L ast March, as I read an article in The New York Times about sexual harassment in STEM fields, I recognized pieces of the narrative the author shared — just not the sexual part. In my case, a male colleague’s desire to connect with me was a crushing weight without a sexual component. Over time it felt like being pinned down, as if I were a bug with his thumb on my back.
It started with a favor. One day he asked me how I was doing, because I looked upset. I was struggling to finish an in-house grant proposal and had to be on a plane the next day, when it was due to be submitted. He offered to help. The next day, I sent him my grant materials and he drove to the campus and submitted them for me. His favor ensured that I met the deadline. I was grateful. I felt indebted to him.
We spent more time together. As a junior scholar, I was conscious of taking up too much of his time. He insisted. He assured me that he had “all the time in the world.” At first that seemed generous.
And then it was the last day of the semester. He called to ask if I wanted to go for a beer. I’d love to, I said, but I had to finish grading and wrapping presents before guests arrived. His voice grew cold. A week later, in the middle of the holiday, he left a voice mail: Why had I not responded yet to an email he’d sent? He sounded upset.
The email was not about any urgent issue. No action was at stake. I had already called him back, purely out of professional courtesy, before realizing how inappropriate it all was. I decided to make clear that I wouldn’t stand for that sort of thing. I scheduled a meeting with him. I was unequivocal. It was not to happen again. He apologized, profusely. And he expressed concern that we were drifting apart.
We all agree that women should be free from sexual harassment in the workplace. Should we not also be free from serving as sources of companionship for those colleagues who develop careers in academe at the expense of friendships or lives outside?
His requests for my time became overwhelming. We were scheduling times to schedule time. I told him on a Monday that I would get in touch with him the following week to plan time to write a joint conference paper. Two days later, he sent me an email: He needed to plan his schedule immediately. Could we speak by phone? I didn’t respond, leaving it until the next morning. Before I could call him, he sent a second email. He hadn’t heard back from me. Was I OK? If I didn’t have time to follow up with him, he said, it might be best if he, out of respect for my time, withdraw from our project.
I wrote a sharp reply: Could he grant me 24 hours to respond to one of his emails before firing off another?
He supposed that he could, though he was disappointed. And hurt. It was then I realized that the meter was always running with this guy. Hadn’t he done me a favor once, and didn’t that warrant the courtesy of a reply about whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it? He informed me that he was withdrawing from our project and wished me all the best with my promising career.
I spent the first part of the weekend angry, when I should have been celebrating the fact that I had just been granted a sabbatical. But on Saturday he left a voice mail congratulating me and brimming with warmth. We talked on Monday, I explained my objections to his demands on my time, he apologized, and we seemed to reach an understanding. We even renewed our plans to write the conference paper.
Then we went to the conference, where it became clear that nothing had changed. In one particularly unnerving incident on that trip, we were sitting together working on our laptops. Suddenly he snapped at me: “What are you doing?” Instinctively I apologized for my inattention. Then I realized he was angry with me because I was absorbed in something other than him. I decided to just get through the conference and get home. For the rest of the day, I gave him my full attention. I listened to his stories. I answered his questions.
After we returned from the conference, we went for a drink. Why would I do that? I was up for tenure and didn’t want to lose the support of a colleague who had taken an interest in my work. It was clear, after all, that his support would be all or nothing. I felt I could manage it. I didn’t want to make enemies in my department. And I thought of myself as someone who could handle difficult people.
So, with the semester ending and my sabbatical about to begin, I had a drink with him. Out of nowhere, he said, I know you’ll be working on that book project of yours, but I’m looking forward to working on our project together during your sabbatical. I knew then that I had to cut him off. But in that moment, all I said was that I planned to focus on my own research during my sabbatical. He said nothing.
Our final disagreement came over some objections he made to the thesis of a student of mine. This time I pushed back, and, sure enough, he sent me another email, once again withdrawing his time and attention. The next day I skipped a faculty breakfast to avoid him, but he saw me enter the building and appeared at my office door a few minutes later. I told him I didn’t want to talk to him. He insisted I was being unreasonable and rude. I let him in. He had rehearsed another apology, which he delivered. I told him I was done talking to him.
Shortly afterward we had to go sit on a stage for graduation. He sat behind me. In the time before the ceremony began, he talked loudly to a woman who lectured in our department. He sounded manic. He told her how much he had heard about her, how much he’d like to hear more about her projects, how impressed he was with her. I looked out at the rows of parents and wondered how I had been transported back to middle school.
He wrote to me again, suggesting that we schedule a meeting with our department chair to discuss my student’s thesis defense. But by that time, I’d found out that I had received tenure. I was done feeling harassed, so I made clear I would not meet with him. There was nothing more to discuss. I took my sabbatical.
I was angry for months. I was furious with myself for putting up with his constant demands for attention. I was angry that he believed his time was worth more than mine according to some objective market measure. I was angry that he felt magnanimous about helping me.
Even worse, I still felt trapped. There was no way to confront him without giving him more of my time and energy. Even thinking about him meant giving him my time and energy. And he was happy to take my attention in any form he could get. Each time I had drawn a line had been a chance for him to play “It is because I respect you as much as I do that I want to be absolutely sure I understand where the line is.”
When he told me of his plans for my sabbatical, I realized his goal wasn’t to get me to do anything specific. It was about filling up his time so that he felt less lonely. Every time I engaged, he got the attention he felt entitled to. By continuing to engage, I had lent a sense of normalcy to it all.
There lies the dilemma: What do you do when the choice is either break off contact with a colleague or waste your time managing his demands?
Does any of this even register on the scale of workplace grievances?
Much of it could have been avoided if I never socialized casually with my colleagues. I can’t prove that his evaluation of my teaching during my tenure case would have been stronger had I never objected to his behavior. I can’t deny that academia would be better off were we all to cultivate promptness and gratitude. But I didn’t write this to prove myself aggrieved.
We all agree that women should be free from sexual harassment in the workplace. Should we not also be free from serving as sources of companionship for those colleagues who develop careers in academe at the expense of friendships or lives outside? It is no less cheap to leverage your professional standing into an economy of tiny favors than it is to make sexual advances. Must something lewd transpire before we call that harassment?
My only goal in writing this is to reach other academics, especially junior ones, who feel pinned down by an overbearing colleague. I hope some of them will read this, realize they are not the ones being rude and unreasonable, and set themselves free.
