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There is too much advice about avoiding service as a professor and, to some extent, as a graduate student. As I started my own tenure-track position this academic year, I have comfortably adopted a (polite) “No.” to almost every request that has come my way. And, since my final year of graduate school, in which I went on the academic job market while working on my dissertation, I have stopped serving communities outside of academia. (I prefer to think of “service” not solely as those kinds of extra activities we do to serve our department, university, and discipline, but also as serving people outside of the Ivory Tower.) I have been a good little new professor, and I now have two recent publications to show for it.
But, are there any reasons to say yes — ever? Here, I do not mean — or not just mean — those obligatory-voluntary forms of serving like advising, serving on departmental/university/disciplinary committees, providing journal and grant reviews. What about requests for guest lectures, giving talks or speeches, or communicating with student and community groups? Is there no budging on saying “No!” to all you can avoid without consequence for the seven years toward tenure?
Well, I can think of three reasons to say “Yes.” At least three reasons. And, I mean at least taking a moment to consider “Yes” — at least before politely saying “No.”
Meeting People (Who Aren’t Academics!)
I have been so effective at focusing just on teaching and my research that I have not met anyone outside of work. Also, I am exhausted at such a deep, almost spiritual level that by the time I get home from work, all that I can do before bed is eat dinner and watch TV. I definitely feel an itch to do something — something that helps me to feel I am making a difference in the world. But, even my weekends are spent recovering.
Once my job gets a little easier, and the exhaustion is not as intense, I will continue to only interact with students and colleagues if I avoid (community) service. I miss interacting with people who share my values, politics, and interests — something that is not a given just because we work together or pursued academic careers. I miss talking about something other than academia. (Seriously, every conversation about tenure ends with feelings of anxiety and hopelessness.) I miss hearing about people’s lives outside of academia.
Scholarship In Action
Sure, teaching is one way for scholars to apply their skills and expertise outside of research. But, our students are a select (privileged) group. And, they are asked to engage the material in a certain way, for which they are evaluated. And, unfortunately, we do not always ask them to apply classroom material to their own lives or the world outside of the classroom. Working with community groups, for example, has been one sure way for me to feel that much of what I know and the research I do is meaningful and useful. But, we cannot expect our scholarship to get up and walk beyond the paywalls of academic journals and college classrooms. Sometimes, just having colleagues critique my methods and argument is not satisfying that itch to feel my work matters (or can matter)!
Feel Appreciated And Respected
Okay, so the real starting point for this blog post — the argument that there may be some reasons to say “Yes!” to service — was that I caught myself using an automatic “No.” as a distraction from questioning why I was receiving invitations and requests in the first place. “Oh, no — I couldn’t possibly do that!” came quickly enough to hide that I was also wondering “why me? there must be a mistake!”
An example: One weekend, I received an invitation to use some of my blog posts in a class and, hopefully, to speak to that class. The email was very encouraging, expressing appreciation for speaking openly about (my) challenges in academia. That kind of openness sparked another request to be a keynote speaker at an honor society reception. Wait… wait… the stuff I write on my blog — that I’m still waiting to lead to a real lawsuit or being fired even before I go up for tenure — sparked interest that led to invitations? Wow!
By at least considering “Yes.” as an answer, I had to think through what I would say or do for these invitations. That led me to realize that I actually do have something that (in my humble opinion) seems worthy of sharing. Maybe this is why I received these requests in the first place! People are beginning to take note of my scholarship (broadly defined). I realized though, by automatically saying “No.”, I was not taking the time to remind myself that I am capable, and competent, and have something worthy to contribute. I understand the need to protect one’s time, but there is definitely some merit to considering ways to fight off self-doubt and “impostor syndrome.”
I want to close with a simple thought: give yourself more authority in defining your own career, measures of success, values, and goals. At some point, bits of advice can start to feel like directives. I realize now that I so intensely internalized the messages that service is to be minimized, and community service is completely avoided, and academia and activism don’t mix, that I learned to hide these activities. Only in the last year have I begun coming out of the closet, so to speak, as an intellectual activist. Sure, I am held accountable in certain ways since I desire tenure and lifetime job security; but, outside of that, I only have three authority figures to whom I must answer about how I lived my life: me, myself, and I.
