Creating bigger rooms for different bodies and beings in academia

In a small break from writing a very scary application for something I really, really want, I saw this tweet on friend’s Facebook wall:

This was pretty much exactly what I needed to hear, but it got me thinking a bit about all the rooms I have earned the right to be in over the years (and how I have felt like I should apologise for my presence in too many of them) and also rooms I have been allowed into not yet having really earned the right to be there, because of ugly things like structural privilege and systemic hierarchies (but this is for a different post).

As a woman (in academia, and in the world), I have learned over the years to take up just the right amount of space, or maybe a bit less than that. I have learned to be clever, but not so much so that the men in the room get uncomfortable (and some of the women too!); I have learned to be assertive, but not so much so that I am accused of being pushy and aggressive; I have learned to be ambitious, but not so much so that colleagues are threatened by me and don’t want to work with me; I have learned to dress so that people take me seriously, but not too seriously because then I’m not feminine enough, or fun enough. It’s #$%&ing exhausting. And it never ends.

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I enter many rooms because I really feel I have earned the right to be there, because of my years of study, my writing, my patience and endurance through poorly paid and not-very-inspiring contract work, tolerating obnoxious colleagues and public put-downs, surviving obscure bureaucratic mess-ups with contracts, salaries, student issues, and so many other things. But, and this is the thing that got to me about that tweet, I almost never really feel like I can just be, in many of those rooms. There are a few rooms where I can expand and grow and just take up the space I take up, and those spaces are all too rare, and wonderful. I protect them fiercely, and never take them for granted, because there are way more rooms in which I am taking the temperature, reading the crowd, judging how much space I can take up, and whether I will be allowed to even stay in the room.

Imposter syndrome is part of this perhaps – that sense that you really don’t have the right to be there, and that you’re faking it by even trying, and someone will know that and call you out and expose you for the fraud you are. But this is also what this tweet speaks to, for me: to speak back to that imposter syndrome, and argue that you actually are not a fraud. You have worked hard, and paid your dues, and you actually do have a valid voice that should be part of the conversation. This is not easy, because the Imposter voice can be loud, mean, and quite insistent. It’s harder to push back against that, and just walk into the room and stay there, and be just you. Especially if you are not someone who is already ‘in’ by virtue of being part of the dominant and overtly valued ways of being in the academy (i.e. if you are black or queer or a woman or a trans person or disabled or working class or non-mother tongue, etc. – and many different combinations of these things too).

I know too many younger scholars and academics just disillusioned by the ways in which academia continues to try – apparently quite hard – to gatekeep and police who gets to enter which rooms, when and for how long. There are too many people in my extended circle – in person and on Twitter and Facebook – who are just tired of having to fight to take up space they have earned the right to take up, many times over. It’s exhausting, and it flattens you the longer it goes on. We have to change the story, meaningfully, and open academia and the work it does – research, teaching, publishing, supervision, and so on – to new bodies, voices, knowledges, ways of knowing and being.

We can’t say ‘socially just education is vital’ and then keep pushing out people who would actually be able to enact that in new, interesting, challenging and meaningful ways. We can’t say ‘we value social inclusion’ and then shut out people who don’t conform to some tacit, unexamined notion of what the ‘right’ kind of scholar or academic is. That’s not meaningful, and that’s not change. This change has to come from all sides – from university management that has to actively enact policy change (see here for an interesting take on this broader issue); from academics already in the system who have the power to make changes in their practices, contexts and departments; and from us – the scholars bravely walking into rooms and refusing to apologise for taking up space in them, and for being who we are. It cannot all be on those already fighting to just be part of the conversation, and this happens all too often.

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For me, I am reminded that I have a voice, I have something to say and offer, and I need to just keep working on walking into the rooms I want and need to be in, and staying the course. And, as I do that and move through the system and accumulate relative power and freedom, to follow Toni Morrison’s exhortation to all of us who have measures of power and freedom within structures and systems: to use that which you have to empower and free others, to enable them to pay it forward too, and slowly but surely dismantle the systems that reinforce rather than challenge the status quo. It may sound idealistic, but in our current global moment, I don’t think a little pragmatic idealism is such a bad thing.

Book writing: a week in the life of meeting my #WritingGoals

At the beginning of this week I tweeted that I was going to double the word count on my current book chapter. I started the week at 2503 words, which meant getting my writing going in a big way to get up over 5000 words. Overall, I need about 8500 to finish this beast, so ideally, I wanted to overshoot the goal (as always), but I would have also been quite happy with just achieving it. In addition to all this writing, I had to travel to another part of the country, spend two full days teaching, and prepare for a writing retreat I am co-facilitating. Plus all the usual parenting and house management and all that stuff.

Alongside all my writing at the moment, I have been reading Light and Air and Time and Space. How successful academics write by Helen Sword. It is so inspiring and helpful in many ways, but I do find myself wondering at some of the details that the stories of successful writers gloss over, like bad writing days when the kids are sick, or the childcare arrangements fail, or the car breaks down, and so on. What do you do with the bad days you can’t plan for and still manage your #WritingGoals? I did actually make my goal, this week, but not in the way I thought I would. So, to fill in a few of the often-glossed over gaps, this post is a ‘week in the life’ of an ordinary working parent-writer-teacher-etc..

