心静， 平静。
新的一年，不必为了不应该烦的事以怒。

心静，平静。
用平常心面对，不必要的，不理

以被利用了多时，这是最后一次了
为和要觉得那么委屈呢？
做了，就有个了段。

只要对得起良心，
那够了。

im here looking through my old lab books,
trying to figure out what i can put into my thesis so i can finish up,
and i cant help but feel so empty.
there was a point in time where i was so engaged,
so enthusiastic and so ready to tackle whatever was ahead of me,
it's not that i am bitter or anything,
but there was a time when i was doing the things i am doing now because i really loved it,
free of justifications, free of doubts about where i stand.
that was such a great time.
correction, it was fantastic.

i wasnt bothered with politics,
i didnt need to publish in the best journals,
i didnt need to think about my future as a dog fight.
i really, truly enjoyed what i did,
i truly wanted to help the world in however little way i could.

i cant figure out at which point that actually changed.
where i actually minded the fact that i werent in papers where i thought i should have been,
where i started to think more about how i was going to survive in this battle.
i started to forget my basics,
i started losing who i was.

ive made the decision to move on,
to move out of this area,
because i cant tolerate who i am becoming, in part.
i was also told yesterday that once your contributions are no longer valued,
it's time to move on.
and that's also had a big role in my decision to move on.
people forget easily,
but i dont want to be that person to forget,
so i am choosing to move on.

i want to be the person who smiles again at the small things in life.

it's been a while since i've written…
many things have happened, most happy, some upsetting..
but more importantly, i've been feeling this urge to just finish up…

i recently learnt a proverb:
직업의 목표는 높게 가지되 마음은 겸손하기를 유지하라
and that's to aim high in your career, but stay humble in your heart.

i would love to say that that's what i stand for and believe in,
but things that happen around me threaten the feasibility of this idea.
people are shrewd, and nasty, when it comes to power.
more importantly, people are greedy.

i've asked myself this many times now,
do i really want to stay in this line of work,
where black and white are blurred,
relationships are manipulated, 
trust is broken,
for a dangling piece of carrot.

im so desperate to be shown that it doesn't have to be like that.
that people around me aren't like that.
but every time i just get shown that being nice won't get you anywhere.

im not a pushover,
but i choose to yield.

in a way, I'm really afraid.
I'm really afraid that I'm going to become like that.
i don't want to, because at the end of the day, it's just a job. 

sometimes, i feel like i just don't have anymore to give.
whenever i feel that,
i just keep telling myself to push on.
2 years in, it's almost hard to convince myself that i can do it for another 2.
it's an internal struggle and i feel like there's really no one to talk to about.
everyone I've tried to talk to just tells me that i just have to keep pushing,
that I'm good enough to finish and the end is in sight.

i try to tell myself that too,
and i try and keep my raw emotions under wraps,
but it's so hard.
it's really so hard.
i keep thinking about what i will get at the end of it,
but i have been struggling,
and the end may never be quite enough,
to pull me out of this sinkhole.

it's so toxic.
what should i do?

so amidst my human exhaustion limits,
I've been watching a lot of korean dramas.
it's been more than fascinating,
looking at these pretty faces,
and wondering what they would have been like minus surgeries.
and when I'm not doing that,
I'm reading about plastic surgery in korea and the social norm it has become,
liken to be just an ipl or a trip to your local beautician.
except to me, it looks like it hurts, a lot.
is it really just insecurity? does it stem from inside out or outside in?
i've been asked before, if i were to get plastic surgery,
where would i choose to do it on.
in honesty, im realistic enough to know that people can't all be gorgeous,
im not ugly, im not gorgeous either,
and that's enough for me.
yes, we all have our own insecurities about the way we look,
but is that really reason to look like someone you're not?

you know,
it's been months and everyone expects you to be ok.
and you expect yourself to be ok.
but the reality is, im not ok.

and when i say,
i want to stab him so many times so that my pain goes away,
i mean it.
i want him to disappear and i have no sympathy.
no, it doesnt mean i will actually do it,
because my ability to reason outweighs my impulsive delusions.

but i know im scarred for life.
because you're fucked up.
you've screwed me up.
and you just walk away unscathed.

i dont know how many times i have to tell myself
that there's always something positive that will come out of it,
just so i can get up in the morning and have to pretend that i dont want to stab you.
you dont understand.

from: http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/context-and-variation/2012/01/30/from-the-field-hazed-tells-her-story-of-harassment/

you're not alone.

When I began to experience sexual harassment as a graduate student, I felt I was being hazed. As one of few female students in a male-dominated field, I assumed my professor wanted to see how tough I was.  I must say, I rose to the challenge.  I laughed off his and other male students’ sexualized banter and came back with insults of my own in an attempt to fit in.  I was a young, enthusiastic researcher and I wanted to be accepted. I interacted with my professor and male colleagues informally, not realizing how badly it could backfire. As time passed I became a target, rather than a participant in the joking.

