Kristy Ainslie
BIO
Eshelman Distinguished Professor and Chair Division Pharmacoengineering & Molecular Pharmaceutics at the University of North Carolina, Eshelman School of Pharmacy (USA). Mother of two.
Kristy Ainslie
“I faced uncomfortable questions about my marital status and was told that motherhood and faculty roles were incompatible.”
In the early days of my academic journey, I felt fortunate. My undergraduate and graduate advisors seemingly treated all their students fairly, regardless of gender. Their support fueled my passion for chemical engineering, and I embarked on my academic career with optimism. However, it wasn’t until I stepped into the world of faculty interviews that I encountered some harsh sexist realities. Eight interview sites, eight instances of discomfort.
The questions about my marital status seemed innocuous at first, but their implications cut deep. “Married people live here. Single people live here. Where would you live?” they asked, subtly segregating married and single individuals. I learned to say “I” and not “we” when discussing hobbies or other activities during dinner conversations.
One interviewer even dared to tell me that I couldn’t be both a faculty member and a mother. ‘You can’t have a faculty job and raise children. The demands of a mother are more than those of a father.’ When I commented about daycare and support systems, he berated me, dismissing my qualifications without even glancing at my CV.
After the 1-hour beratement, I had lunch with the chair, visibly shaken but silent about what had happened. Following my advisor’s advice, I penned a letter to the dean, detailing my experience. After receiving the letter, the chair attempted to call me, but I chose not to engage further.
Those interviews left me disheartened, questioning whether academia truly welcomed women. At the end of these interviews, I declined a tenure-track offer and decided to pursue a postdoc. My partner, also a PhD in chemical engineering, faced the same dilemma—the infamous two-body problem. We crisscrossed the country, interviewing at universities from Boston to Houston. Fate led us to Berkeley and UCSF, where my postdoc advisor happened to be a woman.
My advisor’s understanding was a lifeline. During my postdoc, I became a mother of a perfect little boy. Working across the street from home, I juggled research and motherhood, grateful for the proximity.
As I transitioned to faculty positions, the gender bias persisted. While my husband faced minimal scrutiny, I was repeatedly asked about marriage at faculty interviews. We both had offers, but the offers he had would not offer me a position at any level - one offer even denied me a postdoc position!
To solve our two-body dilemma, we chose an unconventional path: working together in the same lab. I secured a tenure-track position, while he pursued a research-track position. Our collaboration extended beyond writing grants and performing experiments.
Many times my husband became my “translator”. His words carried weight, echoing mine to male collaborators who suddenly agreed, yet when I spoke the same words prior they objected.
Despite my best efforts, I was never able to enter some of the all-male cliques notorious in academia. I navigated their subtle exclusions, determined to create a supportive environment for women in my lab. The most heartbreaking experience I had as an advisor was when a promising minority postdoc lost her baby during delivery, I stumbled as an advisor. I tried to offer solace, space, and understanding, but could have done more. Her loss was greater than mine.
After securing significant funding during my first year as a tenure-track faculty member, I decided to have a second child in my second year. My second son’s pregnancy was more challenging, and he proved to be much more demanding than my first son. I can imagine that even without a faculty position, managing him would be quite a task! However, things improved when we let him follow his passion and enrolled him in competitive gymnastics at age 5, and now, at age 12, he spends 10-12 hours a week diving. This shift allowed me to better balance my home life in that I could work while he played.
As a distinguished professor, I no longer tolerate slights directed at me nor allow condescension from other faculty or potential collaborators. I persistently advocate for other women and student-moms in my lab, reflecting on my journey.
In short, I feel fortunate that I no longer endure the challenges I faced earlier in my career. In the rare instances when it occurs, I promptly report such behavior to superiors. While these experiences underscore my personal growth, I also need to acknowledge the invaluable contributions of the many supportive collaborators and faculty members who surround me.