And I think the first thing that I have come to realize is how much this entire process— academia, publications, pipelining, all this— is a labor of love. It sounds incredibly cliché, and in a lot of ways, it is, but even to get the point where I was able to consider publishing, was a feat of love. My undergraduate years were marked with anxiety, perfectionism, and at times, crippling self-doubt. Not much has changed more than 10 years later.
And research feels personal— IS personal. I filet myself and say, "Here, please critique this life's work that is built on experiences, thoughts, and beliefs of myself and the people I love." So last year, when I started thinking of this framework, a framework to critique colleges and universities on their responses to issues of campus racism and student activism, I viewed it as a theoretical possibility (read: dream), not the reality of an actual paper in front of me. I went through the process of believing it was not good enough, which of course, stems from believing I am not (good) enough. And those questions and struggles are not gone, just because there's something with my name on it now, and is likely a blog post for another day. So for me, this experience as a labor of love because it required me, not just to love my work, but to try to love myself and get myself to be vulnerable in ways that I avoid doing.
Additionally, this publication process was also labor of love because of all the people who loved me through it:
Having spent 2019 intentionally reading Womxn of Color, I'm carrying the same intention into 2020. Check out my bookshelf of some of my faves and send me recs!
When I'm trying to concentrate, I like having background music that's super dramatic. For some reason, instrumental music is instrumental (pun!) in helping me concentrate. Most of the songs are Korean-drama OSTs (original sound tracks), w/ a few classical music scores in the mix!
I don't categorize anything other than my "random round-ups" because it takes too much work (insert laughing emoji).