June Feature: Deniss Martinez
We are SOOOO lucky to have been able to talk with Deniss Martinez, a Ph.D. Candidate at the University of California, Davis, who researches the intersections of ecology, Indigenous knowledge, and how Native communities navigate and negotiate power structures!
(Interview originally conducted August 11, 2020, by Sidney Woodruff)
MUSE: Deniss Martinez, THANK YOU for taking the time to be interviewed by M.U.S.E. so you can tell us about your journey through academia and research. Tell us a bit about yourself and what identities you hold.
Deniss: My name is Deniss Martinez, and I am a Ph.D. Candidate at the University of California at Davis. I use she/her pronouns. I’m Tutunaku on my Dad’s side and Mexica/mixed-race on my Mom’s side. That last piece is sometimes referred to as mestiza. I’ve been sitting with that term a bit. I think that term is complex because colonization is complicated, and I don’t know that I’ve unpacked it completely. I identify as bisexual. I am a first-generation college student and a 1.5 generation immigrant.
I have my Bachelors in Evolution, Ecology, and Biodiversity, and a Master’s in Ecology. I’m working on my Ph.D., so it’ll be my third degree from UC Davis.
MUSE: What was it like going straight into a Ph.D. program straight from undergrad? Was it scary?
Deniss: In some senses, it felt a little scary because I didn’t know what graduate school was until about the second half of my undergrad degree. I thought, “Okay, you go to school. You do research,” but I didn’t realize what it would feel like or look like until I got here. When I was applying, I was feeling a little burned out from college, so entering a graduate program was hard.
I think I was worried about how tired I would be, but it helped a lot to actually stay at Davis because of a lot of the resources and community that I had stayed as well. Other than that, I wasn’t worried because I felt like I knew what I wanted to do, and I knew that I wanted to go to graduate school. I figured, “Why not just go now while I’m not that busy with other stuff like life or a family.”
MUSE: You say you were burned out from undergrad. Was it like you were over-involved in things or was it the academic-related?
Deniss: I would say I was overinvolved because I was mad and discouraged at the world around me. Trump had gotten elected in the Fall when I started my last year of college, and I think that just the racial tension, the racial violence, all of the uncertainty about what a Trump presidency could look like, was just really wearing on me. That’s why I really feel for the class that is coming in, the people who are right now uncertain about what they’re going to do after undergrad or high school, and also dealing with the uncertainty around the current political moment. Because it feels like a lot.
MUSE: How far away are you from your family at school? Were they cool with you going far away?
Deniss: I’m like 4 hours away. It’s been good. A lot of families of first-generation students are not cool with their kids going far or moving out of the house. In a lot of Mexican families, it’s normal to live with your parents until you’re married. It’s completely not normal to move away when you’re 18.
I think for my parents and many other immigrants, me attending a university right after high school was exciting and an affirmation that they made the right choice in coming to the US. Part of the reason they came was so that I would have access to an education that they could not have provided had we stayed in Mexico. They are really proud, but my Dad still teases me that I am becoming the wrong kind of Doctor.
MUSE: Did you kind of know what you were going into graduate school for, research-wise? How did you identify your advisor?
Deniss: I knew that I wanted to work with Indigenous people around fire stewardship, and that’s in part because of my undergraduate research experience, working with the Karuk tribe. I really wanted to understand how Indigenous knowledge was shaping policy, but also how it was shaping ecosystems and landscapes. I had an idea for a project, but it’s changed a lot.
The story of how I identified my advisor is kind of funny because I told her that I was going to apply to graduate school, and I was going to ask her for a letter of recommendation. I took some of her classes in undergrad, and she helped me put together a poster for the undergraduate research I did. I think I may have told her that I wanted to apply to the Ecology program and she’s like “Wait, I just joined the Ecology program last week, there’s so much paperwork.” And I was like, “Wait, does that mean you could be my advisor?” and she’s like “Yeah!” so I asked her “Would you?” and she’s said, “I would love to!” It was kind of random, but it worked out great.
MUSE: Now that you’re in this program, how is your research going? What do you focus on?
Deniss: I'm working now more on a social science project. I'm looking into how Native communities in California are navigating collaborations with state and federal governmental agencies, nonprofits, and universities. In doing so, I want to understand how they're making decisions around who to trust with Indigenous knowledge, how to navigate and negotiate power structures. I’m also interested in understanding what the best practices are for including Indigenous knowledge in policymaking and decision making around natural resources.
MUSE: What have you been doing outside of your research to help balance out some of your interests that lie outside of your own research?
Deniss: Before the pandemic, I used to go to dance classes, and I'm involved in different student justice-minded organizations. I really love reading for fun so now since I can't really go anywhere, I've been rereading some childhood favorites. I love journaling and writing, and I actually used to submit to poetry competitions.
MUSE: With these interests, how do you balance your research and your advocacy? Both take a lot of time, energy, and bandwidth, so how do you balance doing both without feeling like you’re taking time away from the other?
Deniss: That’s a big, heavy question. I've been involved in diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) work since I was an undergrad. In my first year of college, I applied to work at the Women’s Resource and Research Center here on campus. There, I got all of this training on how to create programming for students of color, queer students, trans students, and so on. I always felt so energized around the community of people doing the work. It was a pretty heavy job, both in terms of work hours and also heavy because I was a confidential resource for sexual harassment and sexual abuse on campus. It was work that you don't really leave at work, but at the same time, I felt so energized and supported and loved in that community of people, in a way that I didn't really ever feel in my science classes or science communities.
