Mostly, though, I wonder if abstracting yourself is such a bad thing? I actually love how the classroom and my research can help me block out everything else, especially if other areas of my personal life are going badly; or in a not-so-dramatic vein (read: emotional and feminine ha ha), I think abstracting yourself is also a form of diversifying, which I think is an important corrective to the old narrative that all a woman's value comes from her husband and kids (straight out of the 19c and still tenaciously holding strong!). I can't relate to the mother-of paradigm yet, but I know its really important to me that I exist in a world where whose wife I am is irrelevant. That is not to say that Justin himself is irrelevant, but just that my title "wife" doesn't matter, which is to say I am not limited to being defined as only a wife. Obviously I don't think one can completely abstract yourself from all the contexts that make up who you are, but there is a side of me that enjoys being a professional and only a professional while I'm in the ivory towers.
However, this does not mean I think one should have to create a persona devoid of all personal context in order to be perceived as a professional. Thus, I do agree with Clancy’s point about how its a shame we have to be wary of mentioning things about babies and blogs, those non-academic aspects of our lives, within the academic setting.
Clancy's battle cry is wonderful, but woefully untethered from reality. She asks: "So how does one be a radical when radical scholarship is hard to measure with current tenure criteria?" Which is a very good question, and the assumed answer, of course is "you can't." But I expected her to offer some suggestions for how we can. Instead, her answer is: "Be that radical anyway. Be the scholar you think you should be, bringing your whole self to the table, finding your passion and making it your scholarship, and having a plan that will help you become a leader in your field." To which she follows with how maybe getting tenure isn't all that important. This made me laugh out loud, as if the implicit connection here is "go ahead and be radical, but this means you won't get tenure."
I know most of my comments here seem against Clancy, but I'm actually pretty divided in my response: part of me feeling affirmed and encouraged, while the other part roles my eyes at the romanticized notion of "just do it." I think my hope is that conversations about women in the academy bring about more conversations about the academy itself.
1 comment:
I thought this article was really interesting, and that on the whole, Clancy makes a lot of good points. As I first read it, I thought she was being a bit disingenuous when it came to the whole "bring your whole self" to the table part of the argument. It struck me as something much easier said than done--especially from someone who, like Dr. Turner, already has tenure--especially since there's such a culture of fear around tenure: you either meet the requirements or you're out. And tenure, even after reading this article, still seems characterized as a sadistic process in which the judges 'on high' refuse to recognize a woman's (or even a man's, for that matter) "whole self," and instead take comfort in the black-and-white, clearcut decisions that result from judging scholars only on the basis of publication.
Clancy writes: "I tend to bring what I think is my whole self, or most of it, to the table, but then a significant part of my brain is occupied by overthinking what I’ve done. What will they think of me if they hear I’m crazy about my kid? What will they think when they find I devote hours and hours to roller derby? That I have a blog? Are they judging me right now? And all those thoughts harm my interactions with colleagues, they limit my productivity, they mean that I only bring a fraction of the warmth and intelligence I’m capable of bringing to my job."
I totally relate to this part. I am not even in a tenure-track position, and I would never ever post a picture of my pregnant belly on my FB page, and I am so relieved that I will have had the baby when the time actually comes for interviews (if I get any). In April, when I had a community college interview, I did everything to hide the pregnancy. Marty is under the impression that because I asked about it with HR (but not the search committee/faculty), it was a factor in me not getting hired. I'm not sure if he's right, but I do know that regarding academic culture, I have already internalized the idea that my motherhood must be kept completely separate from my job. And, I also recognize that when I get a job, that separation will, as Clancy says, negatively affect my productivity and interactions with colleagues.
OK, but then, Clancy briefly mentions that most non-tenured women do have back-up plans and this is why they shouldn't be afraid. This, I think, is her most important point. If you can live pre-tenure life without the paralyzing fear of failing to get tenure, then yes, you can have a fulfilling academic life for at least the five years that you work. I think this sentiment is kind of similar to "live each day like it's your last and then you won't regret anything," and I find it kind of liberating. Do I see myself embracing it in real life, though? That's the question. I'm not sure. I would like to be that brave, but I don't really know that I am. Maybe after two years in a tenure-track position, I might be so exhausted and resentful about academe, that I might throw caution to the wind to live this way, but I just don't know for sure, until I'm in that position.
The final, most important point that I think she makes, is that women need to not pull the ladder up after them. I think she could have written an entire post about this! It seems like tenure, in some ways, encourages selfishness. Once some women achieve it, they have no patience for other women who can't simply follow the rules as well. Instead of working on tenure committees or as faculty to try to get interdisciplinary scholarship or alternative forms of publication, etc. due recognition, I feel like some tenured women just think "I played by the rules and got here, so you have to too." This has to change. . . .
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