It's a weird feeling, isn't it? You've spent hours meticulously dissecting a manuscript, providing thoughtful feedback, and contributing your expertise to your field. Then, you open the response letter and see it: "The reviewer is correct in his assessment..." or "We have addressed the concerns raised by the reviewer and his suggestions."
On the surface, it's just a pronoun. It's a "minor blip." But when you're a woman in academia, those little blips start to feel like a pattern. It's that nagging sense that the default "expert" in the room is assumed to be a man, and you're just the exception. It’s not a screaming insult, but it’s a quiet reminder that some people still see your gender as a surprise in this environment. That's exactly why it feels so irksome.
The Internal Tug-of-War
You're likely feeling torn between two versions of yourself. One version says, "Don't make a big deal out of this; it's a clerical error, and I don't want to seem difficult." The other version—the feminist in you—says, "If I don't say something, I'm just accepting the idea that I'm invisible or an outlier."
Here is the honest truth: both of those feelings are valid. You aren't "overreacting" by noticing a microaggression, but you also aren't "selling out" if you decide that this specific moment isn't where you want to spend your emotional energy.
Scenario: The "Quiet" Correction vs. The "Loud" One
Imagine you're reviewing for a journal where you've never met the authors. You have a choice in how you handle the response. If you decide to address it, you don't have to turn it into a formal grievance. You can handle it with a light touch that still sets the record straight.
"I appreciated the authors' thorough responses to my feedback. As a small side note for the final records, I noticed the authors referred to me as 'he' in the response letter; I'm actually a woman, so I'd appreciate it if that's noted for any future correspondence."
By doing this, you aren't attacking the authors—who, as you noted, likely didn't do this maliciously—but you are gently correcting the assumption. You're reminding them that the expert they are arguing with is a woman.
When to Ignore It
There are times when ignoring it is actually the most strategic move for your own mental health. If you are already burnt out, staring down a massive deadline, or dealing with a particularly toxic peer-review cycle, you don't owe anyone an education on gender bias at the expense of your own peace.
It is okay to decide that your time is more valuable than the authors' awareness. If the scientific content of the response is excellent and the authors were respectful in every other way, you might decide that the "cost" of the correction is higher than the benefit. That isn't a failure of your principles; it's a boundary for your energy.
When to Speak Up
On the flip side, there are reasons to lean into the correction. If you are in a position where you have junior students or mentees looking up to you, seeing a woman comfortably and firmly correct a gender assumption can be a powerful lesson for them. It signals that being a woman in a male-dominated field doesn't mean you have to be a ghost.
Additionally, if the authors have used "he" repeatedly throughout a long document, it might be worth mentioning simply because it shows a lack of attention to detail. In academic writing, precision matters. If they are making assumptions about the reviewer, are they making assumptions about their data?
Finding Your Balance
Whether you choose to send a quick note to the editor or just roll your eyes and move on, remember that your value in that review process came from your brain, not your gender. The authors are responding to your intellect because your critique was sharp and necessary.
At the end of the day, this is your career and your emotional labor. If correcting the "he" makes you feel more empowered and seen, do it. If it feels like an annoying chore that will just stress you out more, let it go. Either way, you're still the expert in the room.