Chapter 2: Learning to Inhale

I began my studies with a shy excitement, a secret pleasure that I kept carefully protected. It seemed to me that participating in a doctoral program was a miraculous phenomenon, a treasured gift. I did not want the integrity of this opportunity compromised; therefore, I shared my plans with a very select group of people. My doctoral studies, after-all, were a goal that I had anticipated since my secondary school days. Encouraging external voices to comment on my academic goals would open up a space for jarring sideline discussion and obligate me to produce superficial responses. I was not ready for the insidious cynicism that would accompany such conversations. I wanted my passion for seeking knowledge to remain sweet and profound. bell hooks (1994) writes, “I came to theory because I was hurting—the pain within me was so intense that I could not go on living” (p. 59). Like hooks, the journey into my PhD was an inevitable circumstance that began with my birth and formative years spent in East Africa. On the cusp of adolescence, my parents transplanted me into life within the United States. Along with a deeply established sense of self as a Luo tribal child, I had an equally rooted esteem for education, and the latitude for growth and achievement that it provided. I understood that knowledge would allow me the ability to pursue ambitions that I found meaningful. I understood, too, that as a young Kenyan girl, education would be key in this walk toward purpose. hooks (1994) continues, “I came to theory desperate, wanting to comprehend—to grasp what was happening around and within me” (p. 59). As an African teenager in Southern California, there was no place of safety among my peers. I was rejected by my African American classmates because of my thick Luo-Swahili-tinged accent and by my dark skin color. Likewise, my White and Latino schoolmates did not accept me. I was too black, too ethnic, too everything different. Much like hooks, without theory, I could not understand this American world around me. I sought solace in books and found myself believing in this world of learning. hooks (1994) adds, “most importantly, I wanted to make the hurt go away. I saw in theory then a location for healing” (p. 59). My identity as a learner and activist was then and is now, foundational to my idea of self. Indeed, I cannot remember childhood without the vision of me reading on my Grandfather’s lap even as I listened to his discussions of the changes necessary for achieving public good. It was, therefore, a given that I felt incomplete without pursuing further schooling as a means of combating social issues. More poignantly, as I delved further into my career as a K-12 educator, I quickly recognized that I could not implement transformative action within my professional context because I did not understand the theoretical foundations of my praxis. I needed more schooling.