A Letter to the Male “Good Apples” about How You May Be Viewed by Your Female Colleagues

Editor’s Introduction: A Letter to the Male Good Apples by Denny Gioia^1*

Are you a guy? Do you consider yourself a good guy—someone who is sensitive to the issues and concerns of the women, women of color and other minority members on your faculty? Yes? Then you need to read this provocative little essay. It will knock your socks off, because the ways in which women perceive and understand male-dominated professions like academia and, perhaps more importantly, how they understand you as a male academic, can be markedly different than you might think. In one important sense, women’s ways of seeing amount to seeing from a different paradigm.

Allow me to tell you a little story to set the stage for reading this essay.

Many years ago, I was part of a symposium organized to explain why it was important that members of our field understand differing conceptual paradigms and their implications for theory and research. People who attend such sessions tend to be fairly knowledgeable and think they know a fair amount about paradigm differences and consequences, but I was not so sure they actually “got it” in something other than an abstract way. I was a bit flummoxed about how to get through to that kind of aware-but-underinformed crowd.

But I got lucky. On the way to the session, I passed a T-shirt shop and on display was a T-shirt that said, It’s a Black Thing. You Wouldn’t Understand. Zounds! What a perfect way to start a conversation about paradigm differences. I bought that T-shirt and led off my presentation by holding it up, saying “This is what we mean when we say that paradigm differences lead to consequential differences in ways of thinking and communicating.” The same could be said about male/female, Black/White, gay/straight, etc., (mis)communications. Even people who think of themselves as “woke” enough to get it, do not really get it, because they are not living the experience of members of the minority or disadvantaged (out)group—sometimes including my own self, who messes up more often that I would like to admit.

Precisely the same observation applies to the essay that follows. Do you, as a White-guy academic think you understand or are at least sensitive to the experience of women of color (or Black people, or international people from other cultures, or others different from you in other ways)? Maybe yes. Probably no. So, listen up! You are gonna read some stuff that could make you uncomfortable.

Is there anger in the letter that follows? Frustration? Disappointment? Insight? Ummm, yes. All that and more. Will it make you squirm? Yes, that too. Should you read it anyway? Yep, without a doubt. Is there some relationship between the point of view represented here and the similar outrage over our failure to understand the Black paradigm? Uh huh. Do different ways of seeing represent the conversion of the old phrase that “seeing is believing” into the more profound observation that, perhaps more often “believing is seeing?” Oh, yes. That is one of the things that understanding differing paradigms—and communicating across paradigms—is all about. If you are a guy, are you ready to learn something important? Yes? Then strap yourself in.. . .

Abstract

This is an open letter to my White-male academic colleagues, whose sometimes well-intentioned attempts to interact with, mentor, or be supportive can come across as tone-deaf to your female colleagues and doctoral students. Maybe you are not quite the good apple you thought you were.

In the aftermath of an incident of racial or sexual violence, many of us often shake our heads in consternation about how the bad acts of a few “bad apples” can cause such harm. When diversity training and other interventions fail, our usual rationale for that failure is that these interventions are unable to get to the heart of the problem—they are an exercise in “preaching to the choir” and are seldom able to reach these bad apples who are the ones who need to change their attitudes and behaviors. It is unsurprising, therefore, that these interventions and training programs do not work.

Here is some food for thought. After nearly 55 years since the passage of the Civil Rights Act, after millions of dollars of investments into diversity training and other interventions, after scores of petitions and well-meaning programs implemented both in academia and in the corporate world, if we are still confronted at this time with overt racist and sexist bias and systematic and institutionalized discrimination, maybe it is time to ask ourselves—were there ever any “good apples?”

But perhaps this is an overly pessimistic view. In the domain of academia, if I look around even in the past couple of decades or so, I do see more women making tenure and more people of color in positions of leadership. There are now several sessions at our conferences devoted to hearing the perspectives of these individuals who by all accounts have “made it.” I have myself been invited to speak at these sessions. They appear to receive a great deal of attention from other minority and female academics. I have felt good relating my experience as a female who happens to be a person of color. It feels like an affirmation and also gives me an opportunity to connect with other colleagues in the field.

