We need virtual professional development opportunities and we need them now
Virtual professional development opportunities have been pushed aside so that folks can regress to exclusionary practices of the past. Access to (virtual) conferences is the right thing to do.
Virtual professional development opportunities have been pushed by the wayside so that folks can return to the way things have always been. Ensuring access to (virtual) conferences is paramount to maintaining a diverse and pluralistic field.
For the last few years, I have been a steadfastly vocal advocate for virtual professional development. I had enjoyed a few online courses, including those through CIRTL as a graduate student; sure, they were different from my in-person classes and workshops, but not in a negative way or in a way that detracted from my learning. (I could write about all the ways virtual programming is great, but that’s another piece for another day.) When the COVID-19 pandemic pivoted us all to virtual workshops, courses, and meetings, I was not concerned: I knew I could adapt. In fact, I appreciated the virtual professional development opportunities.
Online conferences are supportive to me, personally
With online conferences, workshops, and meetings, I could connect with people across the hallway or across the world. I was able to meet people I never would have otherwise: people who worked at different kinds of institutions, or who had interests that never would have ended us up at the same on-site conference. I was thrilled to have multiple years of virtual conferences. I have a lot of food allergies, so on-site conferences mean multiple days of me barely eating anything, just the snacks I can fit in my luggage or grab at the local CVS. By the end of conference day 2, I’m exhausted and hungry, but I feel expected to keep a pep in my step and come up with thoughtful and engaging questions for presenters, enthusiastic hallway conversations, and late-night chatting in the hotel lobby. In contrast, virtual conferences mean I can prepare my own meals and be adequately nourished while I meet new people and present my own new ideas. I can engage with folks casually in hallway-like conversations in the chat, without lugging around all the snacks I was able to pack with me for the day. I can follow new folks on social media and send them a meme the next day, reflecting on our virtual conference experience. I thrived during the few years of virtual conferences; they were (and still are) a lifeline to my professional connections, but also an overall more comfortable conference experience for me.
And then, the world decided to pretend that COVID-19 is no longer dangerous. (When in fact, even with almost no one reporting to the WHO anymore, in 2025 COVID-19 is still killing 400-1,300 Americans every week, and at least 6 in 100 people have long COVID, which is a disabling condition. I implore you to take this seriously, for your health and the health of your loved ones.) Things went back to some semblance of “normal,” with conferences returning to on-site and virtual components being peeled back.
But, it’s not all about me
Now, because I am not a totally self-centered person, I can understand that there are reasons that some folks like—or even love—on-site conferences. I understand that rubbing elbows with the authors of some of the most widely-read books can feel exhilarating, like meeting and befriending a celebrity. I understand that getting to hug someone you haven’t seen since graduate school is a moment that can make your heart grow three sizes. I understand that getting to visit a new place can be refreshing, that it can jostle you out of a thinking and teaching rut. I understand that, for some, getting to lock eyes with someone when you’re explaining a concept and getting to really see the lightbulb turn on for them can be an incredibly validating experience. I get it, I do. Now, I ask you to understand the many reasons why virtual professional development is so necessary, not just because virtual PD is more comfortable, or enjoyable, but is actually the only safe way many colleagues can engage with professional development sessions right now.
I have explained that one primary reason virtual professional development is more accessible to me is because of my food allergies: being at home to eat means I can actually eat. But there are so many other reasons why being at a virtual professional development opportunity—like a conference—is not only more feasible and comfortable, but actually downright safer.
On-site conferences are not inclusive
Conferences are not typically known for being welcoming spaces for folks who are “non-normative” in some way, as compared to the majority of the organization or conference attendees. I have heard many, many members of a particular professional organization complain about the clique-ish nature of the annual conference. Although strides have been made to make some on-site conferences (and professional organizations) more inclusive, these changes have not ameliorated the long-standing impact of the historical exclusivity. Some members and attendees still feel excluded, and I know, because I’ve discussed this with colleagues who still feel inadequately included. Those who have complained to (and with) me about exclusivity are often Black women, Latina women, graduate students, independent scholars, and disabled people. Conferences exclude colleagues from various marginalized groups for different reasons. For some of our colleagues, being The Only member of their marginalized group in every room in and of itself feels like they are hypervisible and carrying a weight to represent their group well, at best, and like they are physically unsafe, at worst.
For our colleagues who feel like their presence makes them a target and visibly “other,” attending on-site conferences might not be a fun, exciting, or edifying experience. Our colleagues might find themselves educating others, calling out microaggressions, or simply absorbing the pain of experiencing those microaggressions. Members who aren’t part of the “inner circle” or the “usual suspects” might find themselves ignored when they enter an on-site professional development workshop. For some, being in virtual professional development sessions can mitigate some of that “otherness” and lack of safety.
