Over the past year at “Ross Industries,” we’ve stayed committed to publishing a weekly blog, trying to produce thoughtful (and occasionally humorous) commentary on topics that resonate with both my readers and me. While I consistently evaluate and refine the blog throughout the year, the last week of December is a time for deeper reflection and planning. This involves reviewing which posts connected most with readers—and which didn’t—often with surprising results. Posts I anticipated would resonate sometimes fell short, while those written on a whim occasionally exceeded my expectations.
The ubiquity of iPhones (with camera and video technology) has led to almost everyone and everything becoming a subject for social media posts. But what makes a good photo of graffiti and street art? After spending considerable time writing and photographing graffiti and street art, I thought sharing some of my decisions when photographing this kind of urban visual material might be helpful. This blog post explores these ideas in greater detail.
This seminal book, which shaped my early scholarship (i.e., Dynamics of Political Crime (2002) and An Introduction to Political Crime (2012), serves as a model of intellectual rigor and clarity. Drawing on scholarship in criminology, political violence, and conflict theory, Political Criminality (1982) explores the relationship among power, political deviance, and the state’s response to threats to its authority. Turk’s conflict-based theory of political crime centers on the idea that power is rooted in controlling resources, with the legal and criminal justice systems used as tools to maintain social and political dominance. To achieve this goal, the state criminalizes dissent to suppress challenges and shape public opinion. The book also examines a broad spectrum of political defiance, from assassinations to wars. Despite its deep theoretical content, the book is highly accessible to readers.
This blog, originally published on the Transforming Society Blog Website (part of Bristol University Press), outlines the rationale for and introduces my latest book, Introduction to Convict Criminology. In December 2024, CHOICE Editors selected the book as one of their top ten titles for the month, representing the best across various disciplines. In short, the Convict Criminology (CC) approach and practice, which has existed for nearly three decades, is built upon three main initiatives: scholarship, activism/mentorship, and advocacy. Its primary aim is to acknowledge and enable the voices and experiences of incarcerated and formerly incarcerated individuals in criminological and criminal justice scholarship. This movement recognizes how lived experience can reshape the study of corrections, criminology, and criminal justice. The recently published Introduction to Convict Criminology consolidates the field’s scholarship, tracing its history, accomplishments, and transformative impact on individuals, corrections, and the criminal justice system.
Have you ever wondered if there are particular types of clothing that people in certain professions wear? This blog post, released later in the year, outlined some of my observations and a tongue-in-cheek commentary on the role of clothing in academia with a special focus on the criminology/criminal justice field. Like in our relationships with others, some of us are more conscious than others about what we wear, when we wear it, and its impact.
Analyzing significant books, films, and music helps me better understand creative works, especially why I like or dislike them. Scholarship on graffiti and street art varies widely in quality. While my Routledge Handbook of Graffiti and Street Art(2019) offers a comprehensive overview, this post highlights what I consider the best academic books on graffiti. These works are indispensable resources for those interested in understanding this subject in greater depth.
I’m often asked by students and fellow criminologists what topics in my field I think where there is a demand for research. It’s only natural. People don’t want to waste their resources (usually time and money) conducting research, writing up their findings, and maybe even getting it published without it having any impact. So, it is essential to get it right from the beginning. But this process is not without numerous caveats, including the fact that just because something is “hot” does not mean that you are interested in the topic and that it can sustain you. Imagine slogging through interviews, gathering data, and testing it, when you’d rather watch re-runs of The Wire or some other mindless activity that gives you pleasure.
Language is important. It helps us communicate with others. But people and organizations often use the wrong words. Words have meanings that are not always shared. We don’t walk around with dictionaries constantly consulting them to see if what others just said makes sense. Many words are demeaning, and every sphere of life has its own. However, the criminology and criminal justice fields have unique words for the individuals who commit crimes and those who work for criminal justice agencies.
From Muddy Waters to Jimi Hendrix, I’ve always enjoyed the blues, but writing about music on my blog is a departure. (Fun fact: several years ago, my wife and children suggested I start a music blog, so now they’re somewhat vindicated.) Although I’ve never successfully played an instrument and struggled with reading sheet music, music has always been a creative force in my life. I love live performances, the complexity of songs, and their delivery. For all sorts of reasons, I listen to music for nearly sixteen hours a day, so it’s only natural that I would be discerning about what I expose my ears to.
