A ballad of resilience

The ballad of Black people has remained the same over the past 400 years. Running in the night from blood-thirsty hounds, facing the uncertainty of reaching freedom or being dragged back in shackles and chains. Resilience. Marching the streets in Selma, only to be confronted with bigotry and wooden bats wrapped in wire. Resilience. Protesting for the countless unarmed Black men and women who were gunned down, only to receive the same news week after week after week. Resilience.

In the face of adversity our ballad crescendos into resiliency.

Our history was constantly recited in my household growing up; my parents never failed to share the hardships that Black people have faced. But each story ended with them saying, “And ask yourself, where would we be if everyone decided to quit when things got hard?” I often pondered this question and knew that if I ever found myself in a moment of defeat, I would persist and write my own ballad of resilience.

From an early age, I gravitated towards the sciences. I was obsessed with having the latest scientific kits and was always eager to gain more knowledge and test new theories. However, school sometimes presented difficulties separate and apart from academics. Being in predominantly white institutions before I went to college, I was periodically asked to give my perspective on matters that affected Black people. 

"The perseverance of my ancestors undoubtedly paved the way for me to advance and excel, and I intend to do the same for others, showing them that while we may face hard times, we will always rise to the occasion, take back our narrative, and be resilient."

-- Janiece Glover

At first, I welcomed the dialogue. But as time moved forward and I was constantly being singled out in class as a representative for the Black community, I felt left to the mercy of my immature classmates. Without many other people to share my experience, I had a hard time identifying with and relating to my teachers and classmates. I found myself one too many times in scenarios that left me feeling small and displaced, uncertain of my potential, and flooded with thoughts of doubt.

But I was resilient and decided that I would take back my narrative.

I told myself that I wouldn’t let my feelings of discomfort derail my educational journey. I decided that for my college career I would change the academic setting for myself and attend a historically Black college - Spelman College. Now, in a classroom setting where I could be content and confident, I felt at ease. Yet, when I thought about potential career paths, becoming a scientist never came to mind, despite my early interest in the sciences.

Today, looking back, the answer seems obvious: because I didn’t see many Black scientists growing up, I couldn’t envision it for myself. Eventually, I came to see myself in the speakers that would come and talk about their careers and how they branched out being the first Black women in their programs. As each Black woman introduced herself—a plethora of scientists—I found the power and importance of representation.

Even as I began to see myself as a scientist, I hesitated to pursue my Ph.D. I once heard from a professor who had sat on an admissions committee, “Traditionally, students from HBCUs don’t excel in Ph.D. programs.” This sentence constantly permeated through my mind as I grappled with the decision to pursue my doctorate. Could I prevail when I had so much doubt? In spite of the trepidation I felt and the dissuasion of professors, I took the leap and applied.

As each decision letter came through my email, rejection after rejection began to pile up. If I didn’t have a reason to quit before, I did now. Clearly, the rejections solidified my feelings of doubt, so my dream of becoming a scientist was over. Yet my parents’ words that always resonated with me began to consume me, “And ask yourself, where would we be if everyone decided to quit when things got hard?” I found myself at a crossroads: accept the admission committee’s decision or get back up and try again?

I chose to fight for myself.

Throughout the next month, I set up countless meetings with supportive faculty members who could help elevate my application: they provided endless counsel on formatting my resume and personal statement, fed me words of encouragement, and insisted that I didn’t give up. Within a year, as the new application period commenced, I began to receive invitations for interviews from Ph.D. programs, which were quickly followed by acceptance letters.

In the face of adversity, resilience became my ballad as well.

Through my graduate school journey at the MUSC, I made it a mission to be a mentor, instilling promise and resilience in the next generation of scientists. Knowing that my presence alone can give a Black child a vision of seeing themselves in the same career as an impactful Black female scientist in academia one day is motivating.

The perseverance of my ancestors undoubtedly paved the way for me to advance and excel, and I intend to do the same for others, showing them that while we may face hard times, we will always rise to the occasion, take back our narrative, and be resilient.