Green

So I just found out that my long distance writing partner has an on-campus interview scheduled. I’m really happy for her. I am. In a way, I hope that means it bodes well for me and this year’s once-again nerve-wracking job market. We both graduated from the same MFA program, ended up in PhD programs, and ended up researching black theater (hers from a historical perspective and mine contemporary). We were even up for the same job last year, both going to campus for the final round of interviews.

And, yet, let’s be honest. I’m insanely jealous and little depressed. It’s year three on the academic job market for me, and five on-campus interviews later, I’m still here working part-time, and trying desperately to carve out time to write. Admittedly, some days when I should be writing, I stare at the computer blankly wondering what the hell to say. or how to start, or even why I’m doing all of this.

But then I look at my beautiful, loony, energetic daughter reach once again on the shelf where we keep the band-aids, opening the box herself, pulling off the wrapper, wanting to “dood it herself” and then plaintively asking me, Mommy? Can you put on my thumb? My heart melts, I swallow the jealousy and think, you know, my writing partner might have a job interview at a prestigious university theater program, but I have an awesome husband, a wonderful daughter, and another one on the way. She has a dog and no recent leads in the long term partner/boyfriend/husband department. There are certainly trade offs. But why does it feel like we career-minded women must choose?

I love being mommy. I do. Don’t get me wrong. But there are days when I wonder if that is all I might ever be. A mommy with two graduate degrees and years of paying back the US government. Running a household that has one steady income for 7 years, but desperate for two. And yet, we’re fine. We’re ok. I’m a savvy thrift store shopper (I found brand new Pedipeds for $7! A bike for Stella for Christmas on Craigslist! Maternity pants for $2!) and frankly, I like the thrill of the hunt. The ability at the end of the month to make a week’s worth of healthy and flavorful dinners without once going to the grocery store. I want more time to craft, to knit, to sew things for my girls.

But I also want to hold deep academic conversation about the nature of race in society, about how art can intervene on social systems, how ideologies are constructed and destroyed through theatrical practice. But after this year, if the 10-12 job applications that I have just completed do not yield fruit, I think I might have to find a new path. It’s a hard thing to think about, giving up. And yet, maybe it’s not giving up, but giving over to something new.