When I was in undergrad, I experienced a trauma that was further compounded by my University failing to support me (and in fact, my University essentially implemented a gag order forbidding me from speaking publicly about what had happened). In ways that I couldn’t have anticipated, this pandemic has brought up a lot of those old feelings of betrayal and helplessness — specifically, those feelings have been re-triggered through advocating for my own students during this crisis.
Some of my students have found themselves back in abusive households in the wake of forced campus move-outs, and though they are desperate for University housing resources, they’ve been met with institutional barrier after barrier. I’ve been doing everything I can to e-mail and call administrators on their behalf — which of course I am more than happy to do — but being “on the other side” of this University advocacy process has brought to the surface how alone I felt in undergrad, when I had no one to support or advocate for me.
Some days I feel like an empowered new woman, being for my students the advocate I wish I’d had. Other days I still feel like that young, scared, lost girl who was ready to give up on grad school and academia altogether because it didn’t feel like universities were designed for people like me, who had experienced what I had. I never expected this global crisis to bring up such personal past issues for me. I’m fighting for my students, but I’m also fighting for myself, or at least the past version of myself who still lives inside me.
