In the summer of 2022, I graduated with my PhD. What was a normal, warm summer day for most people was a momentous day for me. According to all odds it was a day that should not have happened. I should not have survived my childhood, much less escaped my abusers and functioned enough to get a PhD and a job from one of the top universities in the world.

I was born to a lower-class family whose members struggled significantly with severe mental illness and addiction. Throughout my childhood I suffered multiple episodes of homelessness as well as severe neglect and abuse of all types. Due to my family’s problems, they trafficked me for sexual exploitation as a young child, and kept me mostly isolated from the rest of the world until I was 14. I nearly died due to the abuse more than once and was rarely allowed medical care. When I was a teenager, my mother joined a cult, attempted to brainwash me, and threatened my life for not participating. Though I am mostly self-educated, and knew nothing about how to exist in the modern world when I got out, I was fortunate to be able to get free from the situation, gain admission to a university, and with a lot of struggle, succeed. Once I escaped ‘home’, I never looked back.

Throughout my twenties my journey of self-discovery made it clear that I belong at a crossroads of identity. I had stepped out of a world of abuse and exploitation into a new world where I was completely out of step, formed unlike anyone I knew, and with no role model to serve as a mirror or guide.

I exist in an intersectional state. I am a woman, diagnosed with autism, OCD, severe CPTSD and dissociation, and multiple physical disabilities. I belong to an ethnoreligious minority whose ancestors experienced genocide. I was identified as gifted and also learning-disabled. All of these, piled onto my severe trauma, leave me with a very complicated and isolating existence.

Yet I am also so much more than these things. I discovered that I am highly intelligent, talented, strong, empathetic, kind, and insightful, and my voice has something meaningful to say. That I have the talent to pursue an academic career and navigate its compounding difficulties. That I deserve dignity and happiness just because I exist.

The purpose of this blog

This blog is meant to accomplish two things. One purpose is to document my path of healing from my experiences. The other is to write about navigating an academic career whilst having intersecting minority identities.

I’ve received the message over and over that people like me shouldn’t exist, especially not in academia, or that if we do exist we should make ourselves small and convenient. This is not unlike the message my abusers fed me daily.

Particularly striking has been colleagues who could not imagine that trafficking survivors could have academic careers (or succeed much in life at all). I’ve struggled for years to find other voices like mine. Contrary to appearances, people like me exist, but too often we are either invisible or overlooked. At best, we are written about, as objects of study or pity, but not as entities in our own right. When we do speak out, we are often ridiculed or disbelieved and labeled as attention seekers.

Therefore, I’ve decided to exercise my voice, both for my own benefit, and for the benefit of others like me – survivors, minorities, and strong, unique people who feel that they don’t belong (especially in Academia). I believe that my voice can make a difference, and if this blog helps one person in the smallest way to feel less alone and more supported, it has fulfilled its purpose.