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By Ariel Li
(posted 6/19/23, edited 6/20/23)
I give full credit to Dr Z Yan Wang for inspiring me to form this blog for our DSC, after taking her Racism in Neuroscience course in the Winter 2023 quarter (coincidently, an interview with her also became my first article to be published on this blog). Partaking in the many discussions on identity, diversity, scholarship and academia in the course was challenging but inspirational; I found myself consciously making an effort to reflect on my role not only as a student, but also as a researcher-in-training and being a part of an sometimes-overwhelming academic structure.
At one point during her course, the class was presented with a succinct but thought-provoking question: “what does diversity mean to you?” While trying to come up with an answer, I realized with surprise that, however important this question seemed to be, it had been a while since I had actually thought about it. Many thoughts and feelings came to mind, but I also felt like my brain was drawing a blank. I thought back to when I was writing that “diversity statement” two years ago, back when I was still in the application process of grad school.
To me, the term “diversity” arouses more questions than answers, and its concept seems to be indissociable from our own self identity. As a graduate student in-training, what determines my identity? Do I become a part of a “neuroscientist” collective, identifiable by what my contribution is to the field, what theories or experiments I am known for? Am I a statistic, a data point on a graph identifiable as a woman, or an East Asian researcher? Or am I the overlapping area on a Venn diagram, perhaps all of these “labels” collectively comprise the “identity” of who I am? Or perhaps, these objective labels mean nothing, and we are defined by our own, personal experiences that brought us to where we are today.
Training to become a seasoned behavioral neuroscientist, I spend the majority of my waking hours preoccupied with running my own experiments, reading about specific circuits in the brain, and trying to comprehend different methodologies. If most of my attention and energy is preoccupied by tangible work, did I develop tunnel vision? At times it almost seems easier and more energy-conserving this way, to perform my scholarly duties like a draft horse with blinker tack, where all that matters is “making experiments work”. But if I effectively de-personify myself into being just another cog in the machine of science, this kafkaesque retreat into losing a sense of “self identity” may be what ultimately leads to burnout so commonly seen in academia. Perhaps this is what that coveted “work-life balance” is: not only balancing work with relaxation, but also balancing (and maintaining) self identity (our lives, our stories, and what shaped us into who we are today) with that research-focused academic identity (though these two could be inseparable as well).
I hope to convince you that “diversity” matters. It matters because we should not just be defined on our productivity and output. Diversity is not just a mandated training course, an item to be checked off on a to-do list, or a shield for an administration one to retreat behind in times of tension. Diversity is introspective and retrospective reflection, as well as prospective motivation. As for me, I am not only a scholar-in-training, but also an international student, a daughter, a kid from China who “kind of liked science” who made a series of daunting life decisions that led me to this moment today. To me, my diversity is a story, an anecdote from a distinct memory I cherish, a favorite Chongqing dish that my grandparents used to make, a sense of excitement when I look out the airplane window en route to my destination, knowing that I am taking myself places (literally and figuratively). It is the intangible “thing” that somehow keeps me grounded, no matter how difficult things get, and it stops me from losing myself in the ebb and flow of the academic struggle.
“Diversity” is a possibility for “a third university”. I like this paragraph from La Paperson’s A Third University is Possible, when the author arrives at the definition of a Third University through an analogy of cinema:
The first world university is the academic–industrial complex: “research-ones” preeminently, but also commercial universities and any other corporate academic enterprise that, regardless of its formal and thematic diversity, is characterized by an ultimate commitment to brand expansion and accumulation of patent, publication, and prestige. The second world university, comprising independent or “liberal arts” colleges, may indeed offer meaningful challenges to the academic–industrial complex, and could be said to be a democratic and participatory academy that seeks to challenge and provoke the critical consciousness of its students toward self-actualization. However, its defining pursuit of questions of art, humanities, and a libertarian mode of critical thinking displaces the possibility of sustained, radical critique and thereby remains circumscribed “within the ivory tower.” In contrast, the third world university defines itself fundamentally as a decolonial project—as an interdisciplinary, transnational, yet vocational university that equips its students with skills toward the applied practice of decolonization.
I proposed this blog shortly after the Racism in Neuroscience course concluded, and I feel honored and excited that it is finally happening. My hopes are that this could be a safe space to share and celebrate our “diversity”, as well as encourage connection between each other as members of the Psychology community; our cohesion with each other should be bound by so much more than just “because we all study brain sciences”. All of us have our own unique identities, and we are without a doubt multidimensional. I hope that this platform can allow us to share those different sides of ourselves, perhaps beyond who we present ourselves as at professional conferences and in seminars, so we can learn from each other and grow, to implement change, and shift the “power” back to ourselves. Change is a collective effort to break down barriers, whether it’s from race, culture, ethnicity, age, gender, sexual orientation, economic class, and disability status, and many more. We are all diverse, and we should always be celebrating that!
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