Conformity is overrated. And it is bad for science and higher education.
Earlier this year, in the midst of working on my dissertation, I found blogging to be a healthy refuge through the loooooong days. It provided me a space to write without the persistent editing (and censoring) I must do in traditional academic writing. So, like Jeff Kosbie, I wrote a blog post on defining my career as a sociologist for myself — specifically a career that will be informed by my passion to make the world a better and just place (see below). Also, check out Michelle Kweder’s piece, “Why I’m not waiting for tenure to change the world…”
I hope you’ll be inspired!
Being forced to watch the world whirl by me as I worked on my dissertation was tortuous: two cases on same-gender marriage heard by the US Supreme Court; horrendous media coverage of an already horrendous rape case in Steubenville, Ohio; a racist attempt at anti-racism in music. And, just as I came up for air, the good news of finishing was overshadowed by the tragic bombings in Boston. I tried by best to keep up, but, obviously, I have been way too busy to chime in.
But, one good thing has come out of the selfish time of dissertating — well, besides an awesome dissertation. My mind has been boiling over with questions about research and academia in general. In attending college, I learned; but, now (almost) with a PhD in hand, I see how I have learned how to learn. And, increasingly, that critical eye has turned back on itself, raising questions about knowledge and science.
What is “knowledge”? What is “science”? Who defines it? Who has access to it (and who doesn’t)? Are the multiple types of knowledge and science — and, if so, are they equally valued in academia and society in general?
On Activism And Academia
As I near the completion of my graduation training, I feel both more qualified as a scholar, but also more empowered in defining my scholarship for myself. And, I will tell you, the latter sentiment is largely a product of self-teaching, not so much my graduate program. I alluded to this in my essay on blogging as a form of intellectual activism.
I have received mixed reactions to my essay, “Blogging For (A) Change.” Initially, many were excited, supportive, and noted that they share my sentiments. I was not surprised, since these warm responses were coming from my primary, intended audience — fellow sociologists of color and anti-racist sociologists. (It was an essay for the ASA‘s Section on Racial and Ethnic Minorities.) But, given its potential relevance to all scholars, I also provided the essay as a blog post.
Thereafter, I began to receive more cautioned responses. In addition to private exchanges, I was honored to be the subject of another blog post by Dr. Fabio Rojas: “why activism and academia don’t mix.” Fabio explains:
Why do we “beat [activism] out’ of graduate students? The answer, in my view, is that academia and activism are simply different things. Every activity has a bottom line. In politics, it’s votes. In business, it’s money. In religion, it’s souls. Activism is about promoting social change, which is a different bottom line than academia, which is knowledge generation.
Beyond the differences in the goals of academia and activism, Fabio notes that the latter is neither rewarded nor institutionally sanctioned within the former. And, he clarifies that, ultimately, academics do have a role in social change — the production of knowledge. A few other sociologists chimed in with comments to emphasize that the commitment of a scholar of color to the advancement of one’s community or people of color in general does not necessarily imply that one is an activist.
Fearing that I may have been mistaken in speaking for other scholars of marginalized backgrounds, I posed the question on Facebook: “Was I wrong in assuming many academics are also activists, even at heart?” For the most part, my scholarly friends suggested no, with many suggesting that they, too, are activists. But, there seems to be good reason for the skepticism that some have expressed.
Activism And Academia Can Mix, But…
Let me start by removing the question — “can one be an academic and an activist?” — from the table. Yes, it is possible. There are a handful of people who have suggested that this is the case for them; I strongly suspect that there is at least a sizable minority of scholars for whom this is true.
And, history suggests that it has been done. In the last subject of my leisure reading, Stalking the Sociological Imagination, I was reminded that some of the founders of sociology were activists, including W. E. B. DuBois and C. Wright Mills. (Some who are discussed — for example, Talcott Parsons — were simply the unfortunate subject of McCarthyism despite maintaining a generally non-activist career in sociology.) Before that, I was reading Dr. Patricia Hill Collins‘s On Intellectual Activism.
