Here are two statements:
- The last time I uploaded a new blog post was August 2023.
- I went on the academic job market for the first time in fall 2023.
I’ll let you connect the dots.
It’s not that I haven’t done any blog-style writing the last two years. There are 14 documents in my blog post drafts folder that I’ve created since August 2023. The drafts cover a range of topics, from using NaNoWriMo to motivate my dissertation writing, to a time when rejecting an article made my imposter syndrome flair up. Then there are the job market-related posts you might expect. One is simply titled “Angry_Job Market Edition.”
But writing candidly about the job market, while on the market, felt like an unnecessary risk. So, I kept my thoughts confined to drafts and journals.
Now though, my dissertation has been defended, accepted, and posted to ProQuest. (I plan to post it to IU’s public repository, IU ScholarWorks, once the website maintenance happening right now is finished.) Despite the mad rush to get everything submitted by the correct deadlines, I took my time on one particular piece of writing: acknowledgements.
It’s difficult to decide how to approach an acknowledgements section. You might look at models, but in the end, it’s a deeply personal document. I decided on the opening line in February; a cathartic, blog-like piece of writing flowed from there, ending with a list of thank you’s much longer than I’d anticipated.
At least once a year, I see the idea of an “anti-acknowledgements” section make the rounds online. In a way, the first half of my section is a sort of structural anti-acknowledgements. But the more I wrote, the more I appreciated how much support I received along the way. So I am posting my acknowledgements here, in part, to say again, publicly, thank you.
Acknowledgements
What a nightmare it has been to write a dissertation during the past few years. There is a tendency to gloss over hardships once some big work has been accomplished, to focus on more satisfying messages of resiliency and strength. To do so at this moment would feel like a disservice and a betrayal, both to myself and those I will be thanking here shortly. Bear with me.
The COVID-19 pandemic hit the U.S. during the second year of my PhD program. From that point, we seemed to face one crisis after another in rapid succession. During this time of sudden, forced isolation, we increasingly sought connection online. Then, the U.S. was shaken by the viral police murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd. In my capacity as a race researcher and staff at the Center for Research on Race and Ethnicity in Society (CRRES), we mobilized quickly, hosting a webinar series that same summer and fielding a sudden widespread interest in understanding race and racism. Like many, I attended protests, posted and reposted educational resources online, and watched horrified as another crisis arose in the form of anti-Asian sentiment and violence, spurred by misinformation on COVID-19. Compared to the sudden punctures of violence that were police murders of Black and Brown individuals, anti-Asian violence seemed to swell gradually, snowballing until the pattern was undeniable, the same old racist histories repeating. In calls home, I warned my mother to be careful. On my pandemic walks, I began to think of my slim metal water bottle as a potential weapon. I finished my graduate classes, qualifying exams, taught my own college courses, published articles, and completed my dissertation proposal in spite of these “unprecedented” events.
I began conducting interviews for my dissertation shortly after the 2021 Atlanta spa shootings, in which the shooter killed eight people, including six Asian women, in a rampage intended to eliminate women he viewed as sexual temptations. In 2023, Bloomington experienced its own moment of clear anti-Asian violence, a brutal bus stabbing in which the perpetrator stabbed an IU student multiple times in the head, describing her motivation as having “one less person to blow up our country.” I spoke with my interviewees about these moments, sometimes after recordings were turned off, person-to-person, rather than as researcher and participant. These experiences shaped their lives, which in turn shaped my dissertation research, but I hope our conversations provided moments of catharsis and connection too.
However, since the “racial reckoning” of 2020 and widespread recognition of anti-Blackness and anti-Asian racism, we’ve experienced a national backlash. These periods are not so cleanly delineated; White supremacist activity had been building all along. Between Zoom meetings, I watched coverage of the January 6, 2021 storming of the Capitol, in which White supremacist groups and their supporters were emboldened to violently contest the results of the 2020 presidential election. We soon saw growing movements to twist and target “CRT,” and later “DEI,” in the form of book bans and calls for increased surveillance and control of K-12 and higher education. These moments affirmed a pressing need for research on race and racism, and a reminder that resistance to these topics remained alive and well.
Finally, October 2023 marked the start of a new horror: the on-going, live-streamed genocide in Gaza. Scrolling through increasingly horrifying deaths occupied the moments between my dissertation writing and job applications. Local protests and vigils took place in fits and starts, until Columbia University students organized the first encampment protest on April 17, 2024, demanding their university divest from companies arming Israel. IU Bloomington’s encampment began the next week, on April 25, 2024. IU administration responded with a last minute policy change the night before, which they used to justify a swift and violent suppression of free speech. University and state police arrested several protestors, including brave, dear friends, and tore down the encampment. I could not write during these unprecedented events. Organizers reestablished the Dunn Meadow encampment the next day. President Pamela Whitten and her administration established a sniper at the top of the Indiana Memorial Union building in response. She called the Indiana State Police again on April 27th, conducting another round of arrests that targeted protestors seen as movement leaders and trashing the encampment. Again, we returned and rebuilt.
