Tag: feel

  • When you feel sick but are embarrassed to say so

    When you feel sick but are embarrassed to say so

    When Annick Bissainthe was diagnosed with irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) in 2018 it destroyed her relationship with food and that affected her relationship with people. 

    She said it restricted social interactions and prevented her from doing activities she used to do before her diagnosis. “Like two days before, I would agree that, yes, I’m going to meet you at a certain point,” Bissainthe said. “But something happens one hour before that [gets me] sick and I can’t go anymore.”

    IBS is a common condition afflicting 5-10% of the world’s population but its symptoms are things few people want to talk about: abdominal pain, cramping, diarrhea, constipation, bloating and excessive gas. 

    Preventing these symptoms often requires adjustments to a diet. It is easy to explain to someone why you can’t eat certain foods if you are allergic to those foods. But many people find it embarrassing to explain that they can’t eat those foods because of an irritable bowel.  

    Dairy, added sugars and spices are among Bissainthe’s top triggers for IBS symptoms, but they comprised a large part of her diet prior to being diagnosed. 

    “Everyone else in your culture eats it,” said Bissainthe. “Food is not just about eating, but there’s also a sociocultural aspect … it’s difficult especially being in an environment where you’re not understood.” 

    Symptoms of IBS go untreated.

    IBS is particularly prevalent among young adults but often undiagnosed. Living with IBS as a young person can be especially difficult. “I was in my late 20s, so I was like, ‘I’m a healthy young adult but not able to eat [certain foods]’,” Bissainthe said. “I felt like my body was letting me down.”

    Dr. Miranda van Tilburg, professor of Health Systems Science at Methodist University in the U.S. state of North Carolina, said that IBS has no known physical cause, so it is often poorly managed, treatment efficacies vary widely and patients’ concerns are frequently dismissed. 

    “There are no tests that we can do, biomedical markers, no radiography, nothing we can do to look at your body and say, ‘You have IBS,’” van Tilburg said.

    Dr. Irma Kuliavienė, a gastroenterologist at the Lithuanian University of Health Sciences, said that while the symptoms are real and have biological underpinnings, unlike a tumor, they can’t be “seen” such through endoscopy or colonoscopy scans.

    Jeffrey Roberts, an IBS patient advocate, said that he often wondered whether he was the cause of his symptoms and if it would restrict what he could do in life. He said the diagnosis of IBS is often dismissed as “just IBS” or brushed off as “all in the head.”  

    In the media, when bowel problems are raised, it is often to produce laughs, he said. 

    No laughing matter

    Treating IBS as a joke can be detrimental to IBS patients’ mental health and quality of care. Van Tilburg said IBS can be the primary source of stress in someone’s life but telling people to reduce stress when they have these symptoms is counterproductive. 

    The reasons why IBS occurs are unclear, although several possible contributing factors have been proposed. They include the interaction between the gut and the brain, known as the gut-brain axis, and the gut microbiome — the ecosystem of microorganisms in your gut.

    Because many potential biological mechanisms could be at play, it is difficult to identify a common therapy that will work for everyone, Kuliavienė said.  

    Dr. Shefaly Shorey, associate professor at the National University of Singapore, said that talking about gastrointestinal symptoms such as flatulence, diarrhea and constipation is considered taboo, especially in many Asian cultures. Shorey was diagnosed with IBS in 2017 and said this avoidance of open conversations about bowel problems can hinder needed care. 

    “These are not glamorous topics to talk about,” Shorey said. Lack of support and acceptance, especially from family members, can lead IBS patients to avoid opening up about their symptoms. 

    Finding the right treatment

    In some countries, dieticians and access to lab tests are not widely available and that can also affect whether someone can get properly diagnosed. Van Tilburg said that a key first step to helping people who have IBS is for doctors and nurses to accept symptoms as genuine. “We need to do a better job of educating physicians on how to talk to these patients,” she said. 

    This is important because IBS is a chronic condition that many patients will deal with for life, and while there are different therapies that can help reduce or eliminate symptoms, there is no one-size-fits-all treatment.

    Extensive trial-and-error is often needed to find what approaches will work best for each individual, a process that requires close collaboration between the patient and practitioner. Bissainthe still lives with IBS but having tried so many different treatment options over the years, is better aware of what management strategies work for her.

    Kuliavienė said that to find the right treatment there needs to be a trusting relationship between doctor and patient.

    “When we talk with our patients, when we hear our patients, we can see which pathway is better and choose specific treatments for specific patients,” she said. 

     

    Questions to consider:

    1. What is irritable bowel syndrome?

    2. Why are people embarrassed to talk about IBS?

    3. What things are you embassed to talk about with a doctor? 

     

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  • HE transformation will only succeed when its people feel safe, supported and connected

    HE transformation will only succeed when its people feel safe, supported and connected

    In UK higher education, compassion is often treated as an optional extra, something to be considered once the metrics are met, the audits are done, and the strategies are signed off. This framing misses the point.

    Compassion is not a soft skill or a luxury. It is not something we add in once the “real work” is done. It is a strategic ethic and a way of designing systems, relationships, and institutions that enable people to thrive. It is about recognising suffering and taking meaningful action to alleviate it. It is about creating conditions in which students, colleagues, and leaders can do their best work, sustainably.

