Why Graduate School

           When I returned to school four years ago after raising my children, I did so knowing I was entering an arena of both complexity and privilege.   I have not been disappointed by the challenge.  Fortunately and, at times, inconveniently, my thirst for knowledge propels me toward endless questioning of the status quo as it relates to the perpetual balancing act between nature and human nature.   Public health studies have highlighted the multiple intersections where socio-ecological determinants of collective and individual ills exist, yet glaring disparities parallel as both product and predictor and can seem, therefore, insurmountable.  Ethical abuses of technology and increasing environmental dangers leave me with far more questions than answers about how to stay poised in a postmillennial context. The answers I have found, though, have to do with why everyone deserves an equal opportunity at quality education, regular dental screenings, and the same standard of regard whether one is born in Bangladesh or Norway.   Addressing equity issues on structural, cultural, and

policy levels can change the course of populations’ outcomes even in the midst of uncertainty.

As a lifelong environmentalist, feminist, and composer, it has been easy to independently volunteer myself for organizing events and writing for myriad worthy causes, yet 90% of my efforts have been seen and shared with others who are ideologically akin and feel satisfied just being part of the process.  The payoff is frontloaded by design - showing up has seemed to be enough.  This is no longer my perspective on meaningful participation.  Globalization and the Technology Age have changed this equation.  Standing on a bridge with a sign seems rather banal and effortless at this point and showing up just isn’t enough anymore.

The next step, a graduate degree, positions me to engage in research and application of theoretically designed mechanisms to employ far-reaching educationally-based equity strategies.    I intend to work with non-governmental organizations and developmental foundations implementing functional approaches to dysfunctional imbalances in social determinants.  Significant reductions in maternal mortality in Sri Lanka and successful bio-sustainability educational interventions in Ecuador are examples where a state’s overall equity baseline shifted with sustained multi-sector approaches.  Educating women leads to economic growth and increased life expectancy, as well as decreasing generational poverty syndrome.  These are the research and concentration areas I wish to further explore.

With a solid background in public service and human rights event planning, I have organized locally for the UN initiative, Season for Nonviolence, as well as the Mizero Foundation of Rwanda, One Nation Sovereignty Project, Food & Water Watch, All Nations Peace, Earth Day, etc.  I have been a music professional and educator, using classrooms and stages as vehicles for cultural understanding through the arts.  My Cherokee ancestry has helped me reach across barriers that separate to invoke respect and appreciation for both the similarities and differences inherent in each river and each person.   I look forward to expanding these experiences and concepts into measurable outcomes for years to come.

When Pedigree Matters

When I decided to embark on an academic career after nearly two decades as an award-winning, globe-trotting music professional, it never occurred to me that it would be any different than what I had been already doing.  My motives weren't the same, but applying determination and commitment is second nature to me, and I was certain they would serve me on this new stage.

In 2009 I stood in the grand theater of Donna Karan's Urban Zen Foundation awaiting the New York City premier of a film in which I had contributed original music tracks.  Peter Buffet, the music supervisor, and I had co-wrote some of what served as the sonic backdrop of a documentary about 13 Indigenous women who had formed an alliance and were now travelling the world meeting with government and religious leaders (Desmond Tutu, Dali Lama, The Pope) in an effort to raise environmental and spiritual awareness of the earth's limited resources.  They were grandmothers - elders -  traditional women from Africa, Tibet, the Americas, and Japan.

So, in a sea of colorful regalia, ceremonially-tattooed faces, and women from the poorest parts of the continent to the penthouses of Fifth Avenue, I found myself talking shop with Anne Rockefeller one minute, and the film's director, Carole Hart, the next.  For some, this is normal.  In fact, in New York City, this kind of celebrity elbow rubbing is not unusual, but for this Pennsylvania country-born mixed breed single mom, this was, in fact, an event to remember.
In fact, it changed everything.

Five women stood in a circle.  All of us were somehow involved in the making or organizing of the film and organization which kept the Grandmothers protected and directed, arranging speaking engagements and appointments, seminars and ceremonies.  All these women were deeply committed to the mission of the Grandmothers. They acted as their conduits to the digital, fast-paced world at large, of which some of the Grandmothers had never been exposed.  Each was articulate and poised, confident and alive, and I felt akin to them.  Soon, though, the discussion began veering toward educational pedigrees and I began to feel an uncomfortable knot in my stomach.  Thinking to myself, "Damn it, I know I deserve to say I have a degree.  I know they think I do."  "I could lie," I seriously considered.  But, instead, I claimed the 20+ years I spent in the music business, touring in between raising kids, had never afforded me the privilege of a formal degree. Besides, I was teaching music in private schools without a degree as well as holding university master classes.  I saw no need to spend the money.  I was self-made and managed just fine, thank you.

But, why, then, did I drive the 90 miles home that night, feeling less than I was?  Less than I told them I was?
Who was I really lying to?

It took me about 10 days to make the decision which has altered my professional trajectory, my financial outlook, and even my personal identity.  I didn't really want to change any of the above, but try as we might, once unleashed, change (like love) doesn't necessarily allow itself to be controlled.  I enrolled in college with the 12 credits acquired 30 years before from my post-high school try at academia.  I dropped out back then after one semester, disappointing a bunch of hopeful adults who had gone out on a limb to help me get into college after being a ward of the state from age 14.  No matter, I was ready to redeem myself and prove that I could.

My "aunt" from up the street is on the phone with me last week.  She isn't really my aunt but everyone has one of these aunts who is a good friend of your mother.  She weighs in on the important issues and steps in to discipline when the mother loses her power with the kid.  This aunt was that for me and I even lived with her briefly during my teenage years.  She says to me, last week, "Well, you've really got yourself together now.  It took you awhile, but you did it."  This is me, as a grown woman, talking with her.  Granted, she's 76, but I'm 52 years old and she's telling me I finally got myself together!  Some things never change.

In some ways, she's right.  I graduate in four months with a B.S. in Public Health with a minor in Health Service Administration.  But I'm not stopping there.  It has become clear to me that having an undergrad degree is not quite enough for me.  Next time I land in one of those "pedigree" circles, I will be able to speak from a place of truth and earned respect, knowing I have done what it takes to be self-made as well as formally educated.  Then, I believe that 90-mile drive home from New York will feel quite different.