Those who know me well understand that I’m not particularly fond of language politics. I’m not suggesting that language doesn’t matter—on the contrary, I recognize that the words and labels we use can significantly impact us. When the Convict Criminology (CC) approach and practice started, we quickly noticed the demeaning language often used to describe people with criminal convictions and those currently incarcerated. At the same time, we championed the idea that it’s not for others to decide how we define ourselves. Within the CC praxis, there are differing views on language. Some embrace terms like “convict,” “inmate,” or “prisoner,” seeing them as a way to reclaim identity and challenge stigmas. Others, influenced perhaps by liberal or politically correct perspectives, push to change the language as if doing so will magically improve the lives of those behind bars or those impacted by the justice system. I disagree with this approach. Changing the terms doesn’t necessarily equate to meaningful change in the lives of justice-involved individuals, nor is it the first step in a more significant transformation. Everyone has the right to choose how they are called; that autonomy should be respected. But I find the overemphasis on changing labels without addressing the deeper issues at play misguided. It’s not the language that’s the problem—it’s the systems that sustain the inequalities we see.
This post garnered the most attention this year. The educational and professional backgrounds of the people who work in your workplace shape the working culture of numerous jobs. In academic environments, this can include what subjects they emphasize and which ones they avoid. It also consists of the expectations of our students. In this piece, I look at the infamous “challenge” of working in and for academic jobs at the so-called “cop shop” criminology departments, where a disproportionate number of the professors and instructors are former (or current criminal justice practitioners). In many respects, I also instill this commentary with a bit of realism that this label may be used unfairly and that cop shop departments may also be decent places to work.
Thinking about 2025
As 2024 winds down, I find myself reflecting on key questions that guide my work:
What topics should I tackle next?
How can I approach these challenges more effectively?
What insights resonate most with my readers?
How can I help you better navigate and understand this crazy world?
Should I post more often or dive deeper into fewer, more substantive pieces?
These items shape the content I produce and the projects I select to work on.
Looking ahead to 2025, I’m excited about new plans and ideas already in motion.
While I’ll keep the details private for now, I promise they will build on everything I’ve learned this past year and those that preceded it.
Meanwhile, I want to express my heartfelt thanks to everyone who has supported my work, whether by reading, sharing, or offering constructive feedback.
You make this journey deeply rewarding, and your input continues shaping my work.
As we enter the new year, I encourage you to stay curious, reflect often, and share your creative or scholarly work with the world.
At ‘Ross Industries,’ we’re calling it a wrap and punching out for the year. Here’s to a productive and inspiring 2025!
Photo Credit
Title: First shift of miners at the Virginia Pocahontas Cool company mine near Richland, Virginia, leaving the elevator (1974)
Photographer: Jack Corn
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/FIRST_SHIFT_OF_MINERS_AT_THE_VIRGINIA-POCAHONTAS_COAL_COMPANY_MINE__4_NEAR_RICHLANDS_VIRGINIA_LEAVING_THE_ELEVATOR._-_NARA_-_556393_tweaked-scaled.jpg16942560Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2024-12-29 13:46:362024-12-29 14:07:522024: The Year in Review—Surprises, Lessons, & a Few Doozies
(a revised version of a series of tweets that I originally posted on Twitter (X) December 2019)
Reviewing papers for scholarly journals is an essential, unpaid service that many academics perform. But the process often raises lots of frustrations and unanswered questions. Meanwhile, unless they still have exams to evaluate and final grades to submit, the Christmas break is when many university instructors and professors attempt to fulfill their promises to review papers—or find themselves pressed into service to do so.
In the spirit of the famous Christmas carol, I bring you, “The Twelve Days of Scholarly Peer Review.”
On the 1st day of Christmas, a highly respected scholar-editor from a top-ranked journal invites you to peer review a paper perfectly aligned with your hyper-specialized expertise—but without specifying a due date.
On the 2nd day of Christmas, after you agree to review the paper, the editor informs you that the review is due in two weeks.
On the 3rd day of Christmas, you open the manuscript, only to discover that it’s riddled with track changes edits.
On the 4th day of Christmas, as you continue reviewing the paper, you realize not only is the manuscript filled with track changes, but the author(s)’ names are still visible—violating the blind review component of the process.
On the 5th day of Christmas, frustrated by the lack of response from the editor to your concerns, you e-mail the journal’s editorial office again. You then spend an hour tracking down the editor’s university contact information, only to get an out-of-office reply. A phone call to the office yields no answer, so you leave a voicemail and add “find better things to do with my life” to your New Year’s resolutions.
On the 6th day of Christmas, you realize the author(s) have lifted significant portions from your seminal article, “The Mating Behavior of the Tsetse Fly in Africa During the 17th Century.” You spend the next 24 hours mentally rehearsing how to frame your indignation (but with a professional tone). You briefly consider writing a strongly worded letter to the editor about academic malfeasance.
