Stop Calling Me Resilient

I'm tired of being called resilient.

Every time I share my story—first-generation college student, worked multiple jobs through graduate school, parents who never finished high school—someone inevitably nods and says, "Wow, you're so resilient." Like it's a compliment. Like I should be proud.

But resilience isn't a virtue when it's forced on you. Resilience is what happens when the system fails you and you have to find a way to survive anyway. It's what happens when the safety nets that should exist simply don't, and you have to create your own or fall through the cracks.

I didn't choose to be resilient. I was made resilient by circumstances that should never have existed in the first place.

When my colleagues talk about "grit" and "character building," I want to scream. When they say students need to be "tougher," I think about working the night shift to pay for textbooks while trying to keep up with classmates who'd never had a job. When they praise my "work ethic," I remember choosing between groceries and gas money.

The worst part is how I've internalized it. When I'm exhausted from overwork, I tell myself I should be grateful for the opportunity. When I'm frustrated by the workload disparity between me and my colleagues, I remind myself that hard work builds character. When I'm angry about systemic inequity, I shame myself for not being more appreciative.

But I'm learning to distinguish between genuine strength and survival mechanisms. I'm learning that my ability to work multiple jobs while finishing my dissertation wasn't admirable—it was necessary. And the fact that it was necessary is the problem.

I'm tired of being the inspiration story. I'm tired of having my struggle reframed as a positive trait. I'm tired of being told that overcoming obstacles makes me stronger when those obstacles shouldn't have existed in the first place.

My resilience came at a cost. It came at the cost of sleep, of health, of relationships, of the luxury of focusing on my studies without worrying about survival. It came at the cost of belonging, of feeling like I deserved to be where I am.

So please, stop calling me resilient. Instead, ask why resilience was necessary. Ask why the system is built in a way that requires some people to be extraordinarily strong just to achieve what others take for granted.

I'm not resilient. I'm surviving. And there's a difference.

A vibrant red flower emerges defiantly from a cracked, parched landscape.