How to Become a Professor (When You Don't Know What the Hell You Are Doing): Lesson 1-- Finding the Right Groove

Let me begin this "How to Become a Professor" series of posts by emphasizing the subtitle: I really don't know what the hell I am doing most of the time. Fine, I'm overstating that. (Must break myself of habit of self-deprecation common among women professionals.) I could ventriloquize the really great advice that I've gotten from my faculty advisors about writing the polished cover letter, timing your publications, conducting yourself professionally, etc. That's no small change, and I'll share that info on this blog, too. But I'd rather start with advice that I've come to develop from my own tested experience. I am aware, though, that much of what I will relay will make this Asian Girl Professor appear to be simply a Silly Asian Girl. Whatever. As Sarah Palin would remind us, I can say anything in the name of "satire." (Though as a soon-to-be English professor, I do feel the need to make very clear that, unlike Sarah Palin, I do know what satire is, and am aware that it isn't exactly what I'm performing here on this blog. I am, however, employing a bit of irony, which is a device that Sarah Palin also doesn't seem to understand. Where I am being ironic and where I am being serious, however, I will leave you, dear reader, to decide.)

Okay, so the first thing that any aspiring professor needs to do is to find or cultivate an alter-ego. Just about the worst advice I have ever gotten as an academic was, "Just be yourself." I'm sorry, but "myself" is hopelessly nerdy and slightly socially awkward. "Myself" gets really revved up talking about things that 99% of the general population probably doesn't give a shit about. In high school, "myself" only ever felt cool and confident in speech and debate tournaments. So "myself" would do me little good when I have to speak in front of 200 students for 80 minutes at a time, and "myself" would not be equipped to counter tricky questions from Old White Dude interviewers with precise and powerful answers.

So, in high pressure situations, instead of being "myself," I would rather be someone much more fabulous, much more fierce, and much more fearless. Beyoncé's alter-ego is Sasha Fierce. My alter-ego is, well, Beyoncé. Or Janet Jackson. Or Lauryn Hill (sans the crazy). Or Salt-n-Pepa (plus Spinderella). I will channel this alter-ego by listening to music by these women. (This Asian Girl Professor apparently wishes she were a Strong Black Diva.)

This is precisely what I did before each interview I had to do. In the few minutes before I had to walk through the door, I would set my iPod onto "Ring the Alarm," or " "Lost Ones," or "What Have You Done For Me Lately," take some deep breaths, focus my gaze, and strut down the hall. No jitters, no ticks, no "ums" and "I thinks." I try to project what I want the interviewers to think of me, which is, "Ohmygod, we have to hire this woman."

Of course, it's important to make sure that transitioning into this alter-ego appears seamless, so that people just assume that you're naturally that fierce. (Worse than someone who's geeky and nervous is an asshole who tries too hard.) This means being strategic about when to use this alter-ego. This is a trick that I'm still trying to master. Most recently, a friend of mine (who's also an aspiring Asian Girl Prof, and who, in spite of her own insecurities, is definitely friggin' fierce) introduced me to a website on which you can make a ringtone out of any mp3. I immediately made one out of the song, "Shoop," loving the idea of turning my ringtone into a reminder of my fierce self. Tough I probably shouldn't use this ringtone while I'm on campus, in case I forget to put my phone on silent and my students hear blaring from my pocket:

Ummm, you're packed and you're stacked 'specially in the back
Brother, wanna thank your mother for a butt like that
Can I get some fries with that shake-shake boobie?
If looks could kill you would be an uzi
You're a shotgun - bang! What's up with that thang?
I wanna know how does it hang?

Yeah, not too professional. Every professional woman knows that there's fine line between being admired for your fierceness and being scrutinized for it. But more on that later...

Asian Sistas at the Olympics

So maybe there aren't very many Asian Girl Professors in the world, but there certainly seems to be a lot of world class Asian Girl Figure Skaters! Last night's Ladies' short program showcased several Asian women who seriously rocked the ice.

