Being a woman in Philosophy

The blog Being a Woman in Philosophy (BAWIP) is a well-known collaborative blog; it details some very interesting and eye-opening (not to mention eye-watering) events which have happened to women in the field of philosophy. It's just appalling that people have had to go through these experiences, and it's genuinely alarming if these experiences are commonplace for women in philosophy.

But are they commonplace? I don't know for sure, but I do know that my experience of being a woman in philosophy is entirely at odds with what is on the BAWIP blog.

I was a philosophy undergrad in the late 90s, and I've taught A Level philosophy for about 8 years, and now I have been doing an MA in philosophy at university for the past 2 years; I'm just starting my PhD. I've been a woman throughout, I might add. I don't believe I have ever experience
d any discrimination, harassment, a chilly climate, or anything of the sort. Let's disregard my years of teaching A levels since that's not comparing like with like vis-a-vis the BAWIP blog; let me just consider my experiences as a woman in philosophy as a student at university.

"Yes, I'm female. No, I don't want you to kiss me."

I don't recall every detail of my undergrad degree at Keele 20 years ago, but given that I don't remember any sexual harassment or discrimination, I'm willing to say that none happened (to me). The majority of my professors were men, but there were also some women, and the lectures and seminars which were led by a woman were not qualitatively different from those led by a man. I was outnumbered by males in all my classes, but I didn't care. Males might have "dominated the discussion" in virtue of there being more of them in the room, but I was someone who spoke frequently in seminars, and I never felt any discrepancy or discrimination based on sex or gender. In fact, I have nothing but great memories of my Philosophy degree at Keele; studying there was an absolute pleasure and they were some of the best years of my life.

My experiences as an MA student - and now a PhD student - at Nottingham have not been noticeably different. Yes, I'm almost always outnumbered by men, but this does not bother me. Actually, I quite like being outnumbered by men and I often feel more comfortable in a room full of men than a room full of women. Why? Hard to say. As a kid I was a tomboy, and as an adolescent and young adult, I had interests in activities which happened to be male-dominated. I did sports and activities where I was sometimes the only female among 10-20 males, and I never felt threatened by any of them; they were my friends. So I've always been quite comfortable with being outnumbered by men. From my teenage years onwards, the guys I was surrounded by sometimes made sexual jokes or innuendos, "locker room talk" and the occasional sexist comment, but I either laughed along with them, rolled my eyes and sighed, or gave as good as I got; I never felt uncomfortable or harassed. Sometimes my female friends and I would talk about sex, make sexual innuendos or sexist jokes, so what's the difference? None, as far as I can see. So those were my experiences of being a woman in sport and recreation.

Back to being a woman in philosophy... Yes I'm outnumbered, and no it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I've had contact (viz. conversations) with probably around 70 men and 15 women working or studying in Philosophy over the past 2 years, and every one without exception* has been normal, honest, decent, kind, and I haven't detected the faintest whiff of sexism. Ever. I've been to seminars; I've attended lectures; I've had private conversations in their offices; I've spoken to them less formally over lunch; we've emailed each other... and each and every man has behaved, as far as I can tell, with the utmost integrity, respect, warmth and professionalism. I consider several of them to be my friends. Just to be clear, it is not that I have noticed sexism but been OK with it; it is that I have never noticed any sexism in philosophy. (This differs from my teenage experiences in male-dominated sports and activities, where sexism occurred but I lived with it.)

*Actually there was a man who seemed hostile towards men and women alike, but he only stuck around for a few weeks.

So, my experiences seem fundamentally different from those collected on the Being a Woman in Philosophy blog. There are a few ways to explain the difference:
1. Different institutions;
2. Different intersections;
3. Different foci (confirmation bias);
4. Cherry-picking.
Let's consider each of these.

