Chirality

The Irony of Posting About Not Posting

I stopped posting on LinkedIn.

There’s a particular irony in the fact that turning my LinkedIn post into a blog is something only academia could prepare me for and force me to endure, but we are where we are.

For months, I stared at the empty status box and thought:

“What exactly do you want me to say here? “

Most of what I do isn’t packaged into a shiny, LinkedIn-friendly update that makes people hit the applause emoji. Because the truth is, a lot of professional life — especially in academia and higher education —
doesn’t come with ready-made soundbites. The real work happens quietly, invisibly, without a photo opportunity or a certificate at the end.

Imagine posting something like this:

“Spent six months quietly fixing something someone else loudly broke, then helped them rebrand it as ‘transformational.’”

“Helped someone walk away from a toxic situation with their dignity intact and their blood pressure only marginally elevated.”

Not exactly “engagement bait,” is it? And so, like many, I simply stopped posting.

The Genre of Academic LinkedIn

Let’s be honest: academic LinkedIn posts have become their own genre. A peculiar blend of humblebrag, journal abstract, and “delighted to announce,” garnished with just a hint of existential dread.

You’ve seen them:

“Thrilled to be keynote speaker at the 17th International Symposium on Niche Acronyms, presenting my latest piece: ‘A Grounded Theory of Theoretical Grounding…’”

“Honoured to have my 8,000th publication (this week) accepted by The Journal of Thing Only Three People Will Ever Read, Probably By Accident.”

And always the same photo: a tired academic clutching a certificate, standing before a deflated pop-up banner.

This is academic performance. A theatre of optics where professional worth is measured by acronyms after your name or how convincingly you can type “honoured” without flinching.

What Doesn’t Get Posted

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: the real stories never make it onto the feed:
Survival.
Sabotage.
Burnout.
Bullying.
Recovery and rebuilding.

These are the moments that shape careers far more than keynotes or publications. Yet they are rarely announced.

Nobody writes:

“Burned out so badly I couldn’t string a sentence together for months, but somehow found a way back.”

“Made a decision that cost me opportunities but allowed me to keep my integrity — and I’d do it again.”

These are whispered over coffee, not posted for public applause.

My Academic Reality

So here’s mine, without banners or hashtags:

I’ve done good work.

I’ve made hard calls.

I’ve lost sleep over decisions outside my control.

I’ve watched toxic people rise (and later fall, hard).

I’ve seen brilliant people leave without a farewell post.

And through it all, I’ve tried — and occasionally failed — to remain decent. To be kind when it was easier not to be. To remember that the loudest voice isn’t always the wisest. These don’t translate into LinkedIn announcements. But perhaps they’re still worth writing down.

The Problem With LinkedIn Announcements

LinkedIn celebrates milestones: promotions, publications, keynote invitations, certificates. All valid. But they aren’t the whole journey. They don’t capture the weekends spent rewriting someone else’s work, or the quiet act of staying late to check a student was okay. They don’t show the hours agonising over a decision you never even got to make.

None of that fits neatly into a bullet point on a CV. And so it gets erased.
If you’ve ever looked at your own career and thought, “None of this fits into a LinkedIn post,” you’re not alone.

Staying Human in Academia

At first, I thought I stopped posting because I had nothing to say. Now I see it’s because what I wanted to say doesn’t fit the format. What matters isn’t the optics. It’s the reality. The small acts of decency. The quiet courage of walking away. The lessons learned when things don’t go to plan.

Maybe the real challenge is to resist performing success, and instead share something more authentic. Behind every “delighted to announce” is a person who is sometimes exhausted, sometimes unsure, sometimes quietly proud of just surviving.

Why I’m Writing Again

So yes, I stopped posting. But maybe it’s time to start again — not to perform, but to share the things that usually go unsaid.

Silence doesn’t make the work less real.

Honest sharing doesn’t make it less valuable. If you’ve ever thought:

“I’m still here. I’m still doing the work. No banner. No keynote. No LinkedIn-appropriate lighting,”

consider this a wave across the noise: I see you.

We are more than our announcements.

We are more than our bullet points.

We are people trying to do good work in complicated worlds.

And that’s worth more than a certificate. Maybe it’s even worth a post.
I founded Academic Hub with a genuine belief that we need to amplify these untold stories — the authentic experiences behind academic careers, not just the polished announcements.

Whether you’re an early-career researcher, a seasoned academic, or someone navigating the messy in-between, remember: your work matters, even if it never trends on LinkedIn.