Newman is an associate professor of English at the University of Indianapolis and a public voices fellow of The OpEd Project.
It’s important to recognize the significant progress women have made toward greater equity across all sectors of American society in recent decades, particularly during the 42nd annual Women’s History Month.
Yet in academia — where the goal is to move beyond gender stereotypes, receive equal pay for equal work and engender equity in treatment by students — there still is far to go.
A new study from Nature Medicine shows that women in academia have been adversely affected by the Covid-19 pandemic, falling behind in research publications and grant funding due in part to the additional burden of caregiving responsibilities in the home. As a result, some women are declining leadership opportunities or considering leaving academic research altogether.
Significantly, those identifying as women have much higher education rates than in generations past. Today women outnumber men on American college campuses, comprising nearly 60 percent of students. This is the largest male-female gender gap in the history of higher education — with women earning more bachelor’s degrees than men every year since the mid-1980s.
But the picture is more nuanced for women in the academic workforce. A 2020 report from the American Association of University Professors shows that women comprise 43 percent of full-time tenured or tenure-track faculty and 54 percent of full-time, non-tenure track professors. Among people working toward tenure, women account for 50 percent of assistant professors and 45 percent of associate professors, but only 33 percent of full professor s. According to that study, women faculty only earn 82 percent of what their male counterparts do.
The data on women in academic administration are similarly uneven. Although more than 50 percent of department heads are women, they comprise only 30 percent of college presidents. Of that share, in 2017, only 5 percent were racial or ethnic minority women.
At elite academic institutions, women represent only 22 percent of presidents. Adjunct instructors and women of color fare even worse in academia; the Chronicle of Higher Education reports that only 2.1 percent of tenured associate and full professors are Black women.
Even eminently qualified Black women face an uphill battle in academia. The Pulitzer Prize-winning author and creator of the “1619 Project,” Nikole Hannah-Jones, was initially denied tenure at the University of North Carolina. UNC’s walkback on its tenure denial was too little, too late; Hannah-Jones moved on to a fully tenured position at Howard University and recently received the Social Justice Impact Award at the 53rd NCAAP Image Awards.
To be sure, many women — myself included — have benefitted immensely from the doors that have been opened and the doors we opened for ourselves at universities. But sadly, one of the greatest negative biases that continues to exist for women faculty in higher education is not from the expected gatekeepers, but from students.
I have often witnessed and experienced students addressing their male professors with the titles “professor” and “doctor,” but their professors identifying as female by Ms. or Mrs., or even first name.
The end of the semester is always challenging for female faculty; course evaluations continue to indicate students’ negative bias towards women. PLOS One cites experimental research showing that gender bias accounts for up to a 0.5-point negative effect for women on a five-point scale. And yet, it says, “there are few effective evidence-based tools for mitigating these biases.”
In a study of online courses where students never had face-to-face interactions with their instructors — and even when the supposed male and female instructors were actually one and the same — females received lower ratings than males.
Studies suggest that female students also harbor implicit bias against female instructors on end-of-semester evaluations. In one study, 100 percent of male teaching assistants received positive evaluations from female students, whereas only 88 percent of female TAs received positive evaluations from female students.
The crowdsourced website RateMyProfessors, where students post anonymous, public ratings of faculty, harbors similar negative bias toward female faculty. A 2016 study published in PLOS One reported that students’ use of the words “brilliant” and “genius” to describe their professors was more common in fields with less female and African American representation. The tool that the study’s authors used to analyze the 14 million reviews shows that positive words are more likely to come up in reviews of men than women.
A few solutions are possible.
In first-year courses, where I experience the greatest pushback from students around my work and credibility, I offer an early-in-the semester assignment about what professors do. I require students to do brief research on each of their new instructors, listing their academic credentials, professional interests and expertise, and how they prefer to be addressed. The students who might benefit most from this get-to-know-your-instructors assignment are frequently the ones who skip completing it.
Ultimately, academia needs to encourage students, colleagues and administrators in the academic institutional culture to move beyond gender stereotypes, recognize women’s rank and authority at the university, and mitigate gender-biased behavior toward them.
If diligently making those efforts, those participating would earn far more than a passing grade. They would create a fair and equitable learning environment for everyone.



















A view of the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C., on June 25, 2026. President Donald Trump jolted Republicans during a fiery appearance at the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday, scrapping a housing bill signing ceremony and clashing behind closed doors with a party rebel who challenged him over the Iran war. Trump had been expected to sign the bipartisan housing.
Only Trump doesn’t care about housing
It was August 15, 2024. Then candidate Donald Trump stepped out of his Bedminster, New Jersey, golf club’s columned clubhouse to a gaggle of reporters. He was flanked by tables of groceries and signs showing the rising cost of food. Also on one of the tables was a dollhouse, meant to represent the equally alarming rise in housing prices.
It was a speech about the economy, the single most important issue of the 2024 election cycle, full of promises that went right to the heart of Americans’ anxieties. While former President Joe Biden and then Vice President Kamala Harris were contorting themselves to posture a good economy that just needed more time to recover from the pandemic, Trump was preying on voters’ very real fears of unaffordable gas, groceries, and homes. It was obviously a winning message.
In that speech, Trump promised, “We’re going to open up tracts of federal land for housing construction. We desperately need housing for people who can’t afford what’s going on now.”
As of mid-2023, there had been a housing shortage of nearly four million homes, according to the National Association of Realtors. Americans all over the country were either priced out of buying new homes due to low inventory, trapped in their existing homes by sky-high mortgage rates, or facing exorbitant rent hikes thanks to corporate investors buying up rental properties. Americans needed help, and Trump promised it.
Cut to March of 2026, when Trump reportedly told House Speaker Mike Johnson, “No one gives a sh*t about housing.”
That kind of thinking may explain why Trump this week suddenly announced he was canceling a signing ceremony for the bipartisan “21st Century ROAD to Housing Act,” a housing bill co-sponsored by Sens. Elizabeth Warren and Tim Scott that passed the House 358-32 and was approved in the Senate on Monday.
Trump instead demanded Congress pass the SAVE America Act, his controversial election grievance bill that doesn’t have enough Republican support to get passed in the Senate.
It’s just the latest in a line of policy self-owns where Trump has seemingly intentionally made life more difficult for Republicans hoping to keep their majority. Despite midterm elections occurring in the midst of a blistering economy and an unpopular war, they were surely hoping the housing bill would give them something — anything — to brag about when they returned home to their districts.
And very much to the contrary, Americans do give a sh*t about housing. According to a recent survey by the Bipartisan Policy Center, a whopping 79% say the cost of housing is extremely or very important to them. Eighty-three percent say Congress should take action on the issue — like it just did. Eighty-nine percent say the House and Senate need to work together to pass affordable housing legislation — like they just did. And 63% say they would be more likely to vote for a lawmaker if they helped pass legislation to build more affordable homes and lower housing costs — like they just did.
There aren’t many issues that unite Americans like housing does, and very few bipartisan policy wins Congress can point to, and yet, Trump is holding that bill hostage in order to get his pet project — which doesn’t even have the support of his own party — pushed through.
If you’re trying to make sense of something so nonsensical, as I’m sure many Republican lawmakers are, it’s certainly sad but not actually all that complicated. Trump said what he needed to get reelected and then promptly abandoned his promises in order to pursue his own self-interests, even if those interests are bad for Republicans and bad for voters.
That’s just the kind of guy he is.
S.E. Cupp is the host of "S.E. Cupp Unfiltered" on CNN.