I am a successful marine biologist in a white male dominated field. And no matter how successful I have become I will never live up to unrealistic expectations- to be a hero yet a damsel, a boss yet manageable, fluent yet silent, resilient yet invisible, skilled yet inadequate, profitable yet unaffluent, a statistic but not an act of resistance.

I have brought my university thousands of dollars in funding during my PhD. In fact my career counselor took one look at my resume and was like, “Wow, you are the biggest cash cow I have ever seen!”

CASH COW?!

How is that a compliment? If your definition of a cash cow is bringing the university loads of money and getting paid to be treated like shit, then yes, that is correct.

But even as a cash cow I am not “safe” in my school or my workplace, and have questioned my ability to stay in academia. I have had to put up with imposter syndrome, microaggressions, mansplaining, sexual harassment, sexism, xenophobia, bigotry, and gaslighting. I was taught to operate on the mentality of smile now, cry later. But truthfully, I am ready to spin off this cash cow and trade it for something good.

Even in my LatinX heritage, the more I excel in academia, the more distant I am from marriage and having children. I get questions like: “How is your ‘homework’ coming along?” (Aka my dissertation). “Why are you STILL in school?” Well, because I am getting paid. “Why is it taking so long?” Okay, truthfully, because I have to fulfill these traditional roles as a family pillar-- translator, caretaker, chauffeur, chef, babysitter, and maid. But no matter how successful I am, I will never surmount to anything unless I am a cash cow, with a calf and udders full of milk! Enough already.

Even as a yoga instructor with a minor in Holistic health, I thought I could prevent my health from being compromised. But no. Sometimes I lay on the floor paralyzed unable to move or see for weeks, wondering, how is it that I have the “best” health insurance in the country, yet I can’t afford a visit to the hospital, or pay $2,327 for bimonthly deductibles on a medication that treats my autoimmune disease. The same medication that was initially funded by tax paying dollars, but now some greedy prick is making a profit off of me, and off of you. Enough already!

I can’t keep existing in spaces that don’t value my life, who I am, or my worth. I am not alone in these feelings, and I share these experiences with other women of color. We lack the proper space for us to vent, and when confronting our “allies” about their oppression, we cause a triggering range of defensive moves (i.e. “white tears” or “white fragility”).

Where is the space we need for transformation to occur? I got involved in creating A WOC Space, LLC, so that people like me can exist without being cash cows- in academia, in our families, in the white dominated spaces. We are developing WOCShops to provide accessible tools to increase ally education and empower WOC voices. I am ready to change the cultural climate for Women of Color so that we can feel safe in the workplace. Does your workspace need a wake up? Book us for a consultation!

Although, I would much rather be spending my time in the ocean and doing research (and yes, I will get back soon),  right now with COVID19 I have to fight. We have to fight. Fight for our rights to live, to be whoever we want, love whoever we want, carry our culture with pride and not guilt. Ultimately, support each other’s passion to keep pushing boundaries and achieving goals.  

With a touch of spice and a hint of sweet, I am book smart, and street smart. You can thank my family and heritage for that. The best thing in life comes in three, just look at our founders. We are three amazing ladies ready to create space to combat barriers that threaten us. Heck, I am a TRIPLE THREAT— female marine biologist, LatinX heritage, living with an invisible autoimmune disease. Try to cash me now, I bring that chingona fire, and together we bring the heat.