    In higher education, compassion is often misunderstood, mistaken for sentimentality or seen as incompatible with the rigour and excellence that universities are expected to uphold. This is a false dichotomy. Compassion is not the opposite of academic excellence; it is what makes it possible.

    When compassion is embedded into the culture and infrastructure of a university, it doesn’t lower standards, it sustains them. It doesn’t avoid challenges; it enables people to meet challenges without burning out. And it doesn’t replace accountability, it reframes it, through a lens of relational responsibility and shared purpose.

    The recent Universities UK report, Transformation and efficiency: towards a new era of collaboration, arrives at a moment of reckoning. The pressures facing the sector, whether financial, regulatory, or reputational, are not new, yet they have intensified. The report offers a clear and necessary diagnosis and outlines seven opportunities for transformation, including developing collaborative structures, sharing services and infrastructure, shared procurement, digital transformation, benchmarking efficiency and strengthening leadership and governance.

    These are important and they are also technical – but technical change, while necessary, is not sufficient. What’s missing is the cultural infrastructure that helps these changes take hold and endure. Without it, transformation risks becoming transactional and something done to people, rather than with them. This is where compassion becomes essential and as the connective tissue that binds strategy to sustainability as opposed to being an add-on. Compassion enables us to ask different questions: “What can we change?” AND “How will this change be experienced?” or “How do we become more efficient?” AND “How do we remain human while doing so?”

    Addressing burnout

    At this time of year, the signs are everywhere: exhaustion, disillusionment, a creeping sense that the work is never done, and the values that brought us into the sector are being eroded by the systems we now work within.

    Burnout is not a personal failing; it is a systemic signal. As Maslach and Leiter remind us in The truth about burnout, burnout arises when people face too much work, too little control, and a misalignment of values. These are organisational design problems as opposed to individual resilience problems. If we want transformation, we must prioritise the conditions in which people are expected to transform. Compassion, understood as a framework for action, offers a way to do this. It invites us to design systems that are effective, humane and investing in people’s capacity to give, as opposed to just demanding more.

    Humility is also something required of us at this moment, acknowledging that we are all stepping into the unknown; planned change in a complex system is, at best, hopeful fiction. We cannot predict exactly what will emerge and we can choose how we show up in the process.

    Compassion gives us permission to not have all the answers and it allows us to hold space for uncertainty, and to move forward anyway, together. Transformation is a collective endeavour and one that will only succeed if we create conditions in which people feel safe enough, supported enough, and connected enough to participate.

    Transformation needs cultural infrastructure

    Transformation is a human and technical exercise. It emerges or recedes in the spaces between people: how they experience change, how they relate to one another, and how they make sense of their work. Without attention to culture, even the most well-designed reforms risk faltering.

    Compassion offers a way to build the cultural infrastructure that transformation requires, inviting different, deeper questions, such as how change will affect relationships, how institutions can recognise and respond to emotional experience, what inclusive design looks like in different contexts, and where the spaces are that enable people to reflect, connect, and recover. These questions are central to whether transformation efforts succeed or stall; culture is the medium through which change happens.

    The Covid-19 pandemic gave us a glimpse of what compassionate institutions can look like. Faced with crisis, many universities responded with agility and care; extending deadlines, adapting policies, and prioritising inclusion. These were acts of strategy, not charity. They enabled continuity, protected equity, and demonstrated the sector’s capacity for humane innovation.

    They also revealed that compassion, when practised in systems not designed to support it, can come at a cost that is less often acknowledged. The compassion extended to others was not always matched by compassion for self. Many colleagues gave more than they had to give, and when the crisis faded, the systems around them reverted to old norms including rigid timelines, performance metrics and competitive cultures. The emotional weight of compassion is not inevitable; it becomes heavy when systems are misaligned, when care is expected and not enabled. In the right conditions, compassion is a way of working that restores us as opposed to a burden.

    This reveals a deeper truth: our systems were never designed to sustain compassion. If we want to embed it beyond moments of crisis, we must treat it as a core institutional value and to recognise that compassion includes ourselves.

    Compassion in practice

    Here are five shifts that can embed compassion into the fabric of transformation.

    1. Reframe wellbeing as strategic infrastructure

    Wellbeing is not a side project. It is foundational to performance, retention, and innovation. Institutions could move from monitoring wellbeing to designing it through embedding it in curricula, policies, workload models, and leadership practices.Boundaries can be enacted, encouraged, and celebrated.

    2. Recognise and resource emotional experience

    The work of care, whether in teaching, research, service, or leadership, is often invisible and undervalued. It can become labour and lead to empathic distress, when systems make it unsustainable. When time, space, and support are present, compassion is a source of meaning and connection. We can name it, measure it, and reward it, factoring it into workload models, promotion criteria, and professional development.

    3. Design for relational accountability

    Compassionate systems are relational systems. Transformation must ask: how will this affect relationships? What power dynamics are at play? Whether it’s a new assessment policy or a shared service model, the relational impact matters.