Let's start with South Korean superstar Kim Yu-Na (pictured). Holy crap, this woman is something else. She's a powerhouse athlete, a charismatic performer, AND she's friggin' gorgeous. And I love that she chose to channel James Bond in her program. She is, hands down, the best figure skater in the world right now, but let's not forget the other stars of the night: Japan's Mao Asada, who is poised to be Kim's toughest competitor and was the only skater last night to do a triple axel, also nailed her program. And the truly adorable Mirai Nagasu did the United States proud, delivering a clean performance that landed her 6th place. The 16-year-old, who gave herself a nosebleed spinning herself so hard, is definitely one to watch in future Olympic games.

Of course, these women (and as much as I like using the word "Girl" in this blog, I do appreciate that the commentators are calling them "women") aren't the first Asian women to make it to the Olympics. I was a huge fan of Kristi Yamaguchi growing up, and up until last night I was convinced that I would never be interested in figure skating or the Olympics again now that Michelle Kwan is no longer competing. The last couple of decades also produced Chen Lu (Olympic bronze medalist and the first figure skater to ever medal at the Olympics for China), Midori Ito (Olympic silver medalist and first woman to land a triple/triple combination and triple axel in competition) and Yuka Sato (world champion who competed in the Olympics twice). But this year perhaps marks the first that could feature an all-Asian podium. And though I'm rooting for Joannie Rochette, the Canadian skater who admirably delivered a solid performance in spite of the fact that her mother just passed away a few days ago, seeing my Asian sistas take gold, silver and bronze would be pretty fantastic.

It is worth noting, of course, that it's not just in women's figure skating that we've been seeing serious Asian representation. Daisuke Takahashi took the silver in the men's competition. (Japan's team has been generally solid-- The country was able to secure three slots for the women's and men's competitions, and all of their competitors are landing in the top 10.) Chinese-Canadian Patrick Chan got 5th place. In pairs, Chinese teams Shen Xue/Zhao Hongbo and Pang Qing/Tong Jian took gold and silver. And as a side, we'd might as well include speed skating in this discussion, given that it's a sport that has already featured an all-Asian podium this year (or almost all-Asian, we wanna get technical about Apolo Anton Ohno and J.R. Celski's hapa-ness). Asians are dominating the ice. Ooh, yellow terror, bring it on.

So why do Asians appear to be doing so well in skating? The phenomenon is a bit of a puzzle to me. (Given that we see very few Asians in any of the other winter sports, it's almost as if figure skating is the equivalent of my high school's badminton team. I guess that makes speed skating the tennis team.) Articles like THIS ONE attribute to the success of Asian folks in figure skating to the fact that they are small and light, "like nymphs" (quote brought to you by Frank Carroll, who coached Michelle Kwan and is currently coaching Mirai Nagasu) and are products of Hardass Asian Parenting (a term coined by the peeps over at DISGRASIAN, who like to trace results of this parenting strategy). It's too bad my parents weren't bigger hardasses. Maybe I could have been an Olympic figure skater. Damn American permissiveness and "self esteem."

Maybe Asians in Olympic Figure Skating could be a research topic someone could take up. Too bad I haven't taken it up, otherwise my spending my evenings watching the Olympics and writing about it could be justified as "working on my dissertation."

Asian Girl Professors Everywhere

I TA-ed for an Asian Girl Professor (that is, a young-ish Asian American female professor) who told me that it is really really hard to become an Asian Girl Professor. Asian American women are the least likely to finish their PhD programs, least likely to get hired, least likely to get promoted, least likely to get tenured, least likely to get endowed chairs, etc...

I do not know if this is true. I imagine there must be some research done on attrition rates in higher education and the demographics of university educators that might confirm this, but I'll let people who specialize in that sort of thing dig that out. True or not, this depressing statistic certainly feels true. I've had many White Dude Professors. And White Women Professors. But until I took a seminar with a South Asian woman who at the time was a junior faculty member a few years ago, I had never been taught by an Asian woman.

