Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Wait, I’m not a grad student anymore?

Guest post by Dr. Cara Ocobock:

I thought my final year of graduate school which consisted of finishing and defending my dissertation, applying for jobs, teaching, planning a wedding, and then planning a move would have adequately prepared me for my first year as a faculty member. I figured the differing demands on my time and attention would be similar to what I would face in an academic job. Now when I look back, I realize that my final year of graduate school was basically summer vacation.

  • First, I can no longer spend 98% of my time in pajama pants or jeans. I know this may sound silly, but having to look semi-professional on a daily basis was a more difficult adjustment than I had expected…also expensive!
  • Second, I have had to completely readjust my perception of time. During graduate school I used to think I needed at least a four-hour block of time to accomplish anything meaningful. This strategy worked because I had that freedom in my schedule. I no longer have those gloriously long, uninterrupted stretches of time. The majority of my days are now filled with classes, meetings, research students, office hours, and colleagues. Because of this, I have had to master the art of fifteen-minute productivity. Those short bursts of time in between various responsibilities are golden nuggets of writing and editing. It was difficult and frustrating to adjust to this at first. I felt like I never got anything done since I could only write a few sentences at a time. I soon realized those sentences here and there quickly added up during the day. It also served the purpose of keeping whatever I am working on fresh in my mind throughout the day and from day-to-day.
  • Third, the constant pulls in different directions also meant I had to shift focus quickly. This has actually helped me a great deal. I rarely have the opportunity to stare at uncooperative data for hours on end, which invariably lead to me banging my head against the table and seeking out the nearest tub of ice cream. Being forced to frequently change gears prevents me from getting frustrated with what I am doing. So much so, it has now become a conscious decision to step away from what I am doing when I notice my thoughts wandering or frustration rising. Rather than bashing my head, I continue the productivity in a different direction.
  • Fourth, I needed to lose the guilt I felt when not working. When I was a grad student, I would feel incredible guilt when I wasn’t spending every waking moment (and even the sleeping moments) not working. I would feel guilty about not working, which made me feel horrible about myself, which made it near impossible to work, which increased the guilt, and so on and so forth into the spiral many of us are familiar with. We need balance in life. Let me repeat…WE NEED BALANCE.  Working out, reading science fiction or the latest Krakauer book, occasionally seeing our loved ones, and taking 20 minutes out of your day to build a Lego while watching reality TV shows I am too embarrassed to name. This is the list of things I do that are not work related. And they are necessary. They make a better person if for no other reason than they allow me to turn my mind off, allow me to recharge. I have dropped the guilt and embraced the time I take for myself and for my loved ones. And that, in the end does affect my work output… for the better.
  • At the moment, there isn’t a “Fifth” because I haven’t figured it all out, and I doubt I ever will. For example, I still haven’t learned how to say “no” when asked to take on extra work – and this includes saying “no” to myself. 
I am sure all of you reading this have your own incredible insights on the transition from grad student to faculty – please share in the comments section.

This is a constant learning process, and honestly, I fail all the time. But, those failures inform, I make the correction, and I move on knowing better. Despite all the changes I have had to make as a faculty member, I still delight in those rare days without classes and meetings where I can go un-showered, stay in my pajama pants, and just write.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Not where I want to be

(Thanks to an anonymous contributor for this new BANDIT blog post!)

I was one of the lucky ones. I got a tenure-track position before I had my PhD in hand. When I got the offer I should have been ecstatic, and part of me was. The other part of me was terrified and dejected. Terrified because I would have to be a professor and I didn’t know how. Dejected because this was not the job I wanted. It was neither the institution nor the department I would have liked. Teaching is the first and foremost focus at my institution, with research being a distant second. Though I was also assured that there would be room for research, I knew that this job would not be able to support my goals. But, I was in a damn good position that others would trade me for in a heartbeat, and yes, I realize how much of an asshole I sound like complaining about this. However, I am not where I want to be, and that is a situation we can all relate to. I accepted the offer and girded myself for the challenges ahead.

I, like everyone starting a new job, hit the ground running. I wanted to do all I could to make myself an asset. It has been a lot of work…A LOT OF WORK! I had to prep courses I had never taught before, crank out manuscripts from previous research, attempt to establish my own research program with little to no support and space, and throw in a few service things as well.