    4. Create space for reflection and connection

    Efficiency is not about doing more with less, it’s about doing the right things well. Institutions must create time and space for colleagues and students to reflect, connect, and recover. This is infrastructure, not an indulgence.

    5. Build on what already works

    Compassion is not new. Across the sector, there are already informal networks, communities of practice, and relational leadership approaches enacted that embody compassionate principles. The task is to amplify, connect, and learn from them.

    The Universities UK report rightly identifies collaboration as a route to transformation. Collaboration is a relational practice as well as a structural arrangement that requires trust, shared purpose, and the ability to navigate differences. These capabilities grow through connection and trust and cannot be mandated; they are human ones, developed through compassion and sustained by culture.

    Compassion can also help us rethink our perception of resistance. Too often, “resistance to change” is dismissed as inertia or protectionism when it is often a signal of fear, of loss, of values under threat. Compassionate leadership invites active listening to this signal and responsiveness with transparency, inclusion, and care.

    Compassion is a whole-university approach as opposed to be the responsibility of student services or human resources and notably visible in:

    • Teaching: through learning environments that prioritise dialogue, inclusion, and mutual respect.
    • Support services: by moving from transactional help to meaningful connection.
    • Leadership: by sharing power, modelling visibility, and practising relational accountability.
    • Policy: by asking, always, how decisions will affect relationships and wellbeing.

    The UUK report offers a timely and necessary roadmap for sector-wide transformation. To realise these ambitions, we will need to prioritise our focus on culture and connection alongside systems and structures; compassion is a strategic imperative.

    This is an invitation to those leading transformation, to see compassion as a driver of efficiency; to policymakers, to recognise that sustainable change requires care as well as compliance; and to all of us in the sector, to choose compassion for ourselves and others as a way of being and not just as a crisis response.

    The future of higher education depends on what we do and critically how we do it and, on the cultures, we choose to develop. If we create the conditions for compassion to thrive in higher education, it will no longer feel like a burden, it will become a source of meaning, connection, and renewal. This is how transformation becomes possible and sustainable.

    All views expressed in this blog are entirely those of the authors and do not represent the views or positions of any affiliated organisations or institutions.

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  • For some students, home doesn’t feel like home

    For some students, home doesn’t feel like home

    In Britain, we can be oddly squeamish when talking about class, whether known or implied through a person’s accent, appearance, or behaviour.

    But not having an honest conversation with ourselves and our institutions about it is actively harming our students, especially the ones who are from the area where our institutions sit.

    I was one of a team of authors that published a report at the back end of 2024 exploring the role of social class and UK home region at Durham University. Our research, which was supported by the university, found that students from North East England had a lower sense of belonging than their peers.

    This is in comparison to students from other northern regions, the rest of the UK, and international students. And it is true even if they are from more advantaged backgrounds.

    I’ll say that again – students from North East England feel excluded from Durham University, which is in… North East England. This highlights that a problem at Durham University is not only class, but preconceived stereotypes based on how a person speaks, acts, or their family background.

    This article explains how we built our evidence base, and how the university responded, including by integrating our recommendations into the new Access and Participation Plan, and resourcing new staff roles and student-led activity.

    From anecdote to evidence

    The student-led report came out of the First Generation Scholars group in the Anthropology department in 2022.

    Having heard repeatedly the issues that first generation students were facing, and feeling it ourselves, we decided to move beyond anecdotal stories which were known in the university, and produce something concrete and legible which couldn’t be denied.

    We devised a survey and sent it to every student, with a 10 per cent response rate. Follow up focus groups were conducted to add additional context to the quantitative findings and ensure the voices of those who had been let down were heard.

    The findings were grouped into seven areas – overall sense of belonging at Durham, peer relationships, experiences in teaching and learning, college events and activities, college staff relationships, experiences in clubs and societies, and financial considerations.

    Across all these areas, social class had the strongest and most consistent effect. Students from less privileged backgrounds were more likely to feel ashamed of the way they speak, dress, and express themselves.

    They students felt targeted based on their background or personal characteristics – and said they were:

    …being told countless times by a flatmate that I seem the ‘most chavvy’ and continuously refer to Northerners as degenerates.

    …at a formal dinner, students laughed at my North-east accent, they asked if I lived in a pit village.

    The irony is that due to rising housing costs, many students really are being forced to live in pit villages.

    These instances weren’t only present in peer interactions – but also took place in the teaching and learning spaces. One student said that during a lecture, the lecturer mentioned that they couldn’t understand what the IT staff member was saying due to his North East accent – which was the same as the students’.

    Another noted that their peers were “sniggering when I made a comment in a tutorial.” Comments like these have led to students self-silencing during classes and, in some cases, changing their accents entirely to avoid stigma.

    Anecdotally, I’ve heard students say that their families laugh when they hear their new accent. If we are implicitly telling students that they have to change who they are in their own region, their own city, amongst their own family in order to fit in, we are telling them that they are not safe to be authentically themselves. That message lingers beyond university.

    The report notes that other groups of students also experienced exclusion. These included women, LGBTQ+ students, and students with a disability – although only disability came close to the magnitude of effects explained by social class and region.