But, as Fabio pointed out, activism — here, meaning any efforts toward social justice or social change outside of research, teaching, and (academic) service — is not rewarded in academe. For most academic jobs, one is hired because of their qualifications in this academic “Holy Trinity” – research, teaching, and service (usually in that order, especially at research intensive schools). The same goes for tenure, promotion, and most of the other academic opportunities that scholars pursue (e.g., grants, awards).
But, let’s be clear that the sentiment that one shouldn’t be an activist is a separate matter from whether one can be an activist. In addition, lack of professional reward implies what is valued, not necessarily what is devalued. You can be a drag queen, baseball player, stamp collector, or whatever other activities you like outside of work even though the academy will not pay you for it.
Activism And Science Can Mix, But…
A second issue is whether activism and science, in particular, mix. As one of my friends pointed out, the primary concern is that the biases of someone with activist leanings pose a threat to the objectivity required in science. For example, if a researcher wishes to advocate for the legalization of same-gender marriage, what would she do if her research suggested that children of LGBT parents really do fare worse than those of heterosexual, cisgender parents? But, a few things need to be unpacked from the science vs. activism dilemma:
First, sorry folks — “objective science” is an oxymoron. Humans, who are biased in all sorts of ways (e.g., passions, interests, experiences), do science. Scientists typically study the things they find interesting or about which they are passionate. Sometimes we get sleepy and make mistakes.
This is where the peer review process comes in. While it is not perfect. we gain more confidence when new studies have been vetted by other scholars in that subfield. When done right, a researcher should be well aware of prior research to aid in research design, analyses, and interpretation. The roles of anonymous reviewers and the journal’s editor(s) are to verify all aspects of the study. So, if a researcher submitted a study heavily laden with political motivations, with little sound science or major ethical concerns, the reviewers and editor should catch it before it gets published.
A third issue is the failure to acknowledge other problematic biases in research that do little for society as a whole. In particular, I am referring to the “publish or perish” dictum that places great emphasis on where one’s articles are published, and how many publications one can obtain in a certain period of time. Not only do I worry that this pressure poses a threat to scholars’ health and well-being, I sometimes fear that scholars’ motivations for prestige and quantity lead them to overlook bigger contributions to theory and to society in general.
Another unspoken consequence of this pressure is the number of studies that have been tweaked or totally abandoned because researchers yield “null findings” — for, it is the significant findings that get you published! My point here is that science is not perfect, whether activists are doing research or not.
Activism, Academia, And Research Can Mix, And…
I argue that it is important to weigh the benefits of the mixing of activism and academia, too, before we jump to a decision on this mixture. If activism reflects one’s passion for a particular social or political cause, then the work of activist-oriented scholars may benefit academia on the whole because of their unique motivation about the subject and the extra care they take in their work. In addition, this activist flare may bring a creative lens to one’s scholarship. Just think of where the social sciences be if Patricia Hill Collins never pursued an academic career, deciding instead to continue working toward educational reform. Would some other sociologist have applied and extended Kimberlé Crenshaw‘s legal scholarship on intersectionality?
Indeed, for some scholars (myself included), one’s research, teaching, and service are interdependent. There is a sort of synergy among these three components of our scholarship that is greater than the sum of research + teaching + service. For example, I experienced a great sense of mutual influence among my research (discrimination and health, LGBT health), teaching, and my work as a co-facilitator for “Boyfriend Lessons” — a series of workshops for bisexual, trans, and gay young men on health and well-being (particularly sexual health). I brought to the latter insights from others’ and my own research to articulate how the health of queer men is shaped and constrained within a bi-, trans-, and homophobic context. These insights have also been articulated in my blogging for Kinsey Confidential. When I taught Sexual Diversity in 2009-2010, I often shared my Kinsey Confidential blog posts, as well as news of current events, to spark discussion and “warm up” the class for the day’s lecture. My teaching, my service to the community, as well as my personal experiences and interpersonal connections, in turn, have influenced my research.
