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“We need a break, it’s both of us (but more you than me)”

I have said this line to my degree. More than a few times.

I began my undergraduate degree at WITS University in 2011. I was a fresh-faced 18-year-old and had the world at my feet. Then reality set in and I went from being a top achiever at the high school to failing my chemistry block test (“Oh sweet girl, if you only knew you would fail a few more before finally passing”). That was the first time I thought, “We need a break”. BSc undergrad and I had hit a rough patch; my first-year spark was dying down; our love was dwindling. At the time though, as a first generation WITSIE, I knew I could not call it quits. My family had made sacrifices to get me here and BSc and I simply had to work it out. Eventually, we did, a few more downs, a couple of failures (so many) and at the end of it, my marks afforded me the opportunity to join an Honours program.

depression

Honours was a tough time, the course was intense and it was the first time I had undertaken a ‘big’ research project; a bit overwhelming. I had a great support system in some of my classmates but I was still exhausted, I would leave for campus at 5:45 AM, endure a 30-45 minute bus drive to campus, work all day, get home at 6pm and start working again before an uneasy sleep only to repeat the cycle again the following day. I was tired, I knew it, my family knew it but I justified it by saying “everyone goes through this”. I found myself getting sick frequently as stress was taking a toll on my health. I was unravelling but I did it with a smile on my face because I thought that this was normal and that I had to be grateful. ‘I’m fine’ is the default answer, when it is usually the waving red flag.

After I completed my honours I made an important decision and said: “I think we need a break”. I took time off before my MSc and went to work for a few months. Although there were many contributors to my decision, ultimately I needed time off from my academic path. My supervisors and I stayed in contact and a few months later, they offered me a place in an MSc project that I was really excited about, so I returned in August of 2016. I felt so energised that I decided I wanted to plan my project so that I could complete it within a year. My approach was different, I didn’t work from sunrise until sunset, instead I set myself weekly goals and how much time it took to reach them was completely up to me. I kept my supervisors updated frequently (maybe too frequently) and they were supportive of my approach. One of my advisors had recently relocated back home to America early on in my degree and we had a 10 hour time difference but still managed to make it work (and work well) this showed in my project. It was big, it was stressful but it was flowing, relatively smoothly because I had to supervisors who didn’t see me as a work mule but instead allowed me to thrive through gentle guidance and many open conversations. I am grateful for that support, it is rare in academia.

First graduation (half a smile….)
Most recent graduation (Happy and relaxed)

 

Academia and I broke up once more as I took a year off between my MSc and my PhD (which I am beginning this year) and I went to work full time. To some, it may seem that I am not as dedicated to my degree as students who choose to go through it all in one go but I am dedicated, to myself first and foremost. It is another mechanism to protect myself from breaking; a stop to gain momentum again and make important decisions such as the choice of institution, supervisors and potential projects.

The Guardian published a great article early in 2018 on mental health in universities, more specifically the experience of PhD students. This article also highlighted the ripple effect, stressed senior academics (who are often the product of a flawed system themselves) can often take frustrations out on their students leading to anxiety-ridden postgrads. There are numerous other examples of articles highlighting mental health problems in academia, from different perspectives, in different fields and the fact that it is so common means we can’t write it off as the experience of a few ‘weak’ students because it is clearly a systemic and deeply engrained problem.

A recent study that looked at over 3,500 PhD students in Belgium found that one in two PhD students experienced psychological distress during their PhD. The South African Depression and Anxiety Group (SADAG) released statistics in October stating that 1 in 4 university students had been diagnosed with depression. Although I think that number is higher because, within our communities, we are taught that mental health and mental illness is not legitimate, it is embarrassing and we do not discuss it. We are yet to examine these statistics in a South African context especially amongst first generation people of colour entering the university space. This demographic often has compounding stresses as we try to survive in a world our families often do not understand but one that we want to thrive in because we feel we owe it to the people we love to do so. I was fortunate to have my family and support system within reach, not many first-generation students do and this is possibly one of the toughest journeys to walk alone.

Academics can’t afford to adopt a ‘well I went through this and I survived’ or a ‘they just were not cut out for it’ mentality when students are dropping out of programs, leaving the field or most saddening of all, taking their own lives. That approach leads to a ‘lost generation’, students who had the potential to succeed but were derailed by unsupportive and negative mentors. As an academic community, we need to address the stigma surrounding mental health problems and work toward an environment and a people that are conscious of their mental wellbeing.

