Im writing this as I paw through a fog in my mind. I’ve always hated the term “brain fog” but that is in fact the best description of what Im experiencing among a handful of side effects of a second covid vaccine. I am grateful to have been granted access to the vaccine and looking forward to the full clearing of this fog after another day or so, I hope.
But still, I want to begin to explore a topic I expect will take many an occasion to give its full due. The question at hand, the question I believe is worthy of serious pondering, is why there is such a discrepancy in the success of women with children in achieving promotion and tenure in academia, as compared to all other groups one might identify (women without children, men with and without children). It is essential to note there is a worthy body of research attempting to understand some aspects of this phenomenon, though I’ll say honestly Im surprised there isn’t more. What there is available in terms of research investigates some key qualitative and quantitative variables. Similarly, I’ve seen some thoughtful books and articles written on this subject, some of which address the research and case studies. Many focus on the larger, more conspicuous factors that might be hypothesized to explain the disparities: sexism in the evaluation process, leave policies (or lack thereof), lack of childcare resources made available, etc. My experience as a women who become a mom twice over on the tenure track tells me that these things are real and have impact, but one thing I don’t see in the conversation, perhaps because there isn’t an obvious place to put it and there isn’t an easy way to study it quantitatively, is the myriad, quotidian, nearly invisible factors that each have a small, non-zero effect. These tiny factors can cumulatively contribute to an outsized effect on the chances of mom’s succeeding in attaining tenure and promotion in academia.
In my experience, the phenomenon is more a death by a thousand cuts than a conspicuous failure of one or several big policies resulting in difficulty for moms. Maybe the reason this is not part of the conversation is because, like I myself feel, perhaps women are reluctant to seem petty and preoccupied with tiny details, tiny iniquities, lest they appear desperate and defensive about their accomplishments or shortfalls. I also feel hesitant about pointing to some of these issues, wary that my peers might see it as silly and insignificant, that maybe I’m fishing for excuses as to why I or others may not have attained some level of achievement in a particular sphere of academia. But at the same time, I worry that if these things are not said, and are not looked at, we will fail to make progress. Progress at what? I think what I want to see is progress at meeting the goal of enabling the success of capable women in academia, not by lowering the bar but by being nuanced and context sensitive to life and career phases, to a multiplicity of strengths worth applauding and supporting. I always feel like I’m so cautious about how to put this because I’ve always, even as a child, been a strong believer in a meritocratic system, but as I’ve learned as an adult that merit is defined in the eye of the beholder, that merit can be narrow or broadly defined, and of course whoever defines what “merit” entails in a given system of course patrols the gateway to success. Undoubtedly, the definition of “merit” and achievement in academia has been the task of those in the highest echelons of the field and undoubtedly for al long this realm has been dominated by men (largely white men in U.S. institutions). Of course they have not sculpted the understanding of merit with a nuanced and contextual consideration of the how that might view and evaluate women in the field, not as a result of malice or exclusion but simply a lack of knowledge and awareness. But I think there has been very little recent innovation in approaches to both supporting women who are moms in academia and evaluating women who are moms on the tenure track.
So here’s my Part 1 tiny example of how I think this can matter, one of a thousand tiny cuts. This is a personal example. In a future post I will dig into and try to make sense of what the scholarship on this topic reveals. But part of my goal here is to try to dig into the tiny, but very real, ways that motherhood creates unique challenges and differences in potential for women, in ways that don’t meet the big ticket standards for attention but that amount to major factors in sum.
When I was hoping to get pregnant for the first time, we were so lucky to have no trouble getting pregnant, but unfortunately a great deal of trouble maintaining the pregnancies. After 3 miscarriages, I was referred to an amazing fertility clinic in town that had innovative approaches for women who’d experienced multiple miscarriages. The day after I made a first visit to the clinic, I found out I was pregnant. Such perfect timing, I began their regimen intended to help prevent miscarriage. This entailed hormone supplements in pill form, as well as multiple daily injections. It also entailed careful monitoring, including weekly doctor visits that also included spending approximately 1 hour hooked up to an IV drip of a special cocktail of treatments intended to prevent immune system attack of the developing fetus as well as other support for healthy growth. I’d also imagine there was at least a small decline in productivity in the 24-36 hours following the IV, as it was known to lead to fatigue and headache side effects. I did this for approximately the first 28 weeks of the pregnancy. Following this, due to polyhydramnios (apparent excess amniotic fluid, which can indicate or be indicative of a serious problem, but can also be associated with nothing in particular other than a painfully huge belly and serious diastasis recti as was the case for me) I continued with weekly visits and checks and tests with my OB/GYN. I am incredibly lucky to have had access to this top notch healthcare and treatment and monitoring, and that in the end I had a healthy baby boy. Career-wise, though, this meant that at minimum, once per week I lost conservatively 2 hours work time to attend these appointments.
Two hours a week for 40 weeks. That’s 2 weeks of normal work time. Compared to an imaginary normative colleague, compared in fact to my husband, who was supportive but had no need nor time to attend these weekly appointments, I had 2 weeks less of work time in that 9 month period of my pregnancy. Ah, but what does 2 weeks less work time in 9 months really mean, one might ask. This is the very point. This is just one aspect of just one pregnancy, just one of those tiny cuts, too small in itself to attend to. But add a few of these up and you have something much bigger to reckon with. I want to dig deeper to work out the other tiny cuts and the cumulative impacts these may have, that may explain why approximately 15% of women over 30 in the U.S. are childless, but 4 of the 6 (roughly 66%) senior female faculty in my department are women without children.