On the 7th day of Christmas, despite ignoring your previous e-mails and voicemail, you receive an e-mail from the editor remindering you that the review is due in one week. You stare at the e-mail and wonder if they’ve mistaken you for an unpaid intern.
On the 8th day of Christmas, after the kids, your spouse, and the dog are finally asleep, and despite being exhausted, you spend two hours drafting the review—motivated by guilt, professional integrity, and a misguided belief that this will somehow benefit your career. You add “start a blog about academic labor” to your to-do list.
On the 9th day of Christmas, you re-open the manuscript to double-check your critique before submission. To your dismay, you discover three additional flaws. You spend an extra hour revising your review, muttering a stream of academic-appropriate curses like, “This methodology is untenable,” and “Not clear if this study was approved by an IRB?” Finally, you submit it.
On the 10th day of Christmas, you notice that you didn’t receive an automatic confirmation for your submission. You begin to wonder if there’s an issue with the journal’s software. Reluctantly, you send yet another e-mail to the editor and the journal’s office.
On the 11th day of Christmas, the highly respected scholar-editor finally replies, informing you that the paper has been desk-rejected and your review is no longer needed.
On the 12th day of Christmas, the same editor asks if you’d review another manuscript in your hyper-specialized field. You briefly consider it before realizing you’ve spent far too little time with your family and assorted loved ones.
Photo Credit
Photographer Courtney Powell
Title: Drunk Santas March
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/331963747_4d3b3216fc_o.jpg600800Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2024-12-22 05:47:352024-12-22 06:03:36The Twelve Days of Scholarly Peer Review
Growing up, my friend Mark (not his real name) shared a story from his teenage years about applying for a summer job at Switzer’s Delicatessen on Spadina Avenue. Following advice from his friends—or perhaps his mother—he donned the only suit he owned—a slightly ill-fitting one, took the TTC (Toronto’s public transportation system) to the deli, and introduced himself to the owner with the firmest handshake he could muster.
The owner gave him a quick once-over and said, “If you’re going to work here, you can’t be dressed in a suit—and you’d better be ready to get your clothes dirty.”
Similarly, when I was working in a correctional facility, both staff and inmates were encouraged to wear street clothing. This flexibility in dress code sometimes led detainees to ask me what crime I was in for—a question I might not have encountered if I’d been dressed more formally.
These experiences highlight how clothing influences our interactions and perceptions in professional settings. Whether it’s for a job interview, working in a criminal justice agency, or teaching in a classroom, attire is more than just fabric—it communicates authority, identity, and intention.
The Role of Clothing in Professional Contexts
My early lessons about the effect of clothing on different audiences resurfaced recently when I was browsing at a local bookstore in Washington, DC (yes, a few of them still exist). I stumbled upon a book titled What Artists Wear? and couldn’t help but wonder: Is there anything special about the clothes that criminologists wear?
The clothing worn by criminologists isn’t particularly unique compared to other social scientists, but it does play an important role in shaping perceptions.
Although I’m neither an expert on fashion nor style, my experience in street ethnography has sensitized me to how clothing can influence perception and interaction.
For example, when I started my first professor job, determined to project a professional image, I wore a suit and tie for the entire first week. But it didn’t take long to realize I was overdressed for the role. Over time, I transitioned to a more personal “uniform”: a black T-shirt, black jeans, and black cowboy or biker boots—a subtle nod to Johnny Cash. I also grew my hair into a shoulder-length ponytail and, for a while, sported a collection of earrings and an ear cuff.
This evolution wasn’t just about comfort; it reflected a quiet rebellion against rigid academic expectations and a growing confidence in my identity. Had I kept that look today, I might easily be mistaken for an aging hippie. But in academia, such casual dressing walks a fine line: it might suggest brilliance and boldness—or simply that it’s laundry day.
Understandably the factors shaping clothing choices and their interpretations are not uniform. What we wear, when and where we wear it, how we choose to wear it, and how others perceive us are deeply influenced by gender norms, age, financial resources, cultural and regional practices, disciplinary orientation, and the specific setting all play a role in what we wear and how others perceive us.
Gendered Effects
Society expects men and women to dress in specific ways. In most Western societies, men often have more latitude in their clothing choices, while women face greater scrutiny. This heightened scrutiny likely contributes to increased pressure on women to dress more professionally.
Generational Components
Generational factors also influence clothing choices. Older professionals are generally not expected to dress like people in their 20s, and defying these norms can draw attention. For academics, balancing professionalism with individuality often involves navigating these generational expectations.
