Pursuing Higher Degree Research in the Era of ‘Black Lives Matter’: It is Not Business as Usual

If by now any person with access to the Internet or a television set has not become aware of the recent, unsettling attack on black lives in the United States of America, that person has their eyes wide shut. Worse, if such a person, no matter the colour of their skin, is not outraged by the scant regard given to black lives in that society and others around the world, their pulse on humanity has shamelessly flatlined and is in dire need of defibrillation.

This semester of my PhD candidature has been one of the most difficult periods in my whole life. It has been plagued by the deaths of several family members, friends, and neighbours. This includes a gun-related close call incident on the life of my black mother, who is stranded in the United States due to COVID-19 travel restrictions. Amid all this chaos, I am still required to deliver on my responsibilities as a student, especially since I have been fortunate enough to complete my PhD on a full scholarship. For a parallel qualification, this semester, I am completing a set of tasks on developing relationships and communicating progress made with stakeholders in my research, but it behooves me to inform my stakeholders that it is not business as usual.

On the day that I woke up to news about George Floyd’s vicious murder, I had planned to have a full and productive day. My to-do list was full of tasks to complete and I had several students’ papers to grade; however, none of that was to happen in the formerly preconceived, seamless fashion. I was haunted by the images from the video of Mr. Floyd begging for his life while his blood was mercilessly forced onto the asphalt beneath him and his breath into the air around him. It reminded me of the brutal murder of my 23-year-old niece just a few months ago, an event that had brought my PhD activities to a screeching halt for some time. Following a dispute with her fiancé, she was stabbed at her home and managed to stumble out onto the street to call for help. “Unu no si mi a go ded?” – “Don't you see that I'm going to die?”, she cried out to her neighbours. She collapsed and died, her 1-month-old son, fast asleep, in complete ignorance and suddenly motherless. Videos of the crime scene were all over Facebook, and I was forced to watch from a great distance, completely helpless – hopeless. Flies danced in her blood that stained the asphalt where she had fallen, just a few metres from where my sister and her boyfriend had previously been brutally shot to death in their own home. Every night I go to bed subconsciously anxious over receiving another death announcement call. How could I carry on as if nothing had happened? I certainly tried, because my bottom line must be met. I still have a responsibility to myself, the university, my supervisors, and the Australian Department of Home Affairs that granted me a temporary visa to study.

If you have never faced racism, you will never know what it feels like to be at fault over the colour of your skin – rightly and perfectly made, but perfectly wrong in a society that does not accept you. That is the plight of many people of colour and especially black people in the United States and elsewhere. I have faced this racism, in Latin America, Europe, and even in Australia, but I try to keep my eyes on the prize, for I must finish what I started. At the same time, employers, institutions, and offices must acknowledge that their black employees, students, associates, and clients are faced with much more than societal and institutional disadvantages. Their very mental health is at stake when they see their people being lynched in public and online, and worse when these actions are justified by those who are privileged not to have to experience racial discrimination. It is unreasonable to expect that they should leave their problems at the door when they come to school or work and proceed to build up someone else’s enterprise while their basic rights are spurned and denigrated before their very eyes. Those in positions of power must fight to ensure the basic rights and freedom of the socially relegated are upheld and advocated for, only then will those people be productive enough to contribute to laying their own brick in the wall of industry.

In a recent webinar on creating a structure for literature reviews, the presenter used the analogy that each aspect of the literature review is a brick that builds the threshold and wall into which a door is fitted. The door is the gap to be filled by the research project being undertaken and leads into the justification for the investigation. As I considered the upsetting demise of Botham Jean, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and many other black lives, I wondered, how many times have black people laid bricks in the wall of society only to have the door, once secured on its hinges, shut in their faces? Those who guard the door can do better – they must do better!

On the other end of the mentally debilitating war on people of colour, those who are affected should seek professional help where possible. It is pointless to sit in silence and brood over injustices while refusing to speak up and let their voices be heard. In my own case, my responsibilities to my stakeholders and more importantly, to myself as a person, urged me to seek counseling to deal with the pain, anxiety, and sleeplessness. Having experienced a race-related incident on campus a few weeks earlier, when I met with the Vice-Chancellor of my university, I expressed to him the need for the institution to systematically address and take very seriously all instances of racial discrimination. He assured me that it does and will continue to do so, and he encouraged me to give my voice to the cause.

I acknowledge that as much as my phenotypical makeup bids me fight in the struggle against racial inequality, there are others like me, who because of their position, are constrained to protest in silence. They are urged to remain ‘professional’ in conduct and conversation while forcefully waving the black flag behind their backs because they must deal with white people who might take offense at it being flown at full mast. We struggle together to construct a society in which we can all be proud and free to exist in peace. I see you.

On this strenuous journey toward self-fulfillment, I am privileged to have very supportive supervisors who understand that a PhD does not follow an elegant, straight line and that I am not separate from the issues that I face. I encourage all people in supervisory and leadership roles to consider that your bottom line is only as good as the people who draw it, so treat them well. Fight with them, fight for them.

In memory of Latoya & Dyema... 

... and for all people of colour, who persevere daily in the face of danger.