I often feel I don't belong, but that won't stop me from getting my PhD

In October 2017, I was sitting alone in the stands of the Melbourne Cricket Ground, eating my lunch. It was the first day of an academic conference, and I remember looking around foranother lonely attendee to talk to. I zeroed in on another graduate student and introducedmyself.

He asked me, "Where are you from?"I answered: "Canada."His confused expression is one I get often. I knew the next question:"Oh and where areyour parents from?"

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When I told him, he finally seemed satisfied. Later, he interjected that he was impressed that Ihad done so well for myself, given my background. I found an excuse to leave, and for theremainder of the conferenceI kept to myself. That interaction made me feel like I didn't belongthere.

I'm biracial. My mother is Black and my father is white. I don't really look like either of myparents, and my ethnicity is often a guessing game for those who meet me. Even my name, acombination of Arabic and English,adds to my ethnic ambiguity.

I am often met with both blatantly racist behaviour and an array of microaggressions. I havebeen stopped by strangers on the street, insisting on knowing where I'm from. I have been toldto "go home" to many different countries. In my academic life, praise has often been paired withsurprise.I have lost count of the number of times I have been told that I am "surprisingly well-spoken" or a "surprisingly good writer."

I grew up thinking that education was the antidote to ignorance it was part of what fuelled meto continue my schooling. However, as I progressed through university, I've come to realize thatacademia is seriously lacking in diversity, too. For me, this explains its resistance to change,and why I have seen it serve as an echo chamber for racist sentiments.

Next year, I will be graduating with a PhD in epidemiology from the University of Ottawa. Istarted on my academic path in psychology, but the skepticism I was met with from professorssurprised by my work, and from research participants who questioned my qualifications, pushedme to consider a different field. I always felt like an impostor with something to prove, and it wasexhausting.

In epidemiology, I thought I would be able to conduct meaningful work still in mental health but without feeling constant scrutiny.

I have lost count of the number of times I have been told that I am 'surprisingly well-spoken'or a 'surprisingly good writer.'- Zahra Clayborne

Butwhen I started graduate school, I found that this feeling persisted. Epidemiology and publichealth also have a diversity problem.

In my classes, while fellow students came from all walks oflife, all but one of my professors were white. We learned almost nothing about the impacts ofkey social determinants including racism, poverty and discrimination on health. I worry thatuniversities are training future public health leaders who lack a fundamental understanding of these concepts.

There are real consequences tothis lack of awareness. Ontario, for example, recentlyannounced it will start collecting race-based data for the COVID-19 pandemic. My question is:why wasn't this data being collected before?

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For a long time, I was silent on these issues. However, I was spurred on by the murder ofGeorge Floyd and the surge of protests denouncing police brutality and anti-Black racism,which organizations including Ottawa Public Health have said is relevant to publichealth.

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I wrote an open letter to my department. I wanted to hold them accountable.I wanted them toaddress the lack of diversity in our field.

Luckily, my department has been receptive to change. It published a clear statementcondemning anti-Black racismand promised an action plan for changes to our curriculum.

Unfortunately, I have heard from friends in other departments and universities that theiradministrators are not open to these same changes.

I'm hopeful things will start to shift inepidemiology that we can address how a lack of diversity impacts our learning, our research,and ultimately, the public's health and well-being.

This is especially important for people who come from marginalized communities.

I left psychology because I felt like an impostor. In epidemiology, I often still feel thatway. But I remain, because I feel the tides are shifting.

My academic path has not been easy, but I hope things will be smoother for those who comeafter me. Maybe they'll finally feel like they belong.

Zahra Clayborne is a PhDcandidate in the University of Ottawa's School of Epidemiology and Public Health.