I knew that Asian female professors existed in my undergraduate institution. And I see them where I am attending graduate school. But I am also aware of the fact that both schools belong to a university system in which there is such a thing as Ethnic Studies and/or Asian American Studies. Indeed, all the professors I know who happen to be Asian American (including the one who warned me of how difficult it is to be an Asian woman in academia) either belong to an Asian American Studies/Ethnic Studies department or are the token Asian American specialist in a department like American Studies or English. In the position that I will be starting in the fall, I will be one of two Asians (the other is a South Asian man who does Postcolonial Studies), and certainly the only Asian woman in the English department. I was hired as an Asian American literature specialist.

So, as one can imagine, in most universities in the U.S., there isn't a need or demand for even that token Asian Americanist. This means that in most universities, there are no avenues through which Asian folks can break into the academy. East Asian Studies might be an exception, but only to a certain degree-- Universities will often have departments devoted to studying China, Japan, Korea, etc. So Asian women may be hired there. Though also, from what I've seen, these departments also hire a lot of white people who specialize in Asian Studies. Aforementioned Asian Girl Professor, for example, was the first Filipina to be hired as a tenure-track professor specializing in the Philippines. Prior to her, folks doing work on the Philippines have been white men. (Damn colonialism.) So yes, if you are Asian and American, finding a place in academia can be tricky. There are some who manage to make it into the profession without doing anything Asian or Asian American related-- I know one young-ish Asian American professor who does Medieval Studies, for example. But if universities won't hire Asian folks as experts of Asian history and culture, I imagine they would be even less inclined to hire them as experts of white history and culture. Racism sucks.

Aside from these institutional factors, Asian women also have to deal with the day-to-day experiences of being, well, Asian women. It's not only my mother who says that I look like a little girl pretending to be a professor. Colleagues, professors, even my students often view me in that way. A classmate of mine, a white woman who is only a few years older than me, used to always comment on my small stature and pat me on the head. Students will often ask me how old I am. (I doubt they'll ask their Old White Dude Professor the same question.) At a recent job interview, one faculty member mistook me for an undergraduate. Here's the funny thing, though-- I actually don't think I look all that young. I see the faint lines forming at the edges of my eyes, the white hairs popping out of my head. I look exactly as one my age should look, I think. I don't dress like a teeny-bopper or talk with a baby voice. So I know that people's tendency to view me as a little girl is a projection of their own internalized notions about Asian women being young and docile or whatever. Orientalism sucks.

I've learned to not get too angry when these things happen, and to just accept them as a fact that I'll just have to deal with and negotiate. Still, I wonder to what extent have I internalized how people seem to view me. I wonder if I've ever underestimated myself or failed to fight for my interest because I felt marked as an Asian girl. And I wonder to what extent I've grown a chip on my shoulder because of it.

Every quarter that I've taught at Yuppie Cowtown U, a school in which a disproportionately large portion of the undergraduate population is Asian American, there has always been at least one student, usually Asian, usually a girl (but sometimes a boy), who comes to my office. She won't ask me questions about the course material, but about my life trajectory. She'll ask me how I decided to major in English, to go to grad school, to become a professor. So I know that at least for her, my being an Asian Girl Professor at the podium, in a position of authority, relaying my expertise, commanding attention, means something, just as my meeting other Asian Girl Professors means something to me.

So I guess that's why I've named this blog Asian Girl Professor-- I know that my breaking into this profession is indebted to the work of Asian women who came before me, and I hope that my making it will also enable other Asian women to do the same.

Why Me?

I've spent the last few days celebrating the fact that I've landed a tenure track position with some really great friends of mine. More than anyone, my fellow grad student friends have been excited for me, largely because they know just how painful the process of applying is and how badly the odds are stacked against a person who pursues this profession. While I was certainly riding high from the loads of congrats being thrown at me, I was saddened by the fact that, out of my cohort, I am the only one thus far who has landed a job this year.