Money Talks
Financial considerations are another important factor. While tenured professors may afford a decent set of duds, adjunct instructors often lack the resources to dress professionally—let alone keep up with dry-cleaning bills. This disparity underscores broader inequities within academia.
Regional and Cultural Differences
There are also regional and cultural differences in how academics (criminologists or otherwise) dress. For example, when I attended the University of Toronto, no self-respecting male professor would come to class without a suit and tie (or equivalent professional outfit for women). However, when I moved to the United States to start graduate school (at the University of Colorado), I was surprised by professors wearing more casual clothing, such as shorts and Birkenstocks.
Dressing for the Occasion
Context is crucial when choosing what to wear. Criminologists, like other professionals, should consider their audience and the setting. There are about three primary contexts where criminologists’ attire tends to vary: the classroom, conferences, and fieldwork.
Teaching Mode
If I’m teaching and want to present myself professionally to students, colleagues, and staff, I dress business casual—neat and put-together without overdoing it. This doesn’t mean I wear a suit and tie, but a polo or button-down shirt and neatly pressed jeans, khakis, or chinos will suffice. On the rare occasions, I wear a suit to class—usually because I have an important meeting before or after—it raises eyebrows among students, colleagues, and staff, which engenders comments like “what’s ‘s up?” “Did you get a raise?” or “You’re looking more professional today.”
Conference participation
At academic conferences, and depending on your role (i.e., presenter, audience member, etc.), the appropriate attire can vary. For example, as a presenter, I tend to dress more professionally (usually business formal to business casual). It’s also common to wear more formal clothing on the day of your presentation and then dress more casually on the other days or in the evenings. Finding the right balance can be tricky, but it gets easier with experience, especially when many attendees appear uncomfortable in their clothes.
I will say however, that many European male criminologists dress with more style than their American counterparts, often adopting a “smart casual” or “business casual with a European twist” look. This style, also called “Continental Smart Casual,” typically features a dark blazer or suit jacket, a white dress shirt, and jeans—understated sophistication that is polished yet less rigid than a full suit. (Think of brands like Club Monaco, COS, Massimo Dutti, etc.). (Some of my male colleagues can even rock a 5 o’clock shadow 24 hours a day, a skill I have yet to perfect- but I am working on it). Similarly, many female criminologists embrace this look, sometimes incorporating tailored skirts or dresses that complement this style’s professional yet relaxed ethos. (Consider brands like Club Monaco, Massimo Dutti, Rag & Bone, Sandro, Theory, etc.).
Fieldwork Attire
The most significant variation in attire occurs when criminologists conduct fieldwork. For instance, when visiting a prison, I typically wear a suit or business casual clothing to convey professionalism and respect for both the environment and the individuals I engage with. Female criminologists, too, may select clothing that conveys authority, expertise, and respect—often opting for professional dresses or blouses instead of suits, depending on their personal style.
Conversely, when conducting research that involves street ethnography, which for me may include observing and speaking with graffiti writers or street artists, I opt for causal, non-threatening street clothes (not street wear) which are comfortable and appropriate for the setting. (A sturdy pair of running shoes also comes in handy if I ever need to high tail it out of a dodgy situation). Female researchers in these contexts might choose casual attire like pants and sneakers, blending in with the community they are studying, while also considering safety in certain situations.
Other Issues to Consider
Disciplinary Orientation
Another source of variation in clothing style may also be related to disciplinary orientation. For example, a former criminal justice practitioner turned university professor or a person working in a so-called ‘cop shop’ may be more profesh in their attire (This includes clothing brands like Everlane, etc.). Meanwhile Critical Criminologists may be more casual/rebellious in the dress, opting for torn jeans etc.. Then again the criminologists who are more interested in policy might dress more conservatively (Their clothing brands of choice might include Brooks Brothers, or Hickey Freeman etc.).
Exploring Identity
Attire also serves as a medium for self-expression. For some criminologists, clothing is not just functional but a way to infuse individuality and creativity into their professional lives. Accessories like tattoos or body modifications may further reflect this blending of personal and professional identities.
Tailoring Attire to the Situation
From blending into research settings to commanding respect in the classroom or projecting credibility at conferences, attire plays a crucial role for criminologists. Beyond selecting research topics, analyzing data, and communicating ideas to students and colleagues, decisions about what to wear are an important part of academic and professional life.
Photo Credit:
Photographer: Fourbyfourblazer
Title: Ross Dress for Less
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/46010766901_f502b932c7_o-scaled.jpg14272560Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2024-12-15 06:06:352024-12-15 17:45:00What Do Criminologists Wear?
