Working at a University Under Political Attack: What You Need to Know Before — and After — You Accept

If you're working at a university that's been targeted by state legislation — or about to accept a position at one — you're navigating something that didn't look like this even five years ago. Legislative attacks on DEI, curriculum, tenure, and research funding have moved fast, and the institutions on the receiving end haven't always responded in ways that protect the people doing the work. Whether you're already there or deciding whether to go, there are things worth thinking through...

What Faculty Are Actually Dealing With

This isn't about discomfort or ideological disagreement. In a growing number of states, legislation has made it functionally harder — sometimes impossible — to do the work academics are trained to do. A survey released last month by Ithaka S+R found that one in ten faculty in states with academic speech restrictions are actively seeking jobs out of state, six percent are trying to leave academia altogether, and four percent sought employment in another country in the past year specifically because of research restrictions.

While these are not mass exodus numbers, they do say something real about working conditions. In Texas, a philosophy professor left Texas A&M after administrators told him he couldn't teach Plato's Symposium because it violated the system's new restrictions on gender and sexuality content. At Texas State University, a history professor was fired after speaking at an online socialism conference, and a physics professor was told his contract wouldn't be renewed after posting signs on his office door calling it a "safe space for immigrants." These aren't outliers. They're what happens when legislation bans DEI programs, weakens tenure protections, empowers governing boards to override faculty on curriculum, and — in some states — prohibits the display of pride flags on public university property.

The same Ithaka S+R survey found that 48 percent of faculty in restricted states said recent laws limit their ability to conduct research or creative activity. Eight percent had at least one federal grant canceled in 2025. Forty percent (40%!) saw their overall research funding decline due to federal policy changes. And 60 percent said their university administration had not adequately defended academic freedom or tenure.

Minoritized Faculty Saw This Coming. Here's What That Means for Everyone.

The people most likely to be harmed by politically hostile institutions are often the ones with the least power to leave.

When I was on the tenure-track job market during the Biden administration, I deliberately avoided applying to public universities (which are more beholden to state legislatures and funding) and universities in conservative states since this movement began gaining steam during Trump 1.0 through actions such as restrictions on curriculum, attacks on tenure, and department closures. Biden slowed some of it down, but the legislative momentum that started during Trump's first term didn't stop. I was making a calculated bet that a private institution, or a state less hostile to my field, would give me more protection. (I was fortunate enough to get a job at a private institution in a purple state.) That's a strategy — but it's also a privilege. Not everyone has enough offers to be selective, and not everyone has a profile that makes those institutions a realistic option.

Faculty from minoritized communities — scholars of color, LGBTQ+ faculty, researchers working on race, gender, immigration, or sexuality — are heavily concentrated in the fields being targeted, which is not an accident since this is a dual-attack on not just research to build a more inclusive and equitable world but also on people from these communities having access to education and having influence on policy. They're also the scholars for whom a hostile institutional environment carries risks that extend well beyond the professional. The postdoctoral neuroscientist in Florida who told Science magazine she was avoiding states with extreme limits on reproductive rights, and states where her Black husband might not feel safe, isn't making a career calculation — she's making a safety one.

When you have one offer — or none — turning it down because of where it is isn't realistic for most people. Anyone who tells you the calculus is simple hasn't been on the academic job market recently.

Questions Worth Asking Before You Accept

If you're weighing an offer at an institution under political pressure, here's what to think through:

What does your research involve? If your work involves race, gender, sexuality, immigration, or anything that could be read as DEI-adjacent under a broad legislative interpretation, find out specifically what the institution's policies are and how they've actually been enforced. Ask people already in the department, not just the hiring committee.

Has the administration defended faculty when it mattered? The Ithaka S+R survey found 60 percent of faculty in restricted states felt their administration hadn't adequately defended academic freedom. A department you respect inside an institution with a weak administration is a different proposition than one where leadership has actually pushed back on legislative overreach. Find out which one you're looking at.

Will this position keep you competitive? Does it give you the time, funding, and freedom to publish and build your research profile? A job that limits what you can research or teach doesn't just affect your day-to-day — it affects what you can do next.

What does your life outside work require? Access to reproductive healthcare, physical safety, community — these aren't secondary concerns to weigh after you've decided professionally. They're crucial to what you need as a human being and to excel as a scholar.

If You're Already There

If you're currently at an institution feeling this pressure, you are definitely not alone — and the trajectory in most of these states is not toward moderation. While you may not need to leave now, you should create options before you're forced to.

Know what you're actually protected from — and what you're not. Read your contract and your institution's faculty handbook carefully. Understand what your tenure protections specifically cover, how financial exigency is defined, and what your grievance procedures are. If your institution has an AAUP chapter, get involved or, at minimum, get connected. When things move fast — and they can — knowing your rights before you need them matters.

Document everything. If you're being asked to change course content, avoid certain topics, or self-censor in ways that feel coerced, keep a record. Emails, meeting notes, informal conversations that become policy — document them. This isn't paranoia; it's protecting yourself if you ever need to make a case to your union, your institution, or publicly.

Don't let your professional network shrink to your department. Political pressure on campuses has a way of producing insularity — people pull inward, avoid controversy, stop raising their hands for things. That instinct is understandable, but professionally it's costly. Stay active in your disciplinary associations. Present at conferences. Publish. Write for public audiences if that's something you're drawn to (just be aware of the risks). The colleagues who know your work beyond your institution are the ones who can open doors if you need them.

Be honest with yourself about your timeline. There's a difference between staying because you're genuinely building something — a research agenda, a student community, an institutional footprint worth protecting — and staying because leaving feels too hard to think about. Both are real, but only one of them is a plan. You don't have to have an exit date, but knowing what would make you leave, and what you'd do if you did, is worth thinking through before circumstances force the question.

If an alt-ac path has crossed your mind, start exploring it now. Not because you should leave, but because exploring from a position of stability — with a salary, institutional affiliation, and time to think — is categorically different from exploring after a crisis. The people who navigate these transitions most successfully are almost always the ones who started before they had to.

© 2026 Marya T. Mtshali. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author.

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