Showing posts with label Career. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Career. Show all posts

Sunday, 18 March 2018

Disableism in Academia

Written by Sonali Shah 
Disablism in academia has struck me down twice since I got my PhD and started on the academic career ladder. I am currently in the middle of the second bout, which I will go into later. First, let’s rewind my career trajectory to 2010, when my Nuffield Career Development fellowship in Disability Studies ended. Although I had been at my institution for three years, earned a pretty positive reputation in disability studies and been returned to REF 2008, no other opportunity was found for me and I became unemployed. The fact that I was in the middle of writing my third research monograph (co-authored by a non-disabled prof in Disability Studies – as they all seem to be) earned me an associate position with access to library resources and very minor bits of paid work. During this unpaid break of 18 months, the research monograph was published and I submitted an Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC) research grant proposal and did some voluntary work at the World Health Organization (WHO). Just before my internship at the WHO, I secured a 3 year university research fellowship within the same institution, which would start when I returned. Before my interview, I was awarded the ESRC grant I had applied for, which was obviously very attractive to the University and got me the job. While in that role, I was managing large grants and other staff, convening and teaching Masters courses and supervising undergraduate and Masters students.
So, 2 years, 3 books and 10 articles later, I wanted a promotion like my non-disabled colleagues who, while I was unemployed for 18 months, had zoomed past me on the academic career ladder. I thought it would be a good opportunity to ask for promotion as I was already working at a Grade 8 level doing the same work as other Grade 8 staff and yet I was still Grade 7. However, I was discouraged from applying for promotion by my line manager. A new post came up in the Centre for a Grade 9 Lecturer. My line manager said I should apply. I got an interview. I was not successful. Later I learned that the staff on the panel and in the Centre already knew I would not be successful, even before the interview.
After two years in this research post in Disability Studies, I applied for a Lord Kelvin Adams Smith (LKAS) fellowship with a research centre in Scotland. This was a four-year fellowship with promises of a permanent post if all objectives were met - teaching, publications and research. Again, I had a research grant under my belt. Again, I got the job and took the grant with me. My previous institution was a little taken aback when I left and took most of the grant with me, but my new employer agreed to employ me at Grade 8. On a personal level, this decision to take a post in Scotland meant finding an accessible flat in Scotland, finding personal assistants in Scotland, and commuting from my home in England to Scotland and vice versa every week. The question of moving to Scotland was not an option at that stage as my husband had a permanent job in England. So a commuter I became, with two cars, two beds, two sets of Personal Assistants, two lives, and many, many air miles, but that is another story. I wanted this job, a chance to shine and to have a permanent contract; or so I thought! I was one of 6 LKAS fellows in the faculty. I was one of three women, but the only BME woman, and the only BME disabled woman.
Fast forward to year four of the fellowship; feeling positive, with 4 more publications, 3 years convening and teaching an MSc course with very positive student feedback and a book contract, I thought I had built enough of a reputation to progress to a permanent post like my 5 fellow LKAS colleagues. While I had not managed to secure any large funding grants, I had submitted several large grant applications with colleagues. In most cases we had passed the first stages. This was not unlike the other LKAS fellows. However, unlike the 5 other LKAS fellows, I was facing multiple barriers to do what I needed to do and get where I needed to go. For instance, the course I taught was on the 9th floor of a tower block and when there was a fire alarm in week 5 during the class, no one came to check I could get out. I couldn't so I stayed there! Another difference was when I was invited to a single candidate interview to progress to a lectureship post, the decision had already been made to make me redundant. That was the second swipe, knocking me off the career ladder once more.
Although my new book 'Global Perspectives of Disability Violence and Gender: A Life-course and Human Rights Approach' will be published by Routledge in May, and I do not have the stress of academic life, I get angry about having my upward career trajectory constrained every 4/5 years until I reach another turning point. It's frustrating because my personal agency seems to be overshadowed by disabling structures and lack of enabling policies for disabled staff. I am not unique here, but this means that the field of Disability Studies is mainly run by non-disabled academics.
About the Author

Dr Sonali Shah is committed to research, scholarship and teaching that matters and makes a positive impact to the global challenges of equality, inclusion, health and social well-being of disabled people across intersectional identities and the life course. She graduated with a PhD in Occupational Psychology and Disability at Loughborough University in 2002. Her forthcoming co-edited collection, Disability, Gender and Violence (Shah and Bradbury-Jones. 2018) brings together academics, practitioner and survivor voices from across the world to discuss experience of violence, barriers to disclosure and support for disabled women from childhood to older life.