    It should be noted that these are protected characteristics, while class and region are not. But there was also an interaction between these characteristics, class, and region. Women from less advantaged backgrounds from North East England had a worse time than their southern peers – which they reported as being due to their perceived intelligence and sexual availability. One North East female student stated,

    I was a bet for someone to sleep with at a college party because ‘Northern girls are easy.’

    Tackling the sense of exclusion

    The report also highlights instances of real connections for students. It was often in the simplest gestures, such as having a cup of tea with their college principal, porters saying hello in the corridor, or a lecturer confirming that they deserved to be at Durham, despite the student’s working-class background.

    We were worried that the university might be quick to dismiss, bury, or simply ignore the report. However, they’ve stepped up. The report has been used in the new Access and Participation Plan (APP), underpinning an intervention strategy to increase students’ sense of belonging through student-led, funded activities.

    That builds on the creation of new, instrumental staffing positions. In discussions following the launch event for the report, there was a real buzz and momentum from colleagues who spotlighted the work they were doing in this area – but with an awareness that more needs to be done.

    A key issue is connecting this discrete but interconnected work. Many activities or initiatives are happening in silos within departments, colleges, faculties, or within the central university, with few outside those realms knowing about it.

    In a time when every university is tightening their belts, coordinating activities to share resources and successes seems like an easy win.

    It would be easy to dismiss the problem as unique to Durham – the university and its students have often been under fire for being elitist, tone deaf, or exclusionary. But it’s likely that students at other institutions are facing similar barriers, comments, and slights.

    I’ve spoken to enough colleagues in SUs to know that it isn’t just a Durham problem, not even just a Russell Group problem. There will be those who are afraid of what they might find if they turn over that particular stone, actually having a good look at how social class impacts students belonging.

    But I’d argue it’s a positive thing to do. Bringing it into the light and confronting and acknowledging the problem means that we can move forward to make our students’ lives better.

    Read the full report here, including recommendations, and the university’s comments.

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  • Feel burned out? Ruth C. White, PhD on burn out for female academics

    Feel burned out? Ruth C. White, PhD on burn out for female academics

    We’re back with Dr. Ruth C. White to talk about her life beyond academia. Join us for this conversation about why female academics suffered through the pandemic, and why they are feeling so burned out.

    What is burnout? Why are women academics especially feeling it in 2025?

    Bio

    Ruth C. White, PhD, MPH, MSW, RSW is on a mission to help women find success that feels like them.

    Dr. White’s career has taken a meandering path with success in many roles. She has worked as a social worker in the USA, Canada and the UK, and gave up tenure in the social work program at Seattle University to teach in the ground-breaking virtual program at the University of Southern California. Yes… She gave up tenure! Then she left academia for a role as a DEI executive at a Silicon Valley tech firm, and followed up with another DEI role in academia.

    Ruth C. White, PhD, MPH, MSW, RSW

    Ruth is the author of four books, and has written articles on mental health for Harvard Business Review, Fast Company, and Tracy Anderson Magazine. She built a consulting practice in DEI and mental health, with clients such as PwC, Indeed, JPMorgan Chase, Premera Blue Cross, Aetna, Applied Materials, Protiviti, Gainsight, among others. Since 2020, Dr. White has appeared 30+ times as a mental health commentator on KRON4-TV Bay Area, and she has also appeared as an expert on The Today Show, BBC, podcasts, and radio. Her groundbreaking research on the LGBTQ+ community in Jamaica, led her to be an expert witness in more than a dozen cases in collaboration with Yale, Columbia and NYU Law Schools, and advocacy groups across the USA.

    In addition, Ruth has a modeling career, that has included major campaigns, and representation by agencies in Toronto, San Francisco, Paris and London. Recently she merged her love for words and travel to become an in-demand travel writer, with articles in CN Traveler UK & US editions.

    And she accomplished all this as a mom with an atypical brain: one labeled with ADHD and bipolar disorder. Her sense of adventure has led to PADI diving certifications, kayaking across San Juan Islands and rapids on the White Nile and Pacuare, hiking solo up Mt. Ellinor, and racing sailing boats in the San Francisco Bay for several years. She is also competent with crochet hooks, knitting needles and sewing machines.

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  • Working-class students feel alienated from their creative arts degrees – here’s how to help

    Working-class students feel alienated from their creative arts degrees – here’s how to help

    Social class inclusivity is a problem in UK higher education.

    Research demonstrates that working-class students report being less likely to apply to university than their middle-class peers – and when working class people do enter higher education they may face discrimination and social exclusion. This is exacerbated in creative arts subjects.

    We interviewed students currently studying creative arts subjects at a Russell Group university to hear more about their experiences of social class inclusivity. Speaking to ten undergraduate and eight postgraduate students studying a range of creative fields including music, drama and film, we found that working-class students find it difficult to attend class, are disadvantaged in terms of accessing the cultural resources needed to succeed on their course, and feel excluded from social life on campus.

    Economic disadvantage presents a considerable barrier to students completing arts subjects at university. To be inclusive, university staff may have to adjust teaching and learning. We would like to make the case for those working in higher education to consider what classed assumptions are made about students in our institutions and accordingly reassess our expectations of those studying the creative arts.

