Not “Too Emotional”
So, as I watched men tell Danvers that she’s “too emotional” again and again, I got angry. I heard the echoes of the same words lobbed at me. Like Danvers, I can’t stand when men tell me what I can do or who I am supposed to be.
What We’ve Lost
I’ve lost time, and likely, you have too. Attempting to balance work, virtual school and caretaking responsibilities eats up my time. I can feel it slipping through my grasp as I try to stay on top of everything.
Making Mistakes
Mistakes were something other people could make. Mistakes were something that I was to avoid at all costs. But I made them, and every mistake appeared as personal failure.
Anxiety In An Anxious Age
Anxiety was no longer simply buzzing in my head. Instead, it felt like bees were buzzing in my brain and under my skin. It was a constant hum that I couldn’t escape. Sometimes, it seemed that the bees would burst out of my skin.
My Anger Remains
I also don’t know how not to be angry or how to push it aside and let it go. And I worry about the costs of my near constant rage. Will it change me into a person I don’t want to be?
Education Isn’t the Solution
Higher education isn’t the answer to the problem of white supremacy. Higher education, instead, can be part of the problem.
The Costs of Speaking Out
I hate the need to balance the physical and emotional well‐being of my family against an opportunity to educate and inform. I hate that harassment and threats appear expected and commonplace rather than the horrors that they actually are.
Not Quite Half-Full
My glass gets emptier and emptier by the day. Caution remains, a constant companion. But my optimism has been misplaced. It is harder and harder to find
Burning Out in Higher Ed
If faculty were burnt out before the pandemic, they find themselves even more burnt out now. How could they not be?
Working Mothers Still Aren’t Okay
For working mothers to continue to have careers or be able to move back into the workforce, employers must recognize the pandemic’s toll on women. Working mothers aren’t okay. I know I’m not.