Message: Below, please find a copy of a letter sent today to Chancellor X of Y University, the members of the Philosophy Department, as well as to several other departments, student organizations, the college newspaper, several of the deans, relevant philosophy blogs, and to a newspaper, regarding the sexual misconduct and abuses of power of Professor Z. My intention is that this matter be given full attention and that it will be discussed freely and publicly. As I mention in the letter, I know for a fact that other women have had similar and worse experiences with Professor Z. Given the ways in which sexual harassment suits have played out in the national media in recent years, I suspect these women might also come forward, in time. I am confident that you will give this matter due consideration.
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Dear colleagues,
Now that I am well enough established in my career to speak out (though not well enough that I can speak without anonymity), I am compelled to express concerns that I have had for years about the conduct and character of Professor Z of Y University’s Philosophy Department. With the recent inauguration in mind, it is especially important to say something to prevent other women from being exposed to abuses of power by de facto invulnerable faculty members. As we in philosophy know all too well, sexual harassment causes many women to doubt their intellectual and personal potential and to fade from the field or drop out of it altogether.
During my time as a graduate student at Y, Professor Z would make sexually charged remarks about and to women students. Professor Z referred to his alleged sexual exploits (often with Y colleagues or invited speakers) with suggestive imagery, making degrading remarks about ‘fat’ and ‘old’ women, nonchalantly evaluating the looks of the ‘beautiful’ undergraduate women on campus, commenting on their ‘tight pants’ and ‘fresh’ looks. He claimed that black women are not as attractive as white women, though he did name certain ‘exceptions’ to his rule.
He would approach groups of young women in conversation with one another, and find pretext to touch them. For example, he inserted himself into a conversation between women students on hairstyles, proceeding without invitation to stroke two of the women’s hair. Another time, a friend of mine was trying to see whether her leaked pen had stained her shoulders (she was wearing a backpack), and as I was checking this for her, Professor Z quickly took my position and began touching my friend’s skin. On both occasions, the women appeared distressed and exchanged looks with me, but said nothing.
In private, my academic dealings with Professor Z were infused with an undertone of sexual interest from the outset. He commented on my ‘delightful’ figure, on my breasts, on my ‘alluring’ style. He inquired into my sex life frequently but with plausible deniability. He would pursue and approach me relentlessly so that I became too stressed to regularly and comfortably attend department events. When I did attend, if he happened to be there Professor Z would stare at my legs and comment on any change in my hair or makeup (assessing it as sometimes more sometimes less ‘flattering’). He would flirt with me still more overtly at holiday parties, where he’d encourage me to drink more alcohol. During a departmental gathering, Professor Z told me that, as an “older” woman, a colleague of his he was seeing at the time would be jealous of a “pretty young woman” such as myself. A few weeks earlier, he had referred me to this same colleague for professional assistance. She was considerably younger than Professor Z. When in routine academic conversation with him I would attempt to redirect focus on my papers, or address him as ‘Dr.,’ he would look irritated and express frustration, twice closing his office door during two different meetings, ostensibly to discuss philosophy and my career path.
Professor Z habitually made use of his ability to extend and withhold professional opportunities, as a means to pressure me into becoming more intimate with him. Indeed, what initially appeared to me to be professional overtures quickly became personal, sexual ones. Hesitance and resistance were met with a temper he seemed to conceal in more public settings, or else with degrading and sexist dismissals. At a large conference reception in the evening, as I declined the last of several of Professor Z’s private invitations to meet him at his hotel room later that night to retrieve a book he said he wanted to give me, Professor Z took his leave by saying he needed to go ‘troll this place for interesting women.’
Professor Z seemed to derive satisfaction from the idea that I as a young woman was interested in him considering that he was, at the time, twice my age or even more. At its extreme, I think his intention was to sleep with me, or at least to flatter himself with that possibility. In any case, with indescribable, ongoing distress to my work in the department and after years of intellectual as well as personal self-doubt incurred from this experience, I still managed to stay on the right side of the line that was being crossed. Eventually I was both relieved and alarmed to find his attentions turning to a new, even younger cohort of incoming graduate students in the philosophy and other departments.