Different institutions

It's possible that the institutions mentioned on the BAWIP blog are at the opposite end of the spectrum to mine. Perhaps there really is abundant sexism in other universities, and none whatsoever in mine. But this seems highly implausible: it would be remarkably good luck if  sexism is rife but I just so happened to have attended two non-sexist institutions in different areas of the country 20 years apart. It's also implausible because I have had plenty of contact with people from outside my own institution, and indeed from different countries, and all of them, I would say, have behaved just as impeccably as the men in my university. So let's dismiss this idea as simply unconvincing.

Different intersections

A second possible explanation is that the experiences on the blog are from women who are discriminated against not (just) because they are women, but because they are working-class, transgender, people of colour, disabled, or some other reason, whereas I am a white woman who doesn't tick any other boxes where discrimination often occurs. So in many ways, as a white cisgender, able bodied person I am in the overwhelming majority, whereas others may not be. It may be that men's attitudes towards me is markedly different from their attitude towards black women, Asian women, disabled women, trans women, and so on. This is possible, but it seems highly implausible that the pleasant and welcoming male philosophers I know would suddenly change when a woman of colour, trans, disabled or whatever appears on the scene. One reason why I am convinced that this change in behaviour doesn't occur is that I have been in lectures and conferences where there have been women of colour and other minorities in the audience, and a white man at the front, and I would say none of the men have behaved inappropriately or in a sexist way. But hey, I suppose I have to admit that it's possible that some men might have Jeckyl-and-Hyde personalities whereby they behave impeccably when in a public setting, but offensively when in private. I just don't believe that this is true of the men I know. And even if it is true, then the difficulty is not specifically being a woman in philosophy, but being a trans woman in philosophy, a woman of colour in philosophy, and so on.

Different foci (confirmation bias)

It is possible that the women on BAWIP and I simply focus on different  things. I don't believe I'm in a sexist environment, and so any sexist comments that are said simply don't make it onto my radar, whereas someone who does believe they are in a sexist environment would pick up on even tiny instances of sexism. This seems like quite a plausible possibility to me. But is it that I'm getting lots of false negatives, or that the women on the Being a Woman in Philosophy blog are getting lots of false positives?

Perhaps 'false' is an inappropriate term, and there is no mind-independent fact about whether x is offensive or sexist; perhaps x is offensive iff someone believes it's offensive? (That's an issue I'll explore another time.) It does seem possible that people who are already feeling discriminated against, harassed or in a 'chilly climate' due to their sex would be more attuned to noticing sexist comments; this is a confirmation bias, and I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how confirmation bias can disrupt our objectivity. if these women are having a confirmation bias, then the incidents may be out of proportion or misinterpreted. ...But I am also susceptible to confirmation bias, and so perhaps I really am oblivious to sexism right in front of me? I don't think I am oblivious, but that's the nature of being oblivious, I suppose.

If I think really hard, I can recall experiences which, with a fair amount of spin, could be framed as sexist. For example: people accidentally referring to the author of a paper as 'he' even though it was written by a woman; people using male pronouns when talking about a generic philosopher; using male pronouns in written work. I wouldn't call any of these sexism; the only reason I mention them is that I've heard other people describe them as sexist. I'm not convinced that they are sexist - in fact, I've done all of these things myself. Does this mean that the reason I don't perceive the problem is because I'm part of the problem? I don't think it does, but again, perhaps I am just oblivious - and oblivious to the fact that I'm oblivious. Perhaps my definition of sexism is just different to others' (although many, but not all of the experiences detailed on the BAWIP blog are, even by my reckoning, quite clear examples of blatant and unacceptable sexism and sexual harassment).

So I think it's really quite plausible and likely that other women notice sexism where I don't notice it; whether the sexism genuinely exists or not seems something of a grey area. I've definitely had conversations (outside of philosophy) where it was clear to me that A was being disdainful towards B, yet in private discussions with B, it became evident that B didn't notice or didn't believe that A was being disdainful. Without further information, it's not clear whether B or I was correct about the behaviour of A. But this sort of occurrence could plausibly explain why my experience of being a woman in philosophy differs so fundamentally from those described on the BAWIP blog. But I think that confirmation bias alone doesn't explain the sheer volume of instances described on the BAWIP blog.

