The latter is something I think about often now as I approach retirement. Have I done the best job I could do? Have I been a good mentor and leader for the younger women and men coming after me? The answer to the first question is yes, I have done the best job I could do given the talents I have. I have become a good scientist, albeit not a great one, and that is fine with me. I found my niche and did my best. I can honestly say that. I've published nearly one hundred articles, have had the chance to lead a small team of researchers, managed to get funding to support my position until I was hired permanently by my hospital, and have mentored Master and PhD students. I have believed in myself even when the odds were against me. I did not give up on myself, and that is thanks to my early bosses. I had bosses early on (in New York) who pushed me and challenged me to take on new opportunities, some of which I feared. But I did. They saw potential in me and were not afraid to push me to do something with it. But they did it in a respectful way. When I moved to Norway, I confronted new challenges, but without the same level of personal interest from my bosses. They were more interested in their own careers than in mine. I have discovered that this was often the case in academic science (that I grew up with), which is highly competitive. If a senior researcher showed a professional interest in you, it mostly had to do with what you could do for them. The outcome in any case was that both won in a sense--the senior researcher got the necessary lab work done by others, but the junior researchers got publications that helped them in their own careers. So even if the latter felt like slaves at times, it often ended well once they moved up the ladder and started research groups of their own. That is the way it used to be well into the early 2000s. And then it all changed. Younger people no longer had the chance to start their own research groups; they were suddenly expected to work for a senior group leader until they were well into their late 40s/early 50s. A lot of young people simply cannot accept this and leave academia for greener pastures that give them the chances that my husband and I were given in the 1990s. We had an intellectual independence and freedom that is no longer encouraged; now it is expected that you work in a large research group for one senior research leader and that you simply accept your role passively. You are not encouraged to start your own research group, and the (natural) desire to do so is frowned upon--you are looked upon as a troublemaker if you go around stating that you would like more intellectual freedom and independence so that you can start your own research group. I do not support this new way of doing science; it does nothing but create frustration and disappointment in young people in their professional prime. But that's the way it is now. When I talk to young people, I tell them what it was like for my husband and me; I don't want them to think that it was always as restrictive and demotivating as it is now. But it doesn't always register, because young people often think that the present is the only thing that counts. We were like that too, I guess.
The answer to the second question is also yes, with reservations. I had to grow into the role of mentor, and I did make some mistakes early on, especially when a student was stubborn or narcissistic. Nevertheless, I think I have done the best job I could do under sometimes difficult circumstances. I have reflected upon the psychological costs involved in pursuing an academic scientific career. The daily assaults on your self confidence, your expertise, your way of treating students--are many. I realize that I have a healthy self confidence; if I think I am right, it is because I have reflected on a particular situation and come to a conclusion that reflects that investment of time and reflection. It will then be difficult to sway me. I operate using principles that I grew up with--I believe in fair play, respect, and justice, and I behave accordingly. I treat others as I would like to be treated. I have tried to encourage my students to think for themselves, to have their own ideas and opinions, to think creatively. I have tried to get women to stop feeling guilty for saying no when it is their right to do so. So many women still think that saying no, as in--I cannot do this or that for you right now, I have no time, or I have other priorities--is a wrong way to behave. It is not. In my experience, saying no is what gets you noticed (and I am not talking about saying no in a rude way to your boss or about being difficult for the sake of being difficult). Saying no prevents you from becoming someone else's doormat. Saying yes all the time may work out well for some people, but it does not work out well for women. Saying no when necessary may get you labeled as difficult, but that most women can live with, in my opinion, or should get used to living with. Because whatever profession you choose, there will come a time when saying no is what will get you noticed. Saying no says--I am doing the best job I can, and if you want me to do more, then you need to sit down with me and negotiate that. You need to negotiate a reciprocal relationship that is win-win for all, not just for the senior leaders. Women often fall back on the service aspect--serving others, and that is fine, but it is also about taking care of yourself and what you want. Women should not be doormats at work, nor at home, and a workplace culture that pushes women to aspire to being doormats is not a workplace you want to work in. Do you want to take on that extra project for no extra pay and no recognition, at the expense of your free time or your family time, just because your boss asks you to because he or she knows it will get done well if you do it rather than giving it to the shirker in the department? Do you want to be available 24/7 to a workplace that won't think twice about laying you off in times of budget crises?
The word 'professional' has taken on a new meaning for me now after many years in the workforce. I define it as behavior that involves doing the best job you can, in an expert way, without becoming too emotionally involved or too loyal to your workplace. It means being aware of your valuable skills at all junctures. It means visualizing how valuable you are to your present company but also to other workplaces. It means never forgetting that. It means standing up for yourself. It means being able to negotiate with senior leaders about how those skills are to be used. It means being rational, logical, objective, rather than emotional, illogical, and subjective. It means seeing both sides and keeping a cool head in situations where others might become irrational (playing it cool). It means remaining centered in yourself; it means not letting other people push you off balance. Women need to learn more of this, and to learn the value of their own worth. Women also need to give up the idea that they need to be ‘rescuers’. Where you would rush in to save a sinking project that is the result of someone else's negligence (too many women I know), you should hold back and let it sink. You should let the chips fall where they may. You should let the shirkers face the negative feedback; let them face being exposed for the shirkers they are. You should let the bullies and harassers sink and not make excuses for them. You should not defend the demotivators or try to explain away their behavior. You should hold other people accountable for their bad behavior and not keep your mouth shut when you see injustice. You should not just blindly follow the crowd. You should stand apart, express your ideas and opinions, and keep on expressing them, in a professional and respectful way. You should remind yourself that 'being respectful and nice does not define you as a weak person', and that 'saying no does not define you as a bad person'. This is what I say to women now--be professional, have a healthy self-confidence, think for yourselves, and don't become workplace doormats. It's the only way to grow into the best versions of yourselves.