Hey there listeners!
So today is very exciting, as this marks the 100th episode of Your Words Unleashed Podcast.
My very first episode dropped on Jan 16, 2022. So I have been doing this for just over than four years now.
On today’s episode I want to do two things:
The first is to take a few moments to reflect on my podcast journey.
And the second is to read a short opinion piece I recently published in Contexts Magazine, which makes sociological research accessible to the general public.
In this article, I was asked to give my thoughts on the future of academic publishing.
It ended up becoming a manifesto of sorts that truly expresses my personal stance on academic writing—including what I think is wrong with it, how to make it better, and why it matters at all.
The title is: “The Case for Radically Inclusive Writing.”
It is probably the most courageous thing I have ever written.
It’s also definitely NOT something I would have felt comfortable addressing to any audience, but especially to an audience of my peers, in the past.
A big part of what gave me the courage to publish it was this podcast and the fact that every two weeks I release an episode on topics related to writing and academic life that I find it important.
Putting my literal voice and opinions out there over and over again has steadily increased my tolerance for speaking candidly.
And for saying things that often go against the grain of mainstream academia.
I know I rub some people the wrong way, but in doing so, it has attracted many of the right people to me.
Don’t forget that when I started this podcast, I was still in the academy! I actually didn’t leave my faculty position until 8 or 9 months into it.
So this podcast has grown with me through some tremendous life and career changes.
It’s really interesting for me to look back on the past few years and how Your Words Unleashed has made me a vocal advocate for academic writing that is radically inclusive.
Reflecting On My Podcasting Journey
The last time I did any real reflection on podcasting was in Ep 40: What My Podcast Has Taught Me About Writing.
Here’s what I said back then about why I chose to start a podcast and my fears of launching it:
“I’ve always been a huge fan of podcasts.
I love listening to stories and learning new things at the same time as doing other more mundane tasks like cooking or driving.
Maybe it’s also because I’m a music lover and enjoy auditory experiences.
And, of course, there’s also the intimacy that comes from listening to people talk.
There’s an emotional connection and a camaraderie you feel with your favorite podcasters as you learn their world-view and hear snippets about their personal lives.
But I didn’t decide to actually start a podcast until I was working with Rhonda Hess, an amazing coach who helps new coaches build their businesses.
She herself has an incredibly successful weekly podcast called “Prosperous Coach.”
When Rhonda and I first started working together in 2021, I knew I was getting ready to leave academia.
I had a wealth of coaching experience, but didn’t have a very specific focus yet.
Rhonda helped me figure out my specific niche of coaching scholarly book authors and helped me design my six-month private coaching package.
As part of building a business, I had to choose a primary way to distribute content to the public.
Options included things like blogging, sending out a newsletter, and posting YouTube videos.
I chose podcasting even though it terrified me.
I just felt drawn to a medium where I could truly express myself in my own voice.
My mission for the podcast, as in my coaching, has been to peel back the curtain covering so many aspects of the Ivory Tower and to help demystify the book writing and publishing process.
I also wanted to give tips and strategies.
Not just about writing, but also about lifestyle and mindset that I could have used when I was a highly insecure, workaholic junior scholar.
Still, creating a podcast was really hard for me to do, and I procrastinated on it more than any other aspect of my business.
Looking back, I was totally intimidated by the steep learning curve that comes with doing something involving unfamiliar software and technology.
I didn’t believe I could learn how to do things like record, edit, upload, and distribute the podcast on my own.
I also got into analysis paralysis because there were so many decisions to make!
For example, you have to create podcast cover art and decide whether or not to put your own face on it.
You have to choose open access theme music.
You have to decide if you will do a solo podcast or an interview-based one.
You have to figure out how long your episodes will be.
Beyond all that, I was also scared of the marketing and visibility piece.
I was worried about how I might be judged by my peers or of not having any listeners at all.
I had no idea how my overall message would be received. Ultimately, I was paralyzed by fear of the unknown for a good four or five months.
And then came the point where I couldn’t move forward with my business until I had some podcast episodes ready.
And I was forced to actually do it.
Even then, it probably took me at least 10 episodes to figure out a process and get really comfortable.”
So things were shaky in the beginning and I made a lot of mistakes.
I also didn’t have much of an audience. In the first year of the show, I had under 2500 downloads.