Sunday, 2 July 2017

The Fog

Written by Ian 
Trigger warning - mention of suicidal thoughts.
Cutting through the fog is what I needed to do.
The lone scholar myth persists and is still the model of an academic. Individual achievement and “genius” is what the system is geared to reward. The relentless academic tournament where only a few “win” is exhausting and takes a toll on mental health, especially when things aren’t healthily competitive, but hyper-competitive as they are now.
I bought into the lone “genius” scholar model. Probably both consciously and subconsciously. Academia can be isolating and has been for me.
My internal dialog has an outsize influence. It has the credibility of a scientist working to falsify any positive idea I might have. The negative, harsh voice is one I would never apply to anyone else. Connecting to others can be challenging partly because depressive mood is not something I want to spread. However, luckily, I do have a few close friends—whom I would take a bullet for—to open up to, although none of whom I speak with enough.
There’s pain in the fog; a longing for light to cut through or for me to find a way to part it, if only temporarily.
At its thickest, there are two solutions to dealing with the fog. Waiting for the fog to abate, even partially. And there have been times when it feels oppressive and functionally no different from being dead. Suicidal thoughts crept in. I never had means to act on these thoughts, and had one motivation to not carry through: those good friends and family. I would wish to get hit by a bus or have some other fatal accident befall me.
Having these thoughts obviously didn’t help my work.
The fog thickens in times of uncertainty.
I’ve had to come back from that oppressive fog that began six years ago, when I nearly didn’t go on. That was a time I somehow waited out the worst. A time when taking any steps, any actions, seemed futile.
Coming back from that has been a big accomplishment, and I feel shows strength. All through this I kept going, kept learning, and was kind and patient with myself. I found new ways of connecting to people, mainly through Twitter. I started talking openly about depression and mental illness, particularly as it affects academics. I started writing about science too, beyond the technical writing, by guest writing on other blogs. I’m learning to be an editor. I’ve decided I want to step away from the lab bench, which has recently happened. As of this writing, I don’t have anything full time lined up. This latest uncertainty is a test of the network I have built up of close friends and acquaintances, and a test of my ability to go after new opportunities and reach through the fog to ask for help and connect to the wider world. How much will the fog close in this time?
Depression, even when well managed and apparently in the background, seems likely to be with me the rest of my life. The fog can thin and even disappear for a time, but never seems far away. Though even when it’s away, some of the habits developed in the fog’s isolation remain.
I fear stepping into another situation like academia. My next career step is one where I hope I can still further science, education, critical thinking, and the public’s connection to stories of science. Ultimately I hope it’s a career that’s better for my mental health than academia has been, by allowing me to connect more.
There are systemic and cultural changes to academia that can and should be called for like truly preparing PhDs and postdocs for careers beyond the tenure track. But for individuals coping with depression or another mental illness, I encourage them to find someone outside the fog to talk to. To build a support network (like Chronically Academic) of close friends/family and acquaintances, one at a time. Starting with a therapist is fine too. Medications may help lift the fog enough to feel and act normally as well. Resilience is easier when there are supportive people that are visible and accessible. That may include your advisor and other mentors—always build up a network of more than one mentor. Mentors can be anyone that positively influences you or your learning and having people to go to for specific things makes you less isolated and I believe learning from others, or just learning new ways of thinking, can help treat depression (it’s not *that* simple, but it has helped).
Navigating through life with a fog of depression over the brain isn’t easy, but it can also make those managing depression mentally tough and more resilient than may be apparent to even them.
About the Author

Ian is a plant scientist, science writer, and editor who recently transitioned out of academia. His science writing can be seen on his blog, The Quiet Branches. He can be found on Twitter at @IHStreet.