TW: Discussion of homophobic slurs
There have been plenty of times in life when I’ve had men assume that I don’t know what I’m doing or saying, and treat me accordingly. I’m mostly used to it when I go to a car shop to pick up oil, but have recently had it happen in one of the most egregious manners I’ve ever experienced within academia. Continue reading
Today’s post is the second in a three-part series here at Tenure, She Wrote exploring the complexity of name changes and choices in academia.
When you’re trans, getting your name changed is a huge ordeal. You have to file it with the court, have it published for x amount of time in a local newspaper, hopefully get it approved by the court, then deal with social security, banks, DMVs, the lot. It’s a pain and very bureaucratic, but there are processes to follow. The same isn’t true for an academic publication record, particularly for those of us who transition later in our careers.
Your publication list is a huge part of academic life, and if you transition after having some manuscripts published you have to face a choice on every CV and every grant application from that point forward: Include past publications under an old name and risk discrimination for being trans, or leave out past publications under an old name and risk not getting the job or grant for seeming like you don’t have enough experience. It’s a catch-22, and right now there are no good answers.
Research has shown that there is an uptick in the number of suicide attempts following a highly publicized suicide death. Such has happened recently within the trans community, which is prompting this off-day post. Given that 41% of trans people have attempted suicide, right now would be an excellent time to reach out and support the trans people in your life, as well as brush up on your skill set of responding to students in crisis who confide in you. It’s very possible that your university has a suicide prevention specialist. If you don’t know who yours is, or even if you have one, now would be a good time to look into it. Continue reading
I was chatting with some of my colleagues at dinner before writing this post, mentioning that I was doing a piece for Thursday since it’s a special day. Not knowing, they asked, “Oh? What’s important on Thursday?”
My field has very few job openings each year, which means that if I hope to get a faculty position there is a high likelihood that it’s going to involve moving. This is hard enough for any academic, but being a queer person I have a number of extra considerations to take into account before accepting a position.
Recently, my department had it’s first-ever Safe Zones training. It’s a diversity program, available at many colleges and universities, that raises the issues faced by gender and sexual minority students. After attending the training, participants are issued “Safe Zone” stickers that they can put on their door, which allows faculty to open display that they are aware of and had training in issues that many LGBTQ students are uncomfortable bringing up. Every time I visit a university for a conference or to give a talk, it’s immediately on my radar and gives me a sense of whether the department has ever even had a passing thought about people like me.
Over the years, I’ve found myself involved with a number of activities promoting and advocating for LGBT people. I’ve developed many skills based on these experiences, but it has been tricky to figure out how to relate them in a professional manner when applying for a position. I’ve asked, and been asked, of how out one should be on their CV. After all, you don’t want to be passed over on a job for the simple fact of being a sexual or gender minority, but neither do you want to work somewhere that would consider passing you over. It’s a tricky balance, and I wanted to discuss a little of how I’m trying to handle it personally and would love to hear your thoughts and comments on different approaches. Continue reading