I recall one such session on gender issues in academia, which by all accounts was a huge success and was packed with over a hundred women. It was standing room only. Along with me, several members on the panel told stories about our own challenges as female academics; after the session, many women lingered to chat. Yet, in that audience of over a hundred people, there was only one man. No exaggeration—just one man. While we as symbols of success spoke to other women—where were the men? Were they too busy attending sessions on enhancing their research productivity? Were our stories of no consequence or interest to them? Or were they the good apples who did not need to be informed about gender issues in academia?

I have spoken to some of these (mostly, but not all, White male) good apples—henceforth just good apples. There is an abundant supply of them in academia, which makes them generally difficult to avoid. Unless of course, you attend a seminar on gender or racial issues, where they are most notable by their absence. Still, conversations with these good apples tend to leave me dismayed. As I describe (some of) my interactions with various good apples over the years, I invite you as the reader to join me in an uncomfortable journey. As you read about these various types of good apples, check with yourselves and ask this question—how uncomfortable does reading about these good apples make you feel about the future of academia? How optimistic?

Get ready. For some of you, it is going to be a bumpy ride; for others (mostly female), it is going to generate some knowing nods; for still others, it is going to be an exercise in denial; and for yet others, it is going to produce a response like “What is she talking about anyway?”

To start with, I see two categories of good apples. The first category is made up of those who supposedly “get it;” that is, they claim some level of understanding and sympathy for gender and racial issues and causes. The second is the category made up of those who do not claim any such understanding, but they simply have not done anything illegal (as yet)—which is why my generous definition confers on them the mantle of good apples.

Turning first to those who supposedly get it, one common theme I have encountered in my conversations has to do with challenges with work–life balance and related career issues for female academics. For instance, among these good apples, some have recounted how now that their daughters are old enough to join the workforce and have children of their own, they are beginning to understand how tough life must have been for the likes of me who has had to deal with these challenges throughout my career. A common sub-category within this brand of good apples involves those in leadership positions who often take on the role of gender equity champions and sponsors, because now that they have daughters, they realize the challenges that women face and want to do their utmost to bring down barriers for women. By some accounts, this inspiring rhetoric is meant well and might even appeal to an audience of fellow good apples who also get it. Yet, although I am expected to feel optimism and hope through these encounters, I somehow do not. They leave me feeling a deep sense of discomfort.

At this point, you the reader (especially if you are male) are perhaps puzzled by my sense of discomfort. Why? Should not I be feeling affirmed, even upbeat about the future of academia in the hands of such leaders? But consider that these good apples have spent a majority of their careers with little knowledge of the challenges that working women face. Why are they so oblivious? Did they never talk to other women at work about such issues? How could their conversations with female colleagues and students leave them with so little understanding of gender issues in the workplace? What kind of rock have they been living under? More importantly, I also wonder about the other good apples who do not have the benefit of daughters to make them see the light. What will it take, granddaughters perhaps?

There is another subset of good apples who get it. These are individuals who often explicitly take on the mantle of mentors to junior female colleagues and doctoral students. They give advice to these junior colleagues by drawing on their own experiences and challenges with “making it” in academia. For instance, some tell stories of how they even had to be home in time for dinner with their families and yet managed to churn out A-hits every year. Such good apples are also apt to hand out the tissue boxes and offer a shoulder to cry on to the hapless junior female faculty member or doctoral student who is concerned about her ability to succeed. They are there for them; they say that any time these young people want to share their pain, their door is open for them.

I sense that at least some good-apple readers may be beginning to see the problem. Good. But some other readers might still be scratching their heads. This brand of good-apple mentor who also ostensibly gets it and has enjoyed some academic success is eager to hand over their words of wisdom to the next generation of female scholars. Who can fault them for that? To you, the head-scratching reader I say this: Mentoring is a tough job, no doubt. But do these good apples not understand that their experiences come from a completely different world than that which their junior colleague is about to experience? Before offering their self-congratulatory worldview as if it is the normative ideal, did they think about or ask what the experiences of this junior colleague have been up to this point? Have they thought to ask about what her plans and hopes are for her life and her career? Unlikely.