I was chugging along surprisingly well. I received excellent teaching evaluations after my first semester, I managed to submit a manuscript fairly fast, developed a community science outreach program, and took part in an exciting, new research project. I started to feel like I belonged, and that maybe this was a job I could see myself at long-term. I was hitting all the marks I needed to hit and establish my research program. I was silly to be upset by this job early on! I was riding high on thoughts of the future. I was starting to make plans! Big plans for research and community outreach! Then the whispers started. I was starting to hear talk that other faculty members thought I was conducting too much research and attending too many conferences, which must come at the expense of my teaching quality. This lead to several contradictory criticisms about my teaching style. This devastated me, probably more than it should have, and it completely popped that bubble of hope I had just formed.

All my original feelings came back...this is not the place for me. This place does not provide an environment that actively supports research and dissemination as well as teaching. However, that was quickly displaced by the fear and self-loathing that so many academics face. “Maybe my teaching is suffering.” “Maybe I am doing too much research.” “Is this going to affect my contract renewal or tenure and promotion?” “Perhaps this is the best job I can hope for.” “But, wait, I don’t even deserve this job!”

I had a rough winter. I wanted to give up, and even considered leaving academia. As I often do, I wallowed in self-pity for about a week, but eventually pulled myself out of it. I decided to turn the sadness into anger, and let that anger fuel me. 

I used that anger to write a couple of internal grants that would support my research and dissemination. I worked hard on them and had a number of colleagues review them for me. I was awarded those grants. I then decided to get my research in my institution’s media outlets, to make the university, students, faculty, and administration aware of the work I was conducting. I figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get faculty, administration, and students outside of my department interested in my research.

Riding off of that, I developed two brand new research projects. One will be an internationally collaborative project, which will take a ridiculous amount of time to get off the ground. The other includes an army of undergraduate research assistants, promoting a more hands on educational opportunity. Both may be pooh-poohed by members of my department, but both will be highly regarded by others at my university and hopefully other universities as well.

So I couldn’t be accused of neglecting my teaching, I completely redesigned how one of my courses is taught based on student feedback. Granted, I had to go through a number of different channels to do so since my institution does not afford a great deal of intellectual freedom in teaching. However, the class will be taught this semester in a manner to make the information more accessible and enjoyable for students.

Eventually, the anger fizzled out. And when it did, I realized something.  I accomplished a lot in my first year. Having to fight for work to be valued by my colleagues has made me work harder. Am I where I want to be yet? No, but where I am now has made me a better academic. The desire to be in a different position motivated me to do things and inspired me to take risks I would not have done or taken before. These struggles have made me stronger, and that bubble of hope is slowly growing again leaving me with this mentality

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

U of Missouri Health Insurance Fiasco and the Exploitation of Graduate Students

(Huge thanks to guest blogger, Colleen Young, a PhD student at the University of Missouri. Thanks for speaking out!)

Like most academics, I didn’t have the summer “vacation” that many non-academics purport we have. Meaning, I worked. Hard. All. Summer. I’m going into my 3rd year as a Ph.D. student at the University of Missouri, Columbia, and this summer was the furthest from sipping a fruity drink on the beach that I’ve ever had. I took a language course for my area of research, worked on my dissertation proposal, and wrote as much as I could on papers that continually get pushed down by the ever-increasing weight being added by just about everything else required as a Ph.D. student (*deep inhale*). And (*exhale*) I don’t have a break. This academic year is going to be one of my most demanding years (I do fantasize that it gets better). In preparation for this tumultuous year, I sat down at my desk on Friday, August 14th, to clear my inbox.

Sifting through dozens of emails, my eyes caught one unique subject: “Changes in Student Health Insurance Subsidy for Graduate Teaching and Research.” As I read the email, I grew frustrated and angry (however, I just learned about the sympathetic nervous system in gross anatomy, so I also relished this intimate educational moment). The subject was surprisingly deceptive: The content of the message did not describe “changes,” rather it announced ending student health insurance. The content of the message is also deceiving: the administration claimed that their hands are tied as the IRS will not “allow” them to provide insurance subsidies to their graduate students as we are classified as employees. #ThanksObama.

