Women in STEM - Today & Tomorrow

Many of us have heard it before, some iteration of the same old joke: women in STEM are actually women in biology. It’s a joke because it isn’t quite true; one of my closest female friends is an automotive engineer. It’s a common joke because it isn’t false, either:? of the STEM fields, biology alone attracts more women than men. As a biologist myself, it’s a fact that I can’t help but keep in mind as I reflect on my experience in STEM and the theme of 2024’s Women’s History Month “Inspire Inclusion”.

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To be a researcher is to ask, with dogged determination, why. A scientific mind is often a stubborn one or, to the exasperation of many, a contrary one. Scientists love to poke at the rules, to reject “This is just the way it is”, to circumvent limitations, and to find the value in failing to do so.

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It is to ask why, regardless of the question.

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Growing up, I wouldn’t say I knew I’d be a scientist, though my first word was almost certainly why. I was a good student who simply enjoyed learning. My teachers preferred to encourage my interest in the arts, however. Much to their disappointment, I’m about as competent nowadays with a paintbrush as I was in elementary school – not very. They quickly turned to creative writing instead.

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Now, I admit it was a logical choice for a kid who loved to read. However, despite teaching my friends a coded language to pass notes, constructing a ruler-based catapult for the launching of said notes, and learning several years ahead in mathematics, only two people ever encouraged me to become a scientist or engineer before I turned 16.

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A teacher, sure. I got that recommendation enough times to grow sick of refuting it. Sometimes a science teacher. Rarely a scientist, though.

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Maybe this was a ploy to prevent me from getting my hands on a full-size catapult. As a child, however, I often found that when I wasn’t expected to do something, it was related to being a girl. My mounting frustration sealed a very stubborn deal: I was going to be a scientist and I was going to be good at it.

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Many women pursue science throughout secondary school, only to change tracks in university. Similarly, there is less gender disparity amongst graduates earning STEM diplomas than in actual STEM employment. Stubborn determination and spite may have driven me to pursue STEM, but it’s a fact that discouragement drives many women out. This trickling loss is referred to as “the leaky pipeline”.

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Personally, my university experience was largely one of gender parity. The exceptions to the rule were physics, mathematics, and ethics in biology, where the gender divide grew with each academic year. When the skew in either direction was great enough, an interesting phenomenon arose: the final remaining men or women tended to drop the course. The leaky pipeline is not exclusive to one field or gender – we all have a limited tolerance for exclusion.

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The leaky pipeline is perforated by culture, rather than content. This concept applies well beyond education.

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Perhaps this is why women like me have pursued entering the aquaculture industry. The field is rapidly developing, and it seems like new scientific ventures are popping up every week. This breeds both risk and opportunity. Fact is, it’s difficult for young female scientists to get started in long-established fields with deep-rooted cultures, especially where all the big names have belonged to men.?

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It’s far easier to have a seat at the table when there are empty chairs.

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I joined an aquaculture co-op program after graduating university to network and gain some valuable market insight. That co-op introduced me to everything from farm-labour to conservation and industry-driven research, showing off a startling number of women in hatchery management positions and RAS technology development. It also introduced me to CATC and their largely female scientific team. I knew I wanted in right away, so I applied and was, thankfully, accepted just as the pandemic really took off.

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With 2020 serving up hard lessons about employment instability, I was (reasonably) uncomfortable with rocking the boat. This is a problem many of us run into early on in our careers: do I stand out or blend in? Fortunately, CATC’s team culture helped me shake that discomfort. I felt my knowledge and skills were valued despite my age, and I was regularly encouraged to speak up. The team made space for me to grow and learn, providing novel opportunities and acknowledging my successes. While I may have started as a Research Associate, each year has presented me with a new opportunity. Here, I had the opportunity to be a scientist and, stubbornly, be a good one. ?Four years in, I can proudly call myself the Scientific Advisor for the company.

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While I have enjoyed ample support in reaching the position I am in today, people will occasionally express their surprise or doubt in my capabilities in a personal and professional capacity. I can see why – my experience does not represent the majority. Scientific leadership in most companies retains very few women. While this was no secret to me, it has become particularly noticeable while working with an internal leadership team represented by 50% women.

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I and an ever-growing number of women find ourselves in a unique position: we can patch the leaky pipeline. Visibility alone is critical to developing a culture of inclusion, though there is far more we can do. Providing a foot in the door, holding space for women to speak, and upholding the merits of other women won’t solve everything, but more women will certainly become scientists.

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Good scientists. Perhaps even without stubbornness and spite.

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With enough patches, maybe – just maybe – we’ll lose a few biologists to technology, engineering, and math. My hope for the future is exactly that: for women in STEM to include the -TEM. Once we get there, I think we can truly call it a victory for inclusion.