No Paper, No Research, and No Job (or Barely a Job): Why Should I Attend an Anthropology Conference?

Be Curious and Go: Our Anthropologist Superpower

At least once a year, most anthropology societies, professional associations, networks, hold meetings. If you are lucky, like I was, one of the big ones will host their annual meeting near you.

SfAA (Society for Applied Anthropology) held theirs in Portland, Oregon (March 25^th-29^th). This six-day conference registered over 1,700 people. I came to the SfAA Conference as someone who felt out-of-touch with the world of anthropology—outside of attending virtual ACRN meetings and workshops—since leaving grad school almost 10 years ago. Like many who graduate with a degree in anthropology, I could not find work–something ACRN is nobly trying to correct by encouraging universities to integrate career-readiness into their anthropology programs and classes.

Go to Be Curious: That’s What Anthropologists Do

To be honest, I arrived at the conference feeling a little out of place, but my first task was to volunteer at the registration desk for four hours. There, I met the amazing women who are in charge of organizing the meeting, Trish Colvin and Melissa Cope. They were hospitable and graciously answered my many questions about starting, organizing, and running a conference of this scale. Fun fact, they have already started creating next year’s event!

Spending time with the organizers and other volunteers—and chatting with people stopping by my A-G spot at the registration booth for name tags, programs, and swag—helped ease me into the conference. It calmed my nerves, gave me a lay of the land, helped me meet new people, and made me feel less like the outsider I thought I was.

It was striking to see how warmly people greeted the event organizers—like long-lost friends reunited. Many attendees have been coming for years, and it showed. It didn’t feel like a conference of 1,700. It felt like a community: a gathering of people who care about one another, are genuinely happy to reconnect, and cannot wait to do it again next year.

Practicing Our Voice: The Power of Repetition

Applied anthropologists are a kind and inquisitive bunch. I lost count of how many people I met and how many times I introduced myself and shared my elevator pitch. But repeating my introduction again and again forced me to confront an unexpected discomfort. It was not until Elizabeth Briody introduced me to someone as a “qualitative researcher” that I realized what I had been doing wrong.

I was unconsciously downplaying my own work. I led with qualifiers like, “It’s just pro bono,” or “My survival job is substitute teaching.” Saying those things aloud, over and over, felt uncomfortable and I could tell it made listeners uncomfortable, too. But that discomfort gave me an opportunity to notice it, reflect on it, and change it. Elizabeth’s gracious introduction showed me how I should have been introducing myself all along.

When I shared my imposter syndrome feelings with Jennifer Studebaker she responded with something that cut through the doubt. Without hesitation, she said, “You’re an anthropologist. You belong here.”

By the end of the conference, I had practiced valuing my work out loud. I refined my elevator pitch. I stood a little taller. I remembered that how we frame our work not only shapes how others see us, it shapes how we see ourselves.

Meet Your People: Reaffirming Why We Are Here, Doing What We Do

Perhaps most of all, the conference reminded me that applied anthropologists are, on the whole, welcoming, curious, smart, thoughtful, witty, and just plain fun to be around. These are my kind of people. Being surrounded by them reinforced something I have always known: our strength lies in being other-focused, in listening carefully, and in recognizing insight not just in theory, but in how people interact, connect, and show up.

While sitting at the ACRN booth, I noticed how people greeted Elizabeth with the same warmth and gratitude that they showed to the event organizers. She hardly had a moment to sit down before someone else came by to talk to her.

Fertile Ground for Future Work

Other meaningful insights were ignited by listening to and engaging with panels and paper presentations. Whether it was research happening abroad, interdisciplinary projects in business or health, or explorations of AI and mapping tools, each conversation was fascinating in its own right. More than that, they set my creative and inquisitive wheels turning in a way I had not felt in a while, especially when layered with informal conversations throughout the week.

I walked away not with one, but three project ideas, and I even found myself sharing them with others I met. I would not have been able to do that just a day or two earlier, before I allowed myself to own my identity as an anthropologist. The conference gave me seeds, cross-pollination, water, and sunlight—something my weeded soil had been craving.