Abstract
In this collaborative autoethnography, we unmask our experiences with sexual assault and harassment in academic contexts through the use of a note format. We describe moments characterized by shame and anger, as well as moments of disciplining when we called out untoward behavior. We call attention to bystanders by describing instances of sexual harassment and assault in an article that will be read primarily by academics. This represents a feminist response to sexual harassment and assault in the academy in the hopes of challenging the normalized behavior.
In December 2017, Kelsky (2017) created an anonymous, open-sourced survey about sexual harassment and assault in the academy. As of this writing, the survey has more than 2400 submissions made mostly by (assumed-cisgender) women about (assumed-cisgender) men. Many submissions describe egregious behavior including inappropriate comments about appearance, use and abuse of drugs and alcohol, sexual exploits with students and colleagues, and inappropriate and nonconsensual advances, touches, and propositions. There are accounts of stalking, of being raped during fieldwork and told to not let it “interfere with the research,” and being advised to “suck more dick.” Several victims feared professional repercussions if they reported the issues, and many of those who did report their harassment felt as though nothing happened. As Kelsky (2017) observes, the conditions of academic settings—“the entrenched hierarchies of the academic world, the small size of most scholarly fields, the male dominance of virtually every field other than women’s studies, the culture of collegiality (read, evasiveness and pretense) that predominates, and junior scholars’ desperate dependency on good references for career advancement”—allow “sexual abuse (and indeed abuse of all kinds)” to “flourish with impunity.”
The unmasking of sexual harassment and assault in academic contexts is not new, though accounts of these issues have been normalized from the lecherous professor to microaggressions based on intersecting identities to idealized images of the good colleague and good female student (Dziech & Weiner, 1990; Faulkner et al., 2009; Patton, 2004a, 2004b; Strine, 1992; Wood, 1992). Ahmed (2017) argues that sexism has been institutionalized in the academy, a context consisting of sexualized work spaces and in which sexist culture is dismissed and accepted as the norm. 1
Recent work calls out sexual harassment and assault in academic contexts (e.g., Brown, 2018; Figlerowicz & Ramachandran, 2018; Robin, 2018), yet also recognizes the stimulation that exists in contexts comprised of curious students, charismatic instructors, and dynamic colleagues engaged in timely and timeless discussions about existence, relationships, and desire. Under these conditions, even the most “chaste pedagogy can generate a spark that looks and feels like—maybe is—sexual attraction” (Robin, 2018).
To contribute to the discussion of sexual harassment and assault within academic settings, we share our experiences with these issues, particularly experiences that disciplinary others—colleagues, administrators, journal editors—have tried to curtail. We describe moments characterized by shame and anger when we feel like we should have known better, as well as moments of disciplining when we have called out untoward behavior. Faulkner and her colleagues have written about these experiences, but used fiction to mask the identities of the institutions and individuals involved (Faulkner et al., 2009). Now, we wish to be visibly vocal and speak out as feminists and take on the reactions to our stories. 2 And we are in positions where we can do this openly and unmasked, as two tenured full professors with job security.
In form, we model this article after Sontag’s (1964) “Notes on Camp.” Sontag used jottings—“notes”—to describe the essence of “camp,” an aesthetic sensibility characterized by context and a multitude of disparate, yet sometimes related, acts and traits, as well as a sensibility incapable of being described in a linear, coherent way. Sexual harassment and assault in academic contexts operate similarly: They are manifest in variety of disparate, though sometimes related, interactions, and they are often complicated and incoherent. Like Sontag, and alongside our ethnographic commitment to “thick description” (Geertz, 1973), we thus use notes to describe instances of sexual harassment and assault as we have observed and experienced in academic contexts.
