The privilege of being taken seriously: The contested presence of women in academia

Sunday, March 8th, was International Women's Day. In Anne Hathaway's speech to the UN on International Women’s Day, she delivers, “We come together in tribute to the hope and the work and the grit of those who have not yielded to cynicism, who leave the candle of our collective faith in the importance of justice ever-lit.” As undergraduate female students, resisting cynicism can be challenging.

I discovered this when I attended an open discussion on political partisanship in the U.S. government. I enjoyed it and understood it. I thought carefully about my question and enthusiastically raised my hand: “What do we do now that we are at this point? And is there a way to forecast when and how we could come together?” I was met with sharp looks, whispers, and subdued laughter. With a sneer, the presenter retorted, “You would know that if you took my class. Moving on…” I demurely murmured, “Sorry, I am not a political science major.” 

I don’t think I asked a dumb question. While the boys' questions were met with nuance, statistics, and critical thinking, mine were met with dismissal and mockery. My presence felt burdensome. 

This experience reflects a broader reality that women continue to face in academia. 

There is no doubt that in recent decades, women have entered more academic fields than ever before. Over the past 20 years, women have been 15 times more likely to be elected to institutions such as the National Academy of Science (NAS) and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (AAAS). Yet these gains can be misleading. Bias still shapes women’s experiences. Among NAS members, men, on average, had 14,000 more lifetime citations than women. As women move up the academic ladder, they are often underrepresented and underpaid.

Women may now be in the room, but the path to the top is still built for men.

This is partially the fault of tradition. Most academic institutions and research centers around the world have historically been founded by men, who continue to hold senior academic positions. As a result, many academic environments still operate according to norms established by men — unwritten rules that disadvantage women. Language reflects these rules, with research showing that men and women in advanced academic careers often describe themselves using traits traditionally coded as masculine, including independence, self-confidence, and a willingness to take risks and initiative.

In academia, many important decisions happen informally — they are not strictly reached in meetings; they can happen at the coffee machine, at dinner, or at the bar after work. Men often conduct business through informal networks, where conversations and relationships can quietly manipulate outcomes to their advantage. Women, on the other hand, tend to rely on formal procedures, bringing their ideas to meetings only to discover that the decision has already been made elsewhere.

To project authority in a male-dominated industry, Elizabeth Holmes, founder and CEO of Theranos, intentionally lowered her voice to a deep baritone. Her family claimed it was natural, yet her former colleagues noted it was fake, slipping back to a higher pitch when in private or drinking. Deeper voice tones add credibility to leadership, revealing the gender bias embedded in perceptions of authority. Being taken seriously is a privilege, and sometimes that recognition is all it takes to create the one opportunity that transforms a career. 

In this way, some of the most successful women emulate the masculinity of their environment and even perpetuate stereotypes of young women in the process. Known as the Queen Bee Phenomenon, female faculty members are more likely than male faculty members to hold stereotyped views of young women and to underestimate their career commitment early in their academic and professional careers. 

The laughter that hurt most came from a female counterpart in the front row. 

After my experience, I felt cynical. Maybe I brought up a class joke or concept they had already discussed ad nauseam. These are both viable possibilities. But I still felt small — a feeling I hope not to feel again, though I anticipate I will. Being taken seriously should not be a privilege. Yet in many academic spaces, it still is.