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When I first heard of GW's Cotlow grant program, I thought, I have to apply. I guess even then I had the idea of possibly aspiring to get my PhD and thought this was a natural step: Get a small-scale grant, do something of my own creation; a solid first step. I felt the pressure as I was supported by the university's Anthropology department on a fellowship. This meant that my tuition was paid for and I was given a monthly stipend. I worked, of course, for the department as a teaching assistant and I loved it. For four semesters, I was a graduate teaching assistant for a large undergraduate course, Introduction to Sociocultural Anthropology. As I was funded by the department (which meant that they believed in my abilities as there were only three other TAs similarly supported by the department), I felt I needed to nail the Cotlow. But, the question nagged at me, what to study? Throughout my academic training, sometimes I’ve been at a loss in terms of what to research and wri
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8. Thinking of Central Asia, Fall 2002 9/11’s airplanes did get me to Central Asia though, if not yet knocked up. It’s cliché but true that tragedy and loss are great motivators for those who survive them and/or are not directly touched by them. As I related before, I wrote to the Peace Corps when I was 15 and then I just waited. For what, I don’t know. After Spain and meeting the boy who would be my boyfriend for a long time, he and I moved first to New Brunswick, NJ, and then to Manhattan. Paying over $1,500 monthly for a ragged room that was a hotel back in the olde steam ship days. I had a job, working at a nonfiction publishing company. He rocked back and forth between jobs, fired and unemployed, and I guess I thought I had settled into “life.” That said, during this time, pre-2001, I still thought of Peace Corps at times, my hyper-romanticized version of it, of course. The planes smacked me out of my lethargy and emboldened me to announce to Steve one night while eating Indian f
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