We’ve all taken the GREs -- sorting through these word problems wasn’t difficult for any of us. The university was not offering Affordable Care Act (ACA) health insurance to their graduate students, so the IRS threatened to penalize them. Rather than providing us with ACA-level health insurance for full-time employees following the employee mandate, the university decided to cut all of our insurance and hand us 55% of the stipend we should be receiving for one semester as compensation. What are they going to do with the extra ~$4,000,000 from the health insurance budget next year? Hire another football coach with a $4,000,000 salary? Graduate students, as employees of this university, should be provided with ACA-level health insurance that full-time employees receive, and at a lower cost because we make less. But, the administrators refused to solve this simple problem for their graduate students.

The university claims that they were not aware of this upcoming problem, stating that they were informed of the potential issue on July 21, 2015. However, the state of Missouri and the administration have known about this since 2013. The IRS initially announced that they would be changing their interpretations of employees for health insurance coverage in 2013. (Legislators in the state of Missouri actively refused to participate in the ACA by not expanding Medicaid. Further, the administration at Mizzou is sympathetic to the state’s resistance by choosing to wishfully wait for the ACA to be overturned, rather than figure out a way to provide adequate health care coverage for its students.) The administration was notified in early July of this year that the legislation would be decided on within the next few weeks. Faculty and students weren’t notified about any of this until 14 hours before student health insurance was cut.

This is an example of legislation taken with poor administrative oversight resulting in policies that explicitly exploit graduate students. Graduate students at Mizzou cannot claim they work more than 20 hours a week per teaching or research appointment (0.5 FTE). Further, “Student Employees should not be scheduled to work more than an average of 28 hours per week across all concurrent university jobs.” We are effectively pigeonholed as part-time employees. This limit was supposed to protect students from being overworked. However, students are given the burden of teaching and grading exams for overcrowded undergraduate courses without being compensated for going over 20 hours a week (and many students do). We have to work as many hours as it takes to get the job done. We work more for less pay, while not qualifying for health insurance that full-time employees qualify for.

Doctoral students are highly qualified people who are willing to make low wages (~$1000 to $2000 per month, sometimes less!) for 5 to 10 years, often working 60+ hours a week. We often could not possibly work, and indeed, at some schools, are often prohibited from working, additional jobs outside of the university. The loss of the health insurance support at Mizzou is 1.5 to 3 months of pay (which is almost always budgeted in for grants, so the health insurance fees paid are not solely from tuition revenue). Is it easy for anyone to suddenly lose that much pay?

Sadly, I’m not that surprised by any of this. Health insurance was about the last thing that the university could take away from its graduate students. And the administration never effectively communicates with any of its educators and staff. These are expected actions by an administration that continually exploits and treats graduate students with egregious disrespect. In the past few years, administrators at the University of Missouri have made clear their lack of commitment to graduate education:

  1. The student parent center was shut down (actually the roof of a balcony collapsed because of poor safety inspections and standards, and they chose not to repair or replace it). 
  2. Affordable on-campus housing was closed (see above ^). 
  3. Salaries have remained stagnant while the cost of living has increased. 
  4.  Fees are increasing while resources are being cut. 
  5. Tuition waivers for quarter-time Teaching Assistants were slashed. 
I am one of the few lucky graduate students; I received an external grant from the National Science Foundation’s Graduate Research Fellowship Program. My colleagues aren’t as fortunate. I have to watch many of my peers suffer, stagnate, and sometimes drop out. Average salary in the anthropology department is below the poverty line. (For a one person family unit, the poverty line in Missouri is $11,770 a year.) Out of the 31 graduate students in the department, 8-10 are offered 0.25 time TA positions that provide only $5,508 - $6,059 (M.A. – Ph.D.) a year; and 5-6 students are offered 0.5 time TA positions that provide only $11,017 - $12,118 (M.A. – Ph.D.) a year. That’s all our department can afford. The rest of the students must find work in other departments or off campus.