Cherry-picking

I think cherry-picking is a fair criticism to be made of a blog which collects sexist experiences from women in philosophy, and gathers them together all in one place. If every woman who works in philosophy for say 30 years experiences a single instance of sexism and shares it to the blog, the blog would have reams and reams of material - thousands and thousands of examples. But would one experience per woman per career truly constitute a pervasive sexist climate in philosophy? I don't believe that it would. That's not to mitigate or belittle the genuine and sometimes harrowing experiences detailed on the blog, but we need to remember that they have been cherry-picked because they are so sexist. When I first read the blog, I actually thought they were all the experiences of one woman (I was horrified!) - but they aren't. They are the collected anecdotes of goodness knows how many women. That doesn't make them any less disturbing or any more acceptable, but if they are set against a backdrop of almost universally good experiences of women working alongside men, they lose some of their potency.

Look! A red apple!

Cherry-picking is such a problematic venture when trying to fairly represent the experiences of an entire group. I'm not wholly clear on whether the BAWIP blog is aiming to fairly represent the experiences of all women in philosophy, or whether it is merely trying to gather together some of the worst problems with gender inequality. If the latter, then my argument here has little weight to it, but the title of the blog, Being a Woman in Philosophy implies the former - that it speaks for all women, and shows what it is like to be a woman in philosophy. If it really is intending to show the daily reality for all or even most women in philosophy, then I think it probably fails. If I had no idea about what it was like to be a woman in philosophy, and I read the blog to find out, I don't think it would give me an accurate picture of the reality for most women. I know for sure that it does not describe my experiences at all; it's at the other end of the spectrum. So I think cherry-picking goes a long way towards explaining why my experiences are so different from those detailed on the blog.

The repercussions and the future

Do some men in philosophy make occasional sexist remarks or actions? Yeah, some probably do. But the vast, vast majority of men in philosophy that I have met - and men outside of philosophy for that matter - are kind, decent, friendly, professional, and not sexist.

The BAWIP blog may inadvertently be contributing to the very problem it seeks to eradicate: gender imbalance and gender inequality. Suppose that a 17-year old girl is considering studying philosophy for her degree, and suppose that a female MA student is considering doing a PhD in philosophy, and suppose that a female PhD student is considering following a career as an academic philosopher - and that all three of these women read the BAWIP blog to find out what it's "really" like to be a woman working in philosophy. It's plausible to think that some such women will read the blog, and run a mile. Why would any sensible woman want to enter into a career which is so horrendously sexist, where women are frequent victims of sexual harassment and even sexual violence? The BAWIP blog probably puts at least some young women off studying philosophy, and puts some women off a career in philosophy; this will only contribute to the under-representation of women in philosophy. Under-representation of a particular group is a recipe for discrimination, and so it continues. This is not a foregone certainty, but I think the blog may put some women off a career which they could otherwise have been well-suited to... and if it does, that's quite sad.

Of course, some people will argue that there is something to be gained from making any acts of bigotry and harassment public; that in making them public, we are better able to guard against them. I can see why people find such an argument appealing, but I am not wholly convinced by it. If one experiences harassment, discrimination or bigotry, one should absolutely report it to the Head of Department if not the police, but I think there is little to be gained from going public (ish) on a blog.

For my own case, I will continue to expect and look for the best in the men (and women) around me, and I won't try to add spin and reinterpret every action as if it's one motivated by sexism. I won't gather together all the tiny minutiae of times when someone referred to a philosopher as 'he' by accident, or didn't include "enough" women on the reading list for a module. I haven't seen any sexism until now, and I doubt I will see any in the near future. If that means I am happy in ignorance, then I am content indeed to be happy in ignorance.