So why me? I really don't know. I honestly don't think I'm any smarter than all the really smart people I go to school with. I do work hard (you can't make it through a PhD program without doing so), but considering the time I spend buying shoes, playing Rock Band and stalking people on Facebook, I doubt that I work any harder than most other graduate students do. I don't come from a family of professors, so I haven't been able to rely on some insider connection. I feel good about my project (more on that later), but I couldn't say that I knew how to strategically cultivate a topic that was going to be in vogue. I certainly received a lot of help from really fantastic advisors-- Perhaps more help then some receive, but perhaps less than others do, too.

I don't want to attribute my good fortune to, well, my good fortune. Or luck. Though I confess I do check my horoscope fairly religiously and play with Tarot cards. I use these things as psychological tricks to assure myself, but I actually don't believe in attributing outcomes to something beyond our control. A good friend of mine just wasted her time applying for a TA-ship with a woman who ended up just drawing a name out of a hat. When things don't go the way you want them to, shitty luck is never a consolation. It just makes you feel like shit.

But since some friends have asked me what is it that I've done to get this position, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to share that information. Perhaps I'll devote some future posts to discussing How To Become A Professor (subtitle: When You Don't Know What The Hell You Are Doing).

And Now the Name is Legit

Confession: I claimed the domain name for this blog, Asian Girl Professor, before I actually became a professor. I guess I took the "If you build it, they will come" strategy of willing myself into the title, even as I was mentally preparing for the possibility of never "making it" into the profession. But I suppose any hesitation to use the title also depends on what one means by the word "professor" in the first place.

I currently don't yet have my PhD. I've been working on it for the last 7 years and 5 months, and will be able to file my dissertation before year 8 finishes. For those who don't know, yes, it does take this long to complete a PhD in English. Some of my friends have completed in seven years; very rarely have I seen people complete them in six. In the 7+ years I have been in my graduate program, I've taught many classes, some of which professors do teach, some of which professors don't want to teach. Most graduate students in English at the university I attend, which is a large public university in Yuppie Cowtown. (I think I will refer it to Yuppie Cowtown U in this blog), teach the composition classes that all undergrads have to take if they didn't pass out of them with AP credits in high school. I also worked as a teaching assistant for the Asian American Studies department. Last year, I was given the opportunity to teach two classes that aren't typically given to graduate students: one lower division intro to Asian American Studies course, and one upper-division course, also for the Asian American Studies department. I'd like to think they gave me these courses because of my awesome teaching ability. But I sometimes wonder if I was a convenient way for them to fill a teaching need with cheap labor. (I've read somewhere that 70% of all university courses are taught by non-tenured and non-tenure-track faculty, which means that adjunct faculty and graduate students are doing most of the teaching. It's cheaper to hire adjuncts and grad students than to add more full-time faculty lines.) In any case, it was in these classes that students started calling me "professor" for the first time. It felt kind of weird, given that I didn't have my PhD and wasn't tenure-track faculty. But adjunct and visiting faculty get (rightfully) called "professor" all the time. And not all professors, even the tenured ones, have PhDs-- Creative writing professors, for example, often have MFAs. And dammit, I was doing the work of a professor, so I went ahead and let the students think that I was one.

But now I'm feeling more ready to claim that title without feeling like a poser. (Or, as my mother says, "a little girl pretending to be a professor.") I went out to the sadomasochistic rite of passage known as the Academic Job Market this year (more on that later), and as of two days ago, was fortunate enough to have gotten an offer for a tenure-track Assistant Professor position. So I have "made it," so to speak.

Now to wait for the contract, finally get the PhD in hand, and start planning my move to the small business college in New England, where I will be starting my post in the fall. (I still need a nickname for the place. Maybe it will come to me once I get out there.) In the meantime, I'll start settling into the title of "professor." It's feeling pretty good so far.