On May 4, 2024, while others protested President Whitten’s policies at the IU graduate commencement ceremony, we held a “People’s University” graduation in Dunn Meadow. Borrowed robes, a collaborative handprint banner, and new plants gifted to newly minted B.As., M.As., and Ph.Ds. characterized the ceremony. I was proud to witness one of our Sociology majors in his cap and gown, boldly giving a speech about standing up for what is right, calling for graduates not to lose sight of what they had stood for here. Overhead, in a bright blue sky, an airplane banner flew the Palestinian flag, followed by the words “Let Gaza Live!” I began to write again after the People’s University graduation, though the encampment persisted into the summer, a small but mighty group persevering for 100 days.
—
“A good graduate student should be so focused on their research that World War III could break out and they wouldn’t know.” A good undergraduate mentor shared this sentiment with me while I was applying to graduate school, not as a directive, but a reflection on what his advisor had told him. Perhaps, implicitly, this was a warning about what might be expected of me. That I might be entering an environment in which work was expected to supersede all else.
I have been fortunate to have mentors who have not expected me to suppress my humanity in favor of work. I am immensely grateful to those who advised me through so many “unprecedented” events, who provided a listening ear, a resource, and moments of shared humanity. Thank you to Dina Okamoto, Jessica Calarco, Jennifer C. Lee, Hyeyoung Kwon, and Sylvia Martinez for your support over the years.
Dina Okamoto was instrumental in my decision to attend IU. I likely would not have chosen to come to IU without her; I am not sure how I would have stayed without her either. In my first few years, Dina was a powerful source of support, encouragement, and guidance. As I gradually realized how little I understood about academia, our conversations helped me work through ideas, learn how to make sociological contributions with my research, and communicated that I could belong here too. She wrote me countless recommendation letters for fellowships, grants, and jobs, and helped me navigate many parts of academia that felt utterly foreign. And I am especially grateful to her for bringing me into the CRRES community, a space that became my workplace, a network of scholars and students, and a refuge that affirmed, again and again, that race and ethnicity research on campus is necessary, rigorous, and supported.
Jessica Calarco played a formative role in my PhD education from the start. She was my Sociological Research Practicum (SRP) professor, which meant that I was fortunate to get hands-on research experience with her in my first summer. I learned so much from Jess, from honing my interviewing skills, to research design, to strategies for navigating graduate school and the “hidden curriculum.” Her clear instruction, whether in one-on-one meetings, classes, or blog posts and books, remained important resources as I reached various milestones. Her written feedback is unparalleled. Finally, I would have had a much more difficult time without her kind mentorship. I could count on Jess to always check in with me before diving into our meeting agenda, to share an exasperated look or cynical laugh about the state of the world, or sit with a heavy moment. I’ll never quite know how she does it all, but Jess is an incredible role model.
My appreciation for Jennifer C. Lee has grown exponentially over the years. In her role as Director of Graduate Studies, she was my first point of contact with IU Sociology. I likely projected many of my frustrations with the program onto her in that first year. But somewhere along the way, Jennifer became one of my best mentors and favorite people. She was consistently supportive of my research on multiraciality, which meant the world to me in the moments when I was unsure that this work was valued. She taught me to think in more critical, pragmatic, and rigorous ways, particularly as the chair of my qualifying exams. Her level of dedicated mentorship helped shape the way I think, research, and teach. Jennifer’s working group kept me accountable during that long unstructured stretch at the end of grad school, helped me maintain connections with students across cohorts, and is a model for how I would approach working my own graduate students. I am particularly grateful for her support through difficult moments and on the job market.
Hyeyoung Kwon was my assigned first-year mentor, and her race and ethnicity class was my first TA assignment. I had no idea how fortunate I was to meet and work with her so early on. I quickly learned that Hyeyoung is a brilliant researcher, powerful writer, and dedicated mentor. I experienced a kind of culture shock at IU, Indiana, and academia, but our conversations were validating and affirming, striking a balance between acknowledging the unequal practices we have yet to resolve in academia and strategizing ways to get through. Hyeyoung’s feedback on my ideas, from research design to theoretical contributions, was rigorous and thorough, but kind. I am consistently impressed by and appreciative of the ways she deftly connects literatures, theories, and builds complex and nuanced arguments. Hyeyoung is a model for the type of scholar I hope to be, in more ways than one.
Sylvia Martinez joined my committee just last year, but I was excited about her research before then. Before Sylvia, I didn’t know anyone else at IU who was studying multiraciality. Learning about her work on multiracial Latinos in education was exciting and encouraging, particularly with so much of the literature still focused on only Black-White biracial experiences. Her feedback came from an informed place, as someone working with populations overlapping with my own research. I also appreciated working with Sylvia in her capacity as CRRES Director, first during a transitional year in 2022-23, and again in my final year in 2024-25. Sylvia has been a clear, kind, and attentive leader, and I have been fortunate to work with her.