While I was a graduate student I coped by flirting back, smiling and nodding, trying to brush it all off as the byproduct of the typical male academic’s social awkwardness, despite my unease. After time and experience in the field, as well as hearing my colleagues and now also my students talk about their memories and current situations involving abuse of this nature, I have concluded that I was naive simply to go along with what was happening. Let me be clear: at the time, I felt that the power dynamics left me with no other recourse, while the demonstrably friendly and prestigious professional relationships Professor Z collected and flaunted, intimidated me further into silence and self-doubt. But Professor Z is disarming. He effectively plays the role of the absent-minded professor to the great detriment of the young women he approaches. And while by now I have heard many other accounts of Professor Z’s actions, some similar to mine but others far more disturbing, I can only come forward with my own.
The impact of this experience on me emotionally and intellectually has been profound. I know other women do experience far worse, but the consequences have even in my case been dire. For years I was absolutely depleted, unmotivated to write, travel, or study in ways I had once known myself to be capable of. I felt myself alienated from potential colleagues and friends, especially from other women. I have been reluctant and embarrassed to pursue lines of work that too closely coincide with his because I cannot stomach the idea of having to cite him and afford him some kind of public credit or acknowledgment. I almost left academia altogether. This was, above all, the experience of intellectual potential belittled, the stunting of philosophical independence and growth, the attendant shame of feeling myself diminished.
So I implore Y University’s faculty and administration to put aside what it might take to be in the interests of its stability, reputation, and atmosphere of ‘collegiality,’ to see the bigger picture. That it is in no one’s interest and it is downright wrong to continue to tolerate such damaging actions on the part of anyone, let alone an esteemed professor.
I’m still afraid of being around male professors
Posted: December 16, 2020 by jennysaul in harassment, power dynamics, sexual comments, sexual harassmentI was a young philosophy student and the first person in my family to go to college. I transferred into a state school from community college. I worked so hard and I still doubted myself. I took an ethics class that was required of all undergraduate students. I asked questions during class and my male professor started calling me over after class to talk. I admired this philosophy professor because he taught ethics and I believed that someone who taught ethics would be the last person to hurt me. He invited me to his office. We talked for hours in there, with the door closed. He was old enough to be my dad. He said how bright I was, he asked me to read one of his published articles and tell him what I thought. I spent hours reading it and I spent days going over it with him. He smiled at my effort, said he admired me. Told me I was gifted and seemed so impressed at my criticisms and questions. He then started telling me about himself. I felt like I had found a mentor and a friend in my professor. My professor started asking me personal questions about what I liked and didn’t like in partners, if I was dating anyone. Then he started flirting in class with me, with long eye contact and blatant staring at my chest during lecture (telling me in his office that he liked when I sat in the front row so he could look at me without alerting the other students). Eventually he started touching me. At first it was a gentle pat on the forearm, a quick handshake, a sneaky side hug in empty hallways, and then the hugs were open armed and long, pressing his body and chest into mine. Telling me how beautiful and intelligent I was. He told me that is what professors did to the students they saw as their intellectual equals. Then came the moment he invited me to his home. He told me he would cook dinner, open wine, and light candles. When I expressed misgivings about going he told me that many students went to his home, especially the ones that wanted letters of recommendation from him. I went to his house. I let him cook me dinner and play jazz that he previous said was ‘seductive’. He then kept pouring me glasses of wine as he asked me if I ever fucked to jazz. He then told me how great it was, that it would be a life-changing experience for me. When I started to show signs of being drunk, he told me he would take care of me, that he liked me better when I wasn’t so uptight. He then moved behind me and began to massage my shoulders, asking me if it felt good. He kissed my neck and whispered in my ear that I was beautiful and that he wanted me for a long time. He told me we were meant to be as he ran his hands from my shoulders to my breasts. He remarked that he thought my breasts were my best feature. I told him to stop. He told me to relax. I forcefully stood up and tried to leave. He came toward me then and I walked away from him until I was backed up into a wall. He caged me with his hands, told me that we had a good thing, that he could make me feel good. That I should stop being such a cocktease. That I was lucky that he found me attractive. I shoved him away. I told him if he came near me again I would report him. I called a cab and went home. I stopped talking to this professor after that and decided that philosophy wasn’t a place for me. Eight years later, now in graduate school for counseling, I still am afraid of being around male professors.