2024: The Year in Review—Surprises, Lessons, & a Few Doozies
/by Jeffrey Ian RossOver the past year at “Ross Industries,” we’ve stayed committed to publishing a weekly blog, trying to produce thoughtful (and occasionally humorous) commentary on topics that resonate with both my readers and me. While I consistently evaluate and refine the blog throughout the year, the last week of December is a time for deeper reflection and planning. This involves reviewing which posts connected most with readers—and which didn’t—often with surprising results. Posts I anticipated would resonate sometimes fell short, while those written on a whim occasionally exceeded my expectations.
Here are this year’s top ten blog posts.
1. A Few Things I’ve Learned About Photographing Graffiti and Street Art (July 27, 2024)
The ubiquity of iPhones (with camera and video technology) has led to almost everyone and everything becoming a subject for social media posts. But what makes a good photo of graffiti and street art? After spending considerable time writing and photographing graffiti and street art, I thought sharing some of my decisions when photographing this kind of urban visual material might be helpful. This blog post explores these ideas in greater detail.
2 Appreciating Turk’s Political Criminality: The Defiance and Defense of Authority (September 2024)
This seminal book, which shaped my early scholarship (i.e., Dynamics of Political Crime (2002) and An Introduction to Political Crime (2012), serves as a model of intellectual rigor and clarity. Drawing on scholarship in criminology, political violence, and conflict theory, Political Criminality (1982) explores the relationship among power, political deviance, and the state’s response to threats to its authority. Turk’s conflict-based theory of political crime centers on the idea that power is rooted in controlling resources, with the legal and criminal justice systems used as tools to maintain social and political dominance. To achieve this goal, the state criminalizes dissent to suppress challenges and shape public opinion. The book also examines a broad spectrum of political defiance, from assassinations to wars. Despite its deep theoretical content, the book is highly accessible to readers.
3. Criminology to Challenge the Status Quo (April 15, 2024)
This blog, originally published on the Transforming Society Blog Website (part of Bristol University Press), outlines the rationale for and introduces my latest book, Introduction to Convict Criminology. In December 2024, CHOICE Editors selected the book as one of their top ten titles for the month, representing the best across various disciplines. In short, the Convict Criminology (CC) approach and practice, which has existed for nearly three decades, is built upon three main initiatives: scholarship, activism/mentorship, and advocacy. Its primary aim is to acknowledge and enable the voices and experiences of incarcerated and formerly incarcerated individuals in criminological and criminal justice scholarship. This movement recognizes how lived experience can reshape the study of corrections, criminology, and criminal justice. The recently published Introduction to Convict Criminology consolidates the field’s scholarship, tracing its history, accomplishments, and transformative impact on individuals, corrections, and the criminal justice system.
4. What do Criminologists Wear? (December 15, 2024)
Have you ever wondered if there are particular types of clothing that people in certain professions wear? This blog post, released later in the year, outlined some of my observations and a tongue-in-cheek commentary on the role of clothing in academia with a special focus on the criminology/criminal justice field. Like in our relationships with others, some of us are more conscious than others about what we wear, when we wear it, and its impact.
5. My go-to scholarly books on Graffiti (February 12, 2024)
Analyzing significant books, films, and music helps me better understand creative works, especially why I like or dislike them. Scholarship on graffiti and street art varies widely in quality. While my Routledge Handbook of Graffiti and Street Art (2019) offers a comprehensive overview, this post highlights what I consider the best academic books on graffiti. These works are indispensable resources for those interested in understanding this subject in greater depth.
6. What are the Hot Research Topics and Questions in Criminology and Criminal Justice? (July 20, 2024)
I’m often asked by students and fellow criminologists what topics in my field I think where there is a demand for research. It’s only natural. People don’t want to waste their resources (usually time and money) conducting research, writing up their findings, and maybe even getting it published without it having any impact. So, it is essential to get it right from the beginning. But this process is not without numerous caveats, including the fact that just because something is “hot” does not mean that you are interested in the topic and that it can sustain you. Imagine slogging through interviews, gathering data, and testing it, when you’d rather watch re-runs of The Wire or some other mindless activity that gives you pleasure.
7. The Power of Language in Criminal Justice (September 22, 2024)
Language is important. It helps us communicate with others. But people and organizations often use the wrong words. Words have meanings that are not always shared. We don’t walk around with dictionaries constantly consulting them to see if what others just said makes sense. Many words are demeaning, and every sphere of life has its own. However, the criminology and criminal justice fields have unique words for the individuals who commit crimes and those who work for criminal justice agencies.
