Walking Out on the Boys
- Book Review,
by Frances K. Conley
Amazon.com
Here's Frances Conley's description of her medical school anatomy class: "[W]e would become accustomed and oblivious to the fact that little bits of dead flesh would cling to our clothing and our shoes, and entangle in our hair, traveling with us to other classes or even home, as if the dead were making a futile attempt to retain a tenuous tie to the living." Just as she felt overcome by the dead in that class, her neurosurgery career was fraught with sexism and harassment--from her admission as one of just 12 women (out of 60) in her medical school class in 1961 to her decision to resign from Stanford University's School of Medicine 30 years later. Conley has done every patient--and every female doctor--a sincere favor with this memoir of the games that are played within the academic and medical realms. The book has a bad aftertaste, however, because Conley's message is not one of empowerment. She was compelled to resign from her position when the university appointed Dr. Gerald Silverberg as acting chairman of the department. He was later demoted after a sexual harassment investigation and Conley returned to Stanford life, but, as she says, "The academic community has shown little inclination to change 'business as usual.'" Conley, now 57, gives a well-written play-by-play of years of sexual shenanigans and legal proceedings, but offers little in the way of advice for women who find themselves at the receiving end of harassment.
From Library Journal
The country's first tenured female neurosurgeon, Conley explains that gender discrimination prompted her dramatic resignation from Stanford.Copyright 1997 Reed Business Information, Inc.
The New York Times Book Review, Susan Jacoby
Female physicians of Conley's generation (she is now 57) must have relied on an overwhelming sense of vocation in order to make their way through a misogynous training system that continually challenged their right to be who and where they were. Unfortunately, the story of that struggle is overwhelmed in this book by a parochial focus on academic politics....
From The New England Journal of Medicine, November 5, 1998
Few topics in the 1990s have generated as much interest or controversy as sex bias and sexual harassment. Frances K. Conley's book, Walking Out on the Boys, is likely to do both. A few months before the Senate hearing on Clarence Thomas's nomination to the Supreme Court, Conley resigned from her position as a professor at Stanford University to protest what is described on the jacket of her book as "long-ingrained overt gender discrimination." Conley's highly personal perspective provides one woman's view of academic medicine, of sexual harassment, and of institutional reactions to sexual harassment. It may make some readers uncomfortable. There are few heroes in this book. This book names people, describes relatively personal aspects of their lives, and concludes on this critical, even negative, note: "I have learned that universities, in general, no longer function as agents of societal change... [that their] liberal environment is a masquerade." It seems clear to me from talking with colleagues that there are many perspectives about what happened at Stanford. Some readers will see Conley's book as a realistic description of events that could happen at any medical center, whereas others will see her account as one-dimensional, inaccurate, or not relevant to their own institutions. Nevertheless, her account serves a very important role in emphasizing that even at a time when women are entering medicine and science in greater numbers, sex discrimination and sexual harassment are still taking their toll. Social change is not easy. Those at the forefront pay a price, and Conley's saga illustrates this. She was a trailblazer. She finished medical school when tradition favored a career for women in pediatrics, psychiatry, pathology, or family practice. Conley chose neurosurgery. After serving as the first female surgical intern at Stanford University Hospital, she joined the faculty and was elected chair of the Faculty Senate, the first nontenured faculty member and the first woman to serve in that position. Conley's account should remind us of several points. It is not unusual, in complaints of sexual harassment, for there to be divergent views, both of what happened and of its significance. One person's comment, intended as humorous, may be another person's insult and cause pain. A second point is that sexual harassment is largely an issue of power, not sex. It occurs when one person has more power than the other and uses that power inappropriately, to intimidate. Conley's comments about her own participation in ritual harassment in the operating room ("I, too, could be insulting, using our dirty language to turn their faces red") bespeaks an important principle: trainees learn harassment from their professional culture and their role models; very few of them are immune. And they pass it on. Alternatively, I would like to think that trainees can also learn positive aspects of behavior, and that these, too, can be passed on from generation to generation. Conley's book raises questions for all of us, both men and women. Would the outcome of this story have been different if, at the time, Stanford had had a mechanism through which her grievances might have been aired? I believe that thoughtful, comprehensive institutional policies and programs can avert at least some of the pitfalls mentioned in Conley's book. What else can we do to change the culture of medicine and science so that all the players can grow to their full professional potential? What policies and procedures should institutions put in place to encourage positive behavior and to discourage negative behavior? How can we encourage creativity and the free expression of ideas while building a society that does not condone the belittling or exploitation of others? At a minimum, Conley's book puts these questions squarely on the table. Although I share Conley's deep concern about equity for women in medicine and science and empathize with her impatience, I suspect that, like a nearly victorious but weary warrior, she cannot now see that the battle is going well. We have recruited a new generation of energetic, sensitive, and collegial people, members of both sexes, to our profession. I believe that universities and academic medical centers are in fact agents of social change. I know that prejudices and barriers are dissolving. Conley's book serves an important purpose in reminding us that we cannot have it any other way. Reviewed by Merle Waxman
Copyright © 1998 Massachusetts Medical Society. All rights reserved. The New England Journal of Medicine is a registered trademark of the MMS.
