My name is Brian Zuluaga (Batten class of ’20), and I’m currently a third-year Ph.D. student at Northwestern University’s Black Studies Department.
My research is committed to understanding how processes of colonial racial capitalism have produced prison closures, how closures have impacted those organizing inside, and how closures influence our thinking within prison abolitionism. Specifically, I study the closure of Lorton Correctional Complex, Washington, D.C.’s local prison from 1910 to 2001, and the political analyses of incarcerated intellectuals there who varied ideologically in their perspectives including Marxism, black internationalism, and anticolonialism. Much of my work also looks at incarcerated organizers’ theorizations and embodied political rejections of behavior modification.
At UVA, I was fortunate to begin my first year at the far end of Kent dorms, where miraculously some of my closest friends happened to be as well. I say miraculously because I doubt UVA had the foresight to place four Latino students across from each other. I leave that to destiny.
As the years progressed, I decided to double-major in anthropology and public policy. As for student organizing, I was involved in the Latinx Student Alliance, PMP, Madison House volunteering, and the Batten Latinx Network. I always say that it was difficult for me growing up in a predominantly white suburb of Philadelphia — Perkasie and Bucks County, if you are curious — so building community in these groups meant the world to me. UVA, of course, was also predominantly white, but in these groups, I did not feel as alone as I did back in K-12. In these groups, Medellin, Colombia, could be commonly understood as the beautiful city my parents immigrated from, rather than the tail end of a tasteless joke about drugs and violence.
I graduated from UVA in 2020, lived at home for a year during the pandemic, moved to D.C. and lived there for two years, and I am currently living in the Rogers Park neighborhood of Chicago, Illinois.
What inspired you to pursue a Ph.D., and how did your background or personal experiences influence your journey?
During my time living in Washington, D.C., I began organizing with Libereaders DC, a Black-led mutual aid library. Through community political education, I started thinking more critically about the common-sense narratives around police and prisons. Angela Davis, George Jackson, Mumia Abu-Jamal, and other prisoners of war/political prisoners presented the sheer intensity of carceral violence and pathways for living in defiance of these repressive systems.
Very quickly, communal study became Black study. I started to accumulate research questions that were more than intellectual muses. They were questions of political struggle and the interrogation of normative civilization in its mangled threads of capitalism, racism, patriarchy, and colonialism.
With this curiosity, the Ph.D. seemed to me a logical route. I could study for 5-7 years and teach afterwards? In other words, I could be literally paid by my employer to read critically and engage in deep study? Done. So with the encouragement of Professor Carmen Lamas, whom I will mention below, I applied to graduate programs, knowing that this career was more of a calling. One that recognized that there are two options in academia: 1) ego-drives, individual career climbing, and strategic silence on subjects that can endanger your chances at success, OR 2) dedicating my work to the masses, learning in/with community, and remaining steadfast in principled political work at the cost of potential job loss.
I chose and *still* choose the latter.
Can you share a pivotal moment or lesson that significantly shaped your professional or academic success?
The encampment for Palestine at Northwestern was a space and time that taught me many lessons. For several days, we participated in a righteous critique of the university and of the American state investing in a genocide. We learned about what it means to risk punishment for the sake of transnational solidarity. We learned how to look after one another. We learned how to invite others to the struggle. We learned about each other.
Although the encampment was short-lived and there was an early compromise struck with the university, the lessons, camaraderie, and politicization extend past this moment.
Regarding the question, I care very little about the notions of professional success. The encampment and its participants serve as a reminder for us all of the necessity to discard our conceptions of individual achievement and careerism. Real change requires real risk. So I find it much more important to speak about our commitments and sacrifices for the struggle, rather than our resume bullets.
Who or what has been a major source of inspiration or mentorship for you, and why?
I took two classes with Carmen Lamas (Race and Ethnicity in Latinx Literature and Latino Religions), which were the first formal classes I had that were relevant to my personal identity. Carmen was invested in each of our educations and always cared for our whole persons, not just as students. To put it shortly, Carmen is an educator I aspire to become. She was one of my recommenders for my Ph.D. applications, helped me with my final decision, and has been a constant source of mentorship for me.
Over the years, Carmen has held brunches for former students of hers, which I think is representative of the deep care she holds for her students. Whenever I come back to Charlottesville, I try my best to see Carmen to catch up and share my gratitude for all of the support she has given me.
What are some key challenges you’ve faced as a doctoral student, and how did you navigate them?
Honestly, imposter syndrome hit hard in my first year of graduate school. I’ll never forget how, in the first class of my first year, we were tasked with reading Judith Butler and Michel Foucault before arriving at class. I showed up, and it was as if we were all supposed to be on the same page regarding the theoretical paradigms of gender and the concepts of biopower and discipline. I felt behind, under-read, and worried that I was incapable of showing up to class like my peers.
Over time, I began to build confidence and understand that fancy jargon and performative sentence-crafting were less impressive than I originally thought it to be. I realized that if we are training to become teachers, we will get nowhere by falling into this trap of academia. So I began to hold confidence in my words, trust in my urge to connect readings to the matters of real life, and to avoid language that was opaque and showy.
Key to this was also the fostering of friendships with people who felt similarly on education and approaching grad school. Academia has always been a colonial and elitist space, so rejecting its terms of entry and participation, in my opinion, is critical.
What role does community engagement or giving back play in your life today?
Being in and with community is central to my life. Although I disagree with the maxim of giving back (due to its origins in charity mindsets), I believe deeply in building strong relationships with my local community and engaging in projects that run counter to quotidian violence. For me, this has consisted of anti-imperialist and abolitionist-leaning organizing in Chicago.
Che famously once said, “The true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love. It is impossible to think of a genuine revolutionary lacking this quality”.
All to say, I would not characterize my relationship with the community as an engagement or giving back, but rather a deep love for life and its protection.
What advice would you offer to current UVA students or young professionals who aspire to study a Ph.D.?
First off, if anyone reading this is interested in Ph.D. programs, please reach out to me, and I would be happy to support you through the process! Feel free to email me at brianzuluaga2028@u.northwestern.edu.
Advice-wise, I think for me it was beneficial working for a few years after graduating from UVA prior to matriculating into a program. Since I did not know I wanted to pursue a Ph.D., this time allowed me to save money and to slowly arrive at the research questions that I have today. This time also provided me with the ability to discern between law school, Ph.D. programs, and some master’s programs.
Finally, I would speak with current graduate students and professors at the programs you are looking at so that you can get a sense of the department’s culture and how they support their students.