By comparison, in 2025 there were nearly 13,000 downloads, which is almost 40% of my total number.
I also learned that last year, listeners tuned in from 126 different countries and from a whopping 2,676 cities around the world.
To some podcasters, these numbers are tiny. Many define success solely through metrics (something academics would find familiar).
These folks are shooting for hundreds of thousands of downloads each month.
But I have more of a niche topic that is directed towards a specific audience, so that has never been my goal.
I have prioritized slow, organic reach rather than trying to create explosive growth.
I’ll let you in on a clarifying conversation I had with this one podcast guru-type bro whose brand is about trying to rapidly grow your podcast audience.
I had joined a coaching program of his that came with a few one-on-one sessions. And I only ever partook of one of these meetings because his approach turned me off so much.
He told me that if I wanted to grow my numbers, then I should try to be a guest on 50 different podcasts in the next year.
On top of that, he recommended that rather than send a tailored pitch, I should just send a one-line email saying, “Is the right email address to send a podcast pitch to?”
He even told me that I didn’t even need to listen to any episodes of a podcast until I was booked to be a guest!
Now, this advice is backwards and, in my opinion, ethically problematic on a number of levels.
First, there aren’t 50 different podcasts whose audiences align with mine.
So getting onto any podcast that will have me is actually a waste of time—not just mine but also the host.
Second, I would only want to be featured on shows I actually like and respect. I think it’s disrespectful to pitch yourself to be a guest on a show you’ve never listened to.
What if the host’s politics or opinions totally conflict with your own? I’m not out there to debate. I am seeking to have genuine conversations.
Third, as someone who receives a fair amount of podcast pitches, I can tell immediately if someone is coming from an authentic place or not.
Recently I received multiple pitches, all from different email addresses and different names, that had the exact same message.
They were pitching a medical doctor who only gives in-person interviews about his work—none of which overlaps with the themes of this show.
It was also obvious to me that these were sent out by AI.
I want this podcast to reflect my core values of authenticity, connection, and transparency.
Fortunately, many of the same people tune in to each new episode, and my goal is to build community.
Honestly, if I prioritized the numbers I would release one episode per week—as most podcasts do.
But I also know that’s an unsustainable pace that would cause huge amounts of stress for me and dilute the quality of the show.
Ultimately, I’ve chosen quality over quantity–which is something I did with academic publications as well.
And even if I don’t know you personally, I do hope you resonate with what you hear on this show.
The Case for Radically Inclusive Writing
Okay, so let’s talk about this opinion piece I just published in Contexts Magazine, which is put out by the American Sociological Association.
It was a cool full-circle moment because back in 2018, I published an article in Contexts from my own research called “Chinese American Satellite Babies: Raised Between Two Cultures”.
This was my very first stab at public-facing academic writing and I was super excited about it.
For years I had assigned pieces from Contexts in my own classes.
I really liked how the articles used accessible language, leaned into storytelling, and got straight to the point.
One of their rules for research articles is that you cannot insert any citations. Instead, there is a list of recommended resources included at the end. This actually keeps things readable!
It was a fun and meaningful piece for me to write.
I was able to give voice to my respondents and tell some of their stories while also bringing my own theoretical insights to a mostly undergraduate audience.
Then late last summer I was asked to write an opinion piece to be included in a section on the future of academic publishing.
Because I really don’t have a lot to say about publishing itself, I pitched an idea about writing that I thought was rather audacious.
And big shout out to outgoing editors Amin Ghaziani and Sean Abrutyn, who gave me the green light.
It was published in December 2025, in Volume 24, Issue 4.
So now here’s the article…
“I was a professional sociologist for over 20 years, during which time I published 2 books and a number of articles.
In 2022, I left the academy to serve as a full-time writing coach and developmental editor who helps scholars publish manuscripts that make them proud.
I’ve worked closely with individuals from diverse disciplines, including sociology, political science, anthropology, Digital Humanities, Black Studies, classics, art history, history, education, psychology, law, and classics.
I’ve even worked on books in biology and mathematics.
Helping such a wide range of scholars sharpen and clarify their ideas has given me unique insights into the most important issues faced by writers today.
The future of academic publishing, in my view, rests on our ability to connect with readers beyond the Ivory Tower. Put bluntly, academics in general (and sociologists in particular) need to become better writers and communicators.
By “better,” I mean radically inclusive in our writing and efforts to make our work accessible to broader audiences.
