I’m writing this post on the train back from Chicago where I presented a paper at a major conference in my academic discipline. Lu is back in Michigan studying for final exams. We take our roles as budding scholars seriously and have been blessed to attend a university that’s ranked high in both of our fields… for now. What happens when we finish?
All of this to say that I'm at an odd place. Throughout my life, I've learned the importance of being independent and successful. I've heard from family members, church members, and family friends -- both married and unmarried -- about the importance of learning to take care of myself just in case I fall into that 43% almost-majority. However, something unexpected happened: I found the elusive good black man.
Hmmm, so I'm armed with an arsenal of advice for what to do in case I didn't find Mr. Right, but nobody really told me what to do if I did. With all of these lessons on the importance of independence, it's hard to think about compromise. What if I got a great job in DC, and he got a great job in California? If we were dating, then I wouldn't put my dreams on hold to follow him to California. I'd be off to DC, he'd go to California, and we'd be in a long-distance relationship until we inevitably went our separate ways.... Then I'd be a statistic.
Now let's flip the situation: We're married. I get a great job in DC, and he gets a great job in California. We weigh the pros and cons, and then move to DC.... Okay, just kidding. We move to the place that works out best for us as a couple, and we figure out the details as we go along. Even if both of us were fine with the decision, whoever gets to pursue their dream job would feel a bit guilty for "holding back" the other person.
Being successful and black, I'm part of a small group that has learned to overcome prejudice, statistics, and a variety of challenges. While the process can be isolating and lonely, I have friends that are going through similar situations. However, friends can support each other when they are hundreds of miles apart. That's what email is for -- in fact, when a friend moves, I'm excited because I have a new place to visit when I take a vacation.
The situation is a just a little bit different with a spouse. You can celebrate their joys and be there to support them during tough times, but whatever your spouse is experiencing also impacts your livelihood as a couple. Their joys may present a challenge to what you thought your future would look like.... And this isn't a situation that most black women are raised to handle.
Lu and I have had to spend some time brainstorming solutions to get around both the two-body problem and the burden of being young, gifted, and black... and married. Here are our top three options:
Enter the “two-body problem.” The two-body problem occurs when spouses have to find two jobs in the same place. The way the economy is right now, securing one job is hard enough. Lu and I have somewhat of an advantage over other couples because we aren't in the same field. Therefore, we'd be looking for jobs at one university or in one city, instead of in one department.
Nonetheless, there’s a downside to this because there aren’t many universities that have top programs in both of our disciplines. To further complicate the matter, Lu and I both want to end up in the DC area, and I'll finish my degree anywhere from 1-3 years before him.
This is a pretty tall order: Find two jobs at a university in the Washington, DC area that has a solid reputation in both the social sciences and hard sciences, and that will either defer my employment or offer him some sort of lab space in the meantime.
Of course, the alternative would be to wait to get married. Until when you ask? Well, I don't have a crystal ball. Who knows when or if there will ever be a "perfect" time in our lives to settle down?
Another issue is that Lu and I are black (or African American, if that's your term of choice). Some people may wonder what race has to do with anything. Don't white couples face the same problem? Yes, whites do face the two-body problem. In fact, given that black PhDs are few and far between; and married black PhD couples are rare, white couples face this issue more often.
The complication is not in the logistics, but rather the weight that comes with being a successful black woman. People often toss out the statistic that over 40% of black women have never been married -- double the number of white women -- to fuel some sort of debate about the availability and eligibility of black men (i.e. the majority of black men are either uneducated, unemployed, in jail, homosexual, dead by 25, etc.) or to start a discussion about the number of children born out of wedlock in the "underclass."
However, the tide has recently turned to look at successful, single black women. These women have gotten to a point in their lives where the only thing left on their "30 Things to Do Before 30" list is to get married... or at least fall in love... or at least meet someone eligible. Unfortunately, finding Mr. Right is not something that can be checked off as easily as reaching educational goals, picking up new skills, or traveling to exotic lands.
A variety of arguments have been presented as the "reason" for this, including that black men are intimidated by success, eligible black men like to play the field, or that good black men just don't exist. On the other hand, a number of black men have responded that successful black women are jaded, materialistic, superficial, or too independent to trust or allow black men to take the lead -- or even a co-starring role -- in a relationship.
To which, black women respond by saying why should they trust a black man who is intimidated by success, playing the field, potentially on the down low, less educated than they are, etc.... See the cycle?
A variety of arguments have been presented as the "reason" for this, including that black men are intimidated by success, eligible black men like to play the field, or that good black men just don't exist. On the other hand, a number of black men have responded that successful black women are jaded, materialistic, superficial, or too independent to trust or allow black men to take the lead -- or even a co-starring role -- in a relationship.
To which, black women respond by saying why should they trust a black man who is intimidated by success, playing the field, potentially on the down low, less educated than they are, etc.... See the cycle?
All of this to say that I'm at an odd place. Throughout my life, I've learned the importance of being independent and successful. I've heard from family members, church members, and family friends -- both married and unmarried -- about the importance of learning to take care of myself just in case I fall into that 43% almost-majority. However, something unexpected happened: I found the elusive good black man.
Hmmm, so I'm armed with an arsenal of advice for what to do in case I didn't find Mr. Right, but nobody really told me what to do if I did. With all of these lessons on the importance of independence, it's hard to think about compromise. What if I got a great job in DC, and he got a great job in California? If we were dating, then I wouldn't put my dreams on hold to follow him to California. I'd be off to DC, he'd go to California, and we'd be in a long-distance relationship until we inevitably went our separate ways.... Then I'd be a statistic.
Now let's flip the situation: We're married. I get a great job in DC, and he gets a great job in California. We weigh the pros and cons, and then move to DC.... Okay, just kidding. We move to the place that works out best for us as a couple, and we figure out the details as we go along. Even if both of us were fine with the decision, whoever gets to pursue their dream job would feel a bit guilty for "holding back" the other person.
Being successful and black, I'm part of a small group that has learned to overcome prejudice, statistics, and a variety of challenges. While the process can be isolating and lonely, I have friends that are going through similar situations. However, friends can support each other when they are hundreds of miles apart. That's what email is for -- in fact, when a friend moves, I'm excited because I have a new place to visit when I take a vacation.
The situation is a just a little bit different with a spouse. You can celebrate their joys and be there to support them during tough times, but whatever your spouse is experiencing also impacts your livelihood as a couple. Their joys may present a challenge to what you thought your future would look like.... And this isn't a situation that most black women are raised to handle.
Lu and I have had to spend some time brainstorming solutions to get around both the two-body problem and the burden of being young, gifted, and black... and married. Here are our top three options:
1) I start looking for post-doc positions at my current institution. Post-docs normally last for 1-2 years, so this would be the perfect interim solution.
2) One of us finds a non-academic job. Since our goal is to work in Washington, DC, there are plenty of job opportunities with both the government, consulting firms, think tanks, and other research institutions that would enable us to use our research skills without working at a university.
3) I delay my progress. In my particular program, it’s not unheard of – or even uncommon—for a student to spend seven or more years getting a PhD. Currently, I’m on track to finish well before then, but I could delay my progress without ruining my reputation. This way, we’d be job-hunting at the same time. Definitely stressful, but we could better compare/contrast opportunities that would work for both of us.
Re: single black women, I recently heard of this book:
http://www.amazon.com/Bitch-New-Black-Helena-Andrews/dp/0061778826
written by a girl I know here.
Might be interesting even for someone who is a little farther away from 'playing the field.' ;)
Just the title alone is interesting! I'll have to check it out. :-)