“What’s your major? What are you planning on doing with it?”
If you’re a college student, chances are that you’ve been asked these two questions countless times. For many of us, the latter question proves to be the more challenging of the two to answer. Replying can be particularly tricky when it involves saying that we plan on simply “doing what we love.” The Do What Yo Love principle (DWYL) is actually much more controversial than it first appears. Though well-intentioned, this misleading adage can bring some unpleasantly heavy baggage with it.
In her article titled "In the Name of Love," Miya Tokumitsu criticizes DWYL as being a problematic view of work in our society. According to Tokumitsu, DWYL devalues not only work itself but also those who are not being paid to pursue their passions. It is an elitist idea that discounts people who need to work any job to earn money, with DWYL being the farthest thing from their mind out of necessity. People who are privileged enough to be able to “do what they love” and get paid— or not have to worry about working for a living— may not realize that constantly encouraging others to follow suit can actually be detrimental to the entire work system. Tokumitsu argues that having a greater separation between “work” and “play” could be beneficial for all of us. By emphasizing the distinction between these two spheres of our daily lives, there would be less pressure to always be working on the basis that our jobs are what we love.
As a student studying Hispanic Studies and English at a liberal arts college with an interest in pursuing a higher degree or two in the future, I must admit that I was frustrated by this article at first. Throughout my nineteen years of life I’ve been told to “pursue my passions,” “follow my dreams,” and, you guessed it, to “do what I love.” With age, I noticed that it gradually became more inconvenient that what I love doing is reading and writing. People have no problem encouraging the pursuit of passions like biochemistry, coding, and accounting; however, I almost always receive a look bordering on pity when I explain my infatuation with reading, writing, and languages. They smile politely and nod their heads, but what it feels like they’re saying is: “Oh, you naive young person, you’ll learn soon enough that your unrealistic goals will take you nowhere.” Needless to say, this is not very reassuring.
Why are we told from a young age to “do what we love” only to be ridiculed for it later in life when our passions don’t fit within what society deems as successful? This train of thought has led me to look more favorably at Tokumitsu’s article. If there as a wider gap between working and “doing what we love,” I likely would not be in this bind.
After thinking about this refutation of the DWYL principle for quite some time I’ve come to agree with much of what Tokumitsu argues. There’s no denying that the devaluation of work ultimately leads to unjustly low wages, nor that the DWYL concept disregards a large portion of the workforce as unenlightened laborers. In an ideal world, perhaps we would all get paid to pursue our passions and obscure interests; unfortunately, such a vision is often a mere fantasy in the so-called “real world.”
I believe that acknowledging the blindness many of us suffer regarding DWYL is an important step to breaking this convoluted socioeconomic chain of cause and effect. In kindergarten we are often told to “follow our dreams,” even though doing so could inevitably include lower wages, long work hours, and ultimately dissatisfaction down the road. Perhaps this piece of advice needs a bit of reshaping for generations of future workers.
So, should I endeavor to do what I love for a career? This is the question I’ve struggled with and will undoubtedly continue to battle throughout college (and life, most likely). When the best of both worlds seems unattainable, how do you know which one to choose?