Our highest quality students seem to suffer the most. A friend of mine, and a student in the anthropology graduate program, Rachel Munds, had to find a second, off-campus job to cover her monthly expenses. She TAs on campus in the biology department more than 20 hours a week (she was hired as a 0.5 TA, but works well over what she is paid for), and works at PetSmart roughly15 hours a week. I’m appalled by how much Rachel has to work just to pay her bills rather than focus on her research…research that has been recognized at many levels. In 2013, Rachel discovered a new species of slow loris, Nycticebus kayan, and has worked on several articles on genotype–phenotype mapping and species recognition in primates. Further, if she doesn’t complete this research she will not be able to complete her degree. The standards of science, the documentation of evidence, cannot be met in hour increments between teaching, grading, studying, cooking, completing chores, meeting family obligations, and cashiering.

This is at no fault to the department. Anthropology faculty are continually working hard to find resources and oases of support in the desert of educational support at Mizzou. Last year our faculty worked on a plan to provide more tuition waivers for our graduate students. To do so, they created more 0.25 time TA positions, and worked closely with students to apply for external sources of funding. What did the administration surprise us with at the end of last year? They cut tuition waivers for 0.25 TA positions.

In addition to these financially taxing matters, the administration’s unconscionable actions leave graduate students stressed, without housing, tired, and, with less time to focus on our research, ill-equipped for the job market. The morale among graduate students is one of defeat. We work hard. We teach courses, grade exams, have lab responsibilities, do research, take exams, go to class, network with peers; we go home to families with spouses and kids and dogs and cats. And we don’t receive the support we need, and deserve. We’re expected to wine and dine as professionals, but we can barely afford to meet basic needs.

As conditions continually worsen here, students are speaking out about the administration’s egregious, unforgivable actions. A walkout and rally are planned for Wednesday, August 26th, if the university doesn’t address our demands. Students are sharing their stories about how traumatic an immediate and unforeseen loss of health care has been. In the Forum on Graduate Rights on Facebook, one student shared her experience with the loss of health care and with the administration:

“It appears that President Wolfe's Executive Assistant is simply sending generic emails in response to student concerns about health insurance, including my story detailing my miscarriage and having to desperately register for some form of health insurance while rivers of blood and my actual pregnancy were leaving my body… I understand he must be busy, but that was absolutely ridiculous. Is the administration completely heartless??” – Natalie Tartiere (Posted at 1:16 PM, August 20th, 2015 in the Forum on Graduate Rights on Facebook)

(After stories and news of the walkout spread, the university responded with a one-year solution to our health insurance, which stated they will “…defer implementation of its decision regarding graduate student health insurance. As a result, the university will pay for health insurance for eligible graduate students.” We are still planning the walkout and rally because they have not adequately addressed our health coverage with a long-term plan, nor have they addressed any of our other demands.)

Administrators, like President Timothy Wolfe, are exactly the problem. President Wolfe received a B.S. in business, and graduated from Harvard Business School’s Advanced Management Program. He has worked in sales and management positions at IBM and other companies. His résumé doesn’t lie – he is great at what he does – he is successful at managing this school system like a corporation. However, it is a corporation that is destined to fail because of a bloated (in size and salary) administration. Compounded with a lack of state funding for higher education, the expansion of administrative oversight is making failing businesses out of university campuses, and is taking away the ability for educators to do their jobs effectively.

Unfortunately, the exploitation of graduate student labor is not isolated to the University of Missouri, Columbia. Graduate students across the nation struggle to attain their degrees and support themselves. Graduate student loan interest rates are an outrageous 6%, much higher than undergraduate rates. Further, the few resources that are offered to graduate students usually do not extend to their families. Even high-ranking universities, such as UC Berkeley, don’t adequately provide for their graduate students and families. Celeste Henrickson, a recent Ph.D. graduate from the anthropology department at UC Berkeley noted:

“I remember from the Grad insurance at Berkeley that there was a serious lack of insurance support for families and significant others. I was really thankful I had neither at the time, but it angers me that the university was so unsupportive of grad student families. I guess they expect us not to have them, even though that is the exact age when many start a family?”

Providing graduate students with their basic needs benefits everyone. At a time when societal and environmental issues desperately need quality research for solutions, providing graduate students with their basic needs to conduct research and teach is critical. Further, allowing graduate students to partake in innovative research brings prestige and revenue to universities. There is tremendous emphasis at any university on research output and obtaining external funds to conduct research. Research that directly and indirectly benefits broader society. Research that factors into how the university ranks nationally. Research that keeps our students up-to-date on the latest ideas/findings in their field of study. Research that is required for graduate students to get a job after grad school. Graduate students execute tasks on research projects and are integral to the process of new discoveries. They are also critical for teaching the next generation of undergraduates. Graduate students need to be provided with the time and proper working conditions to conduct their research to the best of their ability.

