A while ago I found myself attending an illuminating lecture. A teacher of mine delivered a long monologue about how I, as a young woman, am simply not taken seriously in this world and how I just have to deal with that. He illustrated this with anecdotes of what other men had thought and said about me.

This wasn’t exactly news to me. As a woman in academia, I am generally aware, although many won’t admit it, that there are still a lot of people who perceive me as less capable because of my gender. Not necessarily because they actually think that women are less intelligent than men, but because a lot of characteristics traditionally framed as female are not associated with rational thinking, while many traits traditionally framed as male are. In other, more personal words: several of the insecurities I had during my time at university stemmed from the fact that when you think of an intellectual, you typically don’t think of a young, blonde girl with a high-pitched voice, who laughs a lot and likes to wear short skirts.

For a long time though, I would tell myself it was just that: my own insecurities. Surely I was imagining that patronizing treatment I seemed to receive a lot from mostly older men. Surely I misinterpreted those condescending smiles they gave me when I spoke. However, that all ended the day that teacher mansplained sexism to me. Since receiving that lecture, I am now convinced that I and other women (in academia or elsewhere) are not collectively imagining things, and that if you feel you are not being taken seriously for reasons that have nothing to do with your actual intellectual capacities, you are probably not overreacting—it may simply be the truth. I am perceived as weaker, less smart and less competent because of my gender, at least by some people.

This lecture was, in a painful way, more educational than a lot of the seminars and talks I attended regularly at university. It is a great example of how as a student I learned a lot of uncomfortable lessons about the academic world (and humanity in general). I want to share some of them in case they might be helpful:

Lesson 1. Abuse and harassment come in many different forms and are often not as easy to recognize as one would think, especially not by the victim. Our bodies and minds normally tell us when our boundaries have been violated: we feel uncomfortable, stressed, threatened, physically nauseous. But our immediate reaction to these feelings is often to question them. We are taught to evaluate things from a rational perspective. Strong emotions, especially negative ones, are often frowned upon. We don’t want to be regarded as hysterical or weak. When we feel something is very wrong, though, something probably is wrong. Although it is awkward to talk about an awkward situation, it is really helpful to talk to other people and get their perspective, because it is often easier to evaluate a situation that you are not part of yourself. Others can be quicker to see when we are being treated inappropriately.

Lesson 2. If you want to work in academia, be prepared for exploitation. You might be exploited by supervisors who steal your work, by fellow students who steal your work, by other people who steal your work. You might also be exploited by publishers who profit from the fact that you have to publish in order to advance in your career but never have to pay you. I’m not saying you will be exploited, but that you should be prepared.

Lesson 3. Being a brilliant scholar or a good teacher doesn’t mean someone is a great person. It doesn’t mean they are kind, or altruistic, or honest. Academia would be a better place if we paid as much attention to how we treat each other as how many papers we published; if we valued people for their decency as much as how big their name is in their field. It is better to stick with the people who are nice and caring, instead of trying at all costs to get close to famous scholars who you think might advance your career.

Lesson 4. Although you are taught much about objective thinking, constructive criticism and how to make a professional argument at university, people are still emotional beings and will take things personally, which is probably why grown-up scholars sometimes behave like school children. It is a damaging pretense that one must always be rational and free of emotion instead of acknowledging when one feels unnecessarily attacked or provoked. Being more open and honest with ourselves and others would make working together easier.

Lesson 5. There is no need to be loyal to people or institutions that treat you badly. We tend to make excuses for people who behave inappropriately. We don’t want to make unfair accusations, we don’t want to be regarded as judgmental, or we are simply afraid to make a fuss and are scared that we would ultimately be the ones who come off looking bad. We may forget, however, that those people who act abusively or simply unprofessionally are not being forced to do so. They act in this way because their actions don’t have consequences, and they will continue to act this way until their actions have consequences. This can only happen if someone speaks up.

∵

I learned some of these lessons through things that happened to me personally; some I learned through stories I heard from others. Some people told me they are not representative of academia. But then why do I know so many stories from around the world of stolen dissertations, sexual harassment, bullying, sexism, racism, burnout, depression and the ever-present fear of unemployment? There is a lot of gossip and talking behind other people’s backs about these kinds of problems; an open conversation about why they occur so frequently at universities is sorely missing. This has much to do with prioritizing work output above everything else—including creating a decent work environment—and valuing only intellectual achievements while ignoring traits like kindness, decency, integrity and professionalism. Moreover, many universities seem to need stronger mechanisms to prevent and deal with abuse. Victims of harassment and bullying are often unsure of where or to whom they can turn for help. Sometimes those they talk to don’t believe their situation requires action, or don’t believe them at all. Even though it might be hard, having an open conversation about these problems and learning from all of these uncomfortable lessons is the first step toward realizing that the way we treat each other in academia not only can, but must, be better.