At one point, a professor wanted to hire me for lab work during my undergrad. I said I would only work there for half the time because there was no way that I would quit my job at the resource center. She was like, “Why won't you quit your job?” I didn't have the words to explain it at the time, but it's like, it's more than money. I would say that sometimes it does get in the way of your scientific achievements, but if it's keeping you sane and it's keeping you loved, then it's worth it.
Going into graduate school was a little harder. Before, I was working with queer people of color, and we just had so much more in common than the people I came into graduate school with. It was people with a lot of privilege that cared about diversity, and that’s just different than what I was used to. But I did have all this experience doing DEI work so I felt like I could make a change or impact on the program. It helped me to surround myself with people that cared and worked towards justice and DEI even if their experiences were different than mine. Sometimes students of color are asked to do inordinate amounts of DEI work or they feel a responsibility to lift as they climb. I feel that way too, so I try to engage in justice work in some way but it’s important that you enjoy that work. Justice work should make you feel love, appreciation, and/or empowerment. I always tell people that DEI work is only worth it if the people you are working with make you feel good, and/or the work gives you energy.
MUSE: In your graduate program, you in a predominately white field. What is the importance of having those different affinity spaces?
Deniss: They’re vital to the retention of any student of color, or otherwise marginalized student. I don't understand why some people might feel they're not necessary. I think in some ways, like when we flip the script a little bit, white students always get spaces where their stories or their cultural references are always there. It's always taken for granted that white culture is prevalent everywhere. As students of color or otherwise marginalized students, we enter those spaces and we have to learn their ways. We have to learn their language. We have to understand their cultural references. It feels like you're the only one that knows your own stories.
I think that that was a struggle for me in my first year. I came from this queer brown and Black space that was also super femme. Everyone was wearing lipstick, heels, and earrings. Folks were playing with cultural dress, gender, and gender presentation in a way that was really freeing. Then I come into this space that is predominantly white, cisgender, and heterosexual. No one in this space said “You shouldn't be wearing that or acting in this way,” but I immediately felt like in some way, people were uncomfortable around me and I just wasn't meshing with the group. So I inadvertently toned it down, even without noticing that I was doing it.
I knew I needed spaces where I could be myself. I set out to create those spaces for myself, where I could have friends that get where I’m coming from or at least other students of color that may not get my culture but are happy to see it. I think that's been vital to me. My fellowship is for underrepresented students and I remember entering that space my second year of grad school and feeling so liberated at that moment. I thought, “Is this how white people feel every day?” You just walk into a space and know that you can talk the way you talk, act the way you act, and dress the way you dress.
Those spaces are necessary and important, and eventually, having those spaces made me feel like I could show up more authentically in white spaces in a way I just didn't have the strength to do on my own.
MUSE: What is something you wish you could have told younger Deniss?
Deniss: I would tell her to focus on building a network of support. No one around you knows exactly what you're going through. You're going to need multiple mentors that help you navigate all these different parts of your life. Definitely, a mentor to help with all of the professional stuff, but also how do I navigate uncomfortable situations as a student of color and navigating power differentials with different professors on campus. Don’t expect one person to meet all these needs!
I would also tell her that I think comparing yourself to other people, being different, acting different, or code-switching for other people is not worth it. I know a lot of people really like to code-switch, and I think it’s a good tool and mechanism for survival. But overall, I think that once you build that authentic community of supportive mentors, you can worry less about code-switching. I think that being your authentic self is far more powerful, and representation is only representation if you can be your full self here without trying to be more palatable for privileged folks. This is true for any org or field. If your employees or students from marginalized communities feel uncomfortable being themselves, your DEI program is not successful. It’s hard, but it's true. As a person from those marginalized communities do what you need to do to survive, but always keep your eye above that. That survival line should not be the goal. The goal is to be supported and appreciated for who you are. The goal is to thrive as yourself and to be authentic.
MUSE: This has been an amazing interview, and I, myself, am getting so much out of this. Is there anything we didn’t touch on that you would like to share with some of our readers?
Deniss: I'm still struggling with rest. People always say you should rest and do self-care. I appreciate those reminders, but also, I think I need to get over the idea that you have to work or earn your self-care. You don't have to earn it by working a certain number of hours or by being in a certain place in your work. I would highly recommend this blog called The Nap Ministry, through them I’ve learned a lot about rest and how rest is a creative and generative practice. When you rest, you get to be creative at that moment, but also build energy and peace for the future. The “bishop” of this practice talks about Black liberation and how oppression is not being allowed to rest, not being allowed to just be. It sounds super simple, but it's a lot deeper to actually embody what it means to just let yourself rest as a form of self-liberation. So, let yourself off the hook from being on this constant treadmill of production. I think that's something I'm still learning to internalize and do.
I’ve been listening to this podcast called “GirlTrek’s Black History Bootcamp,” and their first episode is on Audre Lorde. Audre Lorde is the person that says self-care is about self-preservation and political warfare. People have co-opted self-care to be about face masks and baths, but self-care is actually about setting up a life in which rest, self-love, and self-respect are central. It means going somewhere where you’re loved and appreciated, saying no to things that drain you, going to therapy, and allowing yourself the small pleasures of life. I realized that is the kind of self-care I needed to do, it’s more structural, it looks like setting up boundaries with different people I work with and asking for what I need. That self-care is actually kind of hard, but it becomes easier over time. Every small or big thing I do following this definition of self-care has increased my quality of life long-term.