Summary

The author reflects on the personal significance of obtaining a PhD, despite societal undervaluing and systemic challenges, emphasizing the personal growth and resilience gained through the journey.

Abstract

The article delves into the author's emotional and professional journey of pursuing a PhD, highlighting the struggles with imposter syndrome, societal expectations, and the challenges faced by underrepresented groups in academia. The author acknowledges the rarity and significance of their advanced degree while also confronting the devaluation of their achievement in various social and professional contexts. Despite the lack of tangible rewards and recognition, the author finds intrinsic value in the educational process, which has shaped their identity, worldview, and sense of personal accomplishment.

Opinions

The author feels that their PhD is undervalued and often dismissed by others, which contrasts with the personal significance and difficulty of obtaining the degree.
Imposter syndrome is a common experience in academia, exacerbated by the competitive environment and constant reminders of peers' achievements.
The author expresses a sense of isolation and the need to justify their educational path, particularly as a person of color in a field dominated by PhD holders.
There is a perception that PhD holders lack practical experience and may not be suitable for certain job roles, which the author has encountered.
The author believes that education, whether formal or informal, is inherently valuable for personal development and the broadening of perspectives.
The journey of obtaining a PhD is portrayed as a testament to the author's resilience and commitment, despite the stress, uncertainty, and mental health challenges faced along the way.
The author suggests that the true worth of their degree lies not in the title or prestige but in the personal growth, experiences, and the choices it has afforded them.

What a Fancy Degree is Worth

The degree is fancy but the journey isn’t pretty.

I was reading a story by a writer whose work I really admire. Everything she said rang true for me. That is, until I got to the words, “You don’t need a fancy degree.” She repeated this two more times in her story.

I realize her comment isn’t directed at me. I’m a complete stranger reading her work from the comfort of my couch. Her words do hit a nerve though.

What she’s saying is valid. But I can’t pretend as though my degree doesn’t matter or is just a work of calligraphy on my wall. On some level, I need my PhD to mean something because it was hard from beginning to end.

I’m not good enough and there’s proof

We all experience imposter syndrome at one time or another. Grad school is a breeding ground for envy and self-doubt. You don’t have to wonder if you’re keeping up with your peers.

A weekly newsletter lands in your inbox chock full of scholarship recipients and student publications in top-tier journals. You mute your notifications only to have your eyes assaulted by the same announcements streaming across a giant flat-screen TV as you walk into your epidemiology class.

In my Master’s program in counseling psychology, students were largely open about their struggles with stress and depression. The PhD was a different story. I was in a public health program where I dodged men with MDs who were gobsmacked that I was a PhD student. “You’re not in the MPH program?” they asked me year after year.

I can fit into small spaces

Earlier this year, I was having a Zoom chat with colleagues one of whom is doing a degree in Literature. When I asked about one of her classes, she told us she was more than halfway through her Bachelor’s degree.

“I worked my way up,” she said, almost punching out the words before anyone could say something. Her tone surprised me at first. Then, I thought about why she said this.

I imagine it’s because of people she’s encountered. People who question a person’s legitimacy in a career when they don’t fit the mold. We work in a field where PhDs outnumber Master’s degrees so I’m certain this isn’t the first time she’s felt as if she needed to explain herself.

I’ve had the same reaction when people wonder aloud about my age or lack of experience. And I respond by doing what I often do in these situations. I make myself small. I minimize the importance of my education. I freely and openly question my legitimacy in whatever space I find myself.

I stand out but not in a good way

Having a PhD isn’t exactly rare but it isn’t all that common, especially, when you factor in being a woman and a person of color. Racialized people represent 24% of PhD holders and 16% of faculty hires in Canada.

After my defense, months passed before I dropped the word “candidate” from my email signature and resume. Even now, I rarely include Dr. before my name in hopes of avoiding the inevitable “you’re not a real doctor” comments. Older gentlemen with their older gentlemanliness call me Miss while questioning my ability to talk about my own experiences.

Colleagues remark that “everything is easier for me because I have a PhD” or tell me that people with PhDs “have expertise in a very narrow area.” I hear from managers that they prefer not to hire people with PhDs because they “lack real-world experience” or “the commitment to stay at a job for long.”

I escaped the grips of epidemiology and slogged through my dissertation with few incentives along the way. After all of this, I can tell you this. People like us stick with stuff even when it’s hard.

I’m working towards something, not sure what

I’ll admit I don’t run marathons in my spare time, so humor me. In a race, there’s a rush of excitement as the runners take off. Rounds of applause come at the end as they take their final strides. Between the start line and finish line, there’s a smattering of folks cheering them on and many small but hard-won victories.

There’s some fanfare with a PhD. But mostly it’s soul-crushing defeat from missed opportunities to outright rejections. So why do we do this? A story in Nature offers one explanation. A PhD is “a story of personal reward and resilience against a backdrop of stress, uncertainty and struggles with depression and anxiety.”

Among these struggles was letting go of the title, student. I started school when I was 2 years and 7 months old. The only semesters I ever missed were when my dad died and when I worked full-time before starting grad school. For me, September still feels like the official start of a new year. January 1st is just an artificial milestone to top off the holiday season.

Being a student was a huge part of my identity. It always felt like I was working towards something whether I was reading a book chapter or trying to survive one more week of finals. I was striving for something and it didn’t matter that I had no idea what it was exactly.

A fancy degree, as the writer put it, does make me privileged in some ways. In other ways, the degree itself doesn’t amount to much even when I really need it to mean something. But that “something” certainly isn’t to make another person feel bad about their station in life.

Formal or informal — education gives us choices. It gives us pride in the books we’ve read. The music we’ve cried over. The places we’ve traveled. The movies we’ve seen. The animals we’ve loved. The people we’ve met. All of this matters and plays a role in developing our worldview.

Education reveals our limits and possibilities. It shows people of color that there’s a place for us too as students, PhD candidates, and professors. The beauty of education is we get to decide what matters in shaping who we are.