Inclusivity in academia not only includes valuing the inclusion of diverse communities but also providing them accommodations to feel included. However, inclusivity as a concept has been widely spoken about yet poorly executed in academia. My journey as a disabled junior researcher within this space has been challenging, but I have persevered and overcome many obstacles. I have faced numerous discriminatory experiences and felt isolated and anxious in navigating academia. 

Initially, I felt hopeful after accepting an offer from a lab for a full-time Research Assistant job that once I could only have dreamt of. I assumed a lab that worked on the themes of inclusivity, especially with the younger population, would also be inclusive to the members of the lab. Additionally, I thought I would finally find a supportive environment and mentors with whom my unique perspectives and experiences would be valued and respected. However, as I started to work more closely with the lab, I encountered underlying toxicity, exclusivity, and a subtle yet persistent practice of gaslighting that made me rethink continuing in academia as a whole. 

Where It All Started

I have been in academia for a little more than two years now –  navigating academic spaces has always been challenging for me due to the lack of accommodative spaces. Unfortunately, due to this, I experienced discrimination by some toxic labs/mentors and unemployment forcing me to volunteer my time instead of availing paid opportunities. Amidst all these experiences, I was eventually forced to look for full-time research opportunities, not only for the exposure I needed back then for applying to graduate school, but also because I wanted to be independent financially and not add more burden to my aging parents. After applying to multiple labs, I was fortunate (at least back then I thought) to have received a positive response from one of the top universities in my country to work with a mentor whose work I had admired a lot. I was excited about the interview and nervous at the same time. Also, I did not want to feel excluded or even rejected for being disabled. As the days came closer to the interview, I was determined to be honest and open about my disability, and rightfully ask for the accommodation I deserved. 

On the day of the interview, in the first fifteen minutes of our discussion, I knew how much I would thrive in a lab like this academically. The opportunity was with a mentor I looked up to and the work they did was in the similar area as mine. However, in the back of my mind, I knew I was hesitant to ask questions, especially after how well the interview was going and the mutually positive impressions we seemed to have about each other. Toward the end of the interview, the principal investigator (PI) asked me if I had any questions for them, and I paused and put on a brave face. I explained to them the experiences I have had with labs over the years and the accommodations I would require if I were to be accepted for the position. As I started sharing, the PI started to acknowledge and thank me for sharing my experiences and bringing up the topic of needing certain accommodations. The PI’s positive response made me feel less nervous. They further explained to me how inclusivity was an important aspect of the lab for them. 

They shared in detail how the lab’s infrastructure was wheelchair friendly, had lifts for one to use, and how the current members of the lab were very accommodating. Additionally, they were open to keeping a hybrid position for me as required so I could continue working. It all sounded like a dream and for once I felt like I was valued in a system that did not seem inclusive. I did not feel guilty anymore for being disabled as I did previously. I got the acceptance letter the following week and I happily agreed and signed the contract for me to join the lab officially.

The experience

The lab was located far from home, and it took me more than an hour to reach using public transportation. However, all of it did not matter as I was excited to embark on a new research journey. During the first week, my experience was pleasant. I was introduced to everything that I needed to start my work and was made familiar with the workings of the lab. As my work started from the second week, the work only piled up, and I slowly became overwhelmed. I was working well beyond my scheduled hours, and my hybrid work days were postponed slowly. My concerns that I had just started to share openly were ignored. I started to sense hostility from my colleagues and quickly started feeling anxious and lonely. I was excluded from activities that required some moving around and from conversations and work in the name of “this is fieldwork that would  require walking around”. I was given tasks that required work in front of a laptop and less involving any human contact. 

As time progressed, I told myself it would eventually get better and that I was just overthinking this. It was in the third week that I was finally granted the work-from-home option for a few days. Traveling back and forth and working longer hours for all six days a week caused unnecessary stress to my body. I urgently needed some flexibility before it got worse. For me, working from home in the past meant I got to schedule the tasks followed by tiny breaks to accommodate my body to work for hours. However, this was not the case. The PI of my current lab expected everyone who was not in the lab to turn on cameras, share updates, and sometimes share screens to supervise the work we were doing. It felt like I was micromanaged, but I was not hesitant and continued working and following through because I felt as a junior researcher I did not have much to say. I was so taken in by the dream of working with the PI I admired so much that I ignored signs that slowly started affecting my physical as well as mental health. 