Because much of what we do in the academy involves writing and publishing, manuscripts about the academy are heavily policed, especially those seeking presentation and publication in academic outlets. Such policing happens not only out of concern for the (supposed) well-being of the authors (a patronizing sentiment), but also because the manuscripts question the practices of an obscure industry (Wood, 1992). Further, by describing instances of sexual harassment and assault in an article that will be read primarily by academics, we call attention to bystanders—to you, the reader, and even ourselves, who have failed to address moments in which we know harassment and assault have occurred yet have chosen, or felt forced, to stay silent. We offer a feminist response to sexual harassment and assault in the academy in the hopes of challenging the normalized behavior. 3
#Sexism is sexual harassment.
Sexual Harassment and Assault Is
U.S. American Literature class every Tuesday and Thursday and Sean being called on instead of you. You state your opinion anyway with your arm raised into a fist, your perspective invisible to the male professor who only hears your words when they are regurgitated out of that male mouth. Genius is male. Calling out sexist behavior can ruin a man’s career. 4
Your professor telling you his sexual fantasies instead of talking about your comprehensive exams. As you sit on a bench outside the bucolic university watching squirrels beg, drinking the coffee he bought you, you change the topic again and again. But he keeps talking about his sexual fantasies and asks about yours. In the moment, you cannot call this harassment; instead you think his fantasies are insipid and boring.
You think about Ryle’s (2009) and Geertz (1973) observations about the use of, and need for, “thick description” (and not “thin description”) to understand social behaviors such as eye movements, particularly how thick description can help determine whether an eye movement is an ordinary blink, a flirtatious wink, an “involuntary twitch,” a sign of nervousness, a “conspiratorial signal to a friend,” or a “parody of a wink” (Geertz, 1973, p. 6). Goodman (2007, p. 30) asks, “under what social conditions would a wink signal romantic interest”? How/when/why might a wink be “insulting”?
Your fellow graduate student teaching assistants (TAs) rating their female students on hotness in the TA office. They don’t bother to whisper or mask names. You wonder how they can be effective teachers when female students are pieces of ass and not learners.
To conceive thinking about academic harassment and assault, you think about academic-flirting, when an academic catches your eye/ear, glances at you in a particular way, offers a longer than usual handshake, says something smart. You introduce yourself, ask about their work, become stimulated by their ideas. If a more experienced scholar, you may reference their work in the conversation; if a less experienced scholar, you may encourage them to pursue their studies. The conversation might end here.
If the conversation continues: The other continues to ask about your work, smiles enthusiastically, and seems to enjoy talking with you. You say more about your studies; they appear to be interested. You smile more, ask about their nonacademic life; they request another meeting: a lunch, a drink, a post-conference Zoom. You agree, wondering if they’re only being friendly, wondering if there might be something more.
When the next meeting happens, the physical/intellectual stimulation continues. You develop a “crush.” You invite them to participate on a panel at the next conference, maybe even work on a project together. You perceive the other as excited and exciting, wonder if they like you as only a peer/colleague or something more. Yet, you do not ask—you value the connection, the budding friendship, and do not want to come across as creepy, inappropriate, or make them feel as though the contact has been disingenuous.
The next meeting happens, goes well, and you invite the other for a drink and maybe even back to your hotel room. If the other agrees, you have read the interaction well. If the other declines, you feel sad and stupid, apologize, and worry about what they might tell others. If the refusal happens with a more experienced scholar, you might worry about your career; if the refusal happens with a less experienced scholar—maybe a graduate student while you are a faculty member—you might assume more risk: You’ve crossed an inappropriate line, abused power, misread desire. You wonder why you acted foolishly, if flirting could exist under conditions of increased and deliberate assault, if they could have ever granted apolitical, uncompromised consent.
“If someone misinterprets your friendliness or generosity as a sexual invitation,” Niemann (2012, p. 446) writes, “immediately correct them. Tell them that in your culture, warmth, friendliness, and sharing are normal and have no bearing whatsoever on more intimate relationships or your professional skills.” Yet, within contexts infused with intellectual stimulation and complicated power relations, it can be difficult to determine when friendliness and generosity indicate attraction, flirting; as someone who identifies as sex-positive, you celebrate sexuality and desire, and, like others, you recognize the erotic potential of classrooms and conferences. 5 You value mutual consent, always, yet worry about those mundane moments when signals are misread, when a wink is pursued but happens to be nothing more than a blink or twitch.
