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| Volume 50, Number 1, Winter 2000-2001 |
WOMEN SCIENTISTS: TOKENS IN THE LAB AND IN THE NEWS?by Orly Shachar [The following excerpt is from a paper that examines the portrayal of women scientists by the news media. The author asserts, "The existing approach in science journalism has created a peculiar inclination toward depiction of female scientists. They are portrayed from a personal, individualistic orientation with less of an emphasis on their public, shared role." The following are a few examples from this scholarly text.__LF]. Tokenism as a cultural concept can apply to journalistic practices [when women] are treated as tokens in order to suggest or explain their underrepresentation in the scientific enterprise. [A] telling example is the New York Times column "Scientist at Work," featuring Dr. Shirley M. Tilghman, head of a laboratory at the Howard Hughes Medical Institute in Princeton University. Although the column is usually dedicated to describing and discussing a scientific endeavor of some sort, this particular piece, one of only two [in 1996] to feature women, deals mostly with the issue of (as termed by the news reporter): "the dilemma of being a woman in science." This piece explores in detail her struggle, not in the science community, but with other young women who are skeptical about the prospects of succeeding in science as "they argued that it is impossible to have children under these conditions. They believe that they will have to choose, soon, between gametes and glory." The emphasis on domesticity is not unique to print depictions of female scientists. Criticizing Discovering Women, a public television program that aired in 1995 and profiled the lives and work of six women scientists, Robert Killheffer wrote [in Omni magazine]:
A second way in which journalists deal with this public versus domestic role-orientation dilemma is to suggest that members of the underrepresented group (in this case, female scientists) do not want to change their attitude, thus in a way providing another justification for the status quo of lack of women researchers. When Dr. Shirley Tilghman echoes this sentiment, it makes a "good" story, one properly merited by a newspaper's editorial staff. It is the female scientist, the source, who is concerned with women's place since, as narrated by reporter Angier, "she loves science. She loves being a mother. She does not want the young women coming up through the scientific ranks to think for a moment that they must make the terrible sacrifice of one for the other. She was, in her discussion with the young women, unyielding about that point." Reporting in this manner, the journalist is providing mitigation for women's misrepresentation in science, which is reinforced by the reported reaction of Dr. Tilghman's female audience, "a group of sharp, ambitious Yale students and fellows [who] looked at her skeptically. They grimaced. They were not impressed. Oh, Dr. Tilghman was impressive, of course, but her logic was not." The report weaves a narrative indicative of a different reality, not so much of what is, but of what would be if women did not have to be burdened with these choices.
For the most part, Angier's story of Dr. Tilghman's crusade for a greater inclusion of women in science is told as a narrative, not through direct quotes. The scientist's fight for women becomes the story and is reported almost as an event rather than as a "she said" journalistic piece. Anne Raver's 1997 ["Scientist at Work"] story about Dr. Temple Grandin, a Colorado State University animal scientist, is another example of constructed tokenistic narrative in science journalism. The scientist's autism is woven into the fabric of the piece to accumulate numerous parallels between the researcher and the subjects of her research. Her personal story is fanned across the column, assuming central stage above her work. The journalist tells her story while allowing the scientist to supplement it with her own explanations, filling it in with bits of anecdotal information:
Highlighting a topic other than the scientific work done by the scientist serves as a way to establish the parameters of the token group. Perhaps the reader's conclusion should be that it is not enough to be a female scientist, but that there must be some other newsworthy characteristics to her story besides her scientific work. In a way, these stories serve as a way to differentiate the token character from the dominant group. At the same time, these narratives are used to legitimatize their presence in the mix of others. Also, positioning journalistic authority through narrative portraits is used quite commonly to replace discussion of issues or substance. As professional work takes a back seat to the more powerful story line of the featured person's life, the journalist references science or scientific work in a cultural or social context. These women are not only scientists, they are also portrayed in their social or cultural roles as females with different personal traits. That is not to say that this mechanism is not used when men
scientists are described in this New York Times column.
The difference is that when the science journalist is going out
of the realm of describing a male scientist's professional work,
it is usually in the context of other professional interests,
all related to his scientific work, and not to his personal characteristics.
Often, science journalists attempt to humanize their subjects by emphasizing some personal traits. Usually, some physical descriptions of the scientists are provided ("large framed, graying man, graying bearded, balding, 5 feet 5 inches tall, thin but seems larger") as well as hobbies ("plays clarinet, reads Shakespeare sonnets, tennis player"), and observed characteristics ("opinionated, dynamic, charming, exercises command, prefers to work alone"). However, the overall picture painted by the journalists is stereotypical, that of a scientist who is hard at work, competitive, and persistent. This use of personification is not unusual for science journalism, and, in a way, is used to reinforce the mythological presentation of science as authority. It is not surprising to find female scientists described as being as competitive as their male counterparts. Yet more women scientists are depicted as aggressive, while some of the men are depicted with more mellow descriptions. A woman archeologist's voice is described as "strong and precise, sometimes stern. Once, when there is a commotion of voices, she raises herself from the trench to restore order. 'We should do more work and less chatting,' she commands." Similarly, a colleague and fellow archeologist comments about her that "she's gotten nastier and nastier," and the reporter remarks that she possesses an "independent assertive streak." In contrast, in another column, a male paleontologist is depicted "in jeans, a West African charm necklace, and one turquoise earring-strides to the front, grinning broadly at his adulatory audience." Male scientists are described in these columns as literally "larger-than-life." Not only that, they are portrayed as "prolific, opinionated, dynamic, charming" with "restless mind and ambition," their physiques are transformed accordingly. For instance, Dr. Rodolfo Llinas, a neuroscientist, is described as "5 feet 5 inches tall and relatively thin, but he seems larger. His most striking feature, besides his easy smile, is his head of white hair that puts one in mind of Charles Lindbergh in a triumphant moment."
When images of women scientists are compared with those of their male counterparts it is made clear that domesticity and family life are used by the reporter to weave a different quality to the story. The lack of familial interference with one's work is hailed as a positive attribute when a male scientist is depicted. Such is the case of Dr. Steven Block: "He lives within walking distance of his lab, and he loves his work so much, he says, that he cannot tear himself away for very long . . . With no children and a wife who is working most of the time, Dr. Block has few urgent reasons to leave the lab." Other male scientists' families are presented in these columns only as a biographical note, tucked in the background of the featured subject. The subject of juggling career and family is completely absent from the depiction of their lives. In the case of women scientists, they are expected not only to become professionals, but to excel as wives and mothers. [The] women are portrayed as individuals with their peculiar interests, who are also scientists, while the male scientists are painted in their professional public position. This variance leads to a predicament. The few female scientists who are featured are described with a special set of circumstances that acts as a disclaimer in the context of a very competitive environment. Further, in discounting stories about women the journalistic discourse serves to befuddle and perplex the readers: What should they pay attention to: the woman or the scientist, the disability or the work? This is not to argue for the condemnation of text personification. What it calls for is a different distribution or packaging, one that does not rely on an entrenched set of concepts of being female in the realm of males. Orly Schachar, is an assistant professor in the Department of Mass Communications, Iona College, NY. E-mail oschachar@iona.edu. Spotlighting Women Scientists in the Press: Tokenism in Science Journalism, Public Understanding of Science (http://www.iop.org/Journals/pu), Vol. 9, Num. 4, October 2000. |