If you deem yourself to be a good apple and are now feeling some sense of discomfort, I urge you to soldier on. Let us consider the second category of good apples; they are men who do not even claim to get it. They see themselves as good apples not because they are mentors or champions for women, but because they have not “done anything wrong” and they do not see a problem.

These good apples believe in “merit” and the importance of hard work in academia. They also believe that they are meritorious and hard working. After all, what other explanation could there be for their success as academics? Given their success, they are also apt to offer unsolicited opinions and words of advice. They are not even interested in leaving their doors open to unfortunate junior females or minority colleagues/graduate students—they instead feel free to offer their unsought advice because of how meritorious and hardworking they are.

For instance, these people might offer comfort to their beneficiaries by letting them know that most universities are looking to hire women, so the female doctoral student on the market should have no trouble finding employment, right? Now imagine if the doctoral student on the market is not only a female but also a member of an underrepresented minority; think about how much more comfort the good apple is able to offer. He draws on his experience in hiring to note that most universities jump at the chance to hire female minority candidates because they can now “check two boxes off.” It is going to be such a breeze for the doctoral student to get a job.

(A quick note: I am always impressed with these good apples who seem to have such a strong belief in and confidence about their own merit. Yet this good apple is unlikely to have checked off any boxes when he made it to the highest levels in academia. One can only commend such a good apple for his proactive effort to offer advice and support to a female, minority doctoral student on the job market. Armed with insights from this good apple, she will no doubt feel nothing but a great sense of confidence in her own ability to succeed. And, she will be forever in his debt).

Now you might think that this do-gooding effort is only targeted to the most junior and vulnerable among our ranks. But no, I have found that good apples have much to offer those of us who not only may have eschewed their advice but, dare I say, even achieved a comparable degree of success in academia as have these august specimens. After having checked several boxes off at an early stage, of course, here are some of us who have actually made it. Here are some of us who, despite our lack of merit and hard work, somehow hoodwinked our way through the blind review process and received some degree of recognition. Now and then we invite some congratulations and pats on our backs from good apples too. Good apples can be good sports.

Here are some examples of the congratulations one might receive from a good apple. “Congratulations! It’s so good to be a female minority; what will it take for people like me to get recognized?” “Congratulations! You know they have been looking to hire women; glad they hired you!” “Congratulations! I think it’s good they recognized you (female person of color), but you know I can’t help feeling the scale has been tipped the other way with all this focus on diversity.” If the recipient of such congratulations acts a tad miffed, he immediately retracts the statement with a perfunctory apology “for any misunderstanding.” The intent or content of the congratulations is not questioned, of course, but the good apple can see how it might have been misconstrued. Bringing up the recipient’s (female, person of color) demographics is par for the course for this good apple. His being a White male of course is never the problem. He is, after all, not only unquestionably meritorious and hardworking, he is also a truth-teller.

Consider the following example of such an apology—which looks for all the world like a sincere expression of contrition. But let us “deconstruct” the apology from the point of view of the recipient, a female of color (me).

An Apology from a Good Apple

“I received an email suggesting there was a misunderstanding after our conversation. I truly apologize if you came away with the impression that I thought you were only appointed because of your gender or ethnicity. Nothing is further from the truth. I believe I said your appointment was well-deserved, and I meant it. You have an outstanding record.

My concern, which I regret having brought up in this context, is not about the qualifications of those receiving recognition, but the qualifications of those who are not recognized. Thus, it is about who may be excluded and why, rather than who is included. I want to see institutions reflect the diversity of their membership, and so am glad that women, folks from other underrepresented groups, etc., are being recognized for their accomplishments, particularly if those characteristics were reasons for exclusion in the past. I do not like bias of any sort and want to see everyone recognized equally for what they do. I am just not sure that is happening right now, and I think the pendulum may have swung a bit far in the other direction, leading other qualified people to be excluded. That is all.