    Many of the disadvantages or challenges that working-class students face are connected to wider structural inequalities that are deeply entrenched in our society. At the same time, there are still meaningful interventions that staff can make to support working-class students. We suggest four ways in which university staff can make their practice more inclusive to working-class students.

    Discuss working-class stories as present and live

    Universities are middle-class spaces. In creative arts subjects, students often make work referring to their class identity. This can be at odds in institutions where middle-class experience is the “norm”.

    Class diversity must be present within teaching. More working-class mentorship and role models would help students to feel like they belonged at university – including visiting working-class creatives. Our participants also advocated for contemporary working-class experience in the curriculum, in academic texts, and in the artworks discussed.

    Staff must maintain a supportive and safe space when discussing issues pertaining to social class. Staff should also recognise that not everyone wants to talk about their background or experience. Additionally, staff must be aware of social class-based stereotyping that might exist in other students’ creative work, and be prepared to intervene when necessary if (often unintended) prejudices around work, class, accent, or lifestyle emerge.

    Adapt teaching to the multiple demands on working-class students’ time

    More and more students are undertaking part-time work alongside their studies. It is difficult to devise our curricula for only those students who can commit all their time to studying, when significant numbers are balancing their studies with multiple part-time, temporary and precarious jobs, or with care responsibilities.

    Working-class and carer students may be commuting considerable distances to engage with their studies. This is creating a two-tier system of engagement, and many of the students we interviewed felt that teaching and learning on their courses was not flexible enough to support their participation. The same issues are present when students try to engage in extracurricular and cultural activities.

    Working-class students asked for more online resources and access to course materials immediately at the start of modules, alongside concerns over early starts and late finishes and travel costs. They wanted permission to speak to staff about part-time work without feeling like they were “doing something wrong” or not taking their studies seriously. The normalisation of working alongside studying is something that staff may have to accept and work with, rather than try to push against.

    Early intervention is important

    The early stages of the student’s degree are a key time when social class difference and disadvantage is felt, with high levels of anxiety around finance and budgeting in comparison to more affluent peers.

    Working-class students asked for the university to provide information to support their transition into economic independence. Examples include advice on budgeting, lists of free resources, inexpensive alternatives and free access to cultural resources.

    Peer support plays a huge role in the transition to higher education. Working-class peer support groups and mentorship are as significant interventions to help.

    Adjust assumptions and reassess expectations

    University staff can make a difference to the experience of working-class students through simple adjustments of the assumptions we make.

    Interviewees believed staff made assumptions about what creative arts students should know, or the kind of experiences they should have had prior to university. These assumptions corresponded with a more middle-class experience, for example knowledge of university life, or access to (and the ability to afford) cultural resources or engagement with extra-curricular activities. Participants were particularly frustrated by assumptions from staff that students could afford to pay for learning resources not available in the library.

    Extra work is also needed to ensure that working-class or other marginalised students feel comfortable and entitled to ask for help from staff.

    Because many students now must work alongside studying, students may have less time to complete their work outside of class. Stronger steers on the amount of time to complete activities and prioritisation of reading, and the removal of blame for those struggling to balance time constraints of working whilst studying can all be effective.

    Working-class creatives

    Class inclusivity means students feel like they belong on their course, alongside having the financial security to take the time and space to study.

    This is particularly important in the creative arts because the more time and space students have to engage with their course or with extracurricular activities like arts societies, the more working-class stories will be represented in the creative work they make. Creative arts subjects must better support working-class students to engage fully with their studies – and not to be disadvantaged by financial pressure, lack of resource, or through feeling like they don’t belong on their course.

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  • 62% Jewish students, staff feel unsafe on campus: Survey – Campus Review

    62% Jewish students, staff feel unsafe on campus: Survey – Campus Review

    A survey of 550 university staff and students found six in 10 experienced antisemitic comments, and about the same felt unsafe on campus due to Israel-Gaza driven conflict in Australia.

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  • Why many men feel lost in an age of shifting roles and expectations

    Why many men feel lost in an age of shifting roles and expectations

    A friend recently argued compellingly that two major gaps in the Harris campaign strategy affected voter turnout and engagement: a reluctance to acknowledge policy shortcomings and a failure to address the specific needs of men, particularly working-class men and those in communities of color. These gaps represent missed opportunities to connect with voters who feel overlooked and underserved.

    Many noncollege men today are navigating economic hardship and social isolation, grappling with precarious work and shifting social expectations. In a world that often emphasizes adaptability and academic success, the message they hear is clear: They should have worked harder, been more flexible or chosen a different path. 

    Yet this message can feel dismissive—more moralizing and patronizing than empathetic—ignoring the broader economic and structural challenges these men face. The decline of jobs in traditional industries, limited access to meaningful work and a diminished sense of purpose have fostered a profound sense of alienation where mainstream political narratives simply don’t resonate.

    Broader cultural shifts compound these issues. Traditional male roles have eroded, leaving many men feeling marginalized and uncertain, struggling to navigate changing gender expectations. Many also experience personal isolation, strained relationships and limited social support, adding to a sense of being stuck without clear solutions.

