PhD freshly in hand, I have been applying for jobs. I have not limited myself geographically, applying for positions in South Korea, rural North Carolina, and Cleveland, Ohio as an anthropologist, a sociologist, and an interdisciplinary specialist. Although my initial focus was on academic jobs, I have recently begun looking at the private sector as well. I have applied to be a user experience designer in New York City and a marketing consultant in Denver. It is exciting to stand on the precipice of such change. It is also exhausting. With so many variables at play, I imagine the details of all these possible lives. Will I remain a vegetarian if fresh produce is only available for part of the year? Do I want to drive in snow again? How hard will be to adapt to a new dialect (or in some cases, a new language entirely)? After the purism preached in grad school about the singularity of anthropology, could I be happy as a sociologist? Even more world-altering, how would I adjust to leaving academia entirely? What are the pros and cons of small town life compared to a sprawling metropolis?
In a society where much of a person's identity is derived from work, it is disconcerting to open oneself up to this type of change. I could be anyone, living anywhere. Not in the neoliberal, bootstraps kind of way in which all possibilities are equally available to me, but that I know I will be shaped by wherever I end up. In Texas, I am a very different person than I was in Washington State or New Orleans.
It has also been eye-opening to realize that as much as I really want to work more directly in my field, there are some jobs I am not willing to even consider. I am in the enviable position of having a job with a supportive boss that pays the bills (including the mountain of student debt I have accumulated). The work has very little to do with my real passion for ethnography and cross-cultural comparison, but it is sufficient for now. The fact that I work on sexuality has closed some doors for me, but upon examination, I am happy with that decision. I will not work for an institution that discriminates against people based on gender expression or partner choice. I do not have to be working on queer theory, but if my participation in the Society for Queer Anthropology nixes my application, it is not a place I want to be.
At the same time, I am applying to positions in many parts of the country where women's reproductive rights are under siege and marriage equality is being actively campaigned against. Ambivalence. As an individual, I want to be somewhere where I do not have to fight for my rights. As a responsible citizen, I want to be somewhere I can make a difference and if that means organizing for safe spaces for all people, so be it. I was turned down for a position in Oxford, Mississippi. I had to think long and hard before I applied there in the first place, knowing that being in a rural town the Deep South could prove to be challenging.
Up until this point, I feel like I just happened to end up where I ended up by chance. This time, I am putting deep thought into the process. It's exhausting and I feel like it will be a leap of faith in the end, but I imagine my infinite selves treading on all of these different paths. Now that I've finished school, I feel like I am finally questioning what it is I really want to be doing. I loved being a student and anthropology is a calling for me. I no longer have the shelter of grad school and I need to figure out what to do with this passion. Every application is an exercise in imagination, trying to locate my future self in those circumstances. I take comfort in the fact that many other people are engaged in the same process, that I am not alone in refiguring my life. In my more petty moments, I rue the fact that I am competing against my cohort for the same few positions. At the same time, I feel proud and hopeful every time one of them finds a position. I wish us all luck in this process.
It has also been eye-opening to realize that as much as I really want to work more directly in my field, there are some jobs I am not willing to even consider. I am in the enviable position of having a job with a supportive boss that pays the bills (including the mountain of student debt I have accumulated). The work has very little to do with my real passion for ethnography and cross-cultural comparison, but it is sufficient for now. The fact that I work on sexuality has closed some doors for me, but upon examination, I am happy with that decision. I will not work for an institution that discriminates against people based on gender expression or partner choice. I do not have to be working on queer theory, but if my participation in the Society for Queer Anthropology nixes my application, it is not a place I want to be.
At the same time, I am applying to positions in many parts of the country where women's reproductive rights are under siege and marriage equality is being actively campaigned against. Ambivalence. As an individual, I want to be somewhere where I do not have to fight for my rights. As a responsible citizen, I want to be somewhere I can make a difference and if that means organizing for safe spaces for all people, so be it. I was turned down for a position in Oxford, Mississippi. I had to think long and hard before I applied there in the first place, knowing that being in a rural town the Deep South could prove to be challenging.
Up until this point, I feel like I just happened to end up where I ended up by chance. This time, I am putting deep thought into the process. It's exhausting and I feel like it will be a leap of faith in the end, but I imagine my infinite selves treading on all of these different paths. Now that I've finished school, I feel like I am finally questioning what it is I really want to be doing. I loved being a student and anthropology is a calling for me. I no longer have the shelter of grad school and I need to figure out what to do with this passion. Every application is an exercise in imagination, trying to locate my future self in those circumstances. I take comfort in the fact that many other people are engaged in the same process, that I am not alone in refiguring my life. In my more petty moments, I rue the fact that I am competing against my cohort for the same few positions. At the same time, I feel proud and hopeful every time one of them finds a position. I wish us all luck in this process.
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