Defying injustice – from the life of a first-generation doctoral student

Balancing act between different worlds

Alessandro structures the conversation without dominating it, always ensuring that everyone’s thoughts are heard. The topic is possible events for the coming semester. Alessandro suggests a workshop for FLINTA*s (women, lesbians, inter-, non-binary, trans and agender people) about imposter syndrome, which is widespread in academia: People attribute their own successes to luck rather than competence, making those affected feel like imposters. “A workshop like this helped me a lot back then to feel somehow self-effective as a first-generation university student.” She stands out in the group: the red eyeliner, the nose piercings and finger rings she plays with while thinking, and her words: “mega,” “guys,” “I wish you a good or bearable Christmas season – depending on how things are currently with your families.”

It wasn’t always easy for Alessandro with her family. Her father, a car mechanic, died when she was one year old. Her mother was in her early 20s at the time and worked as an office clerk. Alessandro grew up in Frankfurt in a block of social housing, an environment marked by crime and drugs. “As a person who was perceived as female, I was confronted with assaults there. And at the same time, it’s also kind of my home.” As her scientific career progresses, she becomes increasingly aware of this tension: “I’m now kind of academic and at the same time still the girl from the block.”

Classism and discrimination are major themes in Alessandro’s life. She could already read and write when she started school, yet she was not recommended for the college-track school after the fourth grade. ‘It wasn’t because of my grades, but because my teacher didn’t like my behaviour. To her, I was the rebellious Italian,’ says Alessandro. Her mother, a German with Italian roots, sent her to a German-Italian secondary school anyway. There, Alessandro was placed in a bilingual class and first had to teach herself to write in Italian. “Some teachers labelled us the loud, Italian problem class. That’s why I developed the ambition. I was a case in which I thought ‘Now more than ever.’ I wanted good grades so I could go to college. Maybe out of defiance,” she says.

Despite her scholarship, she still harbours a lot of self-doubt

It is her personal experiences and questions that motivate Alessandro to conduct research. David Bayer, a student assistant in her department, says: ‘Her experiences sometimes give her a greater connection to real life than others. You can see that in the topics she publishes: current social debates, queer-feminist discourses. She brings a new, refreshing perspective.’ The fact that Alessandro’s questions strike a chord is also evident from the fact that she has received not just one, but three offers of doctoral scholarships. Nevertheless, Alessandro struggles with self-doubt: “I sometimes ask myself: Why am I doing this to myself? Like many first-generation academics, I am 100% affected by imposter syndrome. Especially at the beginning of my doctorate, I often thought I wasn’t good enough,” she says.

These feelings of impostor syndrome have not only accompanied Alessandro since she began her doctorate. Even while studying German, philosophy and theology at the University of Frankfurt, she sometimes felt out of place. “I was sitting in an introductory lecture and had never heard the names Aristotle and Plato before,” she says. In addition to having little cultural capital, she also lacked money at the time. Alessandro sometimes held three jobs at the same time to finance her studies.

Three subjects, three jobs, three cancer diagnoses

On top of all these challenges, there were tragic events that overshadowed everything else: In the first semester, when Alessandro was 19, her Italian grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. Alessandro and her mother cared for her until she passed away. Immediately afterwards, her grandfather was also diagnosed with cancer and died. “This phase plunged me into a crisis of faith. My nonna and my nonno were like parents to me,” says Alessandro. It was also her grandparents who instilled the Catholic faith in her. During this difficult time and in her search for answers, Alessandro experienced theology as a critical and constructive practice, which made her even more enthusiastic about her field of study.

The death of his grandfather was followed by another shock. Alessandro’s mother was also diagnosed with cancer. “But, thank God she made it,” says Alessandro. Today, she has overcome her crisis of faith. “I no longer have this painful feeling of fear when I think about death, but rather a basic trust that everything has a meaning somehow,” she says. In retrospect, Alessandro thinks she could have taken more time for everything. “I had internalised this blue-collar worker’s narrative from my grandfather: you can sleep when you’re dead. Actually, I worked my way through my entire degree, had three jobs and still completed my studies within the standard period of study,” she notes.

After Alessandro’s oral exam, two of her theology professors advised her to pursue a doctorate. “One of them is my current supervisor. She really motivated me and said, ‘Hey, you’re super competent, you have something to say!’ She also helped me write my exposé,” says Alessandro. Without her supervisor, she probably wouldn’t have had the confidence to pursue a doctorate.

Between conformity and creative drive

What motivates Alessandro when she doubts herself while working on her doctoral thesis? “For one thing, the prospect of a doctorate helps, because my family is proud of it,” she says. Her second motivation: idealism. She is convinced that queer-feminist perspectives in theology need to be strengthened. That’s why she has not only adapted to the academic environment, she has also shaped it. Professionally, she does this as chair of her faculty’s Commission for Equality and Diversity. Sometimes she also gives lectures at conferences wearing a hoodie and cap, “to lighten up the academic world a bit.” In her free time, she is the spokesperson for Junge AGENDA, a network of young theologians, writes articles for the theology blog y-nachten.de and organises the “Holy Rave,” an ecumenical party in Freiburg’s Maria Magdalena Church.

Last year, Alessandro turned 30 and posted on Instagram: “I’ll be honest – I never thought I’d get this far.” Talking to her, it becomes clear what helped her get there. She is open, cultivates deep friendships and knows when she needs help. When her classmates bullied her, she met up with old kindergarten friends and found support in the youth church. When she didn’t know how to write papers, she asked her tutor to explain it to her. And when, plagued by self-doubt, she almost gave up on her doctoral thesis, she spoke openly with her supervisor. Alessandro’s advice to all first-generation academics: “Get support, network and don’t be ashamed to ask questions.”