'Fit', Mentoring, and Commitment

MUSINGS ‘‘Fit,’’ Mentoring, and Commitment SHAY WELCH FIT In many philosophy departments, women are isolated—having only themselves or a small cluster of colleagues on whom to rely and with whom to share. Whether or not male-dominated departments are overtly sexist, the day-to-day encounters of classrooms and syllabi overflowing with male theorists can be alienating. This experience is enough to make one question why and how it is that she is in that room too—and more demoralizing—if it isn’t some sort of mistake that she is there. Combine the physicality of being outnumbered with pursuing an under-represented, and not infrequently balked-at, area of study— feminist theory—and one can almost feel the welcome mat bequeathed to the philosopher kings being yanked out from underneath her feet. For women and feminist philosophers, then, the question of ‘‘fit’’ asks more than if there is someone with whom to work—it asks if there is someone with whom to work and to relate.1 Because men are in their own company in philosophy, they have an extensive pool of potential role models from which to draw, and this provides ample sources for intellectual and professional grooming. Yet given the relative isolation of women in philosophy, the question of whom to look to for such training looms large. That men will be fully and properly integrated into the profession is a reasonable assumption within academia that does not apply to women. Because women don’t have the same social networking options available within the traditional ‘‘boys’ club’’ of academia, it becomes easy for them to lose their way. Silence saturates the woman’s and feminist’s experience.2 The silence of women—whether in voice or written word—in the classroom and common room is the most obvious way in which women recognize their overall lack of ‘‘fit’’ in philosophy. But silence is not solely a problem concerning her expression of her thoughts. Silencing also pervades her experience as an academic, even if she finds a way to think in and through the words of men. The social silencing that occurs when one is an outsider leads to a professional disabling. If no one understands or can be bothered with the particular obstacles women Hypatia vol. ]], no. ]] (]]]) r by Hypatia, Inc. 2 Hypatia face in front of a ‘‘peer’’ audience or an interviewing committee, if no one can explain and speak to this real but unacknowledged phenomenon that all women eventually crash into, female and feminist philosophers will remain the elusive, endangered creatures they are today. For women and feminists, this makes the issue of mentoring in philosophy synonymous with ‘‘fit.’’ MENTORING It is assumed that the question of ‘‘fit’’ is not one that should pose difficulties for those pursuing academic careers. But this assumption is based on the expectations that students will have had someone to guide them from the beginning. In my own experience, I was neither at the sort of university that catered to budding intellectuals nor did I have professors who took an active interest in me. That was just not the sort of school my moral luck had placed me in. So when I applied to graduate school, I was already behind in the know-how of the how-to, as it were, of applying to and selecting a graduate department. No one told me I was supposed to look for people to work with who shared my interests, to look for a female-friendly department, or to look at the number of women on the faculty and in the graduate student population. These, I found, are the most important aspects of deciding about where to go. Without this superficial ‘‘fit,’’ there is no room to grow and no room to belong. As one might expect, I ended up in a department where I did not ‘‘fit’’ but was lucky enough (an ironic use of the term) to find a professor who also did not ‘‘fit.’’ Yet we fit each other, and she became my first mentor. This is when I began to see clearly why I had felt that I was lacking something the others had, though I had never been able to put my finger on it before; I thought the deficiency was in my own capability, as women often do. The importance of an involved mentor to a young academic’s career is inestimable. The mentoring that occurs between a student and her mentor spans the professional domain and spills over into the personal. The introduction to female writers whose voice sounds something like one’s own, the warnings about predatory colleagues, the long lunches spent sharing insecurities, and the warm, prideful smiles and winks returned for delivered, brilliant work are all personal touches needed to enhance the lessons on professional writing, reviewing, and mock interviews.3 A strong mentoring relationship, and all the practices it assumes, can bring about a genuine feeling of ‘‘fit’’ and can open opportunities for a young scholar. Although some may argue that this list of personal touches is overstated and that philosophy is largely a solitary practice, they simply fail to notice that they’ve had such mentoring from the outset. Although the availability of a female or feminist-friendly professor contributes most to a female or feminist scholar’s development, it does not necessarily Shay Welch 3 ensure that students will receive the sort of attention necessary to develop a knowledgeable grasp of the ins and outs of professional academia. Although a productive and close relationship with one faculty member may engender success, feminists have shown time and again that ‘‘it takes a village.’’ Mentoring, when done properly, is a heavy burden to bear. And even those who carry a deep-seated commitment to it can only impart so much knowledge and invest so much time. So if women remain isolated, how can young scholars find the ‘‘fit’’ so crucial to their advancement? The need for a larger community of peers—or rather, a village—within the profession is not a trade secret; area-centered professional organizations have long served this purpose. Recently, an influx of specialized professional organizations has responded to the needs of women and feminists in the field. These organizations provide a platform for work that systematically had been rejected because it was considered ancillary, while also opening up room for informed dialogue and critique from one’s intellectual peers. In short, SWIP, SWAP, FEAST, and the like have penetrated the silence of ‘‘fit’’ and have given voices to those who once occupied the academic background.4 But like the one-onone relationship, one’s relationship with her professional organization should involve more than simply a space within which to deliver her work and gain feedback. Professional organizations contribute to mentoring in many ways. Because they hold annual or biannual conferences and sessions at the APA meetings, female and feminist members of these organizations develop a familiarity with the other members and close personal and/or professional relationships with some. These relationships are key additions to graduate student mentoring practices for they may result in in-depth feedback to questions concerning both scholarship-based and profession-based hardships from people who do what you do and who have been where you’re about to be. However, one problem remains with this model. Many young scholars lack the courage to approach the ‘‘celebrities’’ to discuss work; and unfortunately, even if they do, sometimes they do not get the response one might expect from someone who’s walked in their philosophical shoes. This experience can lead a newcomer to feel defeated and harks back to similar trouble she may be experiencing in her own department. One way to resolve this problem is for feminist organizations to institute formal mentoring programs for junior scholars. It ought not be on our watch that someone in our ranks falls through the cracks! FEAST has recently instituted such a program for its graduate student members. Because graduate students have a tendency to fade into the background at professional conferences and in listserv discussions, FEAST has proposed matching each graduate student member with one senior faculty member who works in that student’s area of specialization. Because the program is new, only 4 Hypatia a few pairs have been established, but each pair has expressed mutual satisfaction thus far. Maybe this is because each pair is based on a mutual understanding of the needs each has and is willing to fill. Thus some pairs discuss only questions relating to teaching or the job market; other partnerships—such as my own—are highly involved. Mentoring relationships need not all be equally demanding. My point is that all young scholars have mentoring needs that should be met. Outside of one’s department, it seems that professional organizations are the best places to develop and institute proper mentoring practices and relationships. COMMITMENT Based on my own experience, one feature clearly differentiates a mentor from a professor with whom one merely works regularly: commitment. Because good mentoring practice involves attention to personal and emotional development in addition to professional skill development, one cannot be a mentor—or even a mentee—without the proper commitment to her partner. Imagine a long-term work relationship between a graduate student and a senior faculty member.5 In one scenario, a student spends long hours following a faculty member around—attending every class she teaches, every conference at which she speaks, reading every piece of work she’s written, and simply watching her maneuver through the political adventures of the department. This professor works well with the student, reviews her course work along with the other students’, invites her to functions, and is friendly to the student. From this relationship, the student is able, through study and observation of the professor, to cultivate professional skills that help her advance as a scholar. Now envisage that a senior faculty member takes a special interest in a graduate student who possesses sparkling potential. The professor invites the student to professional events, offers to spend time chatting in the office, and takes time to review submission materials. But suppose that the student accepts the comments and invitations but declines one-on-one time with the professor. Through this relationship the professor helps the student develop and fine-tune professional and writing skills. But in both cases one would be hard-pressed to identify either relation as a mentoring relation. The first case resembles an idolatry relation, where the one with lesser power mimics the one with more power in the hopes of approximating the professor’s success. The second relation resembles a strictly professional relationship, where the student accepts professional advice but refrains from a closer connection. Both cases resemble unrequited love, in a certain way. This is because one person is willing to make an investment—a commitment—to the other, which the other spurns. Like any personal relationship, both people must be willing to commit for substantive mentoring to take place. Shay Welch 5 In the context of mentoring, commitment is conceptualized in terms of the professor’s attitudinal disposition to the student and to the relationship.6 One way to conceive of mentoring commitment is to regard it as existing above and beyond the professor’s professionally required responsibilities to the student. When one commits to a person, one develops an attitude toward that person that regards her as a personal priority. Mere recognition of responsibility to a student becomes a commitment when the professor intentionally moves to regard both the student and the requirements of the mentoring relationship as deeply important. This is why I liken a mentoring commitment to an investment. The traditional professor–student relation comes stocked with a predetermined set of duties that if met will suffice for the professor having done a decent job. Moreover, one may become a great professor by adding a likable teaching style and quick feedback. But even in the case of a great professor, there is no commitment and so no mentoring unless there is attention to particular students beyond what the stock set of professorial duties requires. A committed teacher is typically described as one who goes beyond her duties and takes an active interest in the students and their needs. Thus a committed mentor moves beyond the given responsibilities of the professor–student relation and invests her own time, personal knowledge, and emotional energy grooming that student into her own new and improved professional being. As in a committed personal relationship, the committed mentor feels a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction with the growth of the student. The