“I don’t feel that that’s true.” I frown at the fellow PhD student sitting next to me on the train. I had just shared how I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to continue in Physics because I hadn’t always felt welcome in the predominantly male field. I know from the literature and from speaking to colleagues, that this is not an unusual feeling at all to have as a woman in science, yet he is sceptical. I ask him if he’s ever read anything about discrimination and gender bias in the workplace. “No,” he says confidently, “but still, I feel it isn’t true.”
I have consistently been met with disbelief whenever I voiced my particular reservations about continuing in the field. Sometimes I chose to share some of my personal experiences to try and clarify it, or maybe even justify myself. Not that that made for less frustrating conversations. It tended to elicit somewhat shocked reactions, immediately followed by the person in question saying that probably no harm was meant, or that it is ‘not all men’.
But I knew that what I was experiencing was not an overreaction or a one-off. I had seen how the steady drip-drip of discouragement, sexist remarks, and undermining was just eating away at my and my peers’ confidence and work satisfaction. To me it was clear: we are losing good scientists to a culture of bullying.
‘Systematic bullying and undermining of girls and women in STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics, Eds.) starts early on and is the reason why they do not stay in science and related fields.’ – proposition no. 6 that accompanied my PhD thesis.
Scientific success is heavily influenced by social dynamics
Besides a somewhat strongly worded proposition, I chose to add an extra section to my thesis. Next to the traditional acknowledgements section, I made a section with ‘anti-acknowledgements’. A place for my no-thank-yous, such as a no thank you to the man who asked me what I was wearing underneath my outfit at a conference, and a no thank you to the person who assumed I was the coffee lady. It was not meant to be petty or to blame particular people. I just wanted to illustrate my no. 6 proposition. I had been told implicitly and explicitly that I shouldn’t be in science so many times that it had dulled my spark to the point where I was seriously considering leaving.
I recently shared my anti-acknowledgements on LinkedIn and it has been shared further on BlueSky, Facebook and I don’t know where else. The response has been mostly positive, kind and supportive. The sheer number of women, young and old, who say they relate, wish they could’ve written a similar section, or recognise my story in their own, has been humbling. On the one hand it feels good to not be alone in my experience, but on the other it confirms my worry of how widespread the bullying culture is.
As scientists, we like to believe in rationale, and we advise ‘let the work speak for itself’. However, in blatantly disregarding the social context in which that work is done and perceived, we leave academia as easy prey for sexism, racism, and general inequality to run rampant. Claiming that anything in science is just about the content is not simply naïve because it ignores interpersonal biases, it also disregards the fact that science is a human business, based on collaboration and personal connections. A lot of things that we consider academic success depend on who gets invited to speak, who gets nominated for awards, who gets recommended for positions, and who gets their work cited. In short, scientific success is heavily influenced by social dynamics.
In a world where there are still plenty of people who actively discourage women and girls from pursuing careers in STEM, it is everyone else’s job to counteract the undermining. It is not enough to not be mean, we must choose to champion underrepresented people. Because though we might not be bullies ourselves, we can be sure that somebody else will be. Let’s make everyone feel welcome, let’s cheer girls on from the start.
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