Yesterday I attended a Symposium on Theatre and Fandom at Bristol University. Generally and academic blog worthy post anyway this was particularly significant as it was the first academic event I'd gone to in over a year.
At first more by default than design, as I found myself out of academic or even alt-ac employment and well, frankly conferences are expensive things and involve taking time out of your job to do. I didn't consciously stop going, I just stopped looking for opportunities to go. But also given that I've now failed as an academic the longer I went without the more pointless it seemed to go.
I hadn't consciously thought of it but my last conference was also an unpleasant experience. I feel terrible saying so as I know one of the organisers who is a lovely person. And it's far from their fault. But that last conference was the kind where I began by getting lost trying to find the venue (for over an hour) and found myself laughed at for it (I'm dyslexic can't read maps for shit, have zero sense of direction get lost really easily). Then the keynote speaker proceeded to talk about how much they hated the two texts I was talking about, much to the agreement of much of the audience. On delivering my paper a co-panelist said he recognised me from somewhere...turned out that somewhere was the last time we were at a conference together and he proceeded to mansplain my entire PhD to me by way of a 'question'. So yeah barrel of laughs that one was.
In the proceeding 18 months or so I've felt less and less welcome in the academic community. I'll be completely honest, I spent the Saturday before sat crying at the dining room table instead of actually writing my talk. Not only did I have nothing to say it all seemed so pointless. Because really what's the point of going to an academic event if you're never going to be an academic? and if that community has made it quite clear you're not welcome? I spent much of the week before worrying about this, and wishing I'd never agreed. In my ongoing commitment to being honest about these things I did air these on Twitter because rather than being 'unprofessional' (and I'm not sure you can be unprofessional when not allowed IN the profession but anyway) we have a duty to no longer gloss over the difficult aspects of academia and pretend all is well. On talking to Kirsty Sedgeman the event organiser and long time online friend, I was reassured I had support from within and decided to go (telling myself I could run away at lunchtime if I needed to).
I got lucky in finding a familiar face on the train as well, which meant I didn't have to walk in alone (or indeed try and find the venue alone again!). And the way the event was organised was definatly a blessing- 10 minutes to talk for each person, no direct questions- which meant no fear of being the person in a panel that attracts someone's personal vendetta. This approach (event organisers take note) really seemed to foster a more collaborative way of working. In the breaks people could seek out the speakers they enjoyed or had questions for and approach them in a less intimidating setting (and should said speakers have been uncomfortable they could easily make a 'I'm just nipping to the loo' type excuse to extract themselves). The discussion part of the day took place (in typical theatre people style) sat in a circle and was open to all. While on one hand it did mean some people dominated the discussion at points, it also meant nobody was put on the spot, and those who didn't wish to speak could simply listen (or tweet!).
Also really important was the inclusion of those who couldn't make it to the day, for whom Kirsty read out small descriptions of work, or ideas they wished to share. This was a great opportunity for people to be included, and engage even if they couldn't make it. A lot of attendees also live-tweeted the event which helped both those not at the event, the mildly interested Twitter passer-by and anyone else to engage. Live-tweeting is also a godsend for an introvert conference attendee- it's a low-stakes way to 'meet' fellow participants and a great conversation opener 'Hey we've been tweeting each other' or 'I liked what you shared about x' 'Oh you know y on twitter too' etc. It's also for me a great form of note-taking as it really condenses highlights of a talk while also letting you link to other things/speakers.
So all in all it was a great way to dip my toe back in the academic water. It was also, after a year of under-employment and feeling like 9-5 my brain is growing dimmer by the day, a great chance to actually use my brain. And I really did get reminded of why I do love (some) aspects of academia. I have a curious mind, and a desire to use it and a certain amount of skill at it. I realised I'm no worse than most of the people in that room in terms of ability, just that in my current situation I don't have capacity to be as engaged a researcher.
Did I have a road to Damascus moment of conversation back to Academia? no. Did I slightly re-consider my 'completly done' approach to it? yes. Am I suddenly convinced all academics are wonderful human beings? No academics are aresholes because people are arseholes (and the profession does attract a higher proportion than normal of self-important wankers). But I was reminded of how interesting and supportive a group of people academia can also attract. More importantly I feel now slightly more confident in returning to other events or putting my work out there in the future.
So where am I now? Still a failed academic. Still struggling with what to do next. Still unemployed in (checks watch) 7 weeks. Not much different to Thursday. But being in a room with academics no longer makes me want to cry (mostly) and I've remembered that I have a brain that's filled with sometimes useful knowlege. More importantly it's a brain that enjoys being used. And I've remembered that love I had for something.
I'll write a seperate blog about the subject I spoke on (Rent the musical and growing up Renthead) but the most important thing for me is probably another reminder, another nudge that I do love the work I did- it's what got me through to the end of the PhD. And it's probably what will get me through this next stage. Whatever that might be.
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