The Limits To My Fierceness

So yesterday I wrote a post about channeling my inner fierceness through a Salt-n-Pepa ringtone. I should probably provide a disclaimer saying that, most of the time, my ringtone is actually set to this:

Oh yes. That's the Lea Michelle cover of the Barbra Streisand classic, "Don't Rain On My Parade" from the super cool series, Glee. Apparently, when I'm not pretending that I'm a black woman, I'm pretending that I'm a gay man.

Now, this song is not lacking in fierceness. I mean, you don't want to mess with Barbra Streisand. She will cut you. And there are few moments in music recording history more tingle-inducing than when she belts, "Hey Mr. Arnstein, HERE I AAAAAAMMMM!!!!" Those pipes are no joke.

Still, this is not a ringtone that inspires awe and admiration. Nor is it one to be used on campus. Last week, I was in my office hours with three students who wanted help on their research papers. I had forgotten to put my phone on silent, and all of a sudden comes blaring, "Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter..." My students immediately recognized it and exclaimed, "Glee!"

Maybe that scored me some coolness points with my apparently very dorky students, but still, that was kind of embarrassing. Though perhaps less embarrassing than had I said, "Yes, but have you seen Funny Girl with Barbra Streisand???"

This is how I know I will never be cool. After I shared with my brother the website that my friend shared with me, Audiko.net, we immediately started a war of sending each other embarrassing ringtones. His first hit for me: "Souper Trouper" by ABBA. But not the ABBA original. The cover from the embarrassingly bad movie, Mamma Mia!, featuring Meryl Streep. For some reason, my brother takes great delight in the idea of me having to listen to, "I was sick and tired of everything, when I called you last night from Glasgow..." every time someone calls me.

I think I trumped him, though. This was my gift/revenge:

His response: A text message that simply said, "U suck."

Now, the deal is that if I use his ringtone, he'll use mine. At least for each other's IDs. But I don't think that's going to happen. Even we have limits to our dorkiness.

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...