Conference presentations

Well, it seems like it's all go at the moment, in a good way. Last month I responded to four calls for papers / abstracts, and I've had word that I've been accepted by two of them. I suppose lots of students get invited to speak at lots of conferences, but it's the first time I've been accepted, so quite exciting, and hopefully it's the first of many such experiences.

One event is an interdisciplinary graduate research event at UoN, and the other is a philosophy conference focusing on philosophy and current events, in the USA. I was thinking to myself that the UoN conference was probably not all that competitive so not that much of an achievement, but then, there are over 8000 postgraduate students here at Nottingham uni, so perhaps I ought to give myself more credit. There's no way for me to know how many applied to either event anyway, so maybe I should just feel pleased. I'm not posting the exact details on here (yet) in case it all falls apart! I'm quietly hopeful but sensibly cautious. I'm not sure how these things are funded: who pays for the flights, accommodation and suchlike for the conference in the USA where I'm due to speak? I hope it's not me.

I also presented at the PGR seminar this week (that's not an achievement though; any philosophy postgrad student can present; there are a group of about 8 of us who regularly attend, and so the audience is usually only about 10 people.) At the two upcoming events, I'll be presenting the same paper that I presented at the PGR seminar; it's one which I've been working on for my MA dissertation. It's about sexbots and some intrinsic wrongs associated with a particular type of sexbot. The presentation went well, I think. Lots of questions pressing me on the distinction between a robot which intentionally represents someone, and a robot which accidentally resembles someone.

If I am able to proceed with my PhD, I plan to be studying a whole lot more socio-political-ethical-legal issues surrounding sexbots and other (non-sexual) lifelike robots. Aside from the fact that it's fascinating and exciting and what I always hoped I could research when I saw things like I Robot and Star Trek, one great thing about my research is how current it is. Hopefully the philosophical investigations into robots won't just be a flash in the pan, because building my career on a mere trend could be problematic. But I am versatile and I have wide-ranging philosophical interests, so even if I am not researching robot ethics for the next 20 years, there will be no shortage of issues I want to write about.

I just hope that these conferences go well. Sometimes I feel as though other people are so much more cut out for this than I am. That seems unfounded though, given that teaching involves (in part) presenting to an audience, and given my extensive experience in that, then it's just implausible to suggest that I'm not cut out for this. Nonetheless, the feelings of inadequacy persist. Maybe they'll dissipate in time; if these upcoming presentations go well, it will help. I've had some academic / funding disappointments recently, so hopefully some better times are on their way. I'm not referring to it as luck, as I think very little of what happens in academia is down to luck, but that's another post for another day.

Phd funding

I am intending to begin my PhD in five months time. In December I applied for funding from Midlands 3 Cities. The odds are approximately that around 1 in 10 applicants for funding are successful. I was hopeful but not expectant; I have in the course of my lifetime become something of an expert at coming fourth; good, but just outside of the medals.

I was told in February that I was through to the final stage of selection - although I don't know what percentage of applicants were also through to the final stage. Last week I received an email, and opened it up... The first line of it read something like "After careful consideration, I can confirm that..." and for half a second there my heart leapt... until I read the second half of the sentence, saying that I hadn't been selected for funding. When I worked in recruitment, I sent many rejection letters to unsuccessful applicants, and none of them ever began with the words "I can confirm". So when I received this email from M3C, I read and reread it just to make sure. And alas, I am sure that it said I've not been selected for funding.

I'm friends with several of the PhD philosophy​ students at UoN, and I only know of one who is self-funded (so I know of around 7 who are funded). Surrounded by such success stories, it would be easy to assume that it's easy to obtain funding, but I have been well aware (and am now even more so) that the unsuccessful applicants for funding simply aren't there. It's not that they don't exist, but that they don't exist on the PhD programme.

It's pretty disheartening to face the sad reality that I'm not one of The Chosen Ones, but I'm trying to remain philosophical (ha! That won't be the last time I make that rather poor joke!) There are other chances for funding, and if those avenues are also unsuccessful, then I can self-fund.

I think.

I hope.

