Boxes (#114)

Representation in science matters, y'all. Plus: scientist stories and a space-y Pride flag.

I never knew I was inside a box.

I never knew that it was considered odd to think outside of the box I was in. That there were other boxes. That people have strong opinions about the right size and shape of box.

But this is the privilege granted to my box.

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I remember one bizarre class, loosely related to health, and taking place in middle school. The teacher went around the room and asked each of us why we were happy to be a girl or a boy. I don’t know why we were having this conversation.

I remember being quite anxious and embarrassed. I remember muttering the same answer other girls awkwardly confessed (“because I can have babies”). I remember my answer was acceptable to the teacher. I remember it feeling wrong to have this conversation.

I remember my answer not feeling right to me. Sure, my friends and I talked or thought about kids, in the way kids might when they doodle on notebooks and dream about their crushes on rock stars and grandiose, totally inevitable future lives together. In other words, I never really thought about it - and certainly I hadn’t thought of it before that moment in that way. That a concept would be tied so deeply to my identity.

No, I did not like this box I was trying to be placed in.

I don’t know why we were having this conversation - but it wasn’t a part of some insightful lesson plan on gender and sexuality. Rather, it seemed to affirm the boxes we were supposed to be in.

And yet, this is the privilege granted to my box: I never have to think about it. I never had to think about it, except the times when I would be pressured to answer bizarre questions by decrepit educators or, more commonly, to look or act more feminine (i.e., cis-gendered) by family members. All of these times - I remember the sour taste, the loss of balance from what felt more in alignment with me.

I can’t imagine how awful it would be to feel like that every day - pressured to sit in a box that does not fit.

It often feels as if I was predestined to grow up and become a scientist, too, but as I moved through the world as a young person, I can recall often questioning whether there was a place for me in what I was doing…”
Lauren Esposito, 500 Queer Scientists

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I’ve read more than a few opinions about this. “Why does it have to be a thing nowadays?” “Why does it matter? It’s perverting spaces with the sex.” “Sure, let them do their thing, but do they have to talk about it all the time?”

When you’re made to sit in a cardboard box, feeling uncomfortable, feeling that it doesn’t represent you, having worth attached to that particular box - well, seeing other types of boxes means a whole lot. It means that other boxes are accepted and possible. That the feelings one has are valid. In other words, normal.

(And it’s not about “the sex” any more than representations of “maleness” and “femaleness” are for cis-gendered folks already, c.f., the sheer amount of focus and celebration on identifying a baby’s downstairs mix-up before birth - and not on the physical and mental health of the parents and baby. Or normalized presumptions of heterosexual attraction, c.f., when talking about a toddler’s little girlfriends or boyfriends. Strangely, the people who make it about that, though, sure seem to be focused on body parts?)

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Representation can serve as opportunities for minoritized people to find community support and validation…representation can be helpful in reducing negative stereotypes about other groups.
Why Representation Matters and Why It’s Still Not Enough (Nadal, 2021)

I remember reading about women scientists, and knew there women doctors. I remember there was more emphasis on these women navigating the world as moms and wives, and how difficult and brave / selfish and neglectful they must be. Rarely, one hears about men navigating the challenges of fatherhood or partnership while pursuing careers in STEM. Rarer still do we hear stories of 2SLGBTQIA+ people navigating these same waters.

When we don’t see someone that looks like us, or shares similar narratives, it can be hard to develop an identity that imagines us in that same space. But we all look to model ourselves on those who have trod the path before us, so it helps to see people that look similar and to hear stories that resonate closely.

To realize that, inside all our boxes, we all want the same things - to love and be loved, and to contribute our talents to make a positive influence on our corners of the world.

📦🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

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Other Stories

• 500 Queer Scientists brings over 1,900 stories of LGBTQ+ scientists, searchable by scientific discipline and location.

• National Museums Liverpool presents LGBTQ+ People in STEM, a series of highlights of LGBTQ+ historical figures in science.

• The California Academy of Science also shares a series of LGBTQ+ profiles in STEM.

• The Queer Variable is a free e-book of edited interviews with 40 LGBTQ+ people working or studying in STEM, by Dr. Alfredo