The hiring conference for entry-level law professors, known universally and grimly as the meat market, starts today. Having survived my one year as a candidate and many years on the hiring side of the table, I herewith pass on the following advice from a non-lawyer, but similarly experienced, historian, my friend Claire Potter, aka the Tenured Radical:
...[I]n lieu of giving bad advice to candidates, I thought I would give
advice to those people who were doing the interviewing instead. And
it's a particular kind of advice: how not to look like a fool when
interviewing what we now call a "diversity candidate." Now for the sake
of brevity, let's say the candidate is either a man or a woman
(technically all women are diversity candidates), but may also be
either of color or queer (technically queer people are never diversity
candidates. Unless they are -- for some other reason.) Because these
categories are too internally various, and because in fact there is
surprising overlap in some of the ways you could possibly offend the
people who occupy them, let's call them: Martians. And we'll assume for
the sake of clarity in what follows that "you" are not a Martian, and
that "I" am. Are you ready? Let's begin.
1. Do not tell
irrelevant stories about your friends who are Martians, or that your
daughter decided to come out as a Martian last year and how great you
feel about it. I understand that you are doing this to make us
Martians feel as though we are among friends, and to demonstrate your
absolute lack of Martianophobia or your committed anti-Martianism. I
appreciate that. Really, I do. But you know what? It suggests just the
opposite. It suggests that the Martian in your presence, who is me, is
making you uncomfortable, and that you are bravely overcoming it. We
Martians are used to being in the minority, but it makes us impatient
to have other people remind us of it all the time -- in the name of
pro-Martianism, no less. So we will all do better during the interview
if you stick to scholarship, teaching and what the actual requirements
of the job are.
2. Do not take me to a Martian restaurant for dinner.
First of all, a Martian restaurant that is not on Mars, or in a place
with a significant Martian population, is likely not to be any good. It
will serve Martian food cooked to the taste of the non-Martians who
populate your planet. So I will find this depressing. But furthermore,
it suggests that I, as a Martian, am in danger of feeling alienated on
your planet because I may not be able to access my "culture." Though a
Martian, as a scholar and an intellectual, I probably feel I am a
little more cosmopolitan than that.
3. While we are at
dinner, stay away from topics that betray how invisible the other
Martians on campus or on your planet are to you. Telling me that I
may wish to live on the planet one light year away because it has a
larger Martian population is one way of conveying this, as is:
explaining that retaining single Martians is so difficult because it is
so difficult to meet and other, marriageable, Martians on your planet;
or announcing that, incredibly, there is a Martian Episcopalian church
that serves the entire planet right in your canyon! So even though
there aren't many Martians on campus, there will be a terrific
community for me. On Sundays. (Did I say I was religious? Are you sure?)
4. Admit it if your college does a crappy job of recruiting and serving the needs of Martians.
Most colleges and universities that are not on Mars do -- it's not up
to you to apologize for it. As in (1), don't tell me about the one
Martian who graduated Summa and won the department prize twelve years
ago. And although there may be serious Martian politics on campus,
don't assume that I share your view of what it means to be progressive
on these issues, even -- or especially -- if you are a fellow Martian.
5. Refrain from hinting to me coyly that there is someone I "really need to meet" but not telling me why. This is the most frequent way that people have of dropping a few hairpins that I am a Martian (duh), and this other person is a Martian, but being a person who doesn't really "see" or believe in interplanetary differences, you
aren't going to say the word "Martian" (wink, wink.) Most Martians find
this tiresome. We aren't at a job interview to meet other Martians:
we're there to get a job. And if meeting another Martian on campus is
important to me, I'll tell you so.
6. Try to police your references to Martian stereotypes, whether social or intellectual.
Don't ask me, for example, why I ended up a historian and not a flight
engineer; don't tell me that the special barber I need to cut the hair
around my antennae is in the next town over (we don't all have
antennae, ok?); and don't, for heaven's sake, if I am interviewing for
a Renaissance Literature position, reassure me that the Martian Studies
program is very welcoming. Don't put the chair of Martian Studies on my
schedule without asking me, if I am not interviewing in Martian
Studies, or set up lunch with the one other out Martian to talk about
how I might like to work up a Martian survey course once I get a firm grip on
the courses I am actually being hired to teach.
And last of all
-- if you make any of the above errors, please forget about it and move
on -- don't embarrass all of us by dwelling on your faux pas
and trying to repair the damage. Martians are used to being in the
minority, and we can take care of ourselves, thank you very much.
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