Ok, I don't really know if I can afford to. But I have my heart set on PhD study now, and it will be devastating for me if I can't pursue it.

Labouring under a delusion? The post-PhD job market

I would love to be a philosophy professor at a university – but then, it seems, so would every other philosophy PhD student! Many areas of academia – physics, social policy, musical composition, psychology, archaeology – have corresponding industries which one could enter upon completion of a PhD. I would imagine that this attrition clears significant space in universities for those who wish to pursue careers as professors, but it occurs to me that, given the lack of philosophical industry, we philosophy postgraduates are forced through a bottleneck whereby a career in academia is perhaps the only career choice in which we’d be able to continue to practice our subject. This is in stark contrast to someone who has a PhD in, say, chemistry or psychiatry; I can only assume that this is at least part of the reason that the nature of the job market for philosophy professorships is so horrendously competitive.

Just add another 300-600 androgynous
plasticine figures, and that'd be about right. 

How many of us undertake a philosophy PhD hoping and believing that we will be able to secure academic careers afterwards? Quite a few, I suspect. From what I have gathered from talking to a few people in the know (um, I mean “networking”), it is not uncommon for a university to receive 300-600 applications for one job opening. All things being equal, that means each person will have to apply for 300-600 jobs before being offered a position. I don’t know how many years it would take to apply for that many jobs, but I think it would take a fair few.

“Don’t be choosy” and “Take any job you can get” are direct quotations from professors at UoN when they were talking about the job market to a group of us grad students hoping for academic careers. It’s all too easy to see these successful professors and think to ourselves “They’ve all managed to secure academic careers, so it’s obviously doable” but this would be like attending a party for people who’ve won Lotto, looking around and thinking “They’ve managed to win the lottery, so it’s obviously doable”. Looking around the department, we are looking at the winning tickets; the success stories. The people with PhDs and a less than illustrious non-philosophical careers tell a different story. We must do whatever we can to tip the scales in our favour, but it would be naïve and ignorant to be immune to the statistical likelihood of not securing the job we would like. Like I say, I would love to be a university professor, but the statistics are not in my favour – nor indeed in anyone’s favour. So am I labouring under a delusion in undertaking a philosophy PhD?

My friends and I never did this at our undergrad graduation and I
feel suitably cheated. When I complete the MA and PhD, I'll
be throwing my cap into the air at the drop of a... hmm...well... hat.

Well, no. I really enjoyed my undergrad degree; I’m really, really enjoying my MA, and no doubt I will really, really, really enjoy my PhD (how could I not – getting to spend 3 years writing about something I love; for me that’s heaven!), and so whether or not an illustrious career awaits me upon completion is in some sense irrelevant. I have always felt that education is an end in itself, and whilst I would hope that it is also a means to an end for me, that is not a necessity in order for me to be able to look back on my years as a philosophy student and feel they have been worthwhile.

Here goes...

I'm feeling a huge amount of pressure to create an amazing, inspiring and poignant first blog post. The source of that pressure is, of course, myself. What follows will almost certainly fail to live up to expectations - both yours and mine. This blog will be my unfettered and uncensored philosophical thoughts, which may decline in to rants and ramblings, but I can live with that. It's not like anyone is ever going to read this, right?

I am and will always be a student of Philosophy with a capital P. Yes, I've been a teacher of (A-Level) Philosophy for a number of years, but I'm primarily a student, and barely a day goes by where I'm not dumbfounded by how little I know.

Some students standing around UoN whilst talking and laughing and
reading and writing, which is exactly what we all do, all the time.

I'm currently a postgrad student at the University of Nottingham, and the experience is quite something. I am constantly surrounded by people who are far more astute, far more well-read, and often far younger than me. It's humbling, but not (always) humiliating to be struggling to appear adequate in such a place. As for whether I am genuinely out of my depth, or whether I'm suffering from an acute case of impostor syndrome, I'll leave that up to you to decide
based on my forthcoming posts.

No pressure at all then...