commitment to mentoring brings with it the mutual satisfaction and valuation of the efforts put in by the mentor and the mentee—as particular individuals. If this personal valuation of the person is absent, one cannot be said to be truly committed, and so one cannot be said to be truly a mentor.7 Commitments are not all or nothing phenomena; there are stronger and weaker degrees of commitment. But in the one-on-one mentoring relation, the commitment of the mentor to the mentee must take a strong form. This means that the personal valuing of the student and the relation must be accorded substantial weight in the professor’s overall professional value schema.8 But since mentoring is practiced in more than one domain, different levels of mentoring commitment are possible. Professional organizations must adopt and maintain a commitment to fostering mentoring and must incorporate this value into their comprehensive objective framework. Organizations that formally promote and facilitate mentoring relations among their members exemplify how organizations can commit to mentoring by treating mentoring practices as central to their mission. At the personal level within organizational mentoring, such as the arranged mentoring pairs of the FEAST Mentoring Program, a similar sort of commitment holds as that of the one-on-one mentoring relation, though in a more diluted form. The commitment is still signified by the professor’s attitude toward the student and the relation, but 6 Hypatia given that the student is not at the same home institution as the professor, the importance of that relation need not carry as much significance in the professor’s value schema for the relation. Both student and professor have duties to their own institutions, so it is impossible for the same extent of investment to be made to each other. Though the relation may carry less weight, it constitutes committed mentoring insofar as the professor and student value each other as particular individuals and gain mutual satisfaction from the growth of the young scholar. Because mentoring at the individual level requires personal involvement and connection, the commitment that motivates the fulfillment of the student’s needs can be both satisfying and costly. Mentoring relationships are fed almost completely from the professor’s own reservoir of knowledge, experience, and attachment ability. This means that the relationship itself, regardless of the professor’s care for the student, can be parasitic; the student may unintentionally demand too much attention and affection from the professor, and the professor may unintentionally lose sight of where to draw the line between mentoring and over-familiarity. Thus the gives and takes of the relationship, when there are too many of each, may ultimately strain the relationship itself. This puts mentoring commitment in danger of becoming what Lisa Tessman calls ‘‘burdened virtues, virtues that have the unusual feature of being disjoined from their bearer’s own flourishing’’ (Tessman 2005:4). Moreover, because mentoring relations are personal relationships, they are vulnerable to exploitation, especially since the relationship is rooted in a power relation of professor to student. On one end, the student may exploit the professor’s commitment by consciously making unnecessary or inappropriate demands for her own benefit, for example, when the student attempts to solicit personal resources from the professor (personal monies, unrelated recommendations, and so on). On the other end, the professor may use the student for personal gain (editing work or reorganizing the office without compensation) or simply rely on the student’s affection toward her to excuse her of professional responsibilities owed the student. For these reasons, mentors must be careful to keep their commitment within reasonable boundaries. CONCLUSION ‘‘Fit.’’ That’s what we—we, women, we, feminists—learn is key; and more often than not, we learn this lesson through tribulation. The room we, ourselves, make for women in philosophy is central to both our survival and our sanity within the profession. The commitment to mentoring, personally and organizationally, serves this goal of giving women and feminists their place—their ‘‘fit’’—in the under-representative sphere of ideas that is philosophy and professional academia. Shay Welch 7 NOTES With all my love, respect, and appreciation, I dedicate this musing on mentoring to Maria Morales and Bat-Ami Bar On, without whom I would not be living my dream. 1. I frequently separate female philosophers and feminist philosophers because there are male feminists who need proper mentoring. 2. There have been efforts on the part of feminists to both act against and theorize this silence. However, in many philosophy departments, these efforts have yet to infiltrate the silencing practices. 3. The personal touches I invoke in my description distinguish a successful adviser and a mentor. In my experience, when feminists speak of their mentors, there is always a degree of fondness and affection for that person that exceeds training. This aspect is not necessary for good training but it does seem to be a fact of the relationships women and feminists forge and is important to building self-esteem that helps women and feminists overcome some of the more insidious aspects of academia. 4. Society for Women in Philosophy, Society for Women’s Advancement in Philosophy, Association for Feminist Ethics and Social Theory. 5. I do not highlight the junior faculty–senior faculty relation here because I do not have the space here to address the differences between graduate student and junior faculty mentoring relations but I do maintain that mentoring is important to that relation. 6. This understanding of commitment draws on my work done in ‘‘Social Freedom and Commitment.’’ 7. This does not imply that the personal component of the mentor–mentee relation is as involved as a friendship, only that there is a personal component to the relationship. If this relationship evolves into friendship, the friendship relation and the mentor relation remain distinct relations. 8. I say ‘‘professional’’ schema because the mentor relation need not carry as much significance to the individual’s overall value schema. REFERENCE Tessman, Lisa. 2005. Burdened virtues: Virtue ethics for liberatory struggles. Oxford: Oxford University Press.