(Yes, Stay With Me)
If you’ve ever found yourself in a room where funding, initiatives, and “strategic priorities” are being discussed—usually over lukewarm coffee and someone’s PowerPoint—you’ve definitely heard the phrase “research shows…” floated around like gospel.
And every time I’m in those rooms, I have the same intrusive thought:
But who exactly did they research?
Because representation matters, darling, and I can’t help but wonder if the participants actually look like the communities being discussed—or if we’re once again an afterthought tucked into a footnote.
Let me be clear: most research studies are not being conducted by some well-rested, well-paid genius in a sunlit office. No. They are usually run by an overworked, underpaid graduate student fueled by caffeine, anxiety, and the fear of disappointing their advisor. They’re just trying to finish a dissertation, avoid academic reprimand, and land a PhD so they can—eventually—get a job that pays an actual living wage. God bless them.
So why, you ask, am I dedicating an entire blog post to research studies?
Because I have a disproportionately soft spot for researchers—especially PhD students—who choose to center Black women in their work. Against all advice (“It’ll be too hard,” “You won’t get enough participants,” “The data will be messy”), they persist. They decide our stories are worth documenting, analyzing, and amplifying.
And if the study is about Black mothers?
Baby. That’s considered academic Everest.
Yet here we are—constantly seeing headlines and social media posts about Black women dying during childbirth or in the months after. The outrage is loud, the sadness is heavy, and the questions are always the same:
Who can we help? What can be done?
Here’s the answer, and I need us to hear it clearly:
Participate in research studies.
Not for the $50 gift card. Not for the free tote bag. But because participation is power. This is how we tell our stories in a way institutions can’t ignore. This is how funding gets justified. This is how organizations are forced to say, “The data is undeniable—we have to act.”
You don’t have to take medication. You don’t have to volunteer for the placebo. You can simply answer the survey. Join the focus group. Share your lived experience. Show up so that when someone says “there isn’t enough data,” your voice is already counted.
Seek out opportunities to participate. Share them with your friends. Be visible. Be intentional. Represent us.
As a lifelong learner—and maybe, just maybe, a future PhD student myself.. JK—I’m asking you to pause and consider: How can I get involved? And please don’t roll your eyes at the fact that I wrote a whole blog post about research studies.
I’ve told you before:
I’m a nerd.
I own it.
And I care deeply about who gets counted.
Because if we’re not in the data, we don’t exist in the decisions—and that, my love, is simply unacceptable.
Always Have, Always Will ~ Kalie

Leave a Reply