You can tell who is in power by who feels comfortable enough to be openly rude. They don’t mind making a poor impression because they’re invulnerable.
I was new to the economics conferences called NBER (National Bureau of Economic Research) which features the profession’s most exclusive coterie. Lunches are delicious but awkward for newcomers. Once, I came to a seat by a friend at a table of other new professors, all women at the top institutions in the country.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked, and there were several open seats.
“Yes, by you.” I couldn’t tell whether the statement was welcoming or accusatory. My friend patted the seat and I sat down puzzling.
One of the women writhed uncomfortably and looked around the room in such a way as to avoid seeing me. Another stared at her plate as though it might make me disappear.
“It’s ridiculous,” said another woman in a concentrated French accent, “that ze woman coauthor doesn’t present zese papers. It should be automatic.” They all seemed to agree.
Emi Nakumara, a wonderful economist—and a woman--had just presented before lunch.
As if reading my mind, the woman rolled her eyes in exasperation, “Yes, Emi won the Bates Clark metal; of course, she presented ze paper.”
This was a rule I had never heard: award winners present their future work. I wondered if she would have had the same view if Emi’s husband and continuous coauthor had won the award instead of her. I can’t say, but it’s not hard to guess.
The bevy continued in this vein, speaking disparagingly of men (as a group) as though they didn’t notice I was there. Perhaps they didn’t and really there was no reason that they should, except that at other times they had each extolled a more “inclusive” profession. Inclusive didn’t mean friendly or welcoming but something else that excluded me quite clearly.
I asked about their lives and work, and they reciprocated at no point. I don’t think they asked my name.
* * *
These women would have been happy Tuesday if they were capable of happiness. The meeting was presented mostly by women (60 percent), despite the fact that only 25 percent of submissions to the conference are from women. I suppose this is what progress looks like, or at least difference.
What struck me terribly as I watched the conference was that, for male speakers, the questions are brief and efficient. Some aren’t questions but they carry the same function.
“Can you look at concentration as an outcome?”
“Do you have a sense why your results are different from past studies?”
“I was wondering whether there were differences by age.”
This pattern of co-equal discussion disappears completely when the presenter is a woman. Most all the questions are prefaced with some version of the following:
“First of all, great paper…”,
Remarked by the same people who posed quite different questions to men. It’s as if to say: please don’t call me a sexist, don’t ruin my career by imagining I am hostile to you ethereal creatures.
Let’s keep sane by supposing the trend stops at this point and goes no further.