It’s time to break with tradition by writing in ways that are both understandable and relevant to the lives of educated, non-expert readers.
Sociological writing often succumbs to similar problems as other academic disciplines.
An overreliance on pompous-sounding jargon. Narrow findings that appeal to a tiny group of specialists. Misconstruing dense prose as intellectually superior.
Gatekeeping, especially through harsh, challenging, anonymous peer reviews. Measuring “impact” through citation counts. The list goes on.
In an era of anti-science sensibilities and a deep distrust of higher education, some people might consider sociology out of touch with the actual needs of society.
And that’s when they’re thinking about it at all.
The words we choose either invite people in or keep them out. Too often, sociologists don’t see how their writing is exclusionary.
The obvious problem with exclusivity is that it vastly limits the impact of our ideas.
Scholars want to advance knowledge, but if no one reads their work (or can’t understand it even if they try), did it really advance anything?
There’s a myth in our business that if someone’s writing is too clear, the ideas aren’t rigorous enough. They’ve been “dumbed down.”
The problem is baked into our system of training.
Starting in grad school, students are instructed to use a formal tone that moves their writing further and further away from what most people can comprehend and relate to.
There’s pressure to use fanciful jargon to signal the seriousness of your ideas. Over time, this writing style is rewarded in the form of publications.
Many scholars I know began school with a genuine love of writing.
Eventually, that love turned to anxiety and resentment as they were expected to write with a detached objectivity that obscured their humanity.
I want to propose something drastic and drastically different:
For academic writing and publishing to survive, people need to say what they actually mean in extraordinarily clear and simple language.
Few of us start our careers wanting to write only for other experts. Instead, we seek to reach students, policymakers, journalists, and members of the general public who can benefit from our research.
But when the writing is full of insider language, it alienates people, especially those we purport to help.
In contrast, plain language cuts through the noise and invites readers into our world.
In fact, I believe simplicity is the harder option, compared to jargon, because there’s nothing to hide behind.
Comprehensible writing shows deep understanding. If you can explain a complex idea plainly without embellishment, you’ve truly mastered it.
Another problem: Even if people could understand the papers and books we write, they are still less likely than ever to read them.
Consuming information quickly on devices has replaced the act of flipping through printed pages.
Instead of something to be mourned, I think this new reality presents countless opportunities for sociologists to engage new audiences.
Ultimately, efforts to expand reach need to be focused on fostering a sense of community.
Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that the goal of writing is enhanced communication. It’s about connection and relationship-building.
So much research and writing talks down to non-academics instead of engaging with them in a collaborative conversation. Obscure writing creates missed opportunities for authentic connection and mutual learning.
To be clear, I’m not saying we can fix every problem just by becoming better communicators.
Today’s academics did not create the system in which public engagement is discouraged (and sometimes even punished). It’s not the fault of any one individual that scientific knowledge is hidden behind the expensive paywalls of an ever-expanding publishing complex.
I also recognize that making one’s research broadly accessible requires dedicated time and effort from scholars already stretched dangerously thin.
Undoubtedly, a call to “communicate better” cannot be the solution to systemic issues.
If higher education wants to resuscitate its image and impact, institutions must incentivize public engagement and build infrastructures that train researchers to translate their findings.
Hence my call for “radically inclusive” writing.
How one writes is the primary thing a conscientious scholar can control. As research becomes increasingly paywalled, politicized, and distrusted by the public, it’s more critical than ever to insist on making our ideas clear and comprehensible.
So, let’s reimagine scholarly writing as an opportunity to create deeper, more mutually beneficial relationships with our readers.
Through radically inclusive writing, sociologists can help transform publishing from an echo chamber into a bridge that links the academy with the world we seek to help.”
*****
So that’s the end of the article.
If you’ve been listening to Your Words Unleashed for awhile, none of what I just read should come as a surprise.
Still, it felt different to me to actually publish something on this topic rather than just talk about it.
I’m glad to have been given this opportunity to put my values into action, and into writing.
Like what happens with most publications, I don’t know if people have read it or whether it’s changed their minds or helped them to see things in new ways.
But putting it out there is the only way to start new conversations.
So on this 100th episode, thank you for being a part of this journey and the broader mission of this show.
I can’t thank you enough for tuning in.
Here’s to the next 100!!
Talk to you all again soon.