The Dual Isolation of Obtaining a PhD and Doing So Abroad

Climbing Mt. Fyffe, Kaikoura, Feb, 2011

Social anthropologists come and go from other cultures and countries – it’s what we do. Some enter their chosen demographic for years at a time and in these days of internet connections, email, and Skype we can at least be marginally connected with our offices, homes, and loved ones. Still, the work is isolating. Although I knew even before graduating with my baccalaureate degrees that I would one day seek a PhD, I had never considered before how difficult the journey to obtaining a PhD really was, nor did I know all the extra iso I was signing on for by doing it abroad in a country where I am not related to a single person. (I mean, seriously. Even Margaret Mead and Clifford Geertz brought their spouses along!)

When I first considered obtaining my PhD in New Zealand, I interviewed several leading faculty members at Universities around the country. One pragmatic academic asked me at the end of our Skype conversation if I had really thought through my decision to go for the PhD. He told me in only half-joking tones that I was signing on for sleepless nights, low wages, loneliness, moments of low confidence, my family and friends almost never seeing me, and isolation. I appreciated his candor, especially since no one before him or since had expressed the challenges of the PhD journey to me in such a no-holds-barred way. Turns out, he knew what he was talking about, especially the isolation.  During this PhD life I have found that isolation distinctly comes in dual ways: 1.) obtaining a PhD is an extremely isolating process anyway, and 2.) doing it abroad far away from loved ones. I have found the sense of iso that comes from each can be both fluid and mutually exclusive.

It is loved ones not really understanding what it is I do, becoming an “expert” in my own research topic, or having very little money for “extras” like social coffees or seeing a play. It’s feeling alone in a crowd, shaking new hands every day, and going weeks and months, sometimes more than a year without being in the physical presence of someone who really knows me. It’s making “strong acquaintances” because I am not able to invest in the geographical and emotional space to find and make a true friend. It’s being in a time zone 16-19 hours ahead of loved ones so that we are not often awake at the same time but when just one hour separates us in our own country it feels like a revelation. It is constantly thinking in numbers and conversions not only in time zones but also in seasons (summer in one country when it is winter in the other), currencies, miles to kilometers, pounds to kilograms, Fahrenheit to Celsius.

It is translating American English into British English and back again, constantly navigating the red lines and autocorrect when I am writing in opposition to the language set on my laptop (and I have two of those, one bought in each country). It is my accent setting me apart in New Zealand where I live but am still a foreigner in (and it is the “wrong” accent since being American these days is not very mod). It is navigating the variety of accents and dialects of other native-English speakers in my adopted country but understanding perfectly the English of non-native speakers. It is the instant guard I feel when entering a social situation, waiting for the question, “where are you from?” when my accent “Others” me yet again and feeling my guard come down when the question does not come or when everyone’s accents are just like mine. (And when I lived and taught in Shanghai, it was making myself understood to taxi drivers where I wished to go or order lunch in the University canteens, usually by pointing at plates full and steaming as they passed by me in the hands of those who had already ordered and had language with which to do so.) It is having loved ones who do not live near me when I am in my own country and who have never been to my adopted one except through my stories. It is being in one country and longing for the other so that even when I am “home” I am never truly there.

This isolation can become stifling if not paralyzing so I have had to find ways to counteract it. This may involve making a friend or two out of my interviewees since they are the ones I am the most often with; finding the equivalent of USA National Public Radio (NPR) existing in the form of Radio New Zealand (RNZ); or learning that in both countries, riding public transportation looks exactly the same, just different street names. It is discovering movies and shows on Fatso in place of Netflix, the BBC instead of PBS, or that Bones and Downton Abbey are on the air and well-loved in both countries. It is discovering new authors like Patricia Grace from whom I’ve learned much about my adopted country and its people in their books and introducing my favorite authors like Toni Morrison or Fannie Flagg to new friends.

It is discovering in all three of my cities (Flint, Dunedin, & St. Louis) a nationally recognized farmer’s market and frequenting them. It is inviting others over for a meal because cooking (especially in NZ) is cheaper than dining out. It is the irony of carrying greetings from a Dunedin acquaintance to her son who is a faculty member at a private university just one mile from the house I grew up at in Flint, Michigan. It is calling my mother at 6:00am when my own is ending at 10:00pm because she is the only person I know in the world who is not only already up at 6am, she is cheerfully so. It is navigating time zones between us when both countries “spring forward” and “fall back,” doing so oppositely and at the same time.

Isolation can be dividing and in the case of one doing their PhD while living between two countries, a constant companion. But I have found that every form of isolation has an opposite to counterbalance it. A little creativity is all that is needed. I have always appreciated the candor of the faculty member I spoke to that day and have found what he said to not only be true but wise. His words were spoken in passing but they carried preparedness with them.