Walking up the Blue Hall stairs: A moment years in the making
I finally managed to attend my PhD conferment ceremony at Stockholms stadshus, on my third attempt, on Friday, 21st of November, 2025. The first time, I had just given birth to my son. The second time, I came down with COVID-19 the day before. But third time’s the charm.
I bought a dress, put on my doctoral ring (yes, it’s a real thing at KTH), and headed to City Hall. The dress code was white tie, which made the whole event feel even more special. Women in floor-length gowns, men in frack - it felt almost surreal to be part of it.
We found our seats, and the ceremony began with music from the KTH orchestra, a beautifully fitting way to set the tone. The president of KTH, Anders Söderholm, gave a moving speech, congratulating us, reminding us of our efforts, and reflecting on what this degree actually represents. As I listened, a new feeling washed over me: belonging to this academic community, representing it, contributing to advancing science, and carrying with me the skills I had worked so hard to gain.
Then came the moment we had all been working towards for the past 4 years. We formed a line before the promoter, who declared:
“Jag hälsar er och promoverar er till doktorer.”
(I greet you and promote you to doctors.)
We received our diplomas one by one and began the slow ascent up the stairs of the Blue Hall. It struck me as the perfect visualization of the doctoral journey. Climbing in heels and a floor-length gown, trying to be graceful and careful not to trip, with a room full of people watching and waiting for you to reach the top. Intimidating. But also, utterly rewarding.
At the top, the promoter addressed us again:
“Ni har nu mottagit diplomet som tecken på er värdighet. Välgång följe Er, ärade doktorer!”
(You have now received the diploma as a sign of your dignity. May prosperity follow you, honorable doctors!)
And that’s when it hit me.
The realization.
I did it.
I got my degree.
My 15-year-old self, the shy girl who barely dared to admit she wanted to be a researcher, and who was often met with disbelief when she said it, actually did it. I was so unbelievably proud. It felt like finishing a marathon after some wrong turns, a few injuries, and many steep hills. A perfect metaphor shared in the speeches by the president of KTH and the new doctors’ representative.
Of course, I didn’t run this marathon alone. My friends and family supported me through every stage. My husband, Alexandros, also a doctoral student at the time, shared this journey with patience and understanding. And I am forever grateful to my supervisor, Lauren McKee. I would not be here without her guidance, encouragement, and trust.
It took me two years to fully realise that I had successfully completed my doctoral studies. Two years to finally quiet down my imposter syndrome and acknowledge that I am indeed an expert in my field. That our projects genuinely pushed the boundaries of knowledge. That we did things no one had done before in the same way. That we created something meaningful. What a relief to finally let that sink in.
It is meaningless to ask “what’s next?” as I have already started a position as a postdoctoral fellow. However, this new realisation painted my current role differently-I am a researcher. My next step is to continue pushing the boundaries of knowledge, to serve science, to continue experimenting failure after failure, to be creative, innovative and bold – in other words, to continue being a researcher. My journey starts now.