Posted on by kimberleightommy

The hand that rocked The Cradle of Humankind

I remember as a child I was obsessed with documentaries on Ancient Egypt, I would stare at the TV screen as though in a trance. 

maropeng
Maropeng, Cradle of Humankind

For years, I spent time feeding my fascination for ancient people and culture, completely unaware of the treasure trove of evolutionary history 20 minutes away from my childhood home. I – now a paleoanthropologist- was completely unaware of the treasure of The Cradle of Humankind. The Cradle of Humankind plays a pivotal role in our understanding of our evolution as a species and I had never been there, not even once until I began my postgraduate degree in this remarkable field. This may seem like an odd confession but the more I read about it the more I realise that my experience (or lack thereof) was not unique.

Recently, a PhD candidate from the University of Edinburgh, Elsa Panciroli wrote an article for The Guardian on the image problem in palaeontology where she highlighted the barriers to diversity and the stereotypes that drive them. If ever you have watched “Jurassic Park”, “Indiana Jones” or even “The Mummy” you would notice that most of the heroes/scientists in these film share one commonality- they are all white males. This image has dominated the science since the early days with many women and people of colour actively excluded from the mainstream narrative.

jurassic world4
Do you see any similarities?

Could it be that I did not know about palaeontology because I was never actually the targeted candidate, groomed to become one? Could it be a systemic problem that has resulted in a lack of representation, specifically of African researchers? This, in a field that prides itself on our fossil record but too often, disregards the potential of African academics.

We often hear the term “representation matters”, it has even become a popular hashtag on Twitter but it is so much more than just a social media slogan, it is a mindset that should be adapted in every industry. As a young woman of colour in the field of palaeosciences, it was (and still is) important for me to see people like me in this space, and not only in the space but in senior positions.

In 2017, Dr Gaokgatlhe Mirriam Tawane became the curator of Plio-Pleistocene palaeontology at the Ditsong Museums of South Africa (she was also the first Black woman in South Africa to graduate with a Doctorate in palaeoanthropology) and for the very first time, I felt like I belonged. Dr Tawane is a phenomenal researcher and mentor, alongside other trailblazers such as Dr Dipuo Kgotleng and Dr Nonhlanhla Vilakazi of the University of Johannesburg. It still amazes me that in 2019 we are still seeing “firsts” as in “the first Black woman to achieve x.y,z”. But how do we change this? And indeed many will ask, is it even important that we do?

mirriam
Dr Gaokgatlhe Mirriam Tawane, from the Ditsong Museums of South Africa

The answer to the latter is a resounding YES, it is important that we actively strive to change the perception of palaeosciences (and STEM careers in general) so that we introduce diverse narratives to an otherwise monotonous story. It is important because there are many South African schoolchildren who enjoy evolution and cherish their experiences at places like The Cradle of Humankind but who will never know that we need them to keep that spark alive and join us in academia.

The answer to the former question is a lot more complicated, how do you change a system? I do not have the answers to that, in my naivety I hope to change the world but practically this has to be a team effort and this team includes the demographic palaeontology was originally catered for, senior white men. Dr Kathleen Grogan so eloquently stated this idea in her recent Nature Ecology & Evolution article discussing gender bias in the workplace when she said, “Water can’t fix the leaks in the pipeline.”

leakey pipeline
The leaky pipeline of women in STEM

In order to address racial inequality and a lack of diversity in any field, we require an open, honest and uncomfortable conversation with all those who love science. We also need to actively ensure exposure to these fields in primary school, keeping that interest alive well into tertiary education. This means scrutinizing our outreach efforts as researchers in the field, policy makers and educators.

Often, calls for change are misinterpreted as disdain for a system, actually, it is a way of showing you care enough to know it can be better. I criticize my science because I love it, because I believe in its ability to unite people but I truly believe that we need the study of evolution, to actually evolve. How many women, how many Africans and how many people of colour with unique perspectives and a love for the science have we already allowed to seep through the cracks of a dated pipeline? I know I am not willing to lose another, not even one drop.