980s? These AIDs-related deaths were among the homeless, addicted, or destitute. People who did not have access to ongoing care or practitioners with CDC connections and who are perceived to be in ill health as a constant state. These are people among whom odd infections and illnesses do not seem out of place, so why would anyone care? Why would treating them, observing wellness, or tracking their illnesses matter?

Let’s imagine for a moment if, back in the early 70s, we had a health system where anyone could have received basic preventative medicine. Where even if one was homeless, or impoverished, or an addict — that they had a provider with a sense of this person’s overall wellness so that if something unusual occurred, they would have had a chance of recognizing it. And what if some provider did begin to question the incidence of unusual combinations of sarcomas and other opportunistic infections — and pointed it out to the CDC — in the early 1970s?

Consider, for a moment, if this would have happened. We would have had possibly as much as 10 years lead time on this crushing epidemic. We wouldn’t have incorrectly labeled AIDs as a disease of gay men and instead, may have seen it as it is: a disease which prays on the marginalized and disempowered. Ten years and a more correct assessment of one of the (if not the) world’s greatest health threats. That was what was at stake. If these things had occurred, perhaps we wouldn’t even have a World AIDs day today, because we wouldn’t need one.

So in honor of the day, consider the importance of health as a human right, not a privileged award. Advocating for the diseases of today means also advocating for the health of the most vulnerable. Consider what could be at stake…?