From Booklist
In 1993 only 155 of the 4,526 neurosurgeons in the U.S. were women, and one of the women was Conley, who had been discovered by the media in 1991 when she resigned her tenured professorship at Stanford--a drastic step taken when Stanford's medical school dean appointed an unsuitable chairman of the neurosurgery department. The ensuing explosion at Stanford and across the country forced Conley to consider questions she previously had not faced. A student meeting ended with a male student asking what she was going to do. Mulling over that and other issues, she and her husband began to wonder why she had resigned. In this book, Conley takes us through the many challenges faced by a woman in college, medical school, residency, teaching, research, and practice, and she describes how she felt about sexism, learned to live with it and respond in kind, and finally realized she had an obligation to improve conditions for women. William Beatty
From Kirkus Reviews
A forthright behind-the-scenes account of the circumstances surrounding Conley's resignation as a tenured full professor of neurosurgery at the Stanford University School of Medicine in 1991. The author gained instant media attention by going public with the grievance that had caused her to act: sexism--or as she put it, ``I am minus the appropriate gender identification that permits full membership in the club.'' According to Conley, although more women than ever are now enrolled in medical school, an old (male) guard still makes the rules, creating a climate in which sexual harassment and gender discrimination are rife. Conley's career had nonetheless flourished for as long as Dr. John Hanberry was Stanford's chair of neurosurgery. But when Hanberry left in 1989 and Dean Korn of the medical school appointed her colleague Dr. Gerry Silverberg as acting chair, she soon found Silverberg's ``arrogance, his boasting, and overt sexism intolerable.'' Following her highly publicized departure, Conley received a strangely belated education in feminist issues from the women's movement. While the more personal chronicle of her feminist awakening has merit, the larger, more important story is really about discrimination in academic medicine. Those with a taste for intrigue will relish the details of the political maneuverings of all parties--Conley, her lawyer, Korn, Silverberg, and the associate dean who had been asked to hold investigative hearings about Silverberg's behavior. There is no happy ending. For although Conley eventually withdrew her resignation, and though Silverberg did not after all become department chair, the reforms that would have given equality to women in medicine did not take place--and Conley lives knowing that she'll never truly ``belong'' to the central ranks of her profession. Conley freely admits to being opinionated, outspoken, self- confident, and painfully blunt. All these trains are fully expressed in this revealing account. -- Copyright ©1998, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
From Book News, Inc.
Conley made headlines when she resigned from Stanford University as the first women in the country named full professor of neurosurgery. Here she tells the story of her training and career in a profession that is dominated by white males and systematically treats women as inferior, and how she came to the realization that nothing she could do would ever admit her to the club. She ponders the implications for the future of the medical profession. No index or bibliography. Book News, Inc.®, Portland, OR
Deborah Tannen, Author of You Just Don't Understand and The Argument Culture
"What a privilege to read, at last, the story behind Frances Conley's much reported departure from and return to the Stanford Medical Faculty. Along with her own riveting story, she details the complex of injustices that can accrue when institutional power is abused and those at the helm lack the will to rein in the abusers. Everyone should read this dramatic expos and take heed--especially those in large institutions and in the medical professions, and all of us who depend on those professions for our own lives."
Review
"A horrifying look at macho medicine in action--and Conley fears that real change remains elusive. Don't see a new doctor without reading her story first."--Laura Shapiro, Newsweek
"Everyone involved--from nurses and premeds to medical students, residents, and faculty--ought to read this book."--Margaret W. Rossiter, Journal of the American Medical Association
Sharyn Ann Lennart, M.D., President, American Medical Women's Association
A unique and important book of crucial interest to physicians, medical administrators, and the public. Dr. Conley's compelling personal account typifies the struggles of thousands of academic women physicians who strive for equal opportunity and equal impact within the medical profession.
San Francisco Chronicle
"A personal story so gripping that it reads like a novel."
Ms. magazine
"Riveting and instructive."
Laura Shapiro, Newsweek
"A horrifying look at macho medicine in action-and Conley fears that real change remains elusive. Don't see a new doctor without reading her story first."
Review
"A horrifying look at macho medicine in action--and Conley fears that real change remains elusive. Don't see a new doctor without reading her story first."--Laura Shapiro, Newsweek
"Everyone involved--from nurses and premeds to medical students, residents, and faculty--ought to read this book."--Margaret W. Rossiter, Journal of the American Medical Association
Book Description
In May 1991, Frances K. Conley, the first female tenured professor of neurosurgery in the country, made headline news when she resigned from Stanford University to protest the medical school’s unabashed gender discrimination. In this controversial, forthright memoir, Conley portrays the world of academic medicine in which women are still considered inferior; she also explains why, as a consequence, the research and treatment of women’s health problems lag far behind those of men. In assessing why women’s careers and psyches are suffering, Conley provides a first-person look into what it is like to be an accomplished woman within this restrictive medical world, offering invaluable advice to patients and future doctors alike.
From the Inside Flap
Frances Conley, the first female tenured full professor of neurosurgery in the country, made headline news when she resigned from her position at Stanford University to protest the medical school's long-ingrained overt gender discrimination. In this forthright memoir, Conley describes her medical training, the enormous investment she made in becoming a member of the small, elite, white male world of neurosurgery, and her realization--late in an extraordinarily successful career--that she would never really be a full member of this club. Conley takes us inside the world of academic medicine, where all doctors are trained but where women are still considered inferior. As a result, research and treatment of women's health problems lag far behind those of men, and women's careers and psyches are suffering. Conley eventually returned to Stanford after some of the changes for which she had fought so hard were initiated, but her story makes it painfully clear that, in spite of their advances, female doctors--as well as all other female hospital staff--still have a long way to go before they are judged on the basis of their abilities rather than on their gender. A revealing, sometimes shocking account, Walking Out on the Boys should be read by anyone concerned with the future of medicine in America.
About the Author
Frances K. Conley is a professor of neurosurgery at Stanford University and chief of staff at the Palo Alto Veterans Health Care System. She lives in Woodside, California.
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