Theorizing about the past

I have only recently begun to theorize about what has driven me to pursue higher education. In my view, many people from so-called “first gen” backgrounds are encouraged to pursue higher education perhaps by family, friends, or even an invested high schooler counselor. There is a plethora of personal stories. As for me, I had a different experience distinguished by the absence of any encouragement.

In addition to being the “first-generation” in my family to attend college, I am still the one to have been enrolled for a substantial amount of time.  Not only did no one set an example, college was not something my family really talked about with me nor was there anyone to set the example. This is not to say that my family was discouraging, but higher education was not in our orbit.

Yet, even when I was young, I always assumed I would go to college. In fact, I was indignant about it. Without citing statistics, my intuition tells me that few people in my high school graduating class ended up going to college. At the risk of sounding pretentious, I always felt “different” from them somehow.

Looking back, I wonder if my experience was as idiosyncratic as it might seem. In retrospect, I attribute much of this to my LGBTQ identity (more on this later). Perhaps obvious to us now, kids who are perceived to have LGBTQ identities are often ostracized by their peers. It can be a struggle to relate to people who constantly brand you as different. Despite having grown up with other working-class kids, I could not relate to the things that they (especially other boys) were interested in. I was fond of geography, history, art, literature, and other things associated with “intellectualism.”

There may have even been somewhat of an “anti-intellectual” culture in my “rural-ish” hometown. With no clearer explanations as to what drove me from this environment, I am left to assume that being “different” from everyone else in one way caused me to not only relate to, but also to pursue, markers of this difference. Ultimately, I would not trade my education, travel experience, knowledge of several languages, and future job opportunities for a different childhood. That said, I have been wondering if my experience has been shared by other gay men.

In preparing to write this post, I came across the article Gay Men Earn Degrees at Highest Rate, Study Finds. I was surprised to see that recent data corroborate my experience. I am even more surprised that I was not privy to this research until now. In the article, Maria Carrasco reports that 52% of gay men have undergraduate degrees where only 35% of straight men do. Moreover, the study she cites shows that 6% of gay men in the United States have an advanced degree, which is 50% higher than straight men (It is worth nothing that these numbers do not hold up with lesbian women; a very interesting observation but obviously this could be a dissertation.).

Apparently, this phenomenon has been labeled the “Best Little Boy in the World Hypothesis.” The hypothesis goes that gay men tend to be “overachievers” to deflect attention away from their stigmatized sexuality. What pondering my own experience has revealed to me is that a desire for class mobility may not be the only thing that pushes us into the sphere of higher education.

The Worst Morning Routine

 

    One of my most vivid memories of 1L year happened on the very first day of the introduction week. I woke up at 7am and started getting ready for the day when a debilitating wave of nausea hit me. The intensity made me resort to laying on the bathroom floor and I spent the majority of that morning trying to keep from throwing up. That was my first bout of anxiety that was followed by over a year of severe anxiety symptoms that affected every corner of my life.

    In that year I had come to feel terrified of going to sleep because I knew that in the morning my routine would not go without gut wrenching nausea that made me fall to my bathroom floor. It was a daily ritual for me. At this time, not only was I dealing with internal physical manifestations of anxiety but it also affected my day to day interactions with people. I was awkward, I didn't know how much of myself I could share with other people. It was like a consistent dark cloud hovering above me. 

    What contributed to this was also the nature of law school classrooms. I remember sitting there in contracts class getting my very first cold call and having my ind go completely blank. The only thing I could focus on was the pounding of my heart in my ears. I embarrassingly stuttered out "I'm sorry I have anxiety" to my professor who so graciously moved on from me. I wish I could say the anxiety was only bad in class and I was able to find some solace among the student body, but I didn't. Consistent talk of whose outline looks like what, who was doing which hypo, and who stayed the longest at the library, made me feel constantly unworthy. My anxiety exhausted me. I had no energy after hours of doctrinal classes. I couldn't do a reading let alone spend hours scrutinizing legal text. I wasn't like my peers. I wasn't committed because I was just trying to make it though the day, and it showed. My 1L fall grades devastated me. I came into law school after an undergraduate career of recognized academic success and here I was drowning in a sea of overachievers like myself, only smarter.

    That spring my anxiety took a turn for the worse. I had essentially isolated myself from all friends I had made at law school and I was emotionally burdening those around me/ It caused a huge strain on my relationships with my roommates and family. That summer I sought out a psychiatrist and started Zoloft. I know anxiety medication is not for everyone but I swear it made me myself again. To this day I struggle with bouts of anxiety but thankfully medication was able to help me. What I want to point out is that the environment in law school gave me the type of anxiety that made it hard to wake up everyday, and I am not alone in that. The big question is, what do we do about it?

    This past year, Bloomberg law found that over 75 percent of law students reported increased anxiety and 50 percent reported increased depression. When looking at the demographics of respondents, it was clear the marginalized students were more prone to mental health struggles. When broken down by gender, 26 percent of female and 38 percent of non binary reported their well being worsened compared to 22 percent of men. In terms of race, 33 percent of Black students reported worsened well being compared to 24 percent of white students. Among the symptoms of worsened well being were disrupted sleep, increased alcohol usage, thoughts of self harm, and issues in personal relationships. 

    Specifically in the context of first generation college students, there is a higher risk for anxiety symptoms. When parents of first generation students were asked if their child worries about school, parents with fewer years of schooling reported their child worried more about school. This could mean that parents are modeling anxiety about school. 

    I know a large part of the solution to issues like anxiety are classes like this one. Environments where marginalized students can freely talk about their obstacles in elite academic institutions. I wish I had all the answers but even I am still trying to find my footing despite almost being through with law school.