In moments of discomfort, I kept my feelings to myself.  At our research site in a foreign country, my professor and the male students often made lewd comments about the local women.  One day early in my training, my professor took us on a tour of a rural town.  We came across a friendly young pregnant woman and her husband.  My professor chatted with the couple in their language then turned to me. In English, he commented approvingly upon the woman’s breasts.  Her husband realized what he was saying and ordered his wife to cover up.  The young woman quickly drew her shawl across her chest, eyes cast to the ground. My professor seemed unconcerned about the humiliation he caused them. I was put off by his lack of respect, but I said nothing.  The incident has nagged at me for years.

My professor often joked that only pretty women were allowed to work for him, which led me to wonder if my intellect and skills had ever mattered. He asked very personal questions about my romantic life, often in the presence of the male students. His inappropriate behavior was a model for them, making it not only acceptable, but the norm. My body and my sexuality were openly discussed by my professor and the male students. Comments ensued about the large size of my breasts and there was speculation about my sexual history. There were jokes about selling me as a prostitute on the local market. Once I mentioned that I admired a senior female scientist and they began describing scenarios in which she and I would have sex. Pornographic photos appeared daily in my private workspace. What started out as seemingly harmless joking spiraled out of control. I felt marginalized and under attack, and my work performance suffered as a result.

Often, I was left with a pile of work at night while my professor and his male students went out to bars.  They enjoyed the attention of local women, who were attracted to their wealth and prestige as foreigners. Many of my co-workers engaged in affairs with local women. On the other hand, I received unwanted attention if I went out unaccompanied. Local men would follow me down the street, making catcalls, sometimes groping me.  Foreign women were often treated that way.  Because of this, I became increasingly reliant on the men I worked with, though I felt nearly as unsafe at work as I did in the streets.

By the time the harassment got out of control, it was too late for me to back out. I had spent too many years immersed in the research to walk away and start over.  So I modified my own behavior, hoping things might change. I dressed as modestly as possible to avoid drawing attention to my body, but the sexual comments continued. I tried dating one of the male students, thinking that if I had a boyfriend I would be protected. But the romance fizzled, leaving me more vulnerable to humiliation than before. I also tried working twice as hard as everyone else, but my professor never noticed.

I finally confronted my professor, out of desperation rather than courage. It didn’t go very well. He told me that I was oversensitive and that I kept talking like that he’d fire me. And for many reasons, mainly shattered self-esteem, I stayed. The most blatant sexual jokes and comments stopped.  My professor curbed his comments out of fear of the consequences. But our relationship deteriorated so much after that conversation that he eventually revoked his promise to fund me through graduate school.

In the early days of my research I knew nothing of academic life. I didn’t realize that many research projects are run like pyramid schemes, with rigid status hierarchies, ruthless competition, the exploitation of students and objectification of women.  I realized too late the extent of the strings attached to the funding my professor had promised. My education was compromised for no reason other than my femaleness.

When a professor makes the commitment to mentor a student, the student’s professional future is in their hands. This should never be taken lightly, and in the case of male professors and female students, it is crucial to maintain ethical boundaries. Women students at foreign research sites are particularly disempowered, being far from family and other support networks. This is the kind of setting in which the power imbalance between student and professor can be exploited.

I have read about sexual harassment lawsuits underway at Yale University.  Some of the stories are eerily similar to mine. We start with a young, enthusiastic, intelligent woman.  A male professor takes an intellectual interest in her, takes her under his wing, gives her a job and training.  When the inappropriate comments start, she feels uncomfortable, but says nothing. She feels indebted to the professor, and he has promised to guide her to a successful career.  She becomes deeply engaged in and committed to the research, but the professor continues to pester and demean her.  She feels increasingly insecure, and she must decide whether to confront her harasser or leave the research she loves. She has to pay a price, simply for being a woman.

Someone always asks, “Why didn’t she just leave?” Well, she might not leave because she is funded, and there aren’t many other opportunities. She may be too committed to the research.  She could be years into a graduate program, and changing professors would slow her progress to graduation substantially.  Potential new professors will want to know why she left, and it will be difficult to answer.  Others in her field will think she is an unreliable scholar for switching horses midstream. Her professor may refuse to give her a recommendation, limiting her options. She knows her life and her choices will become subject to public scrutiny. She knows that some would say that she was “asking for it.”  Finally, she knows that there is a lot to be lost from standing up to an abusive professor.

What can we do about this? Individual responsibility is fundamental, and many women do set boundaries and investigate potential graduate programs for any history of sexual harassment.  I wish I had thought of that. But it is not enough to place all responsibility on the would-be victims.  Women students deserve to have the same learning options that male students do. In this day and age women should not have to forego certain educational opportunities out of fear of being demoralized, harassed or abused. Universities must hold their professors accountable for their actions.  There must be a safe place for women to present their concerns about harassment without having to risk their futures. I also believe that professors with a record of harassment should be ineligible for research funding until they demonstrate a commitment to professional conduct.

I managed to graduate and have a great job doing research I love, but I bet a lot of women in these situations don’t.  Fortunately I have discovered a community of brilliant, outspoken and supportive female scientists.  If I’d had role models like them as a graduate student, things would have been very different.

To the women who have had experiences similar to mine, I hope you are healing, and I hope you consider sharing your story. And to any women who are currently in such a situation, you are not alone. Don’t be afraid to reach out for support.  As I’ve learned the hard way, women in academia really need to look out for each other.