In case people didn’t see it in the comments, my university decided to eliminate most of its Humanities programs and fire tenured faculty. I will talk about the political reasons behind this later. Today, though, I want to use this situation to illustrate how I’m experiencing the exact same conflict between neoliberal mentality and nostalgia for stability that I wrote about earlier.
I like my house, my street, my church, my little town. I’ve lived here for 15,5 years, and that’s long for me. We have a vast shortage of foreign language teachers in the region, so I could easily find a job at a nice private Christian school. I looked, there are tons of offers. I’d probably even make more money. But I wouldn’t be a scholar. I would spend my days doing something I don’t like or value for money. Is that worth the stability, the familiar house, the friendships, the congregation? I very very sincerely don’t know.
On the other hand, I can go on the academic job market. That means newness, feeling so much younger, invigorated, inspired to read and write more. An adventure, new achievements. But it also means losing the friends, the places I’ve grown to love, and embracing the upheaval.
I don’t want anybody to think that I discuss the neoliberal subjectivity as some sort of an outsider who stands above it all. Nobody is above it. “But me, I’m different, I’m not like anybody else” is the most primitive of all neoliberal copes. This is why I’m sharing this story to show that in some way or another we all are pulled in these opposite directions.

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