Whose Burden is it? Cleaning up Bias in Academia

When the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill put New York Times reporter Nikole Hannah-Jones essentially through the wringer in what should have been a slam-dunk tenure decision, they broke a promise to her as an incoming holder of an endowed chair – the same one fulfilled for all prior recipients. They violated a host of academic promotion principles and lowered themselves in the public eye. And for what?

Hannah-Jones had accepted a position as the Knight Chair in Race and Investigative Journalism at the university’s Hussman School of Journalism and was expected to start July 1. She had indicated that she would not accept the offer without tenure.

Her appointment drew a swift backlash from conservatives who took issue with her involvement in the 1619 Project, a multimedia series from The Times Magazine that re-examined the legacy of slavery in the United States. Hannah-Jones won a Pulitzer Prize in 2020 for her introductory essay. She has a stellar record of journalistic awards.

The whole process looks to be tainted by prejudice and possible influence of donor money. I don’t write about this as a casual observer or even a professor who hasn’t seen academic bias in tenure decisions before – or lived it. When all the facts are in, outstanding letters of recommendation have been received, student evaluations are excellent, and departmental colleagues have given their staunch support, someone, somewhere in the system, can still block tenure. And for what? Apparently, if they have the power, for whatever reason they deem appropriate unless sturdy safeguards are applied.

I wrote and published my debut novel, Shadow Campus, because this situation of bias exists in academia. Yes, the book is fiction. But weaved throughout the plot are the reasons why a young woman’s tenure decision was never about her accomplishments. In a department of nearly all men, with no connections to powerful people for whom she was a favorite, protagonist Meg Doherty was found hanging in her office the night before her tenure decision. Was it an accident? Some bad guy run amuck? If only.

Shadow Campus and my second novel, Damned If She Does, reveal the seedy side of academic politics. As I wrote in The Secret Handshake, no group or organization is free of politics. Not even church choirs. Academia is no exception either. But much of what goes on to the detriment of people like Hannah-Jones is protected by secrecy rules supposedly crafted for the benefit of promotion applicants. A wall goes up and almost anything can happen behind it.

So, whose burden is it then to change such pathological politics? Should women like Hannah-Jones take it on? In a way, she did. She may have turned her back on UNC for Howard University, but she left scorched earth in her wake. Her reason was not to punish one system and reward another, although that happened. She wasn’t seeking revenge. She explained “it’s not my job to heal the University of North Carolina. That’s the job of the people in power who created this situation in the first place.”

I’ve been tenured by two universities, promoted to full professor and later professor emerita. The journey was not free of bias against women, in my case, and battling. As an academic for my entire career, I did see it as partially my burden to right the ship if at all possible. I decided to stand firm. It helped immensely to have received superb letters, excellent teaching evaluations, to have published extensively and brought in significant grant money for research among other accolades. 

Nevertheless, deciding to fight a huge system is no small decision. I have the invisible scars to prove it. The toll on myself and my family was extensive. Did I ultimately win? Yes. But the university won more because hopefully they’ll think twice before allowing such bias and blatant disregard of their own promotion process rules.

Was it Hannah-Jones’ job to fight such a battle? I don’t think so. Unlike me, she had not spent her entire career in academia. In fact, she was a newcomer. But contrary to some observations, she actually did fight. She did so by walking away from UNC, but also by sharing with the press what can happen to women and minorities even in the hallowed halls of learning. 

Hannah-Jones did academia a favor. She didn’t fold. I recall one dean saying to another when I was battling for my future, “You guys picked the wrong victim.” That’s what UNC did – one of their own graduates no less – and they rightfully paid a high price.

If they don’t have their brooms out cleaning every corner of their tenure process, then UNC didn’t learn a thing. Perhaps, instead, they’ll realize that memories of those burned are not as short as they may think and that every now and then they just might choose the wrong victim.