Since starting my career as an academic, I’ve heard tell of the allegedly widespread unprofessional behaviour: stories in which lines are crossed and sexual misconduct takes place in conferences and events built on an underlying power inequality. But nothing of the sort ever happened to me. So when, finally, it did, I was unprepared for how to deal with it. I was racked with self-doubt: was I overreacting? Am I just another snowflake?

My story is as follows. I had contacted a senior scholar whom I had never met in person to arrange a meeting. I first felt unease when he finished a professional email with two kisses. I brushed it off and told myself that he was just being friendly.

At the event itself, he greeted me with a double-cheek kiss – normal in many cultures, but something he didn’t do to any of the other female attendees he greeted. He touched my arm within the first 10 seconds of the conversation. Then he said to me, “nice dress”. Individually, none of these things were particularly serious, but their accumulation made me feel uncomfortable. As an early career scholar in his field, I asked myself: how can I tell him I find his behaviour inappropriate without seeming like a troublemaker?

I sought advice from a senior colleague. They offered to help limit my interaction with the academic, but agreed that it was a tricky situation, and advised against a direct warning. So I just avoided him for the remainder of the conference.But a part of me almost wished that a clearer line had been crossed, so that I could take the action I felt was justified.

Did I overreact? For a long time, I was unsure. But then my university launched a campaign against harassment and misconduct, in which one core message was that commenting on a student’s appearance and their clothes is clearly crossing a line. It validated my feelings about my experience.

A number of conferences I’ve attended recently have, in many ways, been at the forefront of progressive thinking on how to foster an inclusive, supportive environment. Most events had clearly defined Twitter and privacy policies, and explained how to credit people online for their work. Others provided tools like age content warnings for talks as a guidance for attendees with small children.

But none have had a clear code of professional conduct. Neither do most universities. Unprofessional behaviour covers not just outright sexual misconduct, but a variety of situations which can lead to uncomfortable scenarios. A professor taking a student out for a drink doesn’t have lead to anything sexual, but it is still uncomfortable if, for instance, they bad-mouth the student’s other lecturers or ask about their personal lives in detail. This happened to me as an undergraduate and graduate student.

When I shared these stories with a colleague, they were shocked to learn this type of behaviour persists. The problem is that professional behaviour in universities is governed by unwritten rules and assumptions. We need an established set of guidelines, which can give the vulnerable a framework for understanding whether behaviour towards them is appropriate or not.

It’s possible the academic who harassed me at the conference didn’t realise how uncomfortable he made me. But the inherent power imbalance in the situation means it’s impossible I’ll ever find out. Conferences are based around networking, socialising and mingling. Having a defined set of rules, which everyone has to follow and which those who don’t can be held accountable for, levels the playing field. It will give us a strong foundation on which to establish the meritocracy which academia aspires to.

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