Lotz of thoughts

  If you are a woman in academia, you have likely heard of “ academic housework .” It refers to all those tasks—administrative duties, committee work, student advising—that often fall on women while others, particularly male colleagues, seem to get a pass ( inspiration article ). And here is the kicker: we, as women, sometimes perpetuate this system ourselves. Have we internalised a sense of responsibility for these tasks? Are we complicit in doing them because we think no one else will? I am no stranger to this experience. Over the years, I have been called upon to take on multiple academic roles. While I always wanted to contribute meaningfully, balancing the academic housework with my research and career progression wasn't always easy. It took me a long time to realise that saying yes to every request doesn’t always benefit me or my career. The Invisible Labour of Women in Academia Many women, myself included, have internalised expectations from an early age to be accommodating,...

It all started with an innocent mistake. Dimitri, while preparing for his English test, confidently declared that “together” is a verb. I giggled at the time, gently correcting him, explaining it is actually an adverb. But later, as the moment lingered in my mind, I realized something deeper: Dimitri wasn’t entirely wrong. Maybe, in its truest sense, together is a verb. Think about it. Together is not just a state of being—it is an action. It is something we do. To come together, to work together, to support one another—all of these require effort, intention, and commitment. Togetherness does not happen passively; it is a practice, a choice we make daily, in every interaction. In a world that often celebrates individual achievements and self-reliance, the act of together can sometimes feel radical. It asks us to pause, listen, compromise, and empower others even when it might be easier to go it alone. Whether it is in families, friendships, workplaces, or communities, togethernes...

Eighteen years... That’s how long it’s been since I first landed in South Africa, wide-eyed and full of curiosity, ready for what was supposed to be a two-year adventure. Back then, I was a young Greek student chasing academic dreams, imagining I would pack up and return home once the ink dried on my degree. Little did I know that two years would stretch into something far bigger—a life. Eighteen years is significant, isn’t it? It’s the age when we celebrate adulthood, when we are considered grown up and ready to take on the world. And as I reflect on this milestone, I can’t help but feel that my life here has gone through its own kind of coming of age. When I first arrived, South Africa was an exciting whirlwind of contrasts. The sounds, the colours, the languages, the stories—a world, unlike anything I had known. I struggled with the small things, like adjusting to unfamiliar rhythms of life (sleeping times ...hmm...), but I also fell in love with the big things: the warmth of the pe...

I have given up on making resolutions. I have failed at keeping them so many times that I don’t even bother anymore. Instead, I choose a word for the year—a single guiding idea to keep me grounded. I can’t even claim credit for this clever approach; I must have stumbled upon it somewhere because it feels far too creative to be mine. This year, my word is choice . Where am I planning to apply this word? Everywhere, really. In my personal life, it is about choosing where to spend my energy—on people, activities, and myself. Am I showing up for the things that truly matter? In my professional life, it is about being intentional with my projects and commitments. Not every opportunity needs a “yes,” and that is okay.  But the first week of this shiny new year triggered a deeper, slightly uncomfortable thought. If I am going to embrace choice as my mantra, I need to give others the freedom to make their choices, too. This is where it gets tricky—because the most challenging “other...

 There’s something undeniably liberating about dancing solo. I have been bellydancing for years, and one of the highlights (and challenges) for me has always been the chance to perform alone on stage. While many dancers might feel a wave of anxiety about going solo, I find it an opportunity to truly define the quality and structure of my choreography. It’s just me, moving to the music, free from external expectations or a predetermined script. In those moments, I am not just performing; I am sharing a story, a personal narrative woven through each gesture, each beat, and each pause. This experience isn’t exclusive to dance, though. I see the same dynamic in my students and my kids as they present their work, whether it’s an assignment, a research presentation, or even a creative project. They, too, are dancing solo, in a sense. When they stand up to present, they might panic, wondering how their work will be received, but here’s the beauty: only they know the full extent of what th...

After a refreshing holiday in Greece, I have returned with renewed energy, ready to take on the year's final stretch. One thought that has been on my mind recently is a concept I came across in Jay Shetty's podcast: ‘Response-ability.’ He broke down the word responsibility into ‘response’ and ‘ability,’ highlighting that we can control how we respond to the world around us. This got me thinking about how I can ‘live’ this concept for the rest of the year. For me, ‘response-ability’ means embracing the idea that, while I may not have control over everything that happens around me, I do have complete control over how I choose to respond. It’s a powerful reminder that my reactions are not just automatic impulses but choices that I consciously make. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed or caught up in the moment's urgency—whether it’s a sudden work crisis, an unexpected challenge at home, or even something as simple as a frustrating conversation. But with this perspective, I recognize...

The journey of an early career scholar is exciting and challenging, filled with opportunities for growth, learning, and developing a solid foundation for a future in academia. Recently, I had the honour of speaking at the FAR LEAF programme closing ceremony at Future Africa , where I shared insights and advice with a group of emerging researchers, being a mentor in the programme. In this blog post, I want to extend that message to all early career scholars, not from a place of having all the answers but as someone who continues to learn and grow every day. The lessons I share here are ones I am still navigating myself, and I hope they provide encouragement and support as you forge your own path in academia. One of the most important lessons from experiences like the FAR LEAF programme is the power of perseverance. The academic path can be long and sometimes daunting, with setbacks and unexpected challenges. But you can persist, adapt, and continuously learn, setting you apart. You...