Who speaks for economic geography?

From the perspective of a female (feminist) economic geographer, Ron Martin’s recent claims in this journal that British economic geography has been ‘emasculated’ (Martin, 2018) are especially galling. In this short exchange, I will set out exactly why this term is problematic, given the continued male dominance of our field, and discuss the wider issue of who speaks for our discipline and who is given voice. This piece is set against the broader masculine academic culture within which we operate, which has been exposed and pushed against by, for example, Akinleye (2006), Hanson (2000), Maddrell et al. (2016) and Mott and Roberts (2014). Within this wider dynamic, this piece speaks to the male dominance of economic geography as a distinct sub-discipline.

Recent exchanges have alerted the readership to a potential crisis in British economic geography which may threaten the discipline’s survival – namely the migration of economic geographers from geography departments to business and management schools (James et al., 2018a). However, the real crisis exposed, and ignored, by this exchange is that British economic geography is spoken about and by, overwhelmingly – or, if this particular debate is representative, exclusively – white men. This is in spite of what Werner et al. (2017) have termed ‘tentatively’, or perhaps optimistically, the ‘Feminist upsurge in economic geography’, challenges to the status quo of economic geography spearheaded by Gibson-Graham and Massey, and McDowell’s long-term efforts to acknowledge and promote the work of women both within and beyond economic geography’s borders, and to question the theoretical basis of the field:

How and why, given all the valuable work done by feminist scholars, does that series of grand claims made about economic transformation still stand? (McDowell, 2016: 2094)

This piece is structured as follows. First, I will explain how the recent debate sparked by James et al., (2018a) has enacted a broader problem within economic geography of a lack of female perspectives and voices being given space or attention. I will also counter-balance their masculinist interpretation of who and what represents a thriving discipline and a successful practising economic geographer. Second, I will provide some hard evidence of a gender imbalance based on James et al.’s (2018a, 2018b) interpretations of the economic geography field. This will be followed by some personal experiences of working as a woman within economic geography. Finally, I will reflect on the use of the term ‘emasculation’ (Martin, 2018) and argue that in the midst of all the hand wringing about the future of economic geography in the UK, a much more profound and important crisis has been revealed.

The contemporary situation of women in economic geography reflects broader patterns in the discipline as a whole, and in this sense my piece speaks beyond narrowly defined sub-disciplinary boundaries. Thanks to research conducted by Maddrell et al. (2016), we are clear on the disparities that exist within geography higher education in the UK, and also on the lack of engagement with this issue:

Despite burgeoning growth in feminist scholarship within geography, sparse attention has been given directly to women’s position in UK HE geography in the more than 20 years since … McDowell brought feminist methodologies, gender-based power relations and the ‘difference gender makes’ in academic geography to the fore. (Maddrell et al., 2016: 48).

When we write our disciplinary stories and histories, who is represented and who is overlooked? I question why gender balance was not embedded in this research from the outset (either in the authorship or the named contributors). ¹ My assertion is that as this debate is, in essence, about mobility, and knowing from the principal author’s previous research that mobility delineates along gendered lines (James, 2014), and first-hand experiences of Women striving for work–life balance and the demands of mobility in contemporary academia (Pugh and Thomas, 2018), a thorough treatment of gender should have been embedded in the research from the outset. My main purpose in this piece is not to focus on the shortcomings of the original research (James et al., 2018b, 2018a), but there are some key points worth highlighting before moving on to the more pressing issue of Martin’s claims of emasculation of economic geography. Of 87 ‘movers’ identified, 17 (or 20%) are female, and only 10 were included in the survey. Women do not appear to be well represented, and it is unclear how well their voices are being heard and how great an effort has been made to include women’s experiences and perspectives. ² James et al. (2018a) claim that business and management schools are ‘welcoming’ female economic geographers; however, many of us have never felt welcome anywhere within the academy.

James et al. characterise economic geopgraphers as one who publishes in Economic Geography or the Journal of Economic Geography, ³ attends the Summer Institute in Economic Geography and the Global Conference on Economic Geography. Clearly, these attributes correlate to a masculinized work culture of publishing in the very top journals and attending international conferences, which we know to be problematic for academics with caring responsibilities, and to result in exclusion from networks. I do not, however, aim to challenge the research carried out, but to question the masculinized assumptions therein about what a thriving discipline and a successful and active economic geographer look like. In making this critique I draw on the work of Berg and Domosh, who, by turning their gaze inwards towards disciplinary practices and modes, expose masculinist (and indeed racist) behaviours embedded within geography (Berg, 2001; Domosh, 1997, 1998; Henry and Berg, 2006), and long-term efforts to call out sexism in geography (Monk and Hanson, 1982).

I am quite convinced that, as James et al. (2018b) evidence, British submission to certain journals and attendance at some conferences is on the decline, but what I am less convinced about is whether this is representative of economic geography or economic geographers, and whether it matters. Do these trends really herald a ‘crisis’ or ‘decline’ as Barnes and Martin interpret them (see Barnes, 2018; Martin, 2018)? Vital, invigorating work is being carried out by British ⁴ economic geographers ⁵ in a range of outlets which would not have been picked up by James et al.’s measures. Exciting examples pushing the current disciplinary boundaries include: Richardson’s (2018) ‘Feminist geographies of digital work’ in Progress in Human Geography; Cranston’s (2016) exploration of Global Work in Geoforum; Cookson’s (2016) critique of conditional cash transfers in Antipode; and Cockayne’s (2018) paper in this journal about discrimination and gendered ideas of workplace culture. None of these contributions are in the ‘international flagship mouthpieces of our field’ (James et al., 2018a: 2). Furthermore, calls to locate a ‘core’ to the discipline raise legitimate concerns regarding who is privileged with entry to that core.