I am grateful to many other faculty who have supported me along the way: Peggy Thoits, with whom I still associate with the overwhelming excitement I felt sitting in my first graduate class; Koji Chavez, who arrived at IU the same year I did and felt like a faculty member of my cohort; Patricia McManus, who was terrifying in stats, but supportive, gave thorough feedback, and could always keep up a good banter; Brian Powell, who guided me through S700 and provided feedback instrumental to my first full-length publication; and others, including: Pamela Braboy Jackson, Fabio Rojas, and Emily Meanwell. Many outside of the Sociology department also supported me and shaped my scholarship and graduate school experience, whether they knew it or not: Michelle Moyd, Maria Hamilton Abegunde, Kakali Bhattacharya, Ellen Wu, Melanie Castillo-Cullather, Dorainne Green, Vanessa Cruz-Nichols, Tenisha Riley, Candice Miller, Chinbo Chong, Christine Peralta, Juan Mora, Vivek Vellanki, Aleshia Barajas, Olivia Ekeh, Carolina Ortega, Lucía Stavig, Mariana Stavig, Max Jack, Kathy Darragh, Ramón Resendiz, and Korinthia Nicolai.
Graduate school would have been much more miserable and difficult without the support of incredible friends, some of whom are already mentioned above. Thank you to JAMMMS for your support and friendship over the years. Thank you to the older students who took seriously the culture to “pay it forward” and helped me navigate everything from apartment hunting to quals to work-life balance. Thank you to younger students as well, who gave me perspective, kept me connected, and organized together. A non-exhaustive list: Joanna Lara, Annie Russian, Muna Adem, Melissa Garcia, Shelley Rao, Liz Bodamer, Denise Ambriz, Mai Thai, Alisha Kirchoff, Jasmine Davis, Tiffany Quash, Pei-Jung Li, Chavonté Wright, Grayson Bodenheimer, Hannah Malcolm, Deziree Jackson, Mihee Kim-Kort, Sydney Paige-Patterson, Kennedi Johnson, Jennifer Jiwon Lee, Tiffanie Vo, Cassie Mead, Anne Kavalerchik, Anjali Biswas, Tania Ravaei, Brandy Smith, Yunmyung Cho, Madeleine Meldrum, Eun Hye Lee, Andrew Myers, Maggie Lawler, and Yanming Kuang. Special thanks to those who kept me writing the last few years: Stephanie Nguyen, Torie DiMartile, SuiSui Wang, Caroline VerMeulen, and Joe Johnson.
Thank you to the campus communities that made my work possible. First and foremost is the Center for Research on Race and Ethnicity in Society (CRRES), which provided me with an interdisciplinary home where race and ethnicity research was valued and celebrated. The Graduate Mentoring Center, then led by Maria Hamilton Abegunde, grounded me and helped me keep my sanity. The Asian American Studies Program, directed by Ellen Wu at the time, and the Asian American Graduate Board, provided early sources of connection and community, as did the Asian Culture Center, led by the tireless Melanie Castillo-Cullather. Outside of campus, Hoosier Asian American Power (HAAP) and our core leader team offered not only community but an avenue for collective action. I am so inspired by you all.
My dissertation research was supported by funding from the Center for Research on Race and Ethnicity in Society (CRRES), Asian American Studies Program, Philanthropic Education Organization (P.E.O.) Scholar Award, IU Graduate School President’s Diversity Dissertation Fellowship, and IU Sociology Lindesmith-Mullins Fellowship (declined during a fortuitous year). This research was also caffeinated by several local writing spaces: Crumble, Needmore Coffee, Morgenstern Books, Hopscotch, Bloomington Farm Stop, Redbud Books, and Monroe County Public Libraries. And scholarly spaces outside of Bloomington, namely, the American Sociological Association’s Section on Racial and Ethnic Minorities (SREM), North Central Sociological Association (NCSA), and the Critical Mixed Race Studies Association (CMRS), contributed to the development of my ideas and research for multiple years.
Thank you to my family, who were supportive even when they didn’t quite understand what I was doing in school for so long and provided many much-needed breaks away from academia.
Thank you to my University of Denver Sociology professors, who left such a lasting impact that I decided to pursue a Ph.D.: Hava Gordon, whose Social Movements class convinced me to stick with Sociology; Paul Colomy, advisor and teacher extraordinaire; Jennifer Reich, honors thesis professor and mentor; and last but not least, Lisa Martinez, collaborator and source of support throughout graduate school.
Finally, the biggest thank you to my participants, some of whom wondered how long this thing was going to take and was shocked that it would be years. Without you, this work couldn’t exist. Even in a document this long, I can only cover a fraction of your experiences, but I hope I do them justice. Many of our interviews touched on the idea that multiracial identity is something we shouldn’t make a big fuss about. That talking too much about multiraciality is frowned upon, embarrassing, and/or takes away from the experiences of monoracial groups of color. For some of you, a focus on monoracial identities has worked out fine. But my hope for this research is that it contributes to a growing body of research and public conversations that recognize the uniqueness and importance of your multiracial stories and experiences. Your experiences can teach others things that might seem completely obvious to you, and connecting the threads across all your experiences might reveal something new to all of us about how we survive together in this multiracial democracy. Thank you for trusting me with your stories.