Living in a Safety Blanket?: Or, the Physical Echo Chamber

Between looking at last night's election map and reading this NYT piece, I've been thinking about cliquishness, diasporas, and fear (among other things, anyway).

I've lived in three and a half places throughout my life: most of the time in cities smaller than 100k (with the exception of my ~2 months in Boise, which is the half). For the majority of my life, it's been in red state country, though my time in South Carolina was definitely in a university bubble.

When I think about if I'd ever return to my hometown, or if I ask high school friends if they'd ever go back, the first response is usually a solid NOPE. Part of it may be lack of opportunity (in my case, scientific jobs are mostly re: nuclear energy or agricultural, and there aren't major publishing houses where creative friends could work), part of it could be there are more attractive wages elsewhere (minimum wage is $7.25/hour, though cost of living is also cheaper). The Idaho Statesman did an article on this millennial flight, and I agree with people in my peer group:

“It’s frustrating that the Legislature always questions why people leave, but then they ruin things we care about: higher education, women’s rights, a living wage, affordable health care, LGBT rights, the environment,” Moroney said. “That’s a hostile environment to come in as a young person if you want to see change.”

 Anecdotally, several people in my HS friend group ended up in the PNW. I absolutely love living in Oregon. Based on local measures, I can tell the community here cares about education, LGBT rights, and stewarding our environment. But I'm in western Oregon. Earlier this year, the Malheur Wildlife Refuge was occupied by people protesting federal ownership of lands. Granted, the leaders of the occupation were mostly from out of state, but this happened here, not the South or wherever we imagine conservative bogeymen to be. (Anecdotally, Idaho's seen an increase in doomsday prepper types, so there's that).

I defended my masters last month, and am trying to figure out where to apply for jobs- realistically, anywhere. I've jokingly said to my significant other, "Oh, what if that dream job ends up being in Alabama?" and he responds with "Nope, wouldn't be worth it." He grew up on the gulf coast and worked outside of the university bubble in South Carolina and knows how awful people can be.

But I wonder: is there any hope for deep-rooted attitudes to disappear if the people who have casual thoughts never encounter someone different from them? For instance, to many evangelicals, a woman who has an abortion has committed murder. And maybe, she's a slut who should've kept her legs shut. Statistically, they (and you and I) know someone who's had one, and the women who do usually have children already. But there's no one visible to dispel the notion of Slutty McSlutface, why shouldn't they continue to believe it? This is partly why I'm vocal about mine in social media- to put a face on the Other.

A thread on r/asianamerican a few weeks ago was from a Californian who noted that all his friends lived in diverse city enclaves (Seattle, DC, SoCal). However, Cali cost of living is high and much of flyover country is cheap. Moving would be something to consider, except they didn't want to raise their young child in a place where they'd be a minority, where they'd be the only Asian, etc. They feared their child would be subject to racism.

Honestly? I can't say their fear is entirely wrong- after all, the murder of Vincent Chin happened in Michigan. But, if Joe Schmo from Somewheresville, IA never grows up with people who are different from him, what's to prevent media shorthand- stereotypes- from filling in how he sees them? He might not realize how badly some things affect people different from him if he doesn't have a face to it. As I recall from an argument a decade ago with an uncle: "Why should I care if gay people can get married or not? It doesn't affect me..." Increased empathy and countering bias are benefits from a diverse classroom.  Avoiding the midwest won't help it magically become more diverse.

At the same time, though, my feelings of fear for my safety in a Trump presidency aren't gone- and it's not necessarily fear of what Trump will do, but rather the people who voted for him that are okay with violence. I've seen a few cases on my feed of conservative friends saying "Stop calling me a racist, misogynistic bigot, because I'm not!" and sure, I'm not afraid of them wanting to jail me. However, I feel like they enabled the smaller but more vocal number of people who slash tires, who intimidate brown people, who are okay with punching people they disagree with in the face. I understand the need to live where I don't feel threatened.

But at the same time, I see the need to educate people, to be a blue girl in a red state. To be an advocate for those who the majority harm.

There isn't an easy answer, and I don't see myself sleeping well tonight either.

I am the MS of my Fate, I am the Captain of my Goals?

I'm a second year masters student, and I find there's a bee in my bonnet.

The BS is the new high school diploma, so for any kind of specialized work (especially science), a graduate degree is a must. However, PhD programs take such a huge investment of time and energy that they should only be entered if one has a clear idea of what they want to get out of it, whether it be a job in academia or leader of an industry project.

So, get a masters degree, right? They're one of the more rapidly growing degree programs, largely thanks to MBA and M. Ed degrees (and companies that sponsor the cost of higher education for employees). It also creates another pivot point to switch disciplines if you find that you don't entirely fit one, but would maybe feel more comfortable somewhere else. Many biological science doctoral programs require a masters beforehand, and credits can transfer should you choose to go on in academia.