I want to explicitly highlight the ways in which on-site conferences typically exclude neurodivergent, chronically ill, and otherwise disabled folks with food aversions, sensory sensitivities, and quickly-draining social batteries. For colleagues with energy-limiting disabilities and neurodivergence: they’re too overstimulating, there aren’t enough breaks, the lodging and workshop spaces are too far apart, there aren’t enough bathrooms (accessible, gender-inclusive, and otherwise), and the lack of structure in networking leaves many people feeling lonely. I know of many neurotypical folks who struggle at many of the clique-ish conferences. They can’t find someone to eat lunch with, don’t know if they should introduce themselves, and feel like there is a group of members who are part of the in-group—and if you’re out, you’re way out.
I stutter, and I cannot tell you how many times I have been laughed at by grown adult humans at conferences when I try to introduce myself and hit a block, or when I am just completely talked over because they don’t realize I’m attempting to speak. In a loud conference hall, the cacophony exacerbates my stutter, and I’m essentially a bobblehead, just nodding along to the points that other people are making. Layer in various kinds of neurodivergence, and you have a recipe for colleagues traveling to an on-site conference and spending the whole week feeling like they don’t belong. And going all the way to an on-site conference comes with very real safety risks.
On-site conferences are dangerous
For those like me, who have serious food allergies, conferences can be an annoying or deadly risk. Buffets are often not well-labeled, the food is all touching, and it can be impossible to get in contact with the people who actually cooked the food to get clarity on ingredients. The consequences for those with gastrointestinal issues can be brutal: the instant need to use a restroom that is not easily identified, or is not accessible; the slowly-developing migraine that sets in and causes lights to become nausea-inducing; the spreading, itchy rash that becomes the focal point of conversations with worried colleagues. Folks with energy-limiting disabilities may use up all their energy reserves far from their hotel room, and may over-exert themselves to make it back safely, draining all their energy for the next day. What started as an opportunity to meet and impress new colleagues has now become a high-stakes sick day in an unfamiliar place.
Over the last 5 years, communicable diseases have skyrocketed in prevalence: measles has made a comeback in multiple states in the US, and bird flu is poised to take flight. We could make on-site events safer for immunocompromised individuals and those who care for them, if, for example, we required high-quality respirator masks at our on-site professional development. Importantly, COVID-19 infections negatively impact the immune system, so even if you were not immunocompromised pre-2020, you very well may be so now, and you may have no knowledge of that. So, requiring healthcare precautions on-site is beneficial for everyone.
Even if we require masking at on-site conferences or professional development, attendees still need to travel to the site, which may require flights, trains, or other public transit. Since those will undoubtedly require interactions with unmasked folks, simply requiring on-site masking doesn’t reduce risk of exposure to a life-altering disease during considerable transit. Healthcare is not free from bias, so if colleagues become sick during their travels, anyone, but especially our most marginalized colleagues, may receive inadequate healthcare due to bias and bigotry while they are in transit.
Travel to on-site conferences has costs
While we’re talking about transit, many colleagues are recognizing the negative impacts of plane, train, and automobile transit on the climate. It is becoming increasingly difficult for many colleagues to justify the carbon footprint of flying across the country just for that (very impactful!) moment of eye contact with an audience member. From the California wildfires to the flooding from hurricane Helene in North Carolina, the impacts of our choices on the planet are undeniable. Doing virtual professional development allows us to enjoy those same lightbulb moments from across the world with less damage to the planet.
In addition to the climate cost of travel, there is the actual financial cost of travel. Many of our colleagues work at institutions where professional development funds are limited or non-existent. Some institutions have halted travel and frozen budgets due to the current US governmental administration and economic uncertainty. Of course, independent scholars and graduate students often have absolutely no professional development funds and may be living on shoe-string budgets. Expecting someone to travel to a conference that costs several hundreds of dollars, on top of the costs of travel and lodging, means that our colleagues at the least-resourced institutions can’t attend on-site professional development opportunities or must pay from their own pockets. These costs alone limit who can travel to on-site professional development experiences.
Not everyone can travel due to caregiving responsibilities. Many parents are struggling to find childcare while they travel to these on-site conferences. For those with very young children, this may be especially difficult, particularly if the parent in question is breastfeeding or pumping. The mental load of keeping track of that, including the location of the lactation room, while at an on-site conference is significant. Some colleagues are caretakers of their elderly parents, their disabled siblings, their cousins, or other community members. Finding someone they can trust to care for their loved ones while they attend an on-site conference can be expensive and worrisome. Dependable caretakers are hard to find, and the safety of our loved ones is important.
