Five Year Viva-versary

That’s the smile of a relieved PhD student!

Five years ago today, I passed my PhD viva without corrections and was officially done with grad school. June 18th is right up there with my wedding day and my son’s birthday in terms of memorable dates. In all 3 cases, the event had a long build-up with lots of preparation to do, when the day of it finally happening arrived it felt surreal, and the event itself went smoothly. Weddings, childbirth and PhD vivas are all high-stakes and emotive events, but it’s worth remembering that they’re all just one day in a much longer journey (marriage, parenting, career).

With the 5 year milestone approaching, I’ve been feeling very down on myself and disappointed with my lack of career progression lately. In the world of academia, both in terms of funding opportunities and jobs, the first 5 years after the PhD is awarded are considered your “early career” years. This early career status means you’re eligible for roles where it’s not expected for you to have a large track record of publications and research outputs. My “maternity leave” (I didn’t have formal mat leave, as I wasn’t working yet) gives me a little extra time, and according to some funding advice I’ve heard, my part-time employment status might give me more time before I lose my “early career” designation. But in my mind, I’ve officially lost that status today. It’s been 5 years. 5 years is long enough to get established–or at least I thought it would be, but here I am, still in my old department, still on a part-time & fixed-term contract, still lacking publications, and I’m 33 and I’ve never worked full-time. It’s cathartic to put that out there–and maybe other early career academics will read it and feel better about their situations.

This evening after work, I thought about all of the things I’ve done over the past 5 years that don’t make it onto the CV and publication list. Looking back on my accomplishments helped me be a bit kinder to myself.

  1. Had a baby–I underestimated how much it completely knocks you out and keeps you from doing anything that would conventionally be considered “productive”. Society needs to start recognizing that it IS productive. He’s now nearly 4–walks, talks, runs, eats well, he’s very healthy and bright, and he’s getting more and more independent every day. We did that!
3 weeks postpartum at my PhD graduation

2. I got my own office with my name on the door! Yes, I may only have a part-time, fixed-term contract, but I have one thing that many of my fellow precarious workers don’t have

3. I’ve presented my work at conferences around the world, and met wonderful mentors like R.S. Zaharna and Nancy Snow

So excited to meet one of my favorite public diplomacy scholars, Rhonda Zaharna at ICA in Prague last year (and how cool to get to go to Prague?!)

I’m not sure what the next five years will hold, but I’m hoping to get my PhD published as a book (in time for the Fulbright Program’s 75th anniversary in 2021), and do some new book-sized research (maybe expanding and developing the gun rhetoric study into something grant-worthy and publishable). I intend to keep having a personal life, too–it might be the cause of my slow progress, but it’s definitely worth it.

Unpaid work, part 4: Academia

I’m not sure whether people outside of academia are aware of how much unpaid work goes into academic research, teaching and publishing…

Academic publishing is built on a system of unpaid work. You write a journal article for free and submit it to a journal. They send it off to reviewers, who are asked to comment on your work and determine whether it’s publishable–and they aren’t paid, either. The article is then published in a journal that higher education institutions pay expensive subscription fees for–or if it’s an open access journal, then the author has paid a large publication fee (while also not getting paid to write it).

Source: https://guides.lib.fsu.edu/academicpublishing/economics

Then there’s the unpaid work involved in teaching–the breakdown of contracted hours is often opaque and greatly underestimates the time spent on marking, prep, e-mails, and pastoral care. Hourly contracted staff are given 30 minutes per essay when it comes to marking, for example–that’s 30 min to read it, evaluate how it measures up to the marking criteria, and write up useful feedback with specific examples and advice. Even after 8 years of teaching experience and developing templates, I would still struggle to give decent feedback in under 30 minutes.

Other unpaid things you must do to establish an academic career:

  • Look for your next contract while you’re on a temporary contract
  • Apply for grants and fellowships
  • Write book proposals
  • Look for Calls For Papers (for publications or conferences)
  • Apply for conferences, which often require original work that hasn’t previously been published elsewhere (and they charge conference registration fees that University employers usually cover, so it doesn’t seem like a big deal unless you’re out of work or on a low paid part-time contract)
  • Networking–it’s work that doesn’t seem like work, but can actually be essential for finding the next contract or project…and women are often excluded from it.

