I Cried In My Office Today

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What is tenure?

You may not be familiar with academic culture, but chances are you’ve heard of the concept of tenure. Tenure is one of, if not the primary, benefits of having a career in academia. Becoming a tenured professor means that said professor has guaranteed job security at their home institution for as long as they can.

Earning tenure generally involves a five to six-year performance review period, where a junior professor has to demonstrate their abilities in teaching, research, and service. Tenure standards vary by institution — some institutions require more proficiency in research vs. teaching — and range in specificity from vague to itemized.

Earning tenure is hard, no matter what institution a professor works in. It’s a long process that requires advanced planning, deep work, endless criticism, numerous setbacks, political minefields, bad actors, luck, and tons of support.

All of that is worth it because the theoretical reward is decades of freedom to shape and navigate your career without fear of losing your livelihood at the whim of political disagreement with someone powerful.

Tenure is a big deal.

I Cried When I Got My Tenure Letter.

But not until I started reflecting on all the people that supported me through this journey. I was surprised by my tears and overwhelming emotions of gratitude and triumph because I’m not, and have never been, a diehard fan of academia. I think academia is dying, and much of what I do outside academia, including writing this newsletter, is an outlet for my skepticism of the institution, allowing me to pay the bills and live a very comfortable life.

I know how that sounds, but hear me out.

Academic institutions were never designed with people like me in mind. Academia steams directly from the mind of a cis-hetero white man who, because of the unrecognized labor that his wife is supposed to be doing, has all the time, space, and grace he needs to be singularly focused on generating new knowledge and impressing all his white man friends.

It’s no wonder that academia remains so staunchly white and male at the faculty and administrative levels. No other demographics of people and their inherent experiences and perspectives were a part of the design process. I’ve spent most of my adult life pursuing a nerdy white man’s dream life. And while that life does have some really nice perks, at the end of the day, it is not at all what I would have designed had I had a say.

That being said, I have worked my ass off for the last eleven years as a junior professor. I have endured a lot of BS along the way. I am consistently the only Black person in the room and almost always the first Black person to have done X, Y, or Z at my institution. I earned this cot damn tenure in spite of the culture of academia. And so, I cried because I know what it means to overcome like few of my colleagues know or have experienced.

A Fur Coat on the Titanic

Nevertheless, academia is dying, and not because of the Trump administration’s policies. Donald Trump and the ideologies that he upholds are only a threat to institutions that were incredibly vulnerable from the outset. The idea that someone so inarticulate, hateful, insecure, repugnant, and shortsighted could rise to power is an indictment of the system.

The fact that the founding documents of the US and subsequent amendments do not explicitly prevent a felon from becoming president, yet being a felon in many states disqualifies you from voting for a president, demonstrates how flawed said documents and conceptions of a nation the US is. But that’s what you get when white men have been overrepresented in power for four centuries.

I have observed the same persistent rot in academia and find it ironic that the embodiment of white patriarchy is dismantling an institution that remains staunchly resistant to examining and dismantling white patriarchy.

But academia, unlike the Titanic, is not going down in a lonely and icy sea where those unable to find a life raft freeze to death. The cultures and experiences of people shut out of academia are rich and eager to create all sorts of new ways to uphold the process of education, community building, advancing collective knowledge, and doing right by others.

Academia, as it was conceived and as it functions, cannot be redeemed or reformed. Something new needs to take its place, and the sooner, the better because the suffering that so many of us experience inside academic institutions (mine is not close to what many have experienced, but my suffering has not been insignificant) is entirely unnecessary were it not for the imagination of morally bankrupt white men.

The Wild Kitchen and Tenure.

What I understand to be my life’s work was not achieved when I received my tenure letter. Tenure and my academic career have always been covering for the things I feel more passionately about. I still love teaching with a passion. I still love problem-solving and learning through research with a passion. I still love meeting so many new people through academia. However, none of the things I love about being an academic are exclusive to academia.

Academia has been and will always be a hub for connecting and exploring. For now, it is the best way for me to make a good living. Earning tenure is huge for me because now I have more freedom to push boundaries and take risks without worrying if those efforts will cost me my job.

Professors love to apply for and earn grant funding because it allows them the freedom to direct their curiosities and support their passions. I consider tenure a lifetime grant to continue building The Wild Kitchen. Not until I sat down to write this week’s newsletter did I come to think of tenure as a grant for the things I do outside of academia. But as I type this, I’m realizing that this is exactly how I conceived of this milestone all along.

My deepest and first commitment as a tenured professor is to my students. I owe my colleagues and administrators professionalism, integrity, and accountability. As a tenured professor, I owe myself congratulations and the undogged pursuit of what speaks to my curiosities and sense of good relations.

I am so thankful to have made it this far in life and my career. Tenure is already opening up space for me to live more authentically, which is worth celebrating and lamenting.

Things will change—they are changing—for the better, and I can’t wait to see what happens next.

CONSIDER THIS

Leveling Up My Broth Game!

I make broth frequently, perhaps once a week when I’m really rolling. But the end process of straining has been a huge pain in the ass, especially when you have to strain a large pot of bone broth by yourself.

It’s taken me far too long to buy a chinois (shin-wah) after I saw Jon Kung use one in his kitchen. And even though I’ve only used my chinois once, I cannot imagine my life without this tool.

A chinois is essentially a straining funnel. Simple, yet game-changing. I no longer have this dull and nagging sense of dread when making broth. I often thought, “Man, I could really use some broth, but boy, do I hate straining that thing!” Now, I’m free of those negative feelings; all it cost me was $35.

Chinois are great. Get you one even if you don’t think you’ll need it, because, chances are, you actually do!

NEW ON YOUTUBE!

Aquarius here. We like to reflect. Check out some of my reflections on hunting on the channel!

Thanks for reading!

-Jonathan