A step forward for all grad programs would be to unionize. Many graduate programs are taking this necessary step, and are seeing the benefits of working as a collective body. Graduates students are a powerful, smart group. If we come together, we can push back. The very nature of graduate school means that there is an ever-changing pool of workers that must understand the challenges of the system and the administration they work for. Unionization will afford graduate students with the power to speak with one voice and the continuity needed to address all needs as they arise. We are employees. We are educators. We are students. We deserve to be treated better with a fair salary, and benefits. We deserve to be compensated for every hour that we work.

Alas, as I enter my second week of anatomy this Monday and prepare for a Graduate Student Walkout on Wednesday, I have a diverse understanding of what it means to have a spine. In addition to being an almost professional biological anthropologist, I have developed quite a repertoire of skills as an activist. My cause? Graduate student and educator’s rights.

-Colleen B. Young
Ph.D. student
Biological Anthropology
University of Missouri, Columbia
Cbyoung44 at gmail dot com
#GradInsurance #GradsDo

Monday, January 12, 2015

Let's get this party started!

Hey there BANDITs. Yes, things have been slow here on the blog but we haven't forgotten you. (See, here we are!) In fact, we are starting our planning for our 6th annual BANDIT party at the 2015 AAPA meeting in St. Louis. Details are in the works but the party will be Friday from 4-6pm, at a local venue near the meeting hotel. This year I want to do something a little different, a little radical: not charge anything to my personal credit card. Crazy talk, I know. But that's where you (please please please) come in.

We have depended on the generosity of private donors for our annual BANDIT event. You can help this year. DONATE NOW and help us have yet another amazing party. The donate button is on the left side of the webpage, making it easy to access no matter what amazing BANDIT post you're reading. (And have you taken a look at the archives lately? Gold. Pure gold.)

Not sure? Let's take a funky stroll down memory lane:
Year 1, Albuquerque
Year 2, Minneapolis
Year 3, Portland
Year 4, Knoxville
Year 5, Calgary

What will Year 6 bring? Only time (and your generous donations) will tell…but it will probably be something like this.

Remember, the DONATE button is on the left side of this webpage. Press it, and let magic happen.

Thursday, November 6, 2014

Guest blogger: "What is this mentoring thing anyway?"

(It's been a few months since we've posted new content here on BAnDIT. Busy busy busy. Today I'm happy to share a fantastic post about one junior faculty member's search for mentors. Lots of great advice here; hope you enjoy it!


What is this mentoring thing, anyway?