On the last point, here’s a little illustration from my own experience:

When my son was 9 weeks old, I presented my work at a conference that was a *dream* topic for me. It was so closely linked to my recently completed PhD topic, and I had cited many of the other speakers’ work in my thesis. I was thrilled to be there and so grateful for the opportunity! They even funded my travel expenses, which was essential, as I was unemployed at the time (not on maternity leave, but actually unemployed). The conference was a wonderful experience and I got a lot out of it, including the chance to contribute to an edited volume that’s coming out in August 2019.

It was, however, the first time I really experienced the realities of being a working and breastfeeding mom. While I was downstairs listening to presentations, my husband was upstairs in our hotel room looking after our 9-week-old. Every time there was a coffee break or lunch break, I would dash upstairs and simultaneously pump and breastfeed until the start of the next session. My supply was low, so it was a struggle. This meant that I missed out on most of the conference’s networking opportunities. I was worried in equal measure about establishing my milk supply and establishing my career–and it’s easy to feel like a failure on both fronts when I look back at it now.

On a more positive note, blogging (also unpaid) about it and sharing our experiences with each other is a step towards raising awareness about these inequalities and the unpaid workload of participating in academia.

Unpaid work, part 3: Internships

image from: Flickr Adam Fagan

Internships have long been considered an essential part of pursuing a career in the creative industries. They’re a necessary evil–of course it’s wrong to make people work without pay, but that’s just “the way things are”. If you want a job in television/journalism/other creative industries, you’ve got to “pay your dues”.

There are countless examples of intern exploitation and harassment, often overlooked and dismissed as “the way things are”. Critics are told ‘if you don’t like it, then don’t go into television,’ for instance, or ‘You’re just not cut out for journalism,’ etc. Media industries scholarship has called out such practices, including the concept of “self-exploitation”, where workers voluntarily work overtime (unpaid) because they think it will further their career trajectory/pad their resume, etc.

I’ve contributed to the phenomenon in the past, before I knew about this critical perspective and realized how exploitative internships are. As my department’s placement assistant, I helped arrange work placements for our students in broadcast journalism, film and photography, and television production. For most of my students, it was a 3-week, unpaid placement, usually as a researcher or a runner. Most had positive experiences and some were offered paid employment at the end. The complaints they shared often had to do with not being given interesting tasks, and I recall one student being upset about being asked to work on Saturdays. Despite the fact they were generally good experiences, I still feel a bit guilty for my role in reinforcing the unpaid internship culture.

Unpaid internships are of course, wrong for the simple fact that they are making people work without pay–that alone is bad enough. But there’s another, more subtle thing they do: they keep people from entering the creative industries who can’t afford to work without pay. If you’re going to do an unpaid internship, you need a place to stay for free, close to where the jobs are (London/NYC/LA). As a result, you’re probably either going to live with your parents or they’ll pay your (very high) rent for a place in the city. This excludes a huge segment of the population–in the UK, it excludes basically all but London.

This leads to a situation in which the proportion of people from privileged backgrounds is much higher in the creative industries than it is in the general population. Public school (US private school, tuition-fees charged) graduates are disproportionately represented in the media. “43% of people working in publishing, 28% in music, and 26% in design come from privileged backgrounds, compared with 14% of the population coming from this same social origin.” (Oakley et al., 2017).

What does this mean in practice? It means that the people who make the media mostly have the same privileged perspective. When they choose which stories get told, they’re going to choose things that matter to them and are relevant and interesting to them–so we miss out on the stories of underrepresented groups, of working-class concerns, perspectives from people of colour, etc.

Internships aren’t just a problem in the media. Yesterday US Rep Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez highlighted the problem of low-paid internships in Congress, and drew attention to the larger ramifications of that phenomenon.

“Low pay is also a big reason for lack of socioeconomic diversity in DC, aka why many spaces in government can feel like a silver spoon club: only people who work 80+hr weeks w/ multiple jobs without an outside life, or whose parents can supplement their pay can have the opportunity to work in the nation’s capital. That has real consequences for government being out of touch w/ the people we serve on all levels. There’s a TON of work that needs to be done when it comes to the workplace (parental leave, hiring practices, living wage, healthcare as a right and not a perk, etc), but it starts with paying people enough to live as a minimum requirement, and not a luxury (and I guess that gets you called a communist these days 😂).”

