We know the humanities are dead, but do you have to piss on their grave? 

There’s a familiar moment for many humanities students: the pause, the frazzled look and finally the grilling interrogation. Despite the vast fountain of intellectually challenging paths, we are all met with the same stare and predictable question: “So like … what are you going to do with that?” 

Part of the issue stems from the dominant culture at Vanderbilt, which heavily favors STEM fields, the illustrious HOD major and pre-professional tracks. This is seen all throughout campus from General Chemistry being a binding ghost tale for freshman to all the buzz around rushing the pre-professional fraternities. These paths, along with the students embarking on them, are seen by most as more practical and complex and, therefore, more respectable. This culture perpetuates the false assumption that humanities studies are less rigorous than other fields. In a world where literacy rates are on the decline and critical thinking is becoming less revered, the skills needed to excel in these majors are just as, if not more, intellectually demanding as those required in STEM or business disciplines. 

It is not uncommon for a student in the humanities to feel pressured to tack on a second major or minor in something more “marketable” to justify their academic choices. 

I’ve fallen victim to this mentality. When the topic of majors comes up in conversations with new friends, I’ve resorted to spitting out an amalgamation of “EnglishWithAMinorInBusiness” to soften the blow and lessen the questions. It hasn’t worked. People still expect me to perform a dance and provide a scroll of possible jobs I could pursue, complete with starting salaries. I often feel as if I’m auditioning for the role of perfect graduate in the job market circus. 

This phenomenon is not unique to Vanderbilt. I’ve given the same song and dance to family members who, since they recognized my academic standing, have had their eyes set on me being a lawyer, CEO or just something “important.” This mirrors a broader societal fallacy about the relationship between education and success. In a culture obsessed with return on investment, humanities are not judged by their ability to produce profound, adaptive members of society, but by starting salaries and job descriptions. But, those who reduce education to direct training for the workforce ignore the nuance of knowledge. Humanities students learn to write, argue, empathize and analyze, which are all skills crucial in today’s job market. A 2024 LinkedIn survey found that global leaders ranked transferable skills highly, with communication, customer service and analytics all in the top ten — and only growing in importance. 

This is not to say that skepticism toward the humanities is baseless. In an era of skyrocketing college tuition and an increasingly competitive job market, it makes sense that students gravitate toward majors with higher starting salaries and direct career paths. From this perspective, the push toward “practical” majors isn’t necessarily about disrespect, but rather survival. But to disregard the humanities as a viable path, when studies show that the earnings advantage held by STEM majors dissipates by age 40, is shortsighted.  

It begs the question: Is it worth the wait? 

Maybe it is, if we’re willing to redefine what we think “worth” means. The value of an education shouldn’t hinge solely on how quickly it pays off, but on how deeply it shapes our ability to think, communicate and exist in a world that’s increasingly fractured. If we measure success only in salaries and job titles, we ignore the long history of what the humanities aim to cultivate. They are the frameworks we use to understand conflict, to find meaning and to build empathy. In that sense, waiting isn’t a burden. It’s the entire point. 

All this to say: humanities majors deserve more than backhanded comments and skeptical looks. Give us the same respect and reverence you grant to any other path at this prestigious university.