A female academic I know sent me an email this week: She was in a mixed-gender meeting. Everyone in the room was equals. All of the men were being referred to as "Dr," whereas the women were being called by their first names. I wish I could say I felt surprised.
As this week wrapped up, I felt a lot of academic outrage fatigue. (Side note: I find twitter contributes to this fatigue because it amplifies my exposure to outrage-inducing stories, I'm not sure if this is good or bad or neither).
There was the LaCour scandal (I appreciate how this is now being called the LaCour scandal, not the Green scandal, although certainly Green had a role to play in this). (Also read here, an article that does a better job than I could of discussing what we need to learn from the LaCour scandal). In addition, tenure in Wisconsin is experiencing some serious threats that we should all be quite worried about (in my opinion). (That article also talks about the decrease in tenured positions at the time that administrative positions garnering very large pay checks has increased). There was also this Canadian story that highlights (briefly) the push-pull between teaching and research, and how this can impact graduate students and junior faculty.
And these are just some of the stories of academic outrage - I could write and write and write about the many other injustices going on, but have chosen to focus on this (more on that below).
This weekend my new partner and I decided to try Arthur Aron's (et al) 1997 procedure for generating closeness. We were both familiar with it (he from a news story, me from graduate school coursework) and thought it was interesting. One of the questions I really struggled with asked what I would like to know if a crystal ball could tell me the truth about myself, life, the future, or anything else. I was really stumped by this (for reasons that aren't relevant to this blog post).
After some thought I said: "I wish I knew if academia was going to change at all. I feel trapped in a system with many problems, overwhelmed with how much I wish would change, and discouraged at effecting any change."
There are many, many aspects of academia I love. Even if you probably wouldn't guess it from reading my blog or listening to me vent. Academia involves a constant quest for knowledge, the opportunity to be a positive influence on students, independence, and opportunities to travel and meet new people. (The first four advantages that come to mind for me).
But there are also so many aspects of academia that I am exhausted by: The sexism (blatant and clear, or subtle every day sexism). The divide between junior and senior professors. Cuts to funding, threats to academic freedom. Poor dissemination of findings. In fighting. Racism. Lack of tolerance for anyone who doesn't fit the mold. A hyper-competitive environment that encourages us to eat each other alive rather than support one another. Abusive supervisors. Reviewers that can't exercise basic human kindness.
I have academic outrage fatigue. I'd love a crystal ball to tell me if change is possible (I suspect that academics have been complaining about these very issues since long before I was born) so I can either continue trying to impact the system I work in, or pack it in and just look after myself. Attempting to change the system is exhausting. I don't quite know how to push this rock uphill while protecting my own well-being, and that feels like a deep personality flaw on my part.
I was at a meeting a couple of weeks ago and once again got asked if I was a grad student. No, I said, I'm a Reader at "NorthernUni". But you're far too young! my interlocutor said. My FEMALE interlocutor.
ReplyDeleteI am in my mid-40s and greying naturally (I decided after one or two tries that the pluses of colouring my hair were outweighed by how bad it looked (and made me feel) once it began to grow out - my hair grows fast, and when the semester was busy fitting in long, expensive salon appointments got tricky), wear no makeup, and had slept badly the night before the meeting. I suppose the relative lack of lines on my face (thanks, body fat, you're good for something!) and my dress sense which has never been very 'senior' (the three other older female academics at this small workshop were wearing stylish skirt/jeans-and-blazer-and-well-tied-scarf type combinations, with smart short haircuts or at most bobs, whereas I was wearing khakis and a pretty T-shirt type top with a knit cardigan and my hair is about bra-band length (it was clipped back, but not fiercely knotted) - most of the younger women were more fashionably dressed, but I think my bulk kind of makes no-one expect fashion from me (yay! I have never understood fashion), they just read 'casual' or 'business' kind of labels, and I don't do 'business' (I find it hard to find suitable clothes in natural fibres cut for my generous-hour-glass shape, plus surely one of the few perks of academe is the reduced emphasis on looks over ideas?). The smartest-dressed male there was wearing ancient chinos and a graph-paper shirt... of course, it was a one day informal workshop mostly about computer stuff, so why wear anything other than going to work clothes? (Do senior women feel they have to go to work in less comfortable, more formal wear every day or do they actually LIKE that? I'm never sure if these clothes issues are my lack of possession of some aspects of conventional feminine behaviour (which my sis and mum have) or my body issues, or actually are an expression of patriarchy, or some of both...
On the one hand, sure, it's culturally polite to tell a woman she looks young. But no WAY do I look younger than late 30s, even if I don't quite look my calendar age, and no-one would think a man was unexpectedly young to have reached this rank. It felt sexist. And also very tiring...
Which is a long-winded way of saying "Blog Twin!!!!" - again...
In political science we call it L'affaire LaCour
ReplyDeleteAt this point I'm just hopeful that academia won't get much worse. It's hard to imagine the structural causes changing in my lifetime, although of course I hope that I'm wrong.
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