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 golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.