Colleen Small (she/her) is a first-year graduate student from Portland, Oregon, and is into mushrooms and American Studies—the mushroom’s way of being in conversation with an interdisciplinary field, and different narrations of mushrooms and psychedelics in the US. Some of her recent work draws from mycology, ecology, queer theory, security studies, and animality studies, and she loves projects that blur the boundaries between academic and artistic work. Outside school, she likes being a couch potato and eating new things with family and friends.

Q: What is your background, academic or otherwise, and how does it motivate your research?

A: Not much tops playing outside in Oregon, so by my third birthday, I wanted to be an entomologist. My surest accessories were a terrarium and mismatched jelly sandals—nineties stuff, neon colors. Books took my hand and helped me escape neighborhood bullies who (I planned to point out) ruined playing outside. Years later, American studies charmed me because it embraced the books while reviving my childhood draw to forests; its lexicon gave me new ways to grapple with cultural history and my life’s trajectory. I started asking questions that haunt a lot of devoutly religious kids but seethe nameless in our guts until we learn how to express them—until we learn how to think beyond narrow histories that strip-mine “others” and shunt their remains into the margins, basically. When I applied to PhD programs, I’d been fumbling around for years, following this visceral pull away from half-truths and scruples, trying to find a field that would meet the pull in just one damn moment of stillness. And it did. Not that it’s one thing or that I’m not still fumbling. But for me, there was a singularity: I witnessed someone I admired in all the ways that mattered to me. She happened to be a scholar. And it wasn’t only her work or achievement that shimmered, but habits shaped by telling the truth and not being an asshat. Well, that’s how it goes sometimes—the freedom and rage and guilt and ecstasy shake you at once. I don’t mean to make a utopia of AMS, but I’ve had the best luck finding cool people here. They motivate my research.

Q: Why did you decide to come to AMS at UT for your graduate work?

A: The program’s reputation attracted me but made me sure I wouldn’t get an offer (love that). Then I talked with PhD candidate Mandee (they designed the post you’re looking at now!), and that’s what pushed me to light my candle every night and start admitting to everyone that UT was my favorite. It feels cheesy, but a big part of choosing was asking for a seat and actually believing I belonged in it, apart from ideas I had about what it means to be deserving.

Q: What projects or people have inspired your work?

A: Dr. Elaine Peña and her work (she was a faculty member at George Washington University when I did my MA there), my cohort and pals at GWU, The Art of Mushrooms exhibit I saw in Portugal in 2022, my friend Kai Blevins’s work on psychedelics and consciousness, Dr. Megan Black’s stuff, growing up in the evangelical church, Verlyn Klinkenborg’s (work on) writing, Marilynne Robinson’s fiction, Dr. Anna Tsing’s work and some very kind advice she gave me, Dr. Yogita Goyal’s Runaway Genres, being outside with mushrooms,  Dr. Lauren Berlant’s idea of cruel optimism, Dr. Lorgia García-Peña’s The Borders of Dominicanidad, and now my delightful UT AMS community

Q: What projects do you see yourself working on at UT?

A: I’m still truffling for things! Right now, I feel like there’s convergence among Texas, mushrooms, and religion. Like the Texas star mushroom—our state mushroom!—and religious inflections there. But we’ll see. I’m open and see a lot of messy connections everywhere.

Q: What are your goals for graduate school? What do you see yourself doing after you graduate?

A: Honestly, I do plan to try for tenure-track positions, okay? But it’s chill; I get that the market sucks and that things might not go super well for me if I keep insisting on doing whatever I want. I love communities that involve a lot of reading, writing, warmth, activism, and artsy things. I’ve really felt that combination here—hope I can keep finding it and avoiding people who bug me. There’s revolutionary potential in not being bugged every single day.