If you are on the tenure-track market this fall, you may have already received a plethora of tips on organizing your CV and writing cover letters, but rarely do you get much advice on how to manage your relationships during a job search. And when you do, it tends to focus on dual-career couples. But what about friendships — especially when you are both on the job market in the same field?
We are two Black women, academic friends, and scholar sistas who recently survived the hiring process with tenure-track positions and our friendship in tow. Granted it was not easy. And, at times, it tested our internal sense of self as well as our relationship. Here’s what we learned.
The academic job market is difficult enough, without adding other complications to the mix. Self-care, mental-health support, and stress management are paramount for job candidates in a hypercompetitive market. Equally important as you prepare your application documents and interview answers is to actually plan how you will cope with potential relationship tensions during the academic-hiring cycle.
That kind of planning proved crucial for the two of us, given that we were offered multiple first-round interviews for the same positions, and we were both finalists for a post that we both really wanted. Throughout the job-search process we learned many things, but, ultimately, three strategies helped us to maintain our friendship during those very taxing months.
Strategy No. 1: Have a communication plan for job-market updates. In July 2022, we lunched together on a sunny summer day in Washington Square Park in New York City, anticipating our forthcoming forays on the tenure-track market. We were about to earn Ph.D.s from the same university and academic program, and even had the same doctoral adviser.
We knew that, given our related research interests (on college-student success and Black students), we would likely apply for many of the same positions. It was entirely possible that one of us would get an interview over the other. Facing reality head-on, we created a communication plan.
To allow each of us to lean into the complexity of emotions that might arise, we decided that we would be transparent with position updates but avoid telling each other in person, opting instead for text messages. That allowed us time and space to react authentically and privately, and then respond. We also used this communication strategy to alert each other to application deadlines and newly posted openings.
At the time, we were on the same research team and even had cubicles in the same graduate office. So, when we say we were close — we were literally close spatially and relationally. As a result, we knew we needed to give each other proper space.
Anecdotally we have heard how common it is for candidates applying for the same positions to know or be acquainted with each other. Our situation was probably more intense than most. But whatever the depth of your friendship with “the competition,” establishing a communication plan, and revisiting it throughout the job-market cycle, can be a useful tool for all concerned.
Strategy No. 2: Allow for individual and collective processing of complex emotions. The faculty job market can be bleak and brutal. Even with the best intentions, it is easy to get wrapped up in devaluing your own research and scholarly identity in comparison with others. How that played out for us:
- LaShawn started to occasionally question things that she never questioned before — such as “Why did I study this population?” and was she “too Black” to be considered marketable. Although her confidence was shaken at times, she grounded herself in two core beliefs: that it is possible to support your friend and their amazing scholarship, while simultaneously valuing yourself and championing your own work and contributions to the field.
- Paris would frequently experience waves of jealousy and competitiveness, worrying that academe would only make space for one of us. For support, she incorporated a “mudita” meditation that cultivates joy and happiness by wishing for the success and good fortune of others. Whenever she felt jealous, worried, or competitive, she would take a moment to wish for LaShawn’s happiness and success. That, in turn, increased her sympathetic joy and genuine ability to celebrate her friend’s achievements equally as her own.
Since we were often implicated in each other’s ability to land a tenure-track job, we allotted spaces to process emotions separately and together. Some days and some situations we quickly talked about, while others we waited weeks to discuss. It was an iterative process, and we had to keep revisiting our communication plan even when it was uncomfortable to do so — such as upon discovering that we were two of the three finalists for the same position.
It was also helpful to have mutual friends or colleagues with whom we could both confide. Not only did these people respect us as individuals, they also understood the unique contexts we were in and helped us process hard emotions without feeling like we were talking behind each other’s backs.
Strategy No. 3: Celebrate each other’s wins. After completing campus visits and job talks for the same position, we both waited for “the call.” The department offered the job to Paris, and she accepted. Upon learning that news, LaShawn was happy for her, but of course having to continue traversing the job market was a hard pill to swallow.
After some rejuvenation, prayer, and reflection, LaShawn was able to rest in believing that whatever she needed would find her. To celebrate and process Paris getting a job offer, we met at a Mexican restaurant. You may notice the theme of shared meals: Some research has shown the benefits of having a difficult conversation over a meal. So, food helps! After awkwardly hugging, we shared a tray of chips and guacamole, and began asking the hard questions, laughing, and choosing unity and solidarity over bitterness and strife. LaShawn gave Paris a brightly colored bouquet of flowers, because she wanted to celebrate her success. Three months later, when LaShawn got her own tenure-track job offer, she was greeted with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, compliments of Paris.
All of this took time, intentionality, and deep reflection, not to mention respect, love, commitment, and reciprocity. We prioritized our friendship over any individual disappointments on the market: Whether LaShawn or Paris got the job, we both wanted to remain friends. Even when it did not seem advantageous or easy to do so, we chose to care for each other. That is a choice we have not regretted.
We join the professoriate at a time when tenure is under attack in some states. The faculty-hiring process continues to be rooted in what the late bell hooks called “white supremacist capitalist patriarchal ideologies and traditions,” and presented as a zero-sum game (someone else’s gain is always at your expense).
Yet even in the face of competition, landing a position but losing a cherished relationship, or harming and slandering a friend for the sake of a job, was not a road we wanted to travel down. We embodied Black feminist approaches that centered love, care, relationships, and mental health. We chose to believe that there was enough space for the both of us to shine. Thankfully, we each landed a tenure-track position and felt relief when we were officially off the market.
We don’t want to minimize how hard it is to be on the market together as scholar friends. But with a little planning, and a lot of generosity, transparency, and grace, it can also be a beautiful experience. Maintaining close and meaningful friendships is important for faculty retention, especially for scholars of color. It’s vital in this difficult job market for emerging scholars, especially those from marginalized backgrounds, to advance our careers in ways that resist academic norms of hypercompetition and individual achievement, by any means necessary. Yes, faculty positions are hard to come by. But so is true friendship, and a trusted relationship will help you succeed in your career, far beyond the aftermath of any job-market journey.