8. Whose Version of “The Sky is Crying” is the Best? (June 23, 2024)
From Muddy Waters to Jimi Hendrix, I’ve always enjoyed the blues, but writing about music on my blog is a departure. (Fun fact: several years ago, my wife and children suggested I start a music blog, so now they’re somewhat vindicated.) Although I’ve never successfully played an instrument and struggled with reading sheet music, music has always been a creative force in my life. I love live performances, the complexity of songs, and their delivery. For all sorts of reasons, I listen to music for nearly sixteen hours a day, so it’s only natural that I would be discerning about what I expose my ears to.
9. My Beef with Person-Centered Language (August 25, 2024)
Those who know me well understand that I’m not particularly fond of language politics. I’m not suggesting that language doesn’t matter—on the contrary, I recognize that the words and labels we use can significantly impact us. When the Convict Criminology (CC) approach and practice started, we quickly noticed the demeaning language often used to describe people with criminal convictions and those currently incarcerated. At the same time, we championed the idea that it’s not for others to decide how we define ourselves. Within the CC praxis, there are differing views on language. Some embrace terms like “convict,” “inmate,” or “prisoner,” seeing them as a way to reclaim identity and challenge stigmas. Others, influenced perhaps by liberal or politically correct perspectives, push to change the language as if doing so will magically improve the lives of those behind bars or those impacted by the justice system. I disagree with this approach. Changing the terms doesn’t necessarily equate to meaningful change in the lives of justice-involved individuals, nor is it the first step in a more significant transformation. Everyone has the right to choose how they are called; that autonomy should be respected. But I find the overemphasis on changing labels without addressing the deeper issues at play misguided. It’s not the language that’s the problem—it’s the systems that sustain the inequalities we see.
10. Are Most Academic Departments, Schools, and Colleges of Criminology or Criminal Justice Cop Shops? (March 11, 2024)
This post garnered the most attention this year. The educational and professional backgrounds of the people who work in your workplace shape the working culture of numerous jobs. In academic environments, this can include what subjects they emphasize and which ones they avoid. It also consists of the expectations of our students. In this piece, I look at the infamous “challenge” of working in and for academic jobs at the so-called “cop shop” criminology departments, where a disproportionate number of the professors and instructors are former (or current criminal justice practitioners). In many respects, I also instill this commentary with a bit of realism that this label may be used unfairly and that cop shop departments may also be decent places to work.
Thinking about 2025
As 2024 winds down, I find myself reflecting on key questions that guide my work:
These items shape the content I produce and the projects I select to work on.
Looking ahead to 2025, I’m excited about new plans and ideas already in motion.
While I’ll keep the details private for now, I promise they will build on everything I’ve learned this past year and those that preceded it.
Meanwhile, I want to express my heartfelt thanks to everyone who has supported my work, whether by reading, sharing, or offering constructive feedback.
You make this journey deeply rewarding, and your input continues shaping my work.
As we enter the new year, I encourage you to stay curious, reflect often, and share your creative or scholarly work with the world.
At ‘Ross Industries,’ we’re calling it a wrap and punching out for the year. Here’s to a productive and inspiring 2025!
Photo Credit
Title: First shift of miners at the Virginia Pocahontas Cool company mine near Richland, Virginia, leaving the elevator (1974)
Photographer: Jack Corn
The Twelve Days of Scholarly Peer Review
/by Jeffrey Ian Ross(a revised version of a series of tweets that I originally posted on Twitter (X) December 2019)
Reviewing papers for scholarly journals is an essential, unpaid service that many academics perform. But the process often raises lots of frustrations and unanswered questions. Meanwhile, unless they still have exams to evaluate and final grades to submit, the Christmas break is when many university instructors and professors attempt to fulfill their promises to review papers—or find themselves pressed into service to do so.
In the spirit of the famous Christmas carol, I bring you, “The Twelve Days of Scholarly Peer Review.”
On the 1st day of Christmas, a highly respected scholar-editor from a top-ranked journal invites you to peer review a paper perfectly aligned with your hyper-specialized expertise—but without specifying a due date.
On the 2nd day of Christmas, after you agree to review the paper, the editor informs you that the review is due in two weeks.
On the 3rd day of Christmas, you open the manuscript, only to discover that it’s riddled with track changes edits.
On the 4th day of Christmas, as you continue reviewing the paper, you realize not only is the manuscript filled with track changes, but the author(s)’ names are still visible—violating the blind review component of the process.
On the 5th day of Christmas, frustrated by the lack of response from the editor to your concerns, you e-mail the journal’s editorial office again. You then spend an hour tracking down the editor’s university contact information, only to get an out-of-office reply. A phone call to the office yields no answer, so you leave a voicemail and add “find better things to do with my life” to your New Year’s resolutions.
