By Wambui Ngugi

Math, physics, and chemistry are subjects that have always intrigued me and have been the tools that I believe best equip me to understand the world around me. They also serve to help me reach my ultimate goal and the only constant fascination I've had in my life, studying the stars.

This goal – whether it be to better understand the universe as a whole or to travel amongst it, is a notion I have recently come to and am working out the kinks. This said, it is hard. It is especially hard to work towards this once fascination turned love (or obsession) when it feels like I am rowing against the current. From no one looking like me, to the know-it-alls, to the late nights spent working problems to perfection, to locking yourself away in hopes that this latest “lock in” will be the one that guarantees ultimate academic success— seems a bit much, no?  

I, like many, have experienced a toxic relationship with academia. I always joke and say, “if I’m ever in a relationship and it feels like my physics class, then I’m bolting.” I feel as though that should be warning enough, except I am still here.

Admittedly, there is a profound beauty in learning the functions of the world, in being able to understand it through various lenses. This is the notion I fell in love with when I was younger and one that I continue to fall for today. The idea that I can learn to somewhat understand our universe is something I am truly, ever grateful for.

My unyielding fascination and love for my area of study became apparent to me that by the end of my first year, I wanted nothing more than to run. I wanted to run away from the hours of study I put in, just to have a subpar grade; I wanted to run away from the onslaught of emotions which would lead inevitably to horrible self-talk. But most notably, I needed to run away from this idea that no one, and I mean no one, in my area of study understood it. I needed to run because no matter where I looked in my department, I could not see myself in any of the brilliant minds that populated the space. It’s a horrible feeling really, to look around you and start to wonder whether there is a reason no one looks like you in your field, whether you aren’t simply an anomaly who will fight against all odds to make it, but rather an abomination that does not exists in that space for a reason. It is truly a dark place to try to operate from. Regardless of how much support various peers and professors give, there is no floating to the surface of this infinite abyss. It is one thing to feel imposter syndrome, but it is another thing altogether to appear quite literally to be an imposter in a discipline that has historically either not welcomed people that looked like you and rejected non-conformers, labeling them unworthy.

The closest I have ever come to crawling into that dark abyss and making it my home was when I received my electromagnetism midterm 2 results. Initially I laughed, because there was no way all my dedicated long hours of study lead to that rather unfavorable result. I should warn you, the point of retelling this moment is not to talk about how to brush yourself off whilst learning from the moment and keep it moving, (quite frankly, I do not have the answer to that, as that is something I continue to urge myself to do) but rather, to highlight how detrimental that moment was is sealing this idea that there is a reason I couldn’t see myself in anyone in the department; I really did not belong. 

It is truly in moments like these where reflection is important. It was upon reflection that I learned two things:

1. I truly do love physics. Not once did I suddenly feel the urge to blame the actual science for my misfortune, rather I took it out on myself and partially (but not misplaced) on the lecture itself.

2. It became apparent to me that it is imperative that I find a way to disentangle my identity from a grade.

The latter is easier said than done. Quite frankly, we are in a field where results are everything, it is only natural to slip up entrenching our identities and self-esteem to grades. Still, we need to build barriers because a self-image in which one’s identity is outsourced is destined to destroy them. This said, I find it difficult to disentangle the idea that me not being enough is separate from grades defining my identity. I feel as though it makes sense that poor performance in a space where no one looks like you can lead to self-doubt, rather than spark an instance where you learn and persevere from the mistakes made.

Perspicuously, I am still coming to terms with this new shift in perspective, and I know it will take time to adjust when it seems as though this tangled-up knot has been in the makings for many, many years. I am, however, comforted by the notion that my urge to run was not simply to run away from, but rather, to run towards; for I am running towards a place in which my inherent value as a person will empower me to accomplish a great many of my goals, the greatest of those being the stars.

Wambui Ngugi is a current second year undergraduate at Emory University who loves all things F1, the color blue, and the stars. She’s pursuing a double major in Astro-Physics and Applied Mathematics with the hopes of doing research in the future.