♥ Sukie♥

I used to wonder what I'd use this account for beyond sharing shows and books I like. It's anonymous, has zero followers, and no one really cares about it. But now I know it is the perfect diary. I just got an email from my supervisor that was soul-crushing. It always goes like this for me, even with my bachelor's degree. I get a supervisor for my research report that I like and respect so much, and I am so excited. I work hard to write assignments that they find brilliant and illuminating. But then they start working on the thesis with me, and they find out how many drafts it takes me to reach that brilliant work. They find out that I use flowery, literary language, that I collect ideas and present them as if I were curating for an art gallery, and suddenly they hate it. Suddenly, I am illogical, and I am bad at it, and I am wasting the time of important academics. It doesn't matter that they have seen my final work, and they chose me because my final work is held in high esteem. It doesn't matter that, as a woman with a disability, I had to fight my father for further education after my bachelor's AND when he withdrew financial support, I had to get it elsewhere. It doesn't matter that, no matter how frustrated I am, I remain polite and understanding. Every time, like clockwork, there is nothing that I do right. And so here I am, having to let someone talk down to me because correcting my work is just so beneath them and oppressive, and I have to apologize for my first draft not looking like what my final draft is, and it is disappointing to say the least. Less than 25 per cent of my field is women. And now another woman in that small number is belittling me and telling me I didn't do as she asked when I did because teaching me is beneath her. Her other white male supervisees can write as poorly as they want, not because they're learning academic writing like me, but because they give her prestige. A girl like me, who clawed her way here, is an unglamorous ward. And I will have to scrape and fight and plead and beg and prostrate myself to get this degree. The degree to which my own parents feel contempt for. The degree that pushes other women out. And I have to smile and be polite and be pleasant and be good. And and and and and and and. What a dream. What a fucking curse.