The problem I find, however, or at least cannot shake from my personal headcanon is that it sort of feels like a consolation prize. This is a monumentally stupid perception considering the percentage of Americans with a graduate degree is ~11.77% compared to ~31% of Americans who have a bachelors or higher. . I know people with masters; I know people who have gotten MS degrees in the last several years. Within my department, though, there's about a handful of students who intentionally entered as a masters, and another few who got an MS after they had to scale back their initial PhD proposals. In other departments/disciplines, failure to pass qualifying exams means getting the consolation masters to indicate that grad work had been done, but not enough to be a candidate.

I'm a scientist (or at least, I'm nominally one- that debate is open to interpretation because I certianly don't attempt science daily), so let's consider those data points mentioned above.

Or maybe I am, if twitter documentation counts. 

It's again, incredibly dimwitted to view an MS as a consolation prize when one in five Americans don't go on to college after high school, and the graduate school matriculation rate is roughly around 460,000 people a year. If we narrow the lens on biology PhD programs (~16,000 a year), 70% go on to do a postdocs and of those, only 15% of postdocs will go on to a tenure-track academic job (ASCB 2014).

So why do I feel so down about it? A colleague mentioned Thesis Whisperer's Valley of Shit, and I've seen numerous other posts about grad student struggles and impostor syndrome. It weirds me out though, that these all often come from the perspective of PhD candidates- on the masters timeline, there's the added stress of trying to get done in two, or as is more often the case three years. I also have the personal problems of lack of focus and tying my success rate to my emotional well being, which are both again, hugely problematic areas. There needs to be a culture change- slowly, people are recognizing that tenure-track isn't a tenable position for every grad student. Perhaps the next step is recognizing that it's okay to not make the giant academic leap in one degree.

Commentary on "Running into the Brick Wall of Creationism" essay, extra credt #3

Danielle Tom
Biol 210: Evolution and Creationism
Dr. Jerry Waldvogel
4/21/09
EC #3
Commentary on “The brick wall of Creationism”
Reverend Penny Greer’s opinion that fundamentalism (religious movement) and scientific viewpoints are separate perspectives on the world agrees with lectures earlier in the semester on religion and science as different ways of knowing. Having a historical background will allow for better communication between opposing sides as it allows for greater understanding. It is interesting to see the positive attitudes towards science early in the movement, still prevalent today that an intelligent designer manufactured the rules that govern the natural world. It puzzles me that a hypothesis would be regarded as pure speculation, though, even with evidence. I guess the real reason would be at a glance the theory of evolution puts ‘chance’ in place of an omniscient deity even though a closer look at Darwin’s words would indicate that perhaps such a move towards complexity would be a sign of someone smart enough to create it.
I think her view that the dominant fundamentalist tenant is literalism may be too… stereotypical? Not the right word I’m looking for. Painting the whole one color, I guess, as we DID see earlier in the semester the chart of levels of acceptance of evolution. Fundamentalism is not solely confined to the Flat Earth Society fringe; not all are so vehemently opposed to the general theory (instead halfstepping it with “I believe in micro, not macro.”) Creationism isn’t a solidly brick wall; it’s segments here and there, much like how the Great Wall of China isn’t one long wall but various segments.
Although understanding the historical context of the division will improve communication, true reconciliation is likely impossible as both sides include staunch individuals unwilling to concede or listen to the other’s point of view (as evidenced by the fringes of Dawkins and Dembski). The Rev. has a sound rationale, which will work best in discussions between those closer to the center of the aforementioned chart. In most things, the middle mass tends to be the majority, so for everyday use basic understanding of the history behind fundamentalism and their points of view will be useful. Trying to persuade the fringes will likely be a fruitless task, much like mending the fraying ends of a blanket.

Reflection on the Essay

Regarding my essay here, a reflection... which is also on that site, in italics below the main body.

Weirdly enough, I'd written on religious and scientific points of view on my own blog, as copypasted into one of my journal entries. I wasn't sure how much personal discussion we could include in the essays, however, but at least I was in the right frame of mind. It's always a little bit difficult to find a topic you can love/discuss fully for several pages/paragraphs, and I still seem to approach such a task broadly at best.

I also could've used more sources probably, but procrastination tends to shrink the list. I have a large amount of library books that have been sitting around my desk for the last several months that will likely be used for the podcast if I open them, including some good ones on perspective. However, I'm not recycling my essay topic for the podcast so that's a useless purpose. The scrub jay example is incredibly minor, but works (although disregarded by a teenage[?] creationist a few years back when arguing online "It's just a bird; it didn't turn into anything spectacularly new!")

This essay topic was used somewhat for my persuasive speech in Comm 250, where I argued that Intelligent Design was a pseudoscience, using some arguments from this that the supernatural cannot be objectively analyzed and utilizing Behe's broad definition that would include things recognized as pseudoscience (astrology and the like).