Monday, Day 1: Tweeted that I wanted to double my word count, and tagged a few writing buddies who have been reading my drafts and encouraging me so far. The thinking was that I would be less likely to not write if Twitterland was following this, and would be expecting a post saying ‘Goal achieved’ at the end of the week. Even if this is only true in my head, it helps to spur me on. I planned to start writing at around 7am, once the kids were off to school. I woke up, had coffee, and then spent two hours doing laundry, cleaning the kitchen and making more coffee. I answered a few emails, and them gave myself a stern pep-talk, and sat down to write at about 9.30. By 11 or so I had managed 609 words. Yes, I counted them. I then spent the rest of the day doing more cleaning, and pottering around on email and Facebook. But, #WritingGoal for the day done.

Tuesday, Day 2: I had to take my son down to Fish Hoek to sit his learner’s license test at about 8.30, so I took my charged laptop with me, and while he was writing his test, I sat on a rather uncomfortable chair and worked on my chapter. I was really productive and wrote 1401 words. Helped that there was no internet and nothing else to really do. Caveat: I am working on the easiest part of the chapter – explaining and exemplifying the theory – but still, Achievement! Once we had processed his learner’s permit – he passed! – and I had taken him up to school and gotten home, via the pharmacy because I have lost my voice, it was after 11. Spent the rest of the day prepping for teaching, and making beds and answering email.

Wednesday, Day 2: Woke up with even less voice than Tuesday, and with blocked ears and a bad headache. Husband now also ill, so I had to get up extra early and do the school run, which he usually does in our parental division of labour. Got home around 7.30, feeling pretty grim, and got back into bed. Taught my class online later in the day, before Ubering to the airport, flying to another province, and driving 1.5 hours to the university town in which I am working for the next week. Exhausted. No brain or mojo for writing. And, I did write many words yesterday, so I can have a break, right? Yes, I can. But, no words today.

Thursday, Day 4: Started teaching at 9am, with a very hoarse voice. No time for writing as the course is intensive on the first day, and it’s about my writers’ work, not mine. I planned, though, to write in the late afternoon, once I was done with teaching. Not sure who I was kidding with that plan. By 4pm I was so tired, and my throat felt swollen. I bought take-out, climbed into bed, and fell into a Netflix hole to unwind. No words today.

Friday, Day 5: There were two pomodoros for the writers in the short course today, so in pomodoro one, I worked in my research journal on the next chapter’s basic outline, because I needed to leave the slide up on screen, on my laptop, for the writing exercise. In pomodoro 2, I could unplug, so I sat with the group and we all worked on our writing. Managed to get the chapter up to 5241 words, including two diagrams. Super chuffed. #WritingGoal achieved. Big plans for a long, silent Saturday writing in the library. At least another 1000 words, on the back of this week’s momentum.

Saturday, Day 6: Woke up late after staying up late binge-watching Youtube crap I will not confess to. Tired. My throat still hurts, my voice is sore, and I just want to hide. No library, but maybe still some writing. By 1pm, I have managed to make a cup of tea and eat breakfast. I feel allergic to my laptop. I don’t want to open it. I haven’t even gotten out of my pyjamas, and I am tired. So, I take a nap. 3pm, I wake up and eat a snack, and then decide to watch a few more hours of stuff on my tablet. No laptop, no writing. I just cannot. But, it’s fine, because I have reached my goal at least, and I can rest today and then write tomorrow.

Sunday, Last day: Much better morning – I am actually awake and showered and dressed by 9.30am. But, I do have to drive back to the airport to fetch my co-facilitator, so I have to be up. Instead of writing a bit before I leave, I play Words with Friends, and potter on Twitter and Facebook. Sigh. It’s now nearly 4pm. I have not done any more work on the chapter today, although I really really wanted to. But, I have written this, and it’s not the end of the day yet. Hmm, sure, but in my head it kind of is, and Netflix is calling…

#WritingGoals for next week? Well, I am facilitating a writing retreat with a new colleague, and we have a big group coming. Lots of one-on-one time talking through their research and writing, which is mentally tiring, and I am still hoarse. Odds are I will be pretty tired by 5pm. But, I have someone with me who also has writing to do, so odds are I will get some writing done each day. Finishing the chapter is the ideal, but I will settle for getting at least a pomodoro in each day, and that’s usually about 400 words. That’ll do. I’ll still be behind on the big 4-chapters-to-series-editor goal, which is not far off, and this is the 3rd of the 4 I need to send. But, I’ll be closer.

Lessons learned (again, and again, and again):

  1. Be kind to myself – who knew I was going to get sick, and my housekeeper would be ill, and my husband would get sick, and all of that would slow me down?
  2. Small, achieveable goals are so much better all round than large, somewhat ridiculous goals (i.e. Write The Whole Thing).
  3. Taking too long a break does make going back harder – keeping in touch, even a little every day or every other day is critical for progress.
  4. A goal shared is a less daunting thing, and being accountable, whether to an imaginary or real community of fellow writers is helpful, too.
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