I am the only biological anthropologist (and the only female) in my small program of six full-time anthropologists. Anthropology is within a larger school with faculties of several programs, which means that full-blown faculty meetings include lots of fiery back and forth, tinged with a little zen flavor. I love my school, my program, and my position, though I am usually not completely sure what everyone is arguing about.
  A position like this comes with a few challenges, including, in no particular order: 
1) There isn’t really anyone to ask advice about being tenure-track in my field;
2) No one in my program really has any advice for how I can navigate tenure in my field; 
3) Did I mention that there isn’t anyone senior in my program (or school) who can answer questions about the tenure situation in my field? This became very clear to me when, two years in a row, I received "excellents" on my annual evaluation under the research category. All I had done for research those two years was submit abstracts for the American Association of Physical Anthropologists conference. I knew then that any "trajectory towards national recognition" - as defined for how I would earn tenure - was trajectory towards being nationally recognized for starting abstracts at 8:15 pm EST on September 15.
            Finding myself without a go-to person for advice, I started a search for some magic individual who could answer all my questions. That’s what a mentor is, right? I applied for an official “Mentor” through a program run by our teaching center - and I got one. She and I had coffee once, and talked about how to take attendance in a large class. I came away from that experience with one important realization: there is no one person who is going to be able to answer all of your questions about teaching, research, service, tenure, academic life, non-academic life, and all other aspects of your career about which you might have concerns.
So I decided I needed to do something to help myself. I became more proactive, and started asking people for meetings to ask questions. I met with the biology department chair, and told him that I’d like his help with my tenure committee and tenure packet. I met with the associate dean for research, and asked if he would serve as a reader for a grant writing activity I was becoming involved in. I met with another dean, a woman who had chaired a STEM department, and set up monthly meetings just to go over my research trajectory (and talk about being a woman in science). I meet with the chair of my school regularly to talk about how my teaching is going, and I’m on a committee with someone I ask about service responsibilities. I'm also still in regular contact with my PhD advisors, and ask them an insane range of questions, from dealing with undergraduates, to navigating school politics, to how an external letter writer for a tenure packet interprets a research record in a department with no graduate program. I look for mentoring opportunities every day, and when I see them I take advantage of them. I joined the Physical Anthropology Women’s Mentoring Network to have a community for discussions, and at one of the Mentoring Network events, I went up to a scientist more senior than me and asked her about her experience with having a baby while on the tenure-track.
Don't get me wrong: approaching senior scientists (and deans!) and asking for help is not something I find easy. It's intimidating, and sometimes terrifying. And it feels like work. People don't always have time to help, and it can be a little tough to get a negative response. But I've stopped thinking about having a mentor as some defined relationship, and instead think of mentoring as a process. It starts with determining when I need help or have questions, and continues until I find some advice that helps me in my particular situation. The process can be pretty unpleasant, but I don't feel like I would learn as much if there was one approachable person with the answers to all my questions.
Something that caught me by surprise was learning, through this process, that not every mentor is going to be senior. Peer-mentoring with colleagues starting their careers at other schools has given me a much better perspective on challenges we are all experiencing at about the same time. It's also a lot more fun to hear about stories of people developing new classes or setting up labs or having babies while they are doing it, rather than hearing about these experiences happening 20 years ago.

On any given day, I have a list of at least 6-10 people I consider mentors, each of them playing a different role in my mentoring process. Most of them probably don't know I have them on my list of mentors, though I do try to let people know how much I appreciate their time. For me, the mentoring process is about making connections, building relationships, and finding answers to my questions every day. The associated internal monologue usually goes something like this: "I think super senior intimidating scientist X could really help me with organizing this event/symposium/study I want to do, I should ask him/her for help. Let me play Eye of the Tiger while I get up the nerve to send the email." Or, “I am sitting next to the world’s expert on X, and I really want to know what his/her first grant was about. Let me hum Eye of the Tiger while I make eye contact and work up the nerve to say something.” For me, mentoring is a process that’s never going to stop, and requires constant effort. So next time you have a question about your career, and you have an idea for who has the answer, step outside your comfort zone and ask. And then ask someone else. Just keep asking

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Why have Lady Editors? A true story of balanced gender representation.

I’m following up on my previous post, to address this question left by an anonymous commenter: 

‘How to square the (thoroughly justified) criticism of a mostly male workshop with the evident pride taken in the production of an "all-woman edited, largely woman-authored" book?’

This is a really good question and I appreciate the opportunity to clarify my comments about Building Babies, the book I co-edited with Kate Clancy and Katie Hinde. To begin, we have to have a reasonable estimate of what we’re shooting for. Fifty/fifty isn’t always representative  for a given discipline. In the case of Building Babies, it is a challenge to estimate what the gender composition “should” have been given that we approached scholars from several disciplines, as our primary goal was to be interdisciplinary. That said, the explicit themes of the book were mothers, pregnancy, infants, breastfeeding, and parent-offspring behavior, subject matter that historically draws female scholars. Further, we drew predominantly from anthropology and psychology, disciplines that in recent years have awarded more PhDs to women than men, approximately 60-70%. Drawing an even finer point on it, from within two already female-dominant fields, many of our scholars self-identified as primatologists, a subdiscipline that historically is female-rich. Thus, it is reasonable to expect that there “should” have been a large female skew to Building Babies.  Another way to get at this is through the analysis of Lynne Isbell, Truman Young, and Alexander Harcourt, who reported that by 2012 women contributed 67% (as first authors) of all primatology-themed presentations at the American Association of Physical Anthropology conference. This is not an exact science, but given the history of the disciplines we tapped, coupled with the fact that many of our authors were recent PhDs or even still ABD and thus hewed closely to the recent statistics indicated above, we should expect that the female:male breakdown in Building Babies is somewhere around 2:1 (perhaps 67-70% vs. 30-33%)

