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Women in astronomy: Good news and ambiguous news
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But the devil, as they say, is in the details. And no one knows how to pick through details like scientists. One of the more interesting details is that more than half of women astronomers, compared to a much smaller percentage of men, choose non-tenure track jobs, the sort that are often called "research associates." This term describes a variety of jobs, which makes it hard to analyze what's really happening in this career sector.
Some people work at universities, but their research is paid for by external grants, and not directly supported by university funds. Others in this non-tenure track group might work at national observatories, or do work contracted by NASA or the National Science Foundation. In any case, there is a growing number of scientists, disproportionately female, who are doing excellent research and mission support work, but will never receive tenure, the traditional definition of success in academic science. But more important than gaining the prestige of tenure, if this trend continues, women will be under-represented in positions of academic and political power. At universities, fewer women will be in the position to influence policy, advise the administration, and keep the momentum going for positive change for the status of women in science.
Now, there's a reason I titled this column "good news and ambiguous news." Speaking as one of those women who chose a research associate job over the search for tenure, there are distinct advantages to taking a different path. Don't get me wrong, there is not a day goes by that I don't feel a little ashamed of my decision. I always wanted to be a tenured professor, doing independent research, teaching, and serving on committees. My professional self-worth was wrapped up in that goal, which is hardly surprising when all of my teachers and mentors were professors themselves. But I made some different choices, and I can't say I regret them.
When my husband got a job in California, we had to find a solution to the "two-body problem." Unable to find a geographically-convenient academic position with an exact match to my personal research interests, I took a staff scientist job involved with the development of a major NASA mission. Now, just five years out of graduate school, I am a member of the senior management team, I oversee a budget of over a million dollars a year, lead a group, and am paid more than any starting professor would ever hope to be.
But sometimes I still feel like I "sold out," or took the path of least resistance. Did my not wanting to buck for tenure mean that I was less talented, less driven, or afraid of some good hard work? I can't ignore that some women have managed to seemingly have it all; there are indeed successful, tenured women professors who have raised families as well. But why did I feel like apologizing for taking a solid, well-paying, enjoyable job that didn't burn me out or require me to deny all other aspects of my life?