Setting aside the debate over who is an economic geographer, and where they publish, if we take James et al.’s characterization of economic geography and evidence of its decline as a given, when we apply a gender filter to their measures the picture of contemporary economic geography becomes yet more depressing. And Martin’s claims of emasculation of the subject seem even more laughable. Looking at the two ‘mouthpieces’ of the field, the editorial boards are an instant sign of gender imbalance in the upper academic echelons of our discipline: Journal of Economic Geography has four male editors; Economic Geography fares better, with one of four editors being female (Jane Pollard). ⁶ Adding Martin’s inclusions of key journals in the field gives us, in the case of Regional Studies, a massive eight men and two women (Jennifer Clark and Jun Du), and in the case of EP:A four more male editors and two women (Jessie Poon and Kathe Newman). Moving on to the content of those journals, which we would assume to be less hierarchically constituted (and thus perhaps inclusive of more women authors if, as Maddrell et al. (2016) show, the gender gap is especially pertinent as we move up the academic geography food chain): Economic Geography’s most recent publication (Vol. 94, Issue 3) includes published work by 10 male authors and 2 women. Taking the Journal of Economic Geography’s latest issue (Vol. 18, Issue 3), we see 18 male authors published and 2 women. If we exclude the book reviews section, there are no female authors.

Let us briefly consider those employed within economic geography in the main five departments that James et al. identify as containing significant economic geography clusters, alphabetically: Cardiff, London School of Economics, Newcastle, Nottingham and Queen Mary University of London. ⁷ In total, 38 male academics are listed within these groups and clusters, and 14 women. Of course, this analysis is basic, and much better treatment of the issue is offered by Maddrell et al. (2016) and earlier by McDowell and Peake, but it serves to show that we are living through the same old, ‘same old story’ (see McDowell and Peake, 1990). Nor does this stating of the facts galvanize or illustrate the issue in the way that the Great Lakes Feminist Geography Collective or the Geography Guerrilla Girls before them did through flyering large conferences to illustrate the lack of female faculty in North American geography departments (Domosh, 2014); ⁸ clearly this issue is pertinent beyond the UK context.

It is, however, exhausting to have to keep rehearsing these points, as Ahmed points out so eloquently when she describes the brick wall women are repeatedly throwing themselves against (Ahmed, 2017). It is also exhausting, and infuriating, to repeatedly hear senior and well-known professors in the field doing so little positive work (or indeed so much harm) when it comes to gender dynamics in economic geography. Martin’s use of ‘emasculation’ when describing the current ‘decline’ or ‘crisis’ in the discipline is plainly ridiculous. Responding directly to his claim, and as a practice in ‘finding my voice’, I will list some personal stories of life as a female economic geographer, ⁹ inspired by Domosh (2015) encouraging geographers to ‘open their cupboards’ because:

Overt acts of sexism, racism, and homophobia in Geography are far less apparent than they used to be, but not so their subtle, small, everyday enactments, what Chester Pierce called microaggressions, that serve to keep people in their place (and that oftentimes means out of Geography). The words that recognize and speak back to these microaggressions are difficult to conjure; a rebuke does little good since the insult wasn’t ‘intended,’ while a complaint raises the specter of the ‘sensitive and difficult person.’

As a PhD student I was called ‘white trash’ by a more senior male academic for refusing his romantic advances at a conference.

At another conference I was told that ‘conferences are for having affairs’.

During a coffee break, a senior male colleague made passing reference to my ‘boobs’.

At job interviews for positions as economic geography faculty I have been asked about my family and childcare arrangements. I didn’t get the jobs.

Senior male academic: ‘I think your work is too angry.’

Senior male academic: ‘What authority do you have?’

Economic geography undergraduate: ‘Who is this girl? Is she the lecturer?’

Fellow conference attendee upon seeing my badge: ‘There’s a guy with the same name as you who publishes in economic geography.’

The instances of being talked over, underpaid for doing the same job as a male colleague, not invited out for drinks, mansplained, patronized, etc. are far too many to list here. Following the revelations of the #MeToo campaign I feel (relatively) fortunate. The purpose of this list is to expose some of the everyday grief and belittlement female economic geographers experience in their workplaces on a semi-regular basis. As per Ahmed (2013):

If you are screened out (by virtue of the body you have) then you simply do not even appear or register to others. You might even have to become insistent, wave your arms, even shout, just to appear. And then of course how you appear (as being insistent) means you still tend not to be heard.

This piece represents my own small effort to lend my voice to those shouting about these issues. I hope that in light of the macro situation illustrated above by the underrepresentation of women in leadership and prominent positions in the field, and the lack of inclusion of female authors in the ‘mouthpieces’ for economic geography, along with the personal weight of dealing with this everyday sexism on a daily basis, economic geography colleagues will understand my disbelief that our subject has been ‘emasculated’. ¹⁰ I reject that claim, and I reject the language used. In spite of the amazing work of female economic geographers (professors, authors, editors, struggling graduate students and post-docs, I take my virtual hat off to you), economic geography is still, largely, a man’s world. The recent debate, and in particular Martin’s intervention, expose and re-entrench the discipline’s more profound and hidden problem, which is the very opposite of emasculation. As a final word, Al-Hindi’s reflections from 2000 still seem painfully relevant:

Creating genuinely equal opportunities in geography departments for women and others who are different from the able-bodied, middle-class, white heterosexual male model of ‘the geographer’ depends upon challenges to and transformations of the structures which bear on the discipline, rather than solely upon individual initiative (Al-Hindi, 2000: 697).

In conclusion: Emasculation? Yes please!