Hilal Nakiboglu: Subtle sexism inside the classroom

I remember meeting my freshman college adviser for the first time. He was a thin, old-ish man with a goatee of sparse white tufts. The kind of person who thought he was charismatic and very charming, but really just came off as being odd and sadly inappropriate.

Let's call him Dr. Tool.

It had been something of a pain, scheduling a half-hour of Dr. Tool's time through the departmental secretary. Before my appointment, I had been made to wait for what seemed like an insultingly long time, with nothing to look at except some glass-encased artifact resembling a mess of welded toilet plungers. All of this had added to my general anxiety over meeting with one from the mysterious "faculty" clan, and by the time I was finally called in, I had managed to sweat my way through the registration forms I clutched.

To say I remember a lot about my conversation with Dr. Tool that afternoon would be a lie. What I do remember was the fact that he had introduced himself, casually swooped down and kissed the top of my right hand in a "Don't-I-remind-you-of-Cary-Grant" kind of way. It made me feel awkward. I didn't know quite what to make of it and reluctantly decided it must be the norm here. Maybe a "gentlemanly peck" on the hand shouldn't be disturbing to me. If this was how things were done in college, then I would certainly not be the one to complain about it.

Fast forward to the following semester. Signing up for a required chemistry class, I realized that the only sections which fit my schedule were those offered by Dr. Tool. As unpleasant a prospect as spending the semester looking at that white goatee was, I figured I could take it. Being in a lecture hall with at least 100 other students would make it all right. I could sit in his blind spot, to the back. I'd go to my TA's office hours instead. I wouldn't ask questions or speak up during lecture. I'd become invisible.

I made it through Dr. Tool's course that year, but not without my share of anxieties. I would slink down in my chair, avoiding any hint of eye contact. I'd cringe every time he referred to some woman in the class as "honey" or "dear." Now many miles (and years) away from Dr. Tool, I look back on his behavior and my silence in its light as being unfortunate. The Dr. Tools of the universe need to realize the profound, disturbing influence sexist behavior and language use has on their students.

Dealing with a Dr. Tool should be no problem for anyone on this campus. In the mid-'90s, his behavior was ignored at my large, public undergraduate institution. Today at Penn, my hope is that Dr. Tool's behavior would not be tolerated. While this is good news, my sense is that a different, more subtle and thus much more dangerous form of sexism can creep its way into college classrooms and be allowed to stay.

My reaction to Dr. Tool had negative consequences for no one other than myself. He made me uncomfortable, and I responded not by confronting him, nor by seeking outside counsel. I responded by trying to disappear. I worry that a lot of my woman friends instinctively react in this way. When faced with something disconcerting, it seems easier for us to shy away from confrontation, to internalize and blame ourselves instead of being objective, secure, fearless. We have learned to keep quiet in classrooms. We have learned to equate being unnoticed with being safe.

Regardless of whether or not you have encountered a Dr. Tool during your education, chances are high that you have been part of classrooms, discussions, groups where, perhaps inadvertently, your voice was undermined or ignored. Somewhere along the line, sadly, many of us make the decision to stop raising our hands. We convince ourselves that what we have to contribute isn't that important anyway. We learn the tricks of how to slide through our calculus class relatively unnoticed. We give up on being a true part of the classroom, settling instead for non-participatory spectator status.

Letting yourself turn into what I did during Tool's chemistry class is a huge disservice. A disservice to yourself, to everyone with whom you share that classroom space. Be aware of your classrooms' dynamics. Be active about being a student here. Own your education. Only you are responsible for getting it. Articulate and assert yourself and your ideas in class. Don't allow for either to be undermined. Above all, don't be the victim of a "Tool."

Hilal Nakiboglu is a second-year doctoral student in Higher Education Management from Ankara, Turkey.

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