With the pace at which work was assigned with stricter deadlines, it got harder for me to keep up and manage. My disabilities are locomotive in nature which means doing tasks like typing, sitting on a chair for a long time, walking long durations, and or even using a staircase are things that cause me pain daily. Over the years, I developed a pace to be accommodative of these daily tasks, especially typing, walking short distances, and sitting for long hours. However, the pace these tasks were assigned at the lab and the stricter deadlines got to me slowly. I was way behind and the PI was upset and in some cases furious. That year, I was also newly diagnosed with Diabetes and new to medication that had bad side effects; this was openly discussed and shared before starting my contract as a full-time employee. However, my health concerns did not seem to matter as much as the quality of work I delivered or could deliver. 

After a month passed, a review meeting was conducted with the PI, a space where both parties discussed concerns and provided feedback on work. During this call, the PI took the liberty of not only being harsh in their feedback about my work and the pace that they were not satisfied with but also commented on my disabilities and work. They also commented on my disabilities and said that I would be unable to thrive in grad school with the pace I was working at. Adding to that, they emphasized that I should reconsider the decision of applying to grad school in the future as it would be difficult for any lab to accommodate a student like me. I was compared to able-bodied researchers and the pace they worked at and was left with a warning that they would terminate my position if the pace remained the same. I was once again not given space to discuss my experience and the meeting ended there. Amidst all this, my mental health was affected the most. I was constantly in an anxious state of mind. I found myself gaslighting to a point where I started to experience anxiety attacks almost every day. These comments from the PI only made that worse. Even though I knew these comments were not a reflection of my skills or work but more on the perspectives of the PI, it started to affecting my self-esteem more each day. 

This further started to deteriorate my physical health causing me to experience more burnout which added to my anxiety, turning into a vicious cycle with work that only piled. I started to doubt myself as a researcher because I constantly felt I was disappointing the lab.

How did I handle this situation then?

I realized that a month of this experience had been toxic. Every lab member in the lab was heavily burnt out and did work continuously with few breaks. When I spoke about this to one of the members, their only advice was with the comment, “It’s for science, it’s not personal” but how could it not be personal? I knew I had no-one to support me, and I would have to quit to protect my mental health. I soon made the bold move of writing a resignation email to terminate my contract with the lab immediately . I also addressed the concerns and experiences I faced and explained how upset and disappointed I was. The PI (with not much emotion) accepted it and terminated my contract. My departure from the lab did not go easy, I was taunted with more comments by the PI. I was harshly told that I should not associate myself with the lab ever on my resume, never talk about it to anyone outside and if I did so and it was discovered, there would be negative consequences. 

I would not be credited for any work that was done during my short stay with the lab and would be immediately removed from the websites and papers (that I had contributed little towards). It was a bittersweet day for me. It took me months to fully process it. This paradoxical experience has profoundly shaped my understanding of how wrongly the word inclusivity has been played around with. It has taught me that merely words and gestures are insufficient; true inclusivity demands a fundamental shift in mindset and creating a space where every individual feels valued, respected, and empowered to contribute to their fullest potential. This incident not only made me reevaluate and afraid to work in labs but also made me gaslight myself when I was physically and mentally low and was expected to do the best work. After leaving the lab, my health worsened and I was again unemployed, dependent on my family, and spent time in the hospital. This was due to the extra hours I spent a working outside of hours to complete work and still was not able to keep up with the pace. It was one of the toughest heartbreaking experiences I had.

Conclusion

It has become very important for me to recognize these patterns of toxicity in any workplace and be alert at the first sign of anything that does not feel good. Often as junior researchers, these things are never spoken or shared. I recently opened up about this to another disabled researcher who had a similar experience and this made me realise these experiences are not uncommon. This also reinforced my desire to advocate and share my story. I hope that sharing my experience helps someone in a similar situation recognize such harmful patterns of behaviour, and helps people who have been through similar experiences realise they are not alone. As I am still processing this incident, I have decided to keep myself anonymous for this blog; however, sharing my story is important, as I know many of my fellow disabled researchers continue to face such incidents and sadly continue fighting through so many silent battles with the system.

Overall, I am sharing this story as I am determined to be an advocate for a future where inclusivity is not just a buzzword, but also a space for such or similar lived experiences to be voiced out, especially for those coming from underrepresented groups. It is clear that many spaces in academia lack true inclusivity beyond simply involving underrepresented groups for representation. We must advocate for change and ensure that inclusivity in these spaces actually exists. One can preach that they are inclusive, but do they truly live up to those values? 

This blog is written by an academic that has chosen to remain anonymous.

This blog is kindly sponsored by G-Research