On the 6th day of Christmas, you realize the author(s) have lifted significant portions from your seminal article, “The Mating Behavior of the Tsetse Fly in Africa During the 17th Century.” You spend the next 24 hours mentally rehearsing how to frame your indignation (but with a professional tone). You briefly consider writing a strongly worded letter to the editor about academic malfeasance.
On the 7th day of Christmas, despite ignoring your previous e-mails and voicemail, you receive an e-mail from the editor remindering you that the review is due in one week. You stare at the e-mail and wonder if they’ve mistaken you for an unpaid intern.
On the 8th day of Christmas, after the kids, your spouse, and the dog are finally asleep, and despite being exhausted, you spend two hours drafting the review—motivated by guilt, professional integrity, and a misguided belief that this will somehow benefit your career. You add “start a blog about academic labor” to your to-do list.
On the 9th day of Christmas, you re-open the manuscript to double-check your critique before submission. To your dismay, you discover three additional flaws. You spend an extra hour revising your review, muttering a stream of academic-appropriate curses like, “This methodology is untenable,” and “Not clear if this study was approved by an IRB?” Finally, you submit it.
On the 10th day of Christmas, you notice that you didn’t receive an automatic confirmation for your submission. You begin to wonder if there’s an issue with the journal’s software. Reluctantly, you send yet another e-mail to the editor and the journal’s office.
On the 11th day of Christmas, the highly respected scholar-editor finally replies, informing you that the paper has been desk-rejected and your review is no longer needed.
On the 12th day of Christmas, the same editor asks if you’d review another manuscript in your hyper-specialized field. You briefly consider it before realizing you’ve spent far too little time with your family and assorted loved ones.
Photo Credit
Photographer Courtney Powell
Title: Drunk Santas March
What Do Criminologists Wear?
/by Jeffrey Ian RossGrowing up, my friend Mark (not his real name) shared a story from his teenage years about applying for a summer job at Switzer’s Delicatessen on Spadina Avenue. Following advice from his friends—or perhaps his mother—he donned the only suit he owned—a slightly ill-fitting one, took the TTC (Toronto’s public transportation system) to the deli, and introduced himself to the owner with the firmest handshake he could muster.
The owner gave him a quick once-over and said, “If you’re going to work here, you can’t be dressed in a suit—and you’d better be ready to get your clothes dirty.”
Similarly, when I was working in a correctional facility, both staff and inmates were encouraged to wear street clothing. This flexibility in dress code sometimes led detainees to ask me what crime I was in for—a question I might not have encountered if I’d been dressed more formally.
These experiences highlight how clothing influences our interactions and perceptions in professional settings. Whether it’s for a job interview, working in a criminal justice agency, or teaching in a classroom, attire is more than just fabric—it communicates authority, identity, and intention.
The Role of Clothing in Professional Contexts
My early lessons about the effect of clothing on different audiences resurfaced recently when I was browsing at a local bookstore in Washington, DC (yes, a few of them still exist). I stumbled upon a book titled What Artists Wear? and couldn’t help but wonder: Is there anything special about the clothes that criminologists wear?
The clothing worn by criminologists isn’t particularly unique compared to other social scientists, but it does play an important role in shaping perceptions.
Although I’m neither an expert on fashion nor style, my experience in street ethnography has sensitized me to how clothing can influence perception and interaction.
For example, when I started my first professor job, determined to project a professional image, I wore a suit and tie for the entire first week. But it didn’t take long to realize I was overdressed for the role. Over time, I transitioned to a more personal “uniform”: a black T-shirt, black jeans, and black cowboy or biker boots—a subtle nod to Johnny Cash. I also grew my hair into a shoulder-length ponytail and, for a while, sported a collection of earrings and an ear cuff.
This evolution wasn’t just about comfort; it reflected a quiet rebellion against rigid academic expectations and a growing confidence in my identity. Had I kept that look today, I might easily be mistaken for an aging hippie. But in academia, such casual dressing walks a fine line: it might suggest brilliance and boldness—or simply that it’s laundry day.
Understandably the factors shaping clothing choices and their interpretations are not uniform. What we wear, when and where we wear it, how we choose to wear it, and how others perceive us are deeply influenced by gender norms, age, financial resources, cultural and regional practices, disciplinary orientation, and the specific setting all play a role in what we wear and how others perceive us.
Gendered Effects
Society expects men and women to dress in specific ways. In most Western societies, men often have more latitude in their clothing choices, while women face greater scrutiny. This heightened scrutiny likely contributes to increased pressure on women to dress more professionally.
