Last year, my partner and I went on the job market. What I learned forever changed my outlook on gender gaps in academia and the inherent sexism pervasive in our culture. Although we are both happy and have since landed jobs in our field, the process was more painful than it should have been, as sexist behavior on the part of prospective employers led to undue stress.

The academic job market is emotionally and physically exhausting. Merely tracking which jobs are open, which you have applied to, and what materials each posting requires is a full-time job. The stress is often compounded by financial distress, geographic limitations, and dissertation work or other scholarship. Going through the process with my partner added a stress unlike any other: the role of sexism in academia.

Let me back up a second. My partner is a rock star. You are probably thinking, this is just another proud spouse. Not so much. She was awarded the student of the year in her medical school class of 2011, the clinician of the year as a resident, and has been awarded a number of prestigious grants and fellowships. I estimate that there were likely fewer than five junior level people nationally with her training on the market.

I am an assistant professor in the social sciences in a field where the supply of graduates outpaced demand, and jobs are hard to come by. Typical jobs in my field have 200-300 applicants. This background is important to understanding our positions in the 2017 job market.

What happened?

We decided to apply broadly and adjust our thinking as we got more information about real possibilities. We structured our thinking around three criteria: the best jobs for her, the best jobs for me, and the best location for our family. We thought if we could maximize two out of three, we would be thrilled.

We entered the process in the fall of 2017 expecting our second child. To my wife’s dismay, she was pregnant on the job market. She wanted to push the process up as much as possible so she would not ‘look pregnant’ while she was interviewing. I reassured her, telling her that it was illegal to ask about children and that universities are hubs of progressivism. I thought she was being overly nervous about how people would react.

We both started phone interviews in September of that year. Despite interviewing at very respected universities, every single one of her phone interviewers asked if she had kids and their ages, asked about her husband’s job (yes, that language was used), and asked if she wanted more children. The first time this happened I was flabbergasted. They can’t ask those things! She was asked to continue the process at about half of the places where she interviewed via phone, and we were both left wondering the degree to which her answers about her personal life played a role in that percentage.

Conversely, my phone interviews were great and remained focused exclusively on the job. None of my seven phone interviewers asked if I had kids, a partner, or about anything outside of the scope of the job itself. I knew that my continued progress in each search was a function of my professional accomplishments and the degree to which I answered questions about the work.

When we got to the in-person interviews things were even more striking. Again, for me, no mention of my family (partner or children). When I brought up the fact that I had a partner, I had an Associate Dean tell me it would “be easy” to get my wife a job (without even knowing her field or desired position). That’s great, I thought. It seemed like folks were bending over backwards to help me, even after I explained that she was in a very specialized and expensive field. In contrast, my wife was told by her home institution (which tried to recruit her) that since she was pregnant she should take it easy and not interview anywhere else. They did not seem to consider what she wanted or wished for her career.

On her end, the in-person interviews were much the same: interviewers asked what she enjoyed doing in her spare time and what her significant other does for work. During one interview, she was asked if she would take the position if her husband didn’t have a job. They asked her if she was really serious about moving if her husband wasn’t “all in.” Despite her credentials, the decision was framed around “her husband” and “his needs.”

The decision

Our decision came down to two options. The first offered both of us jobs and was able to leverage university money for a spousal hire (with me as the trailing spouse). The second was a medical school that did not have anything for me but was close to family and our ideal location. Her professional circle is very small, and both places knew the options on the table, in part because faculty at both places were colleagues, and in part because faculty had moved between these two institutions recently.

During a conversation at the institution offering positions to us both, a senior faculty member told my partner, “If you move to [the other place] your husband will become depressed and kill himself.” The tone was not jovial. Obviously, this was a very disturbing message, and she called me in tears. She said we had to choose the institution where we both had jobs and that she could not risk losing me. I reassured her that this was ludicrous and that we should question the culture of a place where people say these types of things.

In the end, we decided to go to the option nearer our extended family and where she had a strong offer, in part because we were concerned about the environment and culture at the other institution. I ended up landing a job soon after we moved and we are thankful to raise our children around family.

Once she accepted the offer, she called her boss at the new institution to tell him that she was expecting and to talk through scheduling. He said that he already knew she was pregnant, because a colleague at the other institution told him when he was checking a reference. We were both appalled.

What can we learn from this?

First, sexism is systemic and structural in the academy. Yes, a number of individuals were sexist throughout the process, but what we experienced was embedded into the structure of the academy and the hiring process. We would love to imagine that universities are beyond such antiquated thinking and that they instead treat all genders equitably but that was not our experience. We need to address this problem structurally and systematically if we want to create lasting change. Because individuals in the job search are vulnerable, these changes need to come from current faculty. Search committees may choose to work with their diversity and equity offices in order to prevent biased, gendered, or sexist questions or perspectives from leaking into their hiring processes.

Second, we have to do better. Groups like #womenalsoknowstuff are doing important work to promote and publicize work by women. We should actively look to cite, hire, promote, advocate, and support women in the academy. We cannot expect change without deliberate action. This must happen at all levels: from hiring to syllabus development and leadership selection at every level of a college or university.

Third, men have to take an active role in fighting sexism. I think about the many conversations which were steeped in sexism that occurred throughout our process. I count at least seven people, all men, who expressed sexism in one way or another to my partner throughout the process. All of these men were in positions of power. Everyone has a moral obligation to fight sexism regardless of their identity.

Fourth, as partners we have to come up with ways to be supportive without being a burden. When I first heard about the comments made to my partner, I immediately wanted to do something. I wanted to fix the problem. But the problem wasn’t mine to fix. My role was to support my spouse in ways she found helpful. It wasn’t my job to determine a response to the sexism she experienced. Being an ally means listening, advocating, and supporting what women want without lessening their voices or further marginalizing them.

This week’s guest blogger is a friend of both Amy and Lauren and someone we’ve both known for a long time. He has recorded some harrowing details of the academic hiring processes he and his partner experienced last year. Academic worlds can be very small, especially in the fields in which the author and his partner work. For that reason, when the author asked to remain anonymous, we agreed that that was the right course of action. We think that you’ll understand why when you read this. We are so grateful to this week’s blogger and his partner, not only for telling this story but also for suggesting some corrective actions that can benefit academic searches and universities more broadly. If this represents your experience, too, please tell us more in the comments.