Teaching a special weekend course on communication and conflict, and the male executive talking to your breasts. You do not say anything because you are a graduate student teaching for extra money. Besides, this is not the first time. It isn’t even close to the last time.
Ignoring the (assumed) heterosexual, cisgender, married men at professional conferences who invite (assumed) heterosexual, cisgender women, graduate students and early-career scholars, to sit on their knee, sometimes their lap, on display for attendees. You notice these senior scholars, often (always) men, caress the women’s arms, legs, and butts, at panels, in hallways, at hotel bars. You feel that their intimate activities are not necessarily your business, unless the touching was nonconsensual, or if the women felt pressured to participate, or if these (assumed) monogamous folks were staunch advocates of/for monogamy. Calling out sexual harassment and assault in the academy can contaminate your career: By identifying (what you perceive to be) inappropriate and aggressive acts, you risk being perceived as devious and predatory.
The professor commenting on your hair and labeling your feminist critique of sexual norms as critical. But you should relish the attention because he usually goes for blondes (two former students and counting), and you know what they say about fiery redheads? You only admit years later, in a tenured position, that he was sleeping with fellow students and his comments were advances. You think now, again, sexual harassment and assault means women students are pieces of ass and not learners.
Your male colleague calling you a nickname in front of a large lecture hall full of undergraduate students. This is your class, and you don’t even use that name. He repeats the diminutive nickname two more times, yet addresses all of your other male colleagues in the room as “Dr.” You do not have tenure.
Standing by the copy machine in your department’s main office waiting your turn when a colleague drapes his tie over your shoulder and asks you to stroke the soft fabric. You smell what he ate for lunch when he invades your personal space.
Keeping your office door locked when you are inside because of post-traumatic stress flashbacks of your colleague fake knocking as he struts into your office to press his penis against the back of your desk chair as he reads over your shoulder. He tells you how to spell his name as you type the report you feel forced to write for him.
Being asked by a male colleague if you are a rabid feminist when you accept a position as Director of Women’s Studies. You are pissed you didn’t think of a response—feminists bite back—until he was gone from your office with his tainted congratulations.
Recusing yourself from a personnel committee decision because of a personal/professional conflict and a colleague saying, “Oh, that’s right you are sleeping with them.” You try to move the meeting away from your personal life, but the colleague continued. “Aw! You are blushing!” You consider this retribution for calling out sexist behavior in another meeting.
Telling your colleagues that you will not make them coffee after a senior colleague, a woman, opens a meeting with apologies for not making coffee. A male colleague raises his hand and asks if you will make him coffee. When you tell him no, he makes it a challenge, even after you tell him it will never happen; stubbornness is your superpower. The laughter in the room does not feel like a joke.
When men, but not women, in the department receive summer teaching assignments because “they have families to support.”
Reporting harassing behavior and being called “girl” by the administration.
Maybe the harassment and assault story is about you: Those drunken nights, make-out sessions, and inappropriate touches you’ve engaged in at conferences. Noting power shifts—transitions from being a graduate student who has sex with other graduate students to an early/midcareer scholar who has sex with graduate students from other universities, you wonder what else is at stake: Taking advantage of possibly vulnerable others who may feel obligated, or who want to network, or who seek letter of recommendations or publications. You also wonder who is excluded from desire, in these sexual pursuits, on quests to find the next fuck. Identifying the moments in which you too have engaged in inappropriate and aggressive acts, how you too may have committed harassment and assault, can contaminate your career as others might perceive you as devious and predatory.
Being called “logical” (read WHITE) when you call out harassing behavior toward a colleague who is a Woman of Color. You are supposed to be a good WHITE girl and stay quiet.
Being told how you should act by a senior male colleague after your first promotion.
When feedback from a superior is perceived as creepy and inappropriate; when retaliation is masked as unwarranted criticism, a contentious thesis/dissertation defense, a subpar reference.
