I’ve been busy. In the last twelve months, I've written seven MA assignments, two conference papers, two 10,000-word articles from said conference papers, two more conference abstracts, three Bad Ancient articles (one is on its way, and a fourth I have really got to get around to,) and five Working Classicist articles/recipes—one to be published soon. Six, if you count the two-parter. When I type this out, it does seem like an insane workload. I still have work to do before the summer ends, as well as finally nailing down a dissertation topic. I talked last week about feeling that my clock is ticking, with the end of my MA approaching like a freight train and the slower, pathetic death of Twitter. I got so despondent about what I haven’t yet managed to achieve before that impending dual apocalypse that I forgot to look back on this year and be satisfied with what I did manage to squeeze in. Toiling under the assumption that I’d be considered a bona fide ancient historian if only I reached a higher level, I hadn’t stopped to consider if I was already accepted yet.
I blame this on the academic structure, because everyone is ‘just’ an amateur until they advance to be ‘just’ an undergraduate, and on and on until/if one finally becomes a professor. Professors are never ‘just’ anything (unless you are a university manager, I suppose). So I find it hard to be satisfied with what I’ve achieved so far—as I suspect many others do too. When those ahead of you designate you as a ‘just,’ it’s too easy to join them in minimising your achievements as ‘just’ minor ones, even though every last one of those achievements once seemed insurmountable.
On the other hand, I’m not following a traditional path, and have to find alternate routes up a mountain whose peak is different for every climber. For some it’s getting into uni, for some it’s learning a language, for some it’s publishing a book, for some it’s tenure. It can sometimes seem like I’ve been furiously working, only to look up and realise I’m nowhere close to my own summit (the point at which I feel I can call myself an accepted historian). I haven’t been in the habit of looking back and appreciating how far I’ve come.
That’s why I’m so grateful to Working Classicists. If you aren’t familiar, I urge you to seek them out. The organisation is dedicated to platform and promote people exactly like myself, those who love antiquity but don’t come from the narrow background of the ‘stereotypical’ Classicist. Let’s face it, it’s easy for us non-conformists to feel alone until such an organisation rallies us all together. You can read here about the types of person they represent.
Earlier this summer, they decided to demonstrate just how many brilliant people are doing brilliant work by asking for nominations for their inaugural awards. As much as I owe Classics Twitter, it can be a stunningly negative space. Elitism, sniping, narcissism, bun fights, etc. Just at the right time, Working Classicists asked us to consider who in our networks was producing great art, providing excellent teaching, the vibrant newcomers and the unsung heroes. Those of us sending in nominations put down the buns for a few weeks to celebrate what's great about the community and have a massive love-in, nominating people for awards that, in Working Classicists’ words, provide some recognition to those of us in/around “a discipline that struggles to reward anyone who isn’t already privileged.” And I was able to nominate so many people, because when you stop to think about it, there are so many people doing awesome things at every level. Nobody needs to be at the peak of their career to be making valuable and impressive contributions, and dozens of people are proving it every day.
It wasn’t until I received an email that made me burst into tears in a bloody Travelodge that I realised I was one of them, and have been selected as the Working Classicist of the Year, 2023. I am too shy to ask who nominated me, but I’ll be forever grateful to whoever it was who did. It has forced me to stop thinking about all the things I haven’t yet done, and take a moment to take some pride in how far I’ve come. It’s bananas how much of a compliment this award is, as I know exactly the calibre of people I was nominating. People who know what they’re doing and aren’t making it up as they go along! And the five winners in their categories are fabulous too, so I'm in rarefied company.
It has been emotional, after a year of wondering if I and my work will ever be enough (for whom? I’m never sure) to learn that my work is indeed valued and my words on this blog, that I often mentally dismiss as complaining, have resonated with people who also struggle with the pressure to conform, or those who see the need to open the gates. I’ll be forever grateful that someone felt compelled to give me a pat on the back, and that the Working Classicists agreed. I’m hopeful that we can keep this love-in going for as long as possible, so that we can all have a turn feeling proud of our accomplishments. There are so very many people who deserved this as much as I have been told I do, and so many people who need to be reminded that their contributions at every level and in every form are worthwhile and appreciated. Being a classicist/ancient historian comes in far more forms than we’ve previously been led to believe, and you may just be considered as a genuine one earlier than you expect. Sometimes we just need a little validation.
This is why Working Classicists are such a vital organisation, because they recognised this before anyone else did. Much larger organisations that crow about inclusivity have failed to be nearly as welcoming and genuinely inclusive as Working Classicists have, and they are absolutely to be commended for it. Luckily, they’ve made it over to Bluesky, so go find them there if you can. They deserve all the support and recognition they can get, having so generously provided it for so many people. My appallingly low self-esteem and anxiety over my progress/output is a byproduct of academic gatekeeping. We should all be following Working Classicists’ example in reconsidering the metric of success, if we mean what we say about inclusivity and antiquity outside academia.
I'm hopeful that on Bluesky we won't need to be prompted to celebrate work outside of the kind academia traditionally values. We have a chance to start fresh and leave our negative habits and patterns of behaviour behind, and make it a truly lovely place to be. I have no doubt that Working Classicists will be at the forefront of it.
