Confessions of a Brown Woman in Math
By Jasmine Camero
My brown skin has often spoken for me before I’ve gotten the chance to show who I am in society and especially in academic spaces. I walk into any room and people immediately see my skin color, race and ethnicity, gender, the way I dress - all purely physical identities. Because of these immediate interactions, people make assumptions about me based on the unique aspects of my physical appearance. I could go on and on about various instances that this has been true, but I want to focus on my experience as a woman of color in a space that is heavily dominated by men who refuse to acknowledge the differences in the reality of navigating through these spaces when you are not a man.
Before starting each day as a graduate student, there are certain thoughts that cross my mind that I am sure my male peers do not think about. Let me walk you through my inner monologue on an average day as a mathematics Ph.D. student. Before stepping foot on campus, I have a number of thoughts and a number of decisions I have to make and one of them is something as simple, but highly complex, as clothes: what can I wear that will make me be taken seriously, while also giving myself the opportunity to express myself in a way that I enjoy? Why is this a thought that even crosses my mind? This is a constant battle I have with myself since I grew up in a school system and society where people, most often men, are trained to be threatened by the exposure of the shoulder of a woman. I can’t help but often let these thoughts dictate my clothing choices, which is something I am constantly working to unpack. I want to be taken seriously, specifically by my peers, faculty, and students and for some reason, being taken seriously in the workplace or society seems to be tied to what I wear. I am not the typical math graduate student that you picture when you have a stereotypical perception of the mathematical community. I am loud, I am bubbly, and I have a lot of personality, which all contribute to my interactions on a daily basis. Once I make it to campus, it is time to put on the many hats a graduate student wears - we are students, researchers, teachers, organizers, mentors, and more. Going to a class for the development of my own knowledge or giving a lecture to undergraduates are moments when I question my existence in a doctoral program. What am I doing here? I don’t deserve to be here. Who said I was capable of doing rigorous math? Who trusted me to teach? There are countless moments I wonder to myself how many brown women are in a Ph.D. program and how many make it through. I aspire to have the confidence of a white man who has never been told that they aren’t capable of something. I want to reach a level of confidence where I don’t doubt myself in a mathematical setting and I aspire to be taken seriously as a mathematician like my male peers automatically are. The clothes I wear, the way I let my personality shine through my energy and bubbliness, and my self-doubt are all aspects that can, potentially, negatively impact my presence in a professional setting.
This semester was my first semester being the instructor of record for a calculus class and this new responsibility brought on a wave of concerns regarding what I chose to present myself in and how. Of course, as I mentioned before, I have a few identities that are at the forefront of my entrance. As a woman of color, I am always aware of how I am received by a crowd and tie certain reactions to that of my skin color and gender. I can always count on hearing the question, “But where are you really from?” I am a Latinx woman taking over a space that, unfortunately, so few people of color do not get the opportunity to reach and there is a lot of privilege that comes with this. However, as I am sure many can relate, being a woman in this space can be accompanied by negative and uncomfortable confrontations with our male peers. It is not a coincidence that the female instructors in the department have full classes, while some have merely less than half. I can only speak for my experience, but as a first time instructor for a math class at a private university, the interactions, questions, and conversations I have with students are far different from that that my male peers describe. With large class sizes and strong teaching skills, women are not taken seriously in these spaces and are not met with respect from their peers, which is something that can be true at many stages of an academic career. There have also been positive experiences where I have felt supported and respected, and this advocacy must be acknowledged, but we cannot hide from the realities that women and non-binary folks face in a workplace.
Apart from some unsettling instances, most of my encounters in math have been empowering. Part of my motivation in pursuing a Ph.D. in the first place was and is to create an environment where underrepresented groups can feel supported and to build an inclusive and equitable space in math that amplifies the voices of people of color. Being the “only one” can bring on feelings of power and force, in a positive way, but can at the same time can feel so heavy and lonely. These positive moments have at times been overshadowed by the crushing overall domination of men in the field who continue unaffected by the consequences of the environment they have created. I am tired of being judged for not “looking like” or “acting like” a typical mathematician. I am a mathematician and I should be treated like one.
Jasmine Camero is a Ph.D. student at Emory University studying classical algebraic geometry. She is passionate about building an equitable and inclusive community for underrepresented students in math. Outside of math, Jasmine enjoys reading, cooking and baking.