Generational Components
Generational factors also influence clothing choices. Older professionals are generally not expected to dress like people in their 20s, and defying these norms can draw attention. For academics, balancing professionalism with individuality often involves navigating these generational expectations.
Money Talks
Financial considerations are another important factor. While tenured professors may afford a decent set of duds, adjunct instructors often lack the resources to dress professionally—let alone keep up with dry-cleaning bills. This disparity underscores broader inequities within academia.
Regional and Cultural Differences
There are also regional and cultural differences in how academics (criminologists or otherwise) dress. For example, when I attended the University of Toronto, no self-respecting male professor would come to class without a suit and tie (or equivalent professional outfit for women). However, when I moved to the United States to start graduate school (at the University of Colorado), I was surprised by professors wearing more casual clothing, such as shorts and Birkenstocks.
Dressing for the Occasion
Context is crucial when choosing what to wear. Criminologists, like other professionals, should consider their audience and the setting. There are about three primary contexts where criminologists’ attire tends to vary: the classroom, conferences, and fieldwork.
Teaching Mode
If I’m teaching and want to present myself professionally to students, colleagues, and staff, I dress business casual—neat and put-together without overdoing it. This doesn’t mean I wear a suit and tie, but a polo or button-down shirt and neatly pressed jeans, khakis, or chinos will suffice. On the rare occasions, I wear a suit to class—usually because I have an important meeting before or after—it raises eyebrows among students, colleagues, and staff, which engenders comments like “what’s ‘s up?” “Did you get a raise?” or “You’re looking more professional today.”
Conference participation
At academic conferences, and depending on your role (i.e., presenter, audience member, etc.), the appropriate attire can vary. For example, as a presenter, I tend to dress more professionally (usually business formal to business casual). It’s also common to wear more formal clothing on the day of your presentation and then dress more casually on the other days or in the evenings. Finding the right balance can be tricky, but it gets easier with experience, especially when many attendees appear uncomfortable in their clothes.
I will say however, that many European male criminologists dress with more style than their American counterparts, often adopting a “smart casual” or “business casual with a European twist” look. This style, also called “Continental Smart Casual,” typically features a dark blazer or suit jacket, a white dress shirt, and jeans—understated sophistication that is polished yet less rigid than a full suit. (Think of brands like Club Monaco, COS, Massimo Dutti, etc.). (Some of my male colleagues can even rock a 5 o’clock shadow 24 hours a day, a skill I have yet to perfect- but I am working on it). Similarly, many female criminologists embrace this look, sometimes incorporating tailored skirts or dresses that complement this style’s professional yet relaxed ethos. (Consider brands like Club Monaco, Massimo Dutti, Rag & Bone, Sandro, Theory, etc.).
Fieldwork Attire
The most significant variation in attire occurs when criminologists conduct fieldwork. For instance, when visiting a prison, I typically wear a suit or business casual clothing to convey professionalism and respect for both the environment and the individuals I engage with. Female criminologists, too, may select clothing that conveys authority, expertise, and respect—often opting for professional dresses or blouses instead of suits, depending on their personal style.
Conversely, when conducting research that involves street ethnography, which for me may include observing and speaking with graffiti writers or street artists, I opt for causal, non-threatening street clothes (not street wear) which are comfortable and appropriate for the setting. (A sturdy pair of running shoes also comes in handy if I ever need to high tail it out of a dodgy situation). Female researchers in these contexts might choose casual attire like pants and sneakers, blending in with the community they are studying, while also considering safety in certain situations.
Other Issues to Consider
Disciplinary Orientation
Another source of variation in clothing style may also be related to disciplinary orientation. For example, a former criminal justice practitioner turned university professor or a person working in a so-called ‘cop shop’ may be more profesh in their attire (This includes clothing brands like Everlane, etc.). Meanwhile Critical Criminologists may be more casual/rebellious in the dress, opting for torn jeans etc.. Then again the criminologists who are more interested in policy might dress more conservatively (Their clothing brands of choice might include Brooks Brothers, or Hickey Freeman etc.).
Exploring Identity
Attire also serves as a medium for self-expression. For some criminologists, clothing is not just functional but a way to infuse individuality and creativity into their professional lives. Accessories like tattoos or body modifications may further reflect this blending of personal and professional identities.
Tailoring Attire to the Situation
From blending into research settings to commanding respect in the classroom or projecting credibility at conferences, attire plays a crucial role for criminologists. Beyond selecting research topics, analyzing data, and communicating ideas to students and colleagues, decisions about what to wear are an important part of academic and professional life.
Photo Credit:
Photographer: Fourbyfourblazer
Title: Ross Dress for Less