My dissertation almost killed me: Reflections a year after my defense

A year ago today I successfully defended my dissertation, from my living room, during a pandemic, with my family and friends virtually present. A year ago today I was called Dr. Lauren Noelle Ford, for the first time, officially. It was a beautiful moment and I am so grateful that I was able to share that moment with those closest to me, who have been my champions and cheerleaders throughout my doctoral experience.

What people don’t know though, is that a year ago today I was in excruciating pain. Two days before my defense I started experiencing the worst stomach pain I’d ever have in my life. I hold my feelings in my stomach so I chalked it up to nerves. But every day it got worse. So much so that right before my defense I was just trying to walk, trying to sit up straight without wincing. I think it was the grace of God who knew that I could NOT push it back – it needed to be done TAH-DAY! And pure adrenaline that got me through that 2.5hr meeting. Within 2 hours later, once the adrenaline wore off, I was passed out on Lakeshore Ave surrounded by strangers offering water and a call for help. I couldn’t even walk the one block to get home. Thankfully Ashley was there, as she always is, to make sure that I made it home safely because the last place I wanted to be, during the pandemic, was in a hospital. I made that doctor’s appointment the next day though (after I sat through some zoom meetings and went “back to work” like everything was ok because…I’m a Black woman and that’s what we do – we gotta cut that out!). Turns out I had an infection in my intestines. Over the summer I had more tests, procedures, etc. to see what was going on inside of me. Some questions were answered, some are still up in the air. Either way, my biggest take away was – I cannot let this doctor school kill me.

I had heard of PhD PTSD where the amount of imposter syndrome that doctoral students, especially doctoral students of color, face in addition to unnecessary barriers and cultural disconnects, actually lead to an increase in mental health issues during the doctoral process. And then, one day, you’re finished and no one prepares you for life after school. The active trauma of this ridiculous process magically goes away, but the passive trauma stays with you…sometimes for years. I never felt comfortable calling myself Dr. until I received my diploma in the mail because JUST MY LUCK the university would come back and say that I didn’t cross a t or dot an i and now I’m stuck back inside of this system that doesn’t value me.

What I hadn’t heard of, or thought about, was the physical trauma that is caused from being in these terminal degree programs.  All of the mental trauma that I went through over 3 years, the last 3 months during a GLOBAL HEALTH CRISIS, manifested themselves in physically. And I had no idea how to deal with it other than suffer in silence and just keep showing up. The question I had to ask myself, though, was “if I’m dead, then what is this work for? What good can I actually do?” and the answer was “nothing.” It would have all been for nothing. And that’s not ok.

The problem with a lot of education is this notion that rigor has to supersede humanity. And it really doesn’t. Just because your dissertation chair was mean and nasty and told you your ideas were stupid and worthless, doesn’t mean that you have to, or get to, do the same to students that you are supposed to guide and lead. We equate exclusivity (the notion that only 1% of the world’s population has a terminal degree) with justification to dehumanize students going through this inhumane process. It does not have to be inhumane.  It does not have to be an experience in which for graduation gifts students are asking for recommendations for therapy or holistic healers. This should be a joyous occasion but the joy is so short-lived because we have to IMMEDIATELY jump into healing or else, we’re gone. Either mentally, or physically, and that’s counter to the reason why we entered these programs to begin with. We came in to these programs to learn, to uplift our communities, and (for some) get the credentials that society has told us we need in order to have a seat at “the table.” But what we get is condescending instructors who don’t value our capital, deficit minded examples of the communities that we represent, and an environment that constantly makes us second guess our worth and capabilities within higher education.

We’ve got to do better – in all areas of education. Be it undergrad, graduate programs, terminal degree programs, medial programs, law programs, etc, etc, etc.  There’s so much emphasis on disrupting the school to prison ecosystem and one of the major solutions is…more school! Let’s bring school and higher education to the prisons and make it easier for our system impacted community members to enter higher education! Yes!  Let’s provide early college access to students, especially students of color so that they get a head start on the collegiate experience and earn credits while in high school. Yes! Yes to all of this! HOWEVER, let me be clear…if we’re updating these policies to increase access, BUT ARE NOT changing our practices to support students when they get here, that needle is NOT going to move. Just because you were taught one way and had to “figure it out because this is [enter type of higher ed here] and that’s just how it is” is UNACCEPTABLE. People are coming into our spaces of education to learn, to heal, to grow, and it is our jobs to support them through that process – not create barriers that limit their success and then blame them for leaving because they do not want to, or cannot, deal with all of the barriers. People are literally dying to learn (I was "people"). We can either offer life support, or pull the plug. Ultimately, the decision is up to those of us in education to do what is right, just, and humane.  

I refuse to allow a student to experience what I did while finishing my degree. I vow to ensure that their educational experience is one of healing, joy, and hope.  Fellow educators, what is your vow?