Title goes here.

And now for something completely different.

A bit more than a week ago, the curated collection of interesting women scientists among the users in my Twitter feed lit up with a new hashtag:  #ImmodestWomen.  A few clicks and I came to the origin, a UK historian named Dr. Fern Riddell.  

She — along with a number of other academics — had tweeted a criticism of the Canadian Globe and Mail’s new style guideline (link goes to the Twitter thread she was referring to):  in the paper’s articles, health care professionals were to be referred to as “Dr So-and-so” on second reference (including some medical professionals for whom, in the UK, bachelor’s level training is sufficient).  Other doctorate holders were to be referred to as Mr./Miss/Ms./Mrs. Such-and-such on second reference, even when being interviewed on the topic of their specific scholarly expertise.   

To make a long story short, although rather a lot of academics weighed in on the topic, Dr. Riddell found herself the target of a storm of Twitter invective. Some of it abusive, much of it gendered.  I think you would have to analyze the data to be certain.  I do get the distinct impression that, while lots of people might hold the opinion that an academic title is unnecessary or even mildly offensive, more of them are willing to get on with their lives when the “Dr.” has replaced a “Mr.” than when it apparently replaces “Miss/Ms./Mrs.”  

Twitterer @RalphHarrington made an illustration of some of the replies that Dr. Riddell got:

 

Anyway, one of the tweetstormers accused Dr. Riddell of “immodesty,” she made the hashtag, and it took off; a lot of women decided to come along for the ride.  Temporarily or permanently, they changed their Twitter names to include their earned doctoral titles (along with some who added other professonal titles,  “Rev.” or “Rabbi,” and one scholar I remember who changed hers to include everything she qualified for:  I think the full string included “Dr.” and “Mrs.” and “Rev.” and “OBE.”)  There were also quite a lot of cheers and supportive tweets from women and men who use different titles or no titles at all, a number of people subscribing quite simply to the “call people what they wish to be called” ethic and also of the “titles are not really necessary but if you are going to use them you should use one that is accurate,” ethic, too; a handful of men, many with stories of nontraditional paths to the academy; and (being international but primarily a UK thing) it was all rather jolly.  I found a good deal more women scientists (and other interesting people) to add to my timeline.  And there was some good discussion, too, about the odd complexity and (unnecessary?) fraught-ness of the whole thing.  

I joined in on the discussion, because, well, it is something I think about and on which my mind has not yet settled.  Here is an incomplete list of thoughts, tossed out quickly rather than organized:  

• I am clear with myself that I disagree with the Globe and Mail:  just because one meaning of “doctor” in English usage is a synonym for “physician,” does not mean that its other, older (and original and still current) meanings must be discarded.  And I don’t agree that the medical field is some sort of extra-special field of study that deserves to be put on a special pedestal above others.  If doctorate titles are to be discarded, fine; but why should physicians in particular  get a pass?
• I’m also aware that the systemic dis-crediting of women scholars, whether conscious or unconscious, is real; “let me introduce our panelists, Dr. Smith, Dr. Jones, and Katie” is a thing that happens, and arrangement of speakers on a dais is a thing that happens, and subtle pressure to discard outward signs of rank and expertise is a thing that happens. 
• There’s a serious discussion that can be had about the relevancy of scholarship and expertise, of ordination or military rank, or indeed of marital status, to ordinary interactions: formal and informal introductions, business cards, handwritten envelopes, adults mentoring young people who are not supposed to use the mentors’ first names.  Is it relevant, and does it matter if it’s not? 
• And there’s a serious discussion about trying to move toward egalitarianism by discarding titles:  does it help if only some people do it?   Or, if all the people in an environment discard the formal acknowledgement of their expertise (or specialization or rank), does that help or hurt the people who, not resembling the accepted model of a person with authority, relied on a formal acknowledgement of expertise as one of the tools they could wield to assert the authority they require to go about their business?   
• And what about self-perception, a sense of identity?  If I don’t feel like “Mrs.” is a name that means “me,” even after nearly twenty years of marriage, maybe I don’t have to keep trying to get used to it?  Can I not ask to be called something else from among the options available to me by ordinary English-speaking etiquette?  Whose name is it?

Some hours went by.  I kept coming back and checking the thread.  Medievalists, biologists, primary school teachers.   I had a couple of encouraging conversations.  Finally  I decided, at least temporarily, to throw in with the rest of them.  I would add the “Dr.”

On making that decision, I marveled at the internal resistance, almost dread, that rose up.  (Other people in the #ImmodestWomen hashtag commented on it.  I am not alone there.)  

Should I heed the reluctance?  Is it a kind of guilt?  Is it a kind of embarrassment?  Is it a fear?  Should I, instead of letting it tell me what to do, push through it?  It certainly doesn’t appear to be coming from reason.  

I could think of reasons, but the reluctance wasn’t from any of them.  Was it trustworthy or an error?

Unfortunately, there is no rule of thumb for gauging the wisdom of following a feeling based on its strength alone.  

The change is not irreversible; the likely consequences are small; I had been watching people add their titles to their Twitter names for a day and if I thought about these other people doing it, and not myself,  I never thought them to be unreasonable or reckless or puffed up.   It clearly is not an act that carries significant moral weight in ordinary discourse.   Also, I have enough self-awareness to know that I am prone to overthinking sometimes.  

The only thing to do for it, I decided, to recover reason, was to do an experiment:  give it a try and find out what happens—if nothing else, then perhaps I would come to understand that internal resistance a  little better.

So I did (on Twitter) and pinned the tweet,  heeding a sheepish compulsion to make clear the cause for the alteration.  As if I was saying:  Here’s why it’s okay.

More to unpack.

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Mind you:  This doesn’t change my Twitter handle:  I am @erinarlinghaus and will remain so.  The boldfaced name next to the avatar is much easier to change and change again.

I will give it some time, and report back on the outcome.   I’ve already had some fruitful discussions.  And I think I am starting to coalesce my rather diffuse thoughts about the whole thing — from the general to the personal — around a few dusty points.  Will come back to this, and in the meantime, comments are welcome.

 

Comments

[Jamie]

This is a decision with some personal echoes for you, yes? I'm thinking about stories you've told previously related to professional titles in personal settings. I'll be interested to hear more of your thoughts on that.