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (@ocasio2018) on Instagram, 25 February 2019

To address that problem, her office staff are paid a living wage, which in the DC area equates to full-time workers earning no less than $52,000 a year.


It’s a very unusual move on the Hill and likely one of the highest entry-level salaries in Congress. I do it because I was outraged at how many staffers I saw on the Hill work FULL-TIME leave their day job for a second shift as a barista or elsewhere afterwards **just to afford the basics** – not even to get ahead or save up for something big. It’s totally wrong.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (@ocasio2018) on Instagram, 25 February 2019

There are a lot of problems with the system, but moves like this give me hope. It looks like unpaid and low-paid internships are increasingly being recognised as contributing to systemic inequalities.

Further reading:

Ergin Bulut, Glamor Above, Precarity Below: Immaterial Labor in the Video Game Industry (2015)

David Lee, Internships, Workfare, and the Cultural Industries: A British Perspective (2015)

Kate Oakley, Daniel Laurison, Dave O’Brien, and Sam Friedman, Cultural Capital: Arts Graduates, Spatial Inequality, and London’s Impact on Cultural Labor Markets (2017)

Unpaid Work, Part 2: Breastfeeding

Breastmilk is not free.

When I saw this on Instagram, I had an Oprah “Ah-ha!” moment, because I’d never thought about it this way. Nobody does! We see how crazy expensive formula is and think we’re saving money by breastfeeding (as well as all of the other benefits), but ultimately, we’re paying indirectly in the form of unpaid work. And we do, all too often, think of women’s time, bodies and carework as worthless.

We pay in lack of sleep. We pay in hours of unpaid “on-the-job training,” learning how to breastfeed while we’re also recovering from childbirth. We pay in delaying a return to work or pumping at work. We pay in having to buy supplies for this unpaid work: breast-feeding friendly tops and nursing bras and nursing pillows and pumps and nipple cream and Fenugreek supplements and lactation cookies and Motherkind tea. We pay in the emotional labour of fielding unsolicited advice from strangers and friends and family about how we choose to feed our babies, how long we keep it up and whether/ how we do it in public.

Not only is it not always easy–it’s also not free.

Leftover Women and International Higher Education

Over the past three years, I’ve been teaching and supervising Masters students who are (~80%) Chinese women in their early to mid-twenties. In Leeds, they’re independent young grad students, exploring Britain and Europe, working hard in the library, socialising with their peers, and video chatting with friends and family back home. In China, they’re considered ‘leftover women’–剩女shèngnǚ. 

‘Leftover women’ is a derogatory term for unmarried women over 25 (the Government’s Women’s Federation definition says 27), often highly educated, urban professionals. My students fit this description, and some have opened up to me about their anxiety over the pressure to get married. One mentioned it while asking my advice about doing a PhD. She wasn’t sure whether to apply, because her family didn’t want her to–they thought a Masters would hurt her chances of getting married, and a PhD would destroy those chances completely.

I find it so heartbreaking that a parent wouldn’t support a child who wanted to pursue a Masters/PhD/any degree, because they thought 1) marriage was more important than education/career, and 2) men would reject educated women. On the first point, the two realms of career and marriage don’t have to be mutually exclusive for women, because they certainly aren’t for men. Nobody ever talks about men “having it all” (apart from this awesome satire on Facebook) if they want a career and a family. On the second point, if a man rejects a woman for having a degree or a career, the flaw is with him, not her.

Sometimes my students will look at the pictures of my family on my desk and congratulate me–they’re impressed by the fact I have a PhD, but even more impressed that I’ve managed to avoid being a ‘leftover woman’. I want to tell them no, anybody can get married and have a kid–the PhD is a bigger deal. But the truth is that it’s something I thought about at that age, too. When my sister was 29, she told me she was so relieved that she was married and had a baby by 30, as if it were some kind of deadline. At the time, I was 22 and very single, so the words “married and baby by 30” stuck in my head and the deadline began to loom. I was 23 when I met my husband, and until then I’d suspected that I was destined to be single. I’d been single all through my undergrad years, which I thought were the prime dating years. I watched friends couple up and felt like I’d failed, like I wasn’t attractive enough and that I might as well just carry on with grad school, so I could provide a nice life for all of my future cats.

