I’ve had the privilege of being Ji’s advisor, professor, and friend for the past four years.
Ji was brilliant — one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. She was always thinking, and was able to make connections between things she read, things she observed in the world, and her own experiences that made those around her see things in new ways. I loved having her in seminars because she raised the level of conversation for everyone in the room, and we all benefitted from her thoughtful questions and insights – myself included.
Ji was focused and passionate when it came to her research. I will never forget the first time we met – I was assigned as her first-year advisor, and she emailed me as soon as the semester started asking to meet to talk about her research plans. She came to my office with a full power-point prepared that included a selected literature review, theoretical framework, and research questions to explain the work she hoped to pursue over the course of her time in the program. She knew that what she wanted to study – the intersection of sexuality and disability in the lives of women with physical disabilities – was important, but like all the best students, she also proved open to refining and even changing the specifics of her work as she took more courses.
I always looked forward to meeting with Ji – whether in my office, at a coffee shop, or, in the early pandemic, over Zoom – because she would raise the most interesting and provocative questions. I was reading back over our texts and Instagram chats yesterday and found a picture from one of our coffee dates in which she referred to us in the caption as “unsalvageable nerds,” and it made me laugh, because anyone who overheard us talking over coffee would have definitely described us as such. Over the course of four years, we’ve spent hours talking about things like what it would take to shift away from a culture of independence to one that recognized interdependence, what a truly feminist graduate program might look like, ableism in academia and beyond, and most recently, as she was preparing to write her dissertation proposal, what it might look like to center disabled joy in research on disability, sexuality, and embodiment.
Ji was also an incredible teacher. I had the opportunity to observe her teaching last year, when she was teaching Sociology of Gender for the first time as the instructor. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was still blown away by her presence in the classroom. In a huge lecture hall, she knew nearly every student by name, and she managed to engage them in conversation like nobody I’ve ever seen before. She pushed and challenged her students, but she also affirmed the importance of their contributions to discussion. Her students were so lucky to have her.
Ji and I had what ended up being our last meeting a couple of weeks ago, to talk about her dissertation and make plans for how she’d tackle writing her proposal this semester. She was so excited to start working on it, and we strategized for how she could use her dissertation research to best position herself for a postdoc and eventual faculty position. She was so excited about the project, and I was excited for her, because of how important and groundbreaking the topic is.
Ji was a brilliant, beautiful badass, and I hope she knew how proud I have always been of her.