When a fellow student slams you against a wall and shoves his tongue down your throat at a campus party. As you struggle to break his grip and get that wet worm out of your mouth, he says, “You know you’ve wanted me all semester.” He breathes his beer breath of male arrogance on your cheeks, and you ask him about the friend of yours he dates. You understand his nickname SleezeJay on a personal level now. 6
Junior year being flashed outside of your apartment every morning in March before you manage to laugh the man away. He even wore the clichéd rain slicker.
Drinking with friends in your apartment and waking up on your twin bed to find J inside of you. Your hamster, the one your friends try and rouse with smoke blown into his habitat, the only witness as you try to move out from under J’s weight. Your hamster is the only one who hears you say “No, no, NO!” as J penetrates you with his penis again and again. When you leave the next semester to study abroad, J sits on your couch mooning over you to your best friend. You do not moon over him waiting for your period, which does not arrive for weeks. You take a pregnancy test and ask a friend for advice. No one calls this rape. 7
Crawling out of a window in the back of some friend’s apartment and running around the block in clogs to avoid being gang raped. You were drunk and high, but not wasted enough to know that you and C were being watched from a closet as C felt you up. Yes, you had slept together before, and you had yelled at C’s friends that U.S. American women are not sluts. If they slept with women they called sluts, then they were sluts, too. You called the police on C’s brother when he yelled and pushed his U.S. American Slut girlfriend in the parking lot of your apartment complex. You also drank with them as you used your feminist logic and flouted their rules when you tried to fuck like a man. You stumbled to the bathroom in the back of the apartment and opened the window in the bedroom of the ground floor apartment, stepped on C’s bed and pulled yourself out of the window into the spring air. You graduate the next month with honors.
When you are a second-year master’s student attending a conference on the search for a doctoral program. You meet a faculty member from a possible program, talk to him, walk with him to his hotel room—he “forgot” his name-badge for the conference. Once through the door, he casually directs you inside, pushes you face-up/back-down on the bed, grabs your wrists, goes in for a kiss. In shock and fear, you kiss once, then say, “let me go.” He laughs, doesn’t move, thinks you’re kidding. “I’m not comfortable,” you say, and he loosens his grip. You nudge him to the side, climb off the bed, apologize, and leave the room. Were you flirting with him? You don’t think so. Did he think you were flirting with him? You suppose. You struggle with determining responsibility for the interaction, recognize memory as fuzzy, possibly/probably inaccurate, and realize that telling this story now, about a situation from nearly two decades ago, could harm him. 8
Searching for a faculty position at a conference as a doctoral candidate when you meet a prominent academic who trusted peers seem to know and appreciate. He’s staying at the same hotel and, after an evening cookout, walks you to your room. You enter and say goodnight; he grabs your wrist, pulls you close, and demands a kiss. In shock and fear, you kiss briefly, then pull away and say, “no thanks.” You can tell he’s hurt, angry, embarrassed. He soon retreats, says he’ll see you soon. Didn’t you learn your lesson? Did he think you were flirting with him? You struggle with determining responsibility for the interaction, recognize memory as possibly/probably inaccurate, and realize that telling this story now, about a situation from more than a decade ago, could harm him.
*
#YouToo. You conclude these notes thinking about the privilege of being an able-bodied, cisgender, White, male in academic contexts. Rarely have you worried about maneuvering the harassment and assault in these contexts and you think about what has not happened to you: No one has asked you to make coffee, forced their dick inside of you, or only made eye contact with your breasts. Students and administrators have rarely commented on your appearance; you haven’t worried about how your appearance affects promotion, tenure, and professional advancement; and you have been silent when observing harassment and assault occur at conferences. You also think about the privilege of pursuing others and feeling desired, of being both pleased and pleasured.
You think about how your experiences in the academy as a White woman have been shaped by sexual harassment and assault. The times you noticed in the moment, and the times you only later recognized how your experiences were saturated with sexist and racist practices. You hope that another unmasking and retelling of personal experience will help with detoxification.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