It’s sheer luck that I happened to meet the right person at the right time, when we were both in the right mindset and place in life, we both wanted kids, etc. I like to think, however, that I would have been happy on different trajectories, too–ones that didn’t include “married and baby by 30”, but would be equally valid, socially accepted, fulfilling choices. I suppose that’s the difference between the “married and baby by 30” and the “leftover woman” concept–my deadline was self-imposed and nobody would have been disappointed by my single status after a certain age, whereas the “leftover woman” label comes from the Government, from parents, from society, etc. It’s a matter of internal vs. external pressure, perhaps.

Bridget-Jones-1024x670

(Maybe some external pressure, too, in the form of rom-coms…)

Resistance to the ‘leftover woman’ idea has increased in recent years. My students are enthusiastic about feminist theory–it’s a very popular optional module and they often want to use feminist approaches in their dissertation research. There seems to be an effort to change minds in China, too. In the video below, parents and daughters express their anxieties over singlehood and marriage–it’s sad, sweet and moving (even if it is produced by SK-II, a skincare brand, much like those Dove  adverts):

 

For further reading:

Leftover Women: the Resurgence of Gender Inequality in China(2014)

China’s Leftover Women: Late Marriage among Professional Women and its Consequences (2015)

What I’m reading…

For pleasure:

cover

I’ve had The Art of Stopping Time on my nightstand for a few weeks now and it’s been a great book to dip in and out of–each daily gong or task is only 2-3 pages, so you can skim through some and close read others, depending on what sounds interesting or useful for you. I love the variety on offer. Some have been high-level spiritual, conceptual mindfulness exercises, while others have been practical changes, like limiting your time spent on e-mail and social media. I’ve tried quite a few now, and my favorite so far has been the half-hourly breaks at work–it felt silly to stretch and get up and walk around so often, but I found it really did increase my energy and make me more productive, as Shojai promised!

For work:

41ES3YLAsOL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_

Thomas Birtchnell and Javier Caletrío, eds. Elite Mobilities (London: Routledge, 2014)

I’ve been reading this in my attempt to theorise exchange diplomacy in a piece that I’m writing for an edited volume. Elite Mobilities looks at the international flow of the 1 percent, examining their movement for work and pleasure, its meaning and consequences. It uses a critical sociology perspective to examine the elites and their travel, and brings together a range of issues in its analysis, including transport, tourism, class, consumption, and climate change.

There has been little work on the elite aspect of exchange diplomacy, probably because there is a stigma attached to the term ‘elite’–as if revealing the elite nature of participants would somehow make the exchange program seem less noble, less altruistic, elitist. (As an aside, several universities including Cornell and Leicester have used the slogan “elite, not elitist” to describe themselves–this gives some indication of the terms’ connotations)

At a conference once, I remember a Fulbright alumnus getting quite defensive about the term ‘elite’, claiming that he and other Fulbrighters were not elite, they were ordinary people, not particularly wealthy, influential or privileged. But, as another Fulbrighter reminded him at the time, it is still by its very nature an elite programme. It provides funding for graduate school, so applicants must already have a Bachelors degree, and that prerequisite already places them in the most highly educated group in society. Leader-oriented exchanges like the US State Department’s IVLP and British Council’s Leadership Exchange Programme, also draw upon elite pools for their participants, quite naturally.

I’m hoping to bring this emphasis on the “elite” into my conceptualisation of exchange diplomacy, to demonstrate that it’s not something to be feared or avoided. If the aim of exchange diplomacy is to influence future leaders, it only makes sense to recruit elite participants for exchanges. There’s nothing wrong with that in theory–it is only in practice that administrators will have to be careful in how they define merit and how they identify future leadership qualities. There should also be an wider effort to bring cultural and educational exchange to broader audiences, whether that’s through youth exchanges (high school or undergraduate), free public exhibitions and lectures, cultural centres with free outreach activities, and internationalising the curriculum of public schools. These things require funding that is often directed elsewhere, but they could ultimately influence more people than elite programmes of exchange diplomacy.