Again, my apologies for any misunderstanding. I think yours is a wonderful honor, you deserve it, and I am sorry if I said or did anything to tarnish it.”

A Deconstruction of the Apology by a Female Academic of Color

This was not a “misunderstanding.” There are three things I want to say in response to your “apology.”

First, clear in your message is the belief in your “deservingness” and your merit—your absolute right to be recognized solely on your merit, not your demographics, and my recognition as somehow being predicated or at least partially attributable to my being a woman and/or a person of color.

Second, your concerns of bias and the pendulum swinging in some other direction are at best laughable; at worst they reflect the moral equalizing and moral licensing that we see unfortunately far too often these days. Since the time people like me enter the field, we are repeatedly reminded by “truth-tellers” like yourself—people who like to “tell it like it is” and “set the record straight” that we received a recognition or a job because we “checked two boxes off.” Yet when people like you receive honors it is because, and only because, you deserved it and earned it. Your merit is unquestionable, mine always slightly suspect.

Third, the fact that you chose to bring up demographics in a simple message of congratulations was not an accident. It is a deliberate strategy to discredit people like me to remind us that while people like you obviously belong and are being overlooked for an honor is a mistake, even a travesty—my belongingness is some sort of remedial measure. Can you imagine a female academic of color walking up to a White-male faculty member and telling him, “Hey congratulations on being hired, they have really been looking to hire White guys these days.” If only. Yet you felt it was well within your rights to bring in demographics in what should have been a simple “congratulations.” This is not a mistake or a misunderstanding—it is deliberate and strategic, even if you might not be consciously aware of its implicit intent.

Too often I have reacted to such statements by trying to assuage the professional egos of men like you, to affirm your credentials and to apologize for my success. All this ends here.

Those of you reading this far might view yourselves as good apples. Perhaps you even might think you fall into one of these categories of (perhaps flawed) good apples. I suspect that you are likely to have a couple of possible responses. The first is outright dismissal. You might think these accounts are overly sensitive responses to well-meant or naïve gestures. A second possible response is defensiveness. You might find yourself making excuses for some of these good apples (something like, “but these people are just jerks to everyone”). A third response might be contrition. You might want to apologize but also ask, “how can I do better?” It might feel like no matter how hard you try, your efforts could be misconstrued or could backfire (as in the aforementioned example). Regardless of your response, you might feel like you no longer understand implicit norms of this new world where you are more frequently encountering people like me who are “different.” You might start wondering if you could ever belong in a world where even being a good apple is not good enough. You might feel a sense of uncertainty and discomfort.

All I can say to you is: I could not care less. Not knowing implicit norms (sports talk anyone?), of not being taken seriously, of feeling a general sense of uncertainty and discomfort are all part of life for the rest of us “oranges” because, you see, we have never been in that crate of apples with you. It is your turn and your time to figure it out. Here is why you need to do it soon:

Emmanuel Acho an NFL player in his thought-provoking podcasts “Difficult Conversations with a Black Man” gives this analogy when he describes the growing intensity of the Black Live Matter movement in recent times: Consider a runner with headphones on who is unable to hear the calls of a Black man on a bicycle telling her to be aware that he is approaching as she is running. Even as the cyclist gets closer, the runner is unable to hear his calls, and eventually, the runner gets hit by the bicycle. Like Acho, we have all been calling out for a long time. You, the good apples, have been running with your headphones on. But here is what I would add to Acho’s analogy: if you get hit by the bicycle, it is not our fault, it is yours. You do not own the road; you never did. You have simply felt entitled to run on it with your headphones on, never having to look to either side. If you feel uncomfortable about being called out for racism or sexism, it is not my job to make you feel better or to provide you with strategies to be better apples. It is yours. Go figure it out, or risk being hit.