    While the Harris campaign frequently highlighted issues affecting women and promoted family-centered policies, it lacked a narrative that could directly address working-class men’s distinct challenges. The focus was often on broad achievements and visions rather than a targeted response to the real, often invisible, struggles these men face.

    As my friend put this, “With her (proper) advocacy for reproductive rights, Harris already had the women’s vote, and the hard-core Democratic base are never-Trumpers whom they wouldn’t lose, no matter what else her campaign said. But instead of talking concrete policies that address where she was about to lose large numbers of (potentially persuadable) voters, Harris and her proxies talked about ‘joy’ and ‘helping the guy sitting next to you’—in short, to remain polite and appeal to upper-middle class tastes.”

    By overlooking a direct appeal to men dealing with economic, social and personal challenges, the campaign missed a critical opportunity to engage with and support a population that increasingly feels unseen and left behind.

    The erosion of traditional male roles—breadwinner, family leader, protector—has left many men grappling with identity, isolation and a profound sense of purpose. As society evolves, these long-standing markers of masculinity have lost relevance, especially for working-class men who once found dignity and respect in roles that aligned with hard work, family provision and community involvement.

    Now, as economic and cultural shifts reshape these roles, many men are struggling to find a path forward, a reality that not only affects them but impacts the broader social fabric.

    This identity crisis reflects a broader issue: As traditional definitions of masculinity are increasingly challenged, men are left with fewer frameworks for meaningful contributions to family, work and community. The fading emphasis on male-led provision and protection has led to a vacuum where isolation and frustration often take root. Without clear societal pathways that respect both historical contributions and evolving social needs, men can feel left behind, unsure of how to participate in a society that often seems to have moved beyond their previous roles.

    To address this crisis, society must reimagine male roles in ways that offer respect, purpose and connection. Only by acknowledging the disintegration of traditional frameworks and creating new, healthier pathways can we guide men toward meaningful identities. This means valuing male contributions not only in economic terms but also in terms of their relational and communal roles. Reintegration into family, work and community as valued members demands that we redefine what it means to be a man in today’s world—placing dignity, contribution and connection at the forefront.

    In an era where masculinity itself is under re-evaluation, it’s essential to shape new definitions that honor both the past and present. Men today need roles that allow them to thrive within evolving social landscapes, where they can build connections and be respected for contributions beyond traditional parameters. Only by doing so can we address the underlying causes of alienation, providing men with a renewed sense of purpose in a society that, with the right approach, can benefit immensely from their reimagined roles.

    Addressing the challenges that many men face is not about overlooking or minimizing the very real struggles women continue to confront. Recognizing one group’s needs does not diminish the other’s; rather, it broadens our capacity to understand and support everyone more fully. Just as society benefits when women’s voices are heard, it also strengthens when we address the unique struggles that many men experience in today’s world. This inclusive approach allows us to tackle challenges holistically, building a society that values and supports each person’s dignity, purpose and place.

    The alienation felt by many men today reflects a profound shift in the economic, demographic and cultural landscape of American life. These changes have created a reality for a large group of men—often isolated, lonely, frustrated and angry. In this demographic, men frequently find themselves without the traditional anchors of family, stable friendships or secure employment. As society has evolved, these men increasingly feel disrespected or dismissed, disconnected from the structures that once provided support, identity and a sense of purpose.

    The economic landscape for men, particularly those without a college degree, has changed dramatically over the last few decades. The decline of traditional industries, such as manufacturing, construction and mining, has resulted in the disappearance of millions of stable, well-paying jobs. These industries were not only sources of economic stability but also providers of identity and community. For many men, especially those who entered the workforce in the 1980s and 1990s, job loss has meant not just an economic setback but a disruption in their sense of self-worth and purpose.

    As these traditional industries shrank, the economy pivoted to sectors like technology, health care and the service industry—fields that often emphasize educational attainment, interpersonal skills and adaptability. Many men who once relied on stable blue-collar jobs have struggled to transition to these new fields, either due to a lack of qualifications or because the roles simply don’t align with the values and identities they were raised with. As a result, these men experience economic precarity, often living paycheck to paycheck, juggling temporary or part-time work without benefits, or relying on the gig economy, which lacks the long-term stability they might have expected earlier in life.

    The rise of “kinless America” has compounded the problem of economic insecurity, leading to a broader crisis of social disconnection. In the United States, rates of marriage have declined significantly and divorce rates remain high. For men, divorce and separation often mean loss of regular contact with children, limited social networks and, sometimes, an emotional isolation that they struggle to overcome.

    Marriage and family life once provided social stability, companionship and a sense of purpose. Without these connections, many men find themselves living alone or in shared, temporary arrangements, removed from the grounding influence of family. For those who are also economically disadvantaged, the struggle to form new partnerships or social networks can be insurmountable, leaving them largely kinless and isolated.

    This demographic shift affects friendships, too. Research shows that men, more than women, often depend on their partners to maintain social ties and that they struggle to form friendships as adults. As such, unpartnered men frequently end up in a kind of social desert, with few meaningful connections to rely on for emotional support or companionship.