Women in the Academy

The Chronicle of Higher Education has put together a brilliant piece on women in academia, The AwakeningIn the current atmosphere of #metoo and #timesup, of last year’s women’s marches and resistance to Trump, it’s important to bring that scrutiny to what’s been going on in the academy, too.

There’s a common misconception that higher education is somehow more “enlightened” and egalitarian than other fields, that it’s a meritocracy where women and people of colour are welcomed with open arms. Over the past three decades, the proportion of female students enrolled at US universities has grown substantially:

chart gender

Data from National Center for Education Statistics

Women are earning the majority of undergraduate degrees, and by quite a big margin, but we can’t celebrate that achievement while women are still very much underrepresented in leadership positions across all fields–politics, business, law, and yes, in academia, too.

It’s not just in the US, either. Catalyst has this great summary page of statistics on Women in Academia around the world:

–In Australia, women hold 53% of Lecturer and more junior roles, 44% of Senior Lecturer roles, and only 31% of more senior roles.

–In the EU, women hold 40% of academic positions, but only 20% of senior roles

–In Japan, 52% of junior college staff are women, but just 23% of full-time university teachers are women.

–In India, 25% of professors are women (better than Japan and the EU average, but still low!)

For women in academia who intend to have children, research suggests that there is no perfect time for academic women to start a family. The decisions of whether and when to have children have markedly different impacts for men and women, including when it comes to tenure.

“Women who have children soon after receiving their Ph.D. are much less likely to achieve tenure than men who have children at the same point in their career.” (Williams, 2005, p. 91).

Delaying having children seems like the obvious answer, and it’s becoming increasingly popular with recent advancements in assisted reproductive technologies, such as IUI and IVF. Unfortunately this is problematic, too, because there are simply new work pressures later on in academic careers. Jacobs and Winslow (2004) found that the ages during which women might pursue delayed motherhood, their late thirties to early forties, are the same years in which academics are working towards tenure. So rather than clashing with the establishment of an academic career in the ECA stage, motherhood clashes with the acquisition of tenure.

In their study of the Nordic countries’ famously egalitarian family leave and childcare policies and their impact on gender balance in academia, Mayer and Tikka found no appreciable difference between the US and Nordic countries in the representation of women among academic staff.

“Improved family policies are a necessary but not sufficient condition for continued improvement in the representation of women in academia, and must occur in concert with efforts to advance a broader societal shift towards gender equality.” (Mayer and Tikka, 2008, pp. 371-372).

The discrepancy between the number of female PhDs and the number of women in tenured positions is about more than just family leave policies.

The demand for mobility can also be problematic for female academics. Research has shown that mothers are less likely to relocate than men or women without children (Bielby and Bielby, 1992; Williams, 2005). When it comes to questions of relocating for better job opportunities, women are more likely than men to think about potential family impacts in their decision-making process. One study found that “…women in dual-earner couples were substantially more likely than men to cite family considerations as a reason for their reservations about relocating for a better job. Over half of the women (56%) reported a reluctance to relocated because of family considerations, compared with just 16% of the men.” (Bielby and Bielby, 1992, p. 1253). Even in cases where couples professed ‘nontraditional’ egalitarian gender role beliefs, the authors still found that “nontraditional males were not nearly as sensitive to their spouses’ job circumstances as were nontraditional females.” (ibid., p. 1262).

Moreover, women often follow their husband’s career to the detriment of their own professional development. “One had worked in 18 countries across all five continents, moving with her husband’s job. The careers of all seven of these women had been affected as they had lost substantial professional ground after each move.” (Powney, 1997, p. 58).

Some critics might argue that female academics are privileged and their #firstworldproblems of struggling to achieve tenure and “have it all” can be easily dismissed. But I think the fate of women in academia reveals a great deal about their position in society more generally. If academia is supposed to be a progressive bastion, it should be a place where we see best practice in terms of equality and diversity. It should be market-leading in family leave, flexibility, affordable on-site childcare, etc.

The internet went crazy with praise for a professor who picked up a student’s crying baby during a lecture–but what if the professor were a woman, and the baby were her own? She’d probably be considered ‘unprofessional’ for bringing her kid to class, not praised in a viral social media post.