As a native New Yorker I have the pleasure of hosting my childhood friends every Christmas during their semi-annual pilgrimage back to the mother country. Sitting at dinner with my pack last night, I divulged my fears of finding a job upon graduating. Leading to a very familiar debate: you can either have money and no life or a life and no money.
Now, I have always seen myself as a life and no money sort of girl but yesterday was the first time I saw my friends as the former. Here I was sitting amongst a corporate recruiter, a former consultant in grad school, and a biomedical hopeful with the very degree I am about to finish—yet this was the first moment they appeared as such and not solely the girls who first convinced me to believe in myself.
Could it be that I am the last of the starry eyed dreamers? Perhaps I have been so lost in a bubble of reproductive justice that I can no longer relate to the world I want to change?
Even before the impetus of my job search it ‘s become tiresome explaining what I want to do and that there is no funding to do it so odds are I will wait out the recession fighting to end obesity or breast cancer. Not that they are unworthy causes. They’re just not MY cause.
Do I even have a right to be so picky? Why do I feel this bizarre ownership?
Maybe the question is not money or time but simply vision versus blinders? Have my blinders been up so long I can no longer see that there is nobility in all of these life choices. That even if I got my dream job there would be give and take. That the value in “going corporate” to help fund the causes you care about most can be even more effective than working in the field.
Leaving my options open seems the safest way to go personally but if we all did that where does that leave reproductive justice, standing still or coasting along just the same?