    Cultural shifts have further deepened this sense of alienation. Over recent decades, there has been a growing emphasis on individual achievement and self-realization, sometimes at the expense of communal identity and traditional values. While this shift has empowered many, it has also led to the devaluation of certain traditional roles that many men historically occupied. Traits associated with traditional masculinity, such as stoicism, physical labor or even traditional provider roles, are sometimes framed as outdated or even “toxic,” leaving some men feeling that their core values and sense of identity are now stigmatized.

    Furthermore, as cultural narratives around gender have evolved, men who do not or cannot align with these new expectations often feel marginalized or invisible. Messages around the importance of academic achievement and professional success can leave those who have struggled to meet these expectations feeling dismissed or left behind.

    Adding to this sense of disrespect is the rise of social media and a culture of comparison, where it can feel as though one’s successes or failures are on display for public scrutiny. Men who feel they don’t measure up may withdraw even further, reinforcing their isolation and frustration. For those experiencing economic precarity or relationship struggles, these messages compound an existing sense of inadequacy.

    These changes have left many men feeling disconnected from their families, their communities and their traditional roles. For many working-class men, in particular, these economic and social shifts can lead to a crisis of identity, with few alternative sources of meaning or recognition to replace the roles they once filled. Lacking the dignity they once found in hard but honorable work, many now worry they are being dismissed as “losers” or that their labor is undervalued.

    This shift often translates into feelings of anger, shame and frustration. Without clear avenues for expressing or resolving these feelings, some men may withdraw, becoming more isolated and resentful.

    The isolation, loneliness and frustration felt by these men manifest in various ways, including higher rates of mental health issues, substance abuse and even suicide. Data shows that men, particularly middle-aged men, have some of the highest rates of suicide in the United States, and they are also disproportionately affected by the opioid crisis. Lacking strong social support systems, they often fall through the cracks of mental health and social services, either because they lack the resources or because they feel stigmatized in seeking help.

    Politically, this alienation can drive disenchantment with mainstream narratives and established institutions. Many feel overlooked or even disrespected by a society they perceive as indifferent to their struggles. As a result, some turn to populist figures who channel their frustrations, adopting hypermasculine postures that seem to defy what they view as a culture overly critical of traditional masculinity. They are often receptive to leaders who emphasize strength, defiance of convention and a willingness to challenge norms—qualities that appear to stand in opposition to the mainstream culture they feel has rejected or devalued them. Political rhetoric that champions the “forgotten man” resonates deeply with these individuals, promising to restore the dignity and respect they feel has been taken from them.

    Gender antagonism has surged due to a complex mix of economic, social and cultural changes that have disrupted traditional roles, heightened insecurities and polarized public discourse.

    With the decline of traditionally male-dominated industries and growth in service sectors, many men face economic insecurity, disrupting the breadwinner role that historically provided identity and respect. Meanwhile, women’s increased workforce participation challenges traditional male roles, creating frustration and resentment as economic stability and established identities shift.

    As expectations for equal partnerships grow, many men raised with conventional norms feel unprepared for these shifts. New dynamics around independence and equity can fuel misunderstandings, alienation and resentment, especially when traditional gender expectations clash with modern relationship ideals.

    Increased awareness of issues like misogyny and toxic masculinity has led to critiques that some men feel unfairly target their identities. Misunderstandings around terms like “toxic masculinity” can foster defensiveness, as positive models for masculinity are often lacking in these discussions.

    Social media amplifies divisive, adversarial portrayals of gender, reinforcing stereotypes and fostering resentment. Gender issues have also become politicized, making nuanced conversations difficult and polarizing gender dynamics further.

    Traditional gender roles are evolving quickly, leading to identity crises as qualities like stoicism or assertiveness are redefined. Without inclusive pathways to navigate these changes, many feel insecure or alienated, fueling tension.

    Social isolation, especially among men, has intensified, with limited support systems leading to loneliness and resentment. Emphasis on victimhood narratives also fuels a “competition of grievances,” as men’s economic and social struggles seem to compete with women’s issues, leading to mutual resentment.

    What is the path forward?

    To address the rising sense of alienation among American men and reduce gender antagonism, we need practical solutions that validate their experiences, offer purpose and foster constructive engagement. This isn’t solely about economic or demographic shifts; it requires holistic policies and social initiatives that support men’s economic stability, familial roles and community involvement without condescension.

    1. Economic stability and accessible upskilling. Policies that support well-paying, stable jobs, especially in trades and skilled labor, can help restore pride and purpose. Expanding accessible training—through apprenticeships, vocational programs and targeted certifications—can revitalize pathways to economic self-sufficiency and respect. Higher education, particularly community colleges, can play a vital role, but they must adopt practical, flexible models that allow working men and women to balance existing responsibilities with upskilling opportunities. Here are some strategies:
    • Employer partnerships for on-the-job training: Colleges can work with local industries to design programs that meet workforce needs and offer on-site training, allowing employees to earn while they learn.
    • Affordable, results-oriented programs: Expanding low-cost programs that focus on high-demand skills provides a clear incentive for workers to invest their time, with direct connections to jobs, salary increases and career advancement.
    • Mentorship and career support: Programs that connect students with mentors who have successfully upskilled can offer both guidance and motivation, especially for those hesitant about returning to school.
    • Enhanced job placement and counseling services: Colleges can offer support in aligning new skills with market demands, ensuring students can quickly apply their skills to new roles or promotions.
    • Skills-based certifications in growth sectors: Short-term certifications in fields like cybersecurity, skilled trades and advanced manufacturing can appeal to workers by providing clear pathways to better jobs.

