Sisterhood of the Useless Degrees


Everyone is entitled to six months of elation over attaining a new college degree. Even the financial-aiding government grants you that. They called it a grace period.

But what happens when your six months are up? Well, you become us: the girl with the MFA in Creative Writing (Fiction) and the one with the MA in Women’s History. You’d think that having snagged these prizes from one of the top arts schools in the country and the home of America’s first ever Women’s History program would score you some kind of preferential treatment when it comes to the job search, the agent search, the publication search, the teaching gig search.

But if you think that, you’re wrong.

No, no. What these paltry accolades get you are months upon months spent on a couch or a bed, with an overheating laptop and a bag of cheap eats on the floor beside you, furiously typing Gmail chats about where you went wrong– that is, of course, after you get home from your hour of work at PetSmart or at the local college where you teach just one course per semester.

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