But, this comes with full knowledge that service that is not serving the academy does not “count” professionally. And, again, I stress the importance of the peer review process for publishing research. How I get to the research process in the first place, and what I do with research once it’s published are undeniably influenced by my commitment to social justice. While it also influences how I do research, I based my decisions and interpretations on existing theory and research, and have my work vetted by other scholars, just like my non-activist colleagues.
Now, About The Elephant In The Room…
I keep harping on the matter of science, despite its imperfections, because there are some ways in which academia and activism do not mix. Well, there is one big way, and that is when scholars shirk standards of ethical, empirically- and theoretically-based science all together.
The scandal surrounding a 2012 study by University of Texas Austin sociologist, Mark Regnerus, has been at the background throughout my public dialogue on activism and academia. Since this story first emerged as I entered the job market, I decided to stay silent on the scandal. And, even once I secured a job, things had grown to a level that I felt it was best to let those protected by tenure to chime in. But, this case is likely the example of the concern that skeptics have raised.
Besides my fear of professional consequences, a further complication is the concern that calls for academic freedom must acknowledge that the political pendulum swings both ways. If I wish to have more space for scholars to blog, speak to the media, and use their research for public “good,” I must recognize that some will be doing so for causes that are not my own, or are even counter to mine. Sure, Regnerus should be free to blog (as he does), no matter his conservative views.
But, this case stands out because there is evidence that he did not draw upon existing theory and research throughout his research design (namely, how he defined “families with lesbian parents“). Further, to some extent, the peer review process was usurped. Even if this paper was not used in political efforts to oppose same-gender marriage, this is simply bad science.
The harmful mix of this bad science and his conservative activism is further apparent in the use of this study (which should have been retracted all together) to encourage the US Supreme Court to deny legal recognition of same-gender couples. Even when the American Sociological Association spoke for the discipline to say there is no empirical evidence to cause concern for the well-being of children of LGBT parents, he co-signed on an amicus brief that said otherwise, largely based on his and another flawed study. Unfortunately, his singular voice and study were reframed in the actual SCOTUS case as evidence that sociologists have yet to reach a consensus on LGBT families.
Bad science + activism = public harm. The peer review process should have prevented the study from ever being published. And, in being responsible scholars, greater effort should have been made to balance supposed mixed findings: 50 studies say X, but, there is one that says not X; here’s why we the latter study is important (or not). (The ASA brief did this, and further stressed why Regnerus’s study is flawed and irrelevant to LGBT families. Regnerus et al. did not do this in their brief to the Supreme Court.)
I believe that scholars can be activist-academics or activist-leaning academics or academics from 9-5 and activists on the weekends. But, this is with the caveat that scholars should be responsible and ethical in how they do research and what they do with it, and how they teach and on what topics, how they serve academic and non-academic communities.
Academia Needs Activism
A final point on the activism-academia mixture is that they need each other. Activists need the work of researchers to make a case for social change, particularly to change laws and policies. Researchers, in turn, benefit from their work being carried beyond the pay-walls of academic journals.
But, beyond the notion of active activists and passive academics who simply do science and produce knowledge, academia benefits from activist efforts to bust down barriers to the ivory tower. Despite his undeniable contributions to sociology, W. E. B. DuBois was not welcomed into the discipline because he was Black. Eventually fed up with the racism of sociology and the academy in general, he turned more exclusively to activism, co-founding the NAACP.
Recently, I have learned of other marginalized scholars who were either kept out or whose contributions were ignored. Today, I began reading Imagine a World: Pioneering Black Women Sociologists. I am embarrassed to admit that I have never heard of the five Black women sociologists featured in the book: Jacquelyne Johnson Jackson, LaFrancis Rodgers-Rose, Joyce A. Ladner, Doris Wilkinson, and Delores P. Aldridge. But, considering that the discipline has not been (and still is not) immune to the prejudices and discriminatory practices of the outside world, why would I?
The most mind-blowing revelation I have had on this matter is the obvious erasure of Dorothy Swaine Thomas. She co-authored a book with W. I. Thomas, from which “his” famous quote comes: “If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences” (Thomas and Thomas 1928: 572). Yet, Dorothy is rarely given credit for the “W. I. Thomas quote.” Sadly, what was originally outright sexism that drove the discipline to erase her contribution, my generation of scholars is never taught about her just because our teachers do not know otherwise.