    Higher education must provide clear, realistic pathways to secure employment, with affordable, high-quality vocational training and credentialing programs that align tightly with job market needs.

    1. Supporting fathers and family involvement. Fostering men’s roles as fathers, particularly those separated from their children, is essential. Legal reforms that promote equitable custody arrangements, along with targeted support for single fathers, can help men stay actively involved in family life. Programs offering parental counseling and father-centered parenting classes can restore purpose and fulfillment, reducing feelings of alienation from loved ones.
    2. Building community and combating isolation. To address social isolation, we need community spaces where men can forge friendships and feel connected. Initiatives centered on shared activities—such as sports leagues, volunteer groups or veterans’ organizations—offer valuable opportunities for camaraderie, helping men form supportive networks and reinforcing a sense of belonging and social cohesion.
    3. Recognizing and celebrating men’s contributions. Society benefits from recognizing men’s contributions through mentorship, craftsmanship, coaching and community leadership. Programs that emphasize these roles and celebrate male contributions can help men find renewed purpose in positive, community-oriented activities. Acknowledging these contributions adds value to society without diminishing other forms of progress.
    4. Addressing gender antagonism with understanding. Reducing gender antagonism requires an approach that acknowledges the unique challenges men and women face without casting all men as insensitive or prone to toxic traits. Public discourse should address specific actions or attitudes within their contexts rather than implying these are inherent in all men. Media portrayals that reinforce negative stereotypes about masculinity need to be challenged. Inclusive narratives that recognize both men’s and women’s struggles and contributions foster empathy, helping bridge divides rather than deepen them.
    5. Embracing shared human values. Many core values—compassion, respect, integrity, resilience—are universal. Shifting our focus from gendered virtues to shared human qualities can foster unity and mutual respect, emphasizing individual strengths over rigid gender norms.

    The erosion of traditional male roles has left many men feeling adrift, disconnected from the sources of pride and identity that once defined them. Only by acknowledging these challenges and investing in creative solutions that restore economic stability, respect, connection, meaning and purpose can we create a healthier, more balanced and respectful society for all.

    Steven Mintz is professor of history at the University of Texas at Austin and the author, most recently, of The Learning-Centered University: Making College a More Developmental, Transformational and Equitable Experience.

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  • Students feel “spammed” by “overload” of university emails

    Students feel “spammed” by “overload” of university emails

    Students feel that they receive “too many emails” from their universities, and they find their institution’s communications “inconsistent, inauthentic and rather annoying,” according to researchers.

    A new paper says that an “overload” of emails sent from universities to students means important emails are getting “buried” and that students simply disengage from their inboxes.

    The article, based on interviews with students, senior academics and professional staff who typically distribute emails, found that students were more likely to read emails sent by course tutors, whereas they were likely to ignore mass emails sent from unknown senders.

    “Students spoke positively about the messages that related to modules they were studying but were critical of the ‘dear student’ mass communications, which most described as ‘irrelevant’ and some described as ‘spam’,” says the paper published in Perspectives: Policy and Practice in Higher Education.

    It found students were “remarkably consistent” when filtering their emails, explaining, “They read all the emails relating to their modules, then prioritized the rest using the name of the generator and the subject line. Messages from teaching staff were welcomed, but students rarely read messages from unknown generators, messages sent to all students or newsletters.”

    Student services staff said they felt “uncomfortable [and] even guilty” about some of the messages they were asked to distribute, and one student told the researchers, “In my first year, like, there were so many emails being sent out that I basically just gave up.”

    However, report co-author Judith Simpson, lecturer in material culture at the University of Leeds, told Times Higher Education that while institutions were “a long way away from optimal communication,” it was “important to note that we measured student perception of email.”

    “Some students definitely feel as if they are being spammed, but we don’t actually know how many emails it takes to create that effect. A small number of emails asking you to do life admin might feel like a horrible burden if you haven’t done life admin before,” she said.

    The article concedes that “universities are in a difficult situation” and that “students expect to be provided with necessary information but seem unprepared to read it.”

    It argues that while this is an “eternal problem” and students failed to read paper handbooks in the pre-email era, “‘overload’ does seem to have been accentuated by the pandemic,” when universities “compensated” for the lack of in-person communication by “reaching out” to students via email. This often included important news, as well as information about “all the good things the university was doing” during this period to support students.

    “Staff and students are less likely to meet on campus now that hybrid working is the norm, and the ‘email habits’ developed in the pandemic are still in operation,” the article says.

    It suggests that to improve student engagement, universities should consider re-routing well-being messages through personal tutors, and that administrative staff should be introduced to students—virtually or in-person—to increase trust in communications.

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