Why I Gave Up a Maserati to Build a Better Academia. And, PhDs Ignore It.
I could have bought a high-end Maserati. Or even a beautiful lakeside cottage. Instead, I chose a path that leaves me embarrassed almost every day. I have a hard time even talking to my wife about what I’ve done—not because she doesn't care, but because she doesn't quite understand what it means to do what I do.
The truth is, very few people do.
Most people think researchers spend their days in an ivory tower, chasing after useless knowledge. They see us as detached from reality, spending hours on things that won't matter until, maybe, thirty years from now. And the sad truth? Many researchers play into that narrative, treating what we do as a game to secure the next publication or boost their reputation.
So, why did I build R3ciprocity, a platform that helps researchers help each other? Why did I pour my time, money, and energy into this project when I could have spent that effort on more financially rewarding ventures?
I was tired of seeing the same story unfold for so many researchers—stories filled with mental health struggles, isolation, and feelings of failure. The PhD journey is one of the toughest intellectual challenges anyone can take on, but it’s also a lonely road. Too often, we just look the other way and pretend everything is fine. I wanted to change that—not by writing another research paper that might get a few citations but ultimately fade into obscurity. I wanted to build something real, something that actually helps people.
What I’ve Learned Building R3ciprocity
Turns out, R3ciprocity is just like a PhD—it gets ignored. People think it’s not worth their time. It’s not shiny, it’s not glamorous, and it’s certainly not an easy sell.
How do you sell it? The truth is, you can't sell a problem that no one cares about. It's impossible to convince people to support isolated and ignored PhD researchers when the world is too busy to notice. You can't sell empathy where there is none, and you can't force people to care about something they don't see as important.
But here’s what I’ve learned from building this project—lessons that might help you, whether you're working on research or tackling any other hard problem in life:
1. Don’t Stop, Even When No One Cares
Most people will never understand why you do what you do. They might call it silly, ignore you, or flat-out tell you that you're wasting your time. But your job is not to get everyone’s approval. Your job is to keep going because you see the value—even if no one else does.
2. Learn to Enjoy Feeling Like a Failure
My life as a professor can be summed up pretty easily: I’m a screw-up. I get rejected, criticized, and ignored more often than I succeed. And yet, I’ve learned to live with it. More than that, I’ve learned to appreciate it.
There is a freedom that comes when you embrace the fact that you’ll mess up. No one is coming to save you, and the road is hard, but if you keep moving, you’re already doing more than most people ever will.
3. Trust Is Built Over a Lifetime
Building trust when you start from nothing is extraordinarily difficult. It takes years of consistent effort, showing up day in and day out, with no shortcuts. I hope, over time, people see that everything I did was always in our best interest. A community takes time to build, and you have to understand my intentions, even when the results are not immediately clear.
Creating a New Vision for Academia
I envision a different kind of academia. I want a world built on empathy, support, and inclusion, where everyone has a chance to thrive.
Imagine an academic environment where people are encouraged, where those who feel like they don’t belong always have someone to turn to. A place where struggling individuals have the tools they need to succeed, even on their hardest days. A place where fun and fulfillment are part of the profession, even when the work is incredibly tough.
That’s the kind of academia I want to be a part of.
That’s why I built R3ciprocity—to create a community where researchers lift each other up, where no one feels like they have to go it alone.