I crunched the numbers for Building Babies, and am pleased to report that the gender breakdown of our total roster of 34 authors across 22 chapters was 68% female, 32% male.  When it comes to just the first authors (which is maybe – but see below - more comparable to being an individual invited to participate in a special workshop), I considered 20 of the 22 chapters because two were equally co-authored by male-female pairs. Of those 20 chapters, the breakdown of first authors was 75% women, 25% men. For at least one of those female-first-authored chapters, the scholar we initially approached was a man, and he invited two of his female trainees to be co-authors, one of whom took on the role of first author. If he had remained first author as invited, the numbers would have been 70% women to 30% men. BOOM!

How does this compare to the Evolutionary Aspects of Child Development and Health Workshop? We have the same challenges we faced estimating the gender breakdown “should” have been. Again, fifty/fifty isn’t necessarily an appropriate measure of accurate representation. While none of the speakers at the workshop are primatologists, they are anthropologists, physiologists, and evolutionary biologists, fields that in recent years have awarded at least 50% of their PhDs to women. With those numbers (and with an assumption that organizers pay attention to gender equity), it would be reasonable to expect at least a fifty/fifty breakdown of speakers. Instead, there are only 2 women out of a slate of 14 speakers, or 14% women, 86% men. That’s six times as many men as women from fields in which the distribution is likely at least equivalent. 

Similarly, Isbell et al. found that when primatological symposia were organized by men, women were underrepresented. Remember that in the context of primatology, a representative sample of women would be about 67%, and when women organized symposia, that’s exactly what Isbell and colleagues saw. In stark contrast, when men organized symposia, only 29% of the first-author presenters were women. Not even fifty/fifty. But at least it’s 29%, not 14%. How does that happen? I don’t believe it is a conscious campaign of omission. Rather it is a very unfortunate oversight, brought to you by the power of implicit bias.

But here’s another thing: It is difficult to equate a publication with an invitation to be a featured speaker. The former is generally highly collaborative, and the first author position is often determined alphabetically because the team deems the contributions to be equally valuable. Indeed, that is how the order of the names of the editors of Building Babies was established.  Even when there is a very clear division of labor, everybody still gets some credit. Every author gets to put it on a CV. Everybody gets to claim a little piece toward tenure and promotion, toward a scholarly profile. To be a featured speaker means that ONE person is being recognized in an important – and individual – way. Certainly that speaker may mention his or her mentors, students, and collaborators in their presentation, but it is solely that person who received the invitation, who was paid the honorarium, who was compensated for their travel and lodging, who gets to include that speaking engagement on their CV, who benefits from networking at the event, and who gains recognition from those contacts and any press that may be there. And collectively, that builds into the kind of profile that can lead to grants, publications, endowed chairs, and major awards. These are the collateral benefits of featured speaking engagements, making the continued benign negligence on the part of conference/ symposia/ plenary/ keynote/ competition organizers so problematic and stifling. It is a kind of gatekeeping, and it’s not all that subtle.

My Building Babies co-editors and I have had many career opportunities. We all have tenure-track jobs at well-respected research universities, and have benefited from speaking engagements, collaborations, and funding. However, our individual successes remain embedded in general patterns of restricted access. As successful academics with a fair amount of professional privilege, it’s our responsibility to say something when we see something. And it’s important not to pull the ladder up with us. My intention in this follow-up post is to address specifically the explicit and implicit questions posed in the comment. Some of us saw something and we said something about it, we got a response, we are moving forward. But it is important to point out that there is a systemic problem of implicit bias in academia (and pretty much everywhere else) that hits non-male, non-white, non-straight (and more!) people pretty hard. 

So yes, anonymous commenter, we are extremely proud that Building Babies was largely woman-authored, and we embrace the fact that it was edited completely by women because that may not so coincidentally be why it is so well balanced along gender lines for the disciplines we targeted. (Of course, one could argue that we shouldn’t be so chuffed up over doing plain old due diligence.)