These revelations have fueled my aforementioned interests in the sociology of knowledge and sociology of science. It is a scary thought that what is taken as Truth is based on science done overwhelmingly by privileged scholars (i.e., middle-class white men) sometimes based on samples that do not reflect members of marginalized groups. Marginalized scholars are excluded or their work is undermined (sometimes as a result of the exclusion). For example, there is a slow growth of studies on sexuality published in the top journals in sociology, yet such scholarship published in sexuality journals is regarded as unimportant to mainstream sociology or it is dismissed as “mesearch” if conducted by an LGBT scholar. (Because the work white middle-class men do, even on themselves, is Objective Science and Truth.)
It is unsurprisingly to me, then, that some minority scholars who were initially interested studying their communities (for their advancement or liberation) end up doing work on the sociology of knowledge (e.g., Patricia Hill Collins) or critiquing research methods (e.g., Dr. Eduardo Bonilla-Silva).
In sum, I reiterate that it is possible to be an activist and an academic. If responsible, one’s work in one domain can benefit the other. And, for some, the synergy among all aspects of your activist and academic selves cannot be compartmentalized into research, teaching, (academic) service, and community service or activism. The question is not whether you can be. And, frankly, I think it is time to move beyond asking whether you should be an activist. Some people just are.
I conclude, then, by suggesting that it is time to recognize the reality of activism in academia, and better appreciate the good it does for it. Arguably, science would remain limited and exclusive without activist efforts to end discriminatory practices in education.
Moving forward, the question should be how to support students and scholars who are activists at heart (because you never know what impact they can have in society!). I call for ending the practice of “beating the activist” out of graduate students. It is no secret that many students come into graduate programs, especially in the social sciences, with the hopes of making a difference. It is time to support them as they are.
My Kind Of Sociology
And, I am working toward my own self-defined sociology, even after six years of “beatings” in graduate school. You may have noticed that I renamed my blog, My Sociology. This was the name of my very first blog. By the title, I do not imply that I own sociology (though we could debate whether it can be or is owned, and by whom). Rather, I take the position that there is no one, singular way to do sociology nor to be a sociologist.
Seeing the doubt that students from marginalized backgrounds experience, particularly in graduate school, makes it particularly important to support activist-leaning academics. A narrow image of successful scholars is purported, and the disconnect between one’s social justice desires and what they learn in graduate school persists. So, too many — just too many — scholars of color, women scholars, first-generation and working-class scholars doubt themselves, questioning whether an academic career is right for them, and, frankly, whether they are right (read: good enough) for academia.
There are a number of examples of sociologists, whether or not they identify as activists, who serve as inspiring role models, folks who pursue their own kind of sociology:
- DJ Elaine Harvey and Sociologist Mignon Moore UCLA sociologist Mignon Moore and her partner Elaine Harvey have presented their relationship and love to the world to inspire other LGBT folks (especially those of color) and change minds on same-gender marriage. Her work on Black lesbian families (including an article in American Sociological Review!) has advanced the intersectionality theoretical framework to (re)visit the intersections among race, gender, and sexuality. Also, she uses an innovative method (interactions at social events and private parties) for her research.
- Dr. CJ Pascoe, best known currently for her book Dude You’re a Fag, serves on the research advisory board for Lady Gaga’s anti-bullying organization, Born This Way Foundation. She co-edits a blog, Social (In)Queery, on gender and sexuality research.
- The entire Sociologists for Women in Society (SWS) organization.
- Northwestern sociologist Aldon Morris, who has propelled the DuBoisian tradition in sociology.
- The entire Society for the Study of Social Problems (SSSP) organization.
- Monique Carry, a dear friend, who brings together research, education, and activism in her advocacy for Black LGBT youth. She co-founded the All My Children Project, and works as a behavioral scientist for the CDC.
- Patricia Yancey Martin, who has advanced a structural conceptualization of sexism.
