Learning to love sociology
When I entered college, I had little understanding of my degree program. Sociology is not as popular as psychology, biology, chemistry, or accountancy. My knowledge about it was superficial. I simply defined it as a “study of society.” And although I made it sound like a big hit, I did not love it. Sociology made me feel tiny standing side by side with other degree programs on campus.
Today, I have learned to love it. The journey of loving sociology, however, was bumpy and back-breaking. It was not, I must admit, for the faint of heart.
My first year as a sociology major was riddled with a long-standing head-scratcher: “What do you do in sociology?” Whenever people asked me about it, I would giggle and reverse the inquiry, “What do I not do in sociology?” For starters, I don’t keep ledgers; I don’t operate machines; and I, most certainly, don’t concoct substances. But, I study society. As plainly as I could, I would reply, “I study society.” My answer would trigger a raised brow reaction among my peers.
Because of it, I felt out of place.
Over time, the basic question, “What do you do in sociology?” spawned many complex follow-ups. For instance, people inside and outside of my campus would ask, “Does it have a board exam?” Sociology doesn’t have a board exam. Sociology majors like me are not architecture students who are required to hurdle a nationwide test before they could practice their discipline. Embarrassed, I would avoid their gaze and say, as if it mattered to their confused minds, “But, at least, we have a degree.”
Their confusion implied that I, a sociology major, was less impressive compared to my peers because I had no rite of passage, a trial of fire, a badge of honor, or a shiny license, to validate my role and contribution to society. It made me look irrelevant and, in due course, regret ticking off sociology in my college application.
I felt useless.
I was hurt even more when people began to stop asking questions about my degree program and relied instead on their preconceived notions about it. They would unwittingly tell me, with astronomical confidence, “I bet you’re going to be a social worker.”
They would plan out my destiny before I could even contemplate it and urge me to work at a social welfare and development agency. They would impose their expectations on me like a self-fulfilling prophecy. But while their behavior irked me, I knew they were not wrong about it. My expertise as a sociology major does match, for instance, DSWD’s employment demand. However, promoting social work and development as my only, if not primary, career path, tore my heart into pieces.
At that point, I felt even tinier.
So, to mask my dread about my degree program, I made sociology a subject of my humor. Whenever people asked me what I do there, I would reply, “Pasosyal.” Sometimes, I would let them drift into their own imagination and think whatever they wanted to believe about it. As every moment passed, I would whisper to myself, “I hope I walked a different road toward college.”
It took me five long years to learn how to love my degree program. I was only able to do so when I forgave people for misunderstanding sociology, and more importantly, when I forgave myself for giving up way too early on people who stood a chance of benefiting from it.
I was reminded that people are fundamental to the study of society. There is no society if there are no people, too. People make up and make society. However, only a few of them are willing to study it in college.
That is why I decided to spend my last year in college, cultivating my newfound love for sociology.
I realized, while doctors cure people’s sickness, I treat society’s cancer. While engineers build people’s skyscrapers, I repair society’s scaffolds. And while teachers impart lessons to people, I learn about society’s hardships.
My degree program may not be popular, but I love it because it taught me how to view society on a micro and macro level, just as biologists peer through the world using a microscope and astronomers watch the universe using a telescope.
I love it because it welcomes everyone, regardless of background. It does not exclude, or require me, in other words, to go through a rigorous process and earn a badge before I could practice it in the real world; neither do people who did not, have not, and will not pursue it as a degree program.
I love it because, now, I do not feel tiny anymore. I know there is a bigger purpose to my degree program. That purpose—to serve the people sociology aims to understand—makes me bigger than any snide remarks.
If I could go back to high school and apply for college again having a renewed understanding of my degree program, I would definitely tick sociology. After all, it is not just a study of society, but a study of society with the people and for the people.
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Pio Tan Chua, 24, is a writer and cultural worker from Antique.