Travel to on-site conferences is not safe for everyone
What about the safety of our colleagues who are pregnant or trying to conceive? There are states in the US where miscarriage is being criminalized. Where pregnancy health care is not available unless and until the pregnant person’s life is at stake. Do we expect our colleagues to travel to or through these states on their way to learn with and from colleagues? These laws are changing all the time, so a “safe” state today may not be so when a colleague finds out about a pregnancy three months after the call for proposals. Colleagues may suddenly feel unsafe traveling due to the ever-changing political climate.
Recent legislation has put our trans colleagues at additional risk during travel. Some trans colleagues cannot risk renewing their passports or other necessary documentation for travel, because to do so will require them to be misgendered on that documentation. Our trans colleagues may travel with their current documentation into states which criminalize their very existence. Our trans colleagues may worry about being accosted for using the restroom and may risk urinary tract infections after avoiding restrooms during travel. Further, individuals who appear to be trans, at least to some anti-trans vigilantes, are also at risk: anyone who does not adhere to gender norms may experience difficulty at points in travel that require contact with governmental actors. These are colleagues whose existence is perceived to be in contradiction with the exclusionary policies of the current US government.
And, of course, this is all leading to the ways in which the rights of those who share First Amendment-protected viewpoints in the US are being fully removed from the country. Some of our colleagues are not US-born citizens: some are green-card holders or international scholars who bring brilliant insights to our professional development sessions, who may have to deal with visa issues, regardless of the political climate. Given the scholars who have recently been detained and whisked away to prisons without warrants, asking our international colleagues to travel across state lines and country borders—and to potentially engage with law enforcement officials—right now is asking them to risk their home and livelihoods. Some of our colleagues are US-born citizens, but may look or behave in a way that ICE agents deem to mean that they do not belong here. Do we really feel comfortable asking these colleagues to risk deportation (to where? great question!) just so they can learn about students’ sense of belonging while in the same on-site room as others?
Centering on-site conferences is moving us backwards
Each example above demonstrates the challenges that different members of our professional community might experience as they plan for and attend an on-site conference. In each of these examples, our colleagues are juggling so much physically, mentally, and emotionally. We know that when we are experiencing stress and trauma, our windows of tolerance shrink, causing us to react, rather than respond, to our stressors. Additionally, we know that spinning so many plates—thinking about physical safety and health, mental wellbeing, and simply making it back home—can cause us to use up a lot of our cognitive bandwidth. This elevated cognitive load results in a decreased ability for us to process the information being shared with us at these professional development events. If we’re so stressed that we’re not emotionally regulated, and we’re so tapped out that we’re not receiving the information appropriately, then we’re not actually getting a lot out of these conferences and professional development experiences. If the goals of these professional development sessions are community-building and learning, that’s hard to do when you’re hungry, overstimulated, worried about making it to the restroom or lactation room in time, distracted by the price of the networking dinner you’re attending or the din of the noise overwhelming your senses, wondering how your family is faring without you, concerned about your impact on the planet, and/or stressed about physically making it back to your home. Many of our colleagues will not be getting the most out of these on-site experiences.
If you are going to center on-site conferences—if you're going to argue that conferences are important venues of connection, professional development, networking, and learning—then you must agree that there needs to be a way to make them (of something that accomplishes those same goals) accessible so that all of your colleagues can reap those benefits. If you say that other professional development—one-off sessions or loose working groups, to name a few—should be sufficient for those who can't attend on-site conferences, then you're saying that certain people don't deserve to experience those same conferences. You're suggesting that experiences that are so transformative and sustaining for you are simply not necessary for other people, merely because they have limitations you don't have. You're implying that certain people don't deserve the benefits you enjoy.
If our professional development opportunities become ones that only not-disabled, not-pregnant, not-lactating, not-parent, not-caretaker, not-under-resourced, not-climate-concerned, not-immigrant, not-not-white people can safely and comfortably attend, it feels like we’ve gone back in time and relegated many people to second-class colleagues. If we argue that these professional development opportunities are important or even necessary for success in this field, then we are saying that some folks are just destined to a lesser career because they fall into a group that is not “white abled, neurotypical, US-born man, who adheres to specific gender and cultural norms in appearance, with familial and caretaking responsibilities he can get out of.” We must do better.
Editorial note from the ELC team (not the author)
We invite you to read Michael McCreary’s history of exclusion in one national organization. And if you’re looking for a virtual conference, check out the second annual Virtual Gathering. Proposals are accepted through April 29, 2025, and the conference is June 23-25, 2025.