- Sociologist and filmmaker Dr. Tukufu Zuberi.
- ASA President Cecelia Ridgeway, who has developed an interesting approach to understand how interpersonal interactions create, reinforce, and recreate macro systems of inequality.
- Tressie McMillan Cottom. Awesome. Badass blogger. Does some great work on the privatization of higher education.
- Sociologists Lisa Wade and Gwen Sharp, who run and edit the popular Sociological Images blog.
- Minnesota sociologist Christopher Uggen, whose research, teaching, blogging, and community outreach aim to make knowledge about crime and punishment, disenfranchisement, discrimination, and health publicly accessible. He was one of the founding co-editors of Contexts magazine, and now edits The Society Pages.
This weekend, I saw news in my FB feed that my friend and colleague, Tim Ortyl passed away. Tim was a PhD candidate in sociology at the University of Minnesota — just a couple of months shy of becoming Dr. Ortyl and securing a great tenure-track faculty position. Given his otherwise good health, his young age, and all that his life promised the universe, my brain refused to process the news. Once I clicked to see Tim’s Facebook page, the outpouring of messages expressing hurt, disappointment, shock, and sympathy for Tim’s family confirmed it. Damn.
The details are still vague at the moment, but it appears what took his life was related to his epilepsy. Another young life unexpectedly taken by epilepsy. I feel the same way I did when my 19-year-old cousin Danny passed in 2010 from a seizure; he suffocated because he was face down in bed. I feel robbed. I feel we have all been robbed. The universe gave us someone whose life promised greatness and success, only to take them away at a young age. The theft feels so much crueler because Tim was just shy of being rewarded for his hard work in graduate school. Why now?
I met Tim in 2008 at the Summer Institute in sexualities studies held at the (then) National Sexuality Resource Center (San Francisco State University). Tim struck me by the size of his brain and the size of his heart. He had a clear vision for his career as a scholar — one that was bound to change how we think about relationships, family, gender, and sexuality. But, he was not arrogant about his brilliance and skills; he was always open to receiving feedback and being challenged to be even better at his work. After that summer, distance — him in Minnesota and me at Indiana — reduced our contact to catching up at annual conferences, with the occasional exchange on Facebook or text message.
We stayed connected, but never as much as I would like. I, like many people, simply told myself we will do more next time. Maybe he will interview at a school near me. Maybe I will be invited to give a talk in his neck of the woods. No? Okay, well there is always the American Sociological Association meeting in August. I am sadden that there are no more next times. We already had our last exchange: it was his text message to me to express excitement about making the short list of candidates for a job — one of what would become many, I am sure.
Speaking of the job market, the dreadful thought cross my mind: did stress play a role? Trying to survive on the academic job market is a tall order. Unfortunately, the market offered little when he applied for jobs last year. But this year — with a few jobs actually in sexualities — this was Tim’s year. We were not close enough for me to really know how he was holding up. Maybe, like many, he only updated people who are not as close to him about the big, positive news about the job market — but, kept to himself and close friends and family about his health, well-being, and doubts. I know that he was pursuing some sort of medical treatment to control his epilepsy, but maybe such treatments are far from 100% effective. I learned with my cousin’s passing that thoughts about whether these tragedies are preventable and other “what if?” questions are futile; a young, warm soul has left this earth. All that we have left is the memory of Tim, and the challenge of making peace with guilt and anger and shock.
Tomorrow is not promised to any of us. Tomorrow is not promised to any of us. As far as I could tell, Tim did not wait to start living once he had his PhD, or a job, or tenure, or… whatever academic milestone. He was a positive leader in his fraternity, Delta Lambda Phi, leaving behind many young gay, queer, and bisexual men who look up to him as a role model. The beginnings of a promising career as a researcher had emerged well before he approached the job market; he just had another solo-authored article published recently. This included advancing publicly accessible scholarship (Contexts magazine and the Society Pages blog). He was also an active LGBT advocate within the discipline of sociology, working to create community among queer sociologists and make the discipline more LGBT-inclusive. His passing is a huge loss to many, many people.
Rest In Peace, Tim. You are already missed.