Move over horse girls — this one’s for the bug girls.
As a kid, I feel like if you liked science, you chose one of two fixations: dinosaurs or space. Now, I loved both — still do. I’ll go to a dinosaur-space double feature at any natural history museum. But my true love? Came from the bugs.
Not the creepy crawlies. The bugs that make us sick — parasites, bacteria, viruses, you name it.
I fell in love with studying those bugs. I took that love all the way to a prestigious, elite university to be the first in my family with a doctorate. Certainly the first to study science. Truly, I thought this would be my ticket out of how I grew up. I come from a long line of poverty, and I mean that with love.
What I didn’t realize is that science is not — and has never been — a meritocracy, especially at the highest levels. Suddenly, I was going to school with people who had the kind of education and credentials I could only dream of as a teenager. I found community with other fish out of water, but even some of them were willing to throw the rest of us under the bus if it meant being accepted by the system.
For the first two years, things were great — professionally, at least. (We won’t talk about the relationship that started the fissures that nearly shattered me just yet.) I received prestigious fellowships, published my third paper, and I was happy just doing my little experiments all day, every day.
Then COVID hit.
The Nightmare Days
Now, I know you’ll think I stayed home for months doing nothing. Baking bread, doing puzzles (okay, I did do puzzles in my free time). But actually, I never really left the lab. Somehow, we were able to go back almost immediately — lonelier than before, but still there.
I was in charge of making sure our equipment didn’t fail and kill decades’ worth of research in the freezers. That meant going in when:
a) public transit was shut down, and
b) I didn’t want to risk ride sharing.
Sometimes it was just me and one other person. Sometimes really scary things happened, and it was just us solving the problems. No advisor. No EHS. Just two people trying not to panic.
Maybe that’s where my major disillusionment started. Because while students, postdocs, staff scientists, post-bacs — all the research staff — were deemed essential (even if we weren’t studying COVID or doing tests), the professors stayed home. Hell, they told us we couldn’t even use kitchens/breakrooms, microwaves, or bottle filling stations. How were we supposed to eat and drink enough water while working full shifts? Shifts at either the ass crack of dawn or into the night, pick your poison. For two years.
And when the vaccines rolled out, were we first in line? Nope. The professors at home got the first appointments.
That solidified it for me. My growing distaste for academia calcified into something sharper.
The Abuse You’re Supposed to Be Grateful For
The other side of this coin is the unchecked power of tenured faculty. If they’re good humans, it’s not a problem. Unfortunately, in my experience, a lot of them are pretty fucking awful. Mine included.
My advisor decided they didn’t want me there anymore and tried to bully me out. I had to fight everyone — all the way up to the deans — to keep that from happening. I had papers. I had enough for a thesis. My entire time there was funded by me through grants I got without my advisor’s help. So why was it ever a question that I deserved to graduate?
The last year and a half was, simply put, hell on earth. Just to name a fraction of the issues:
- I was prohibited from buying reagents, then grilled by my committee for not doing those experiments.
- My personal items were tampered with.
- My advisor discussed my appearance, my intellect with other faculty and other students. My peers.
And still — I fucking made it. I got that degree. I got a job without any of their help (except one genuinely good professor). I left and only came back to walk across that stage, look those people in the eye, and celebrate with my family. Then I left that awful place behind for good.
Workplace Déjà Vu
The first six months at my new job? I think my body was just unclenching. By the end of my PhD, I was simultaneously heavier and constantly puking from anxiety. Intense stress dreams. Crying a lot.
Leaving helped. Slowly, my body started to heal. I lost weight, slept better, and eventually the nausea subsided.
Except I was living in a fantasy. The “wow, this place is sooo much better” phase. Like leaving one toxic relationship and diving straight into another. Just this time, the abuse wasn’t as overt. Until it was.
We Should Just Build a Themyscira for Science (Kidding… Unless?)
Once I started getting comfortable, the nonsense started.
- Gendered dress coding.
- Being belittled.
- Being called names by grown adults. Seriously.
- Cleaning up my manager’s mistakes and getting blamed for them anyway.
Not doing enough but also doing too much.
Being too smart.
God, I know. That sounds pretentious. You can hate me for saying that — I’d understand. I don’t even really think I’m that smart. But it really seems to offend older people when a young person (especially a young woman) shows up with credentials and competence.
I got stuck with all the boring admin work because the men on my team refused to do it. They literally said, “yeah, I’m not doing that.” To not only side work, but also teaching new employees and interns. That was allllll on me. Simultaneously, I was given absolutely zero credit for all the training I did. Magically, it was my boss who did it all (unless a mistake happened, then yes, I was the mastermind). Does it surprise you I was the only woman on the team?
Does it surprise you more that my own manager, also a woman, would never dream of supporting another woman over a man?
Maybe I Just Suck (I Think That Too)
It’s honestly hard to explain how much it fucking sucks to be a young woman in science. You will never be taken as seriously as even the most mid of all mid men. Or even the straight-up idiots.
You listen to gross commentary from men 10+ years older. You call it out, and suddenly you’re the problem. You’re not a team player. You’re difficult.
Meanwhile, you’re carrying the team’s workload and planning the birthday parties. Pressured into doing the “wellness” arts and crafts bullshit because, once again, the men on the team refused, and “we have to participate!!! It looks bad if we’re the only team without anything.”
And if you stumble?
“Well, maybe you just aren’t cut out for this field.”
As an aside — it’s hilarious when the head of the lab thinks I’m fresh out of undergrad and working as a research associate. No offense to RAs (truly), but maybe I should’ve insisted on “Doctor” (cringe). Also…I guess thanks for saying my sunscreen is working?
The Grief No One Warns You About
Trust me — if you’re thinking “maybe you just suck”, I think that every single day.
Every choice I make is surrounded by thought clouds:
What if this happens?
What if this is the wrong choice?
What if you’re the problem?
I won’t absolve myself. I’m not perfect. I probably rub some people the wrong way. I can live with that. What I will notdo is let mediocre people — like the ones who tried to tear me down — dull the shine I know I have.
There are things I can do really well. Stuff I can do better than other people. And there’s also a ton of stuff I am truly shit at. That’s true for every single person.
What I choose to do is not be a complete asshole just because I’m intimidated by someone better at something than me. I can’t say the same for a lot of scientists.
If You Love Science, Don’t Let It Break You
I’m not saying this to bash science. Science is the purest form of seeking knowledge.
What I do critique is the current system — the one that suffocates true innovation, creativity, talent, and anyone who doesn’t fit the mold. The system that stifles potential into extinction just to protect a little slice of power. The one that makes people’s lives harder on purpose.
So — if you made it to the end — congratulations. You might hate me now, and that’s okay. I mostly wrote this to get it off my mind. I’ve held this grief alone for so long. Maybe someone out there will see themselves in this and find the courage to keep going, even when everything is screaming at you to stop.
(And if you need someone to talk to, I’ve already coached a couple of grad students through this exact thing. Drop me a line.)
Where I Am Now
I’ve left that job behind. I’m in a place that is healthier — maybe not aligned with my training, but at least I’m not throwing up daily. The insomnia has gotten better.
But I still carry that trauma. I still worry constantly about what my boss thinks of me. I still replay every conversation, wonder if I said too much. I still brace for everything to come crashing down.
Ha ha, this girl thought she could rebuild!
And I still grieve the little girl who loved science so much she gave it everything — only to be chewed up and spit out.
I’m not here to discourage anyone from going into science. Quite the opposite. If you do? Just make the place a little better than you found it.
Until next time, try not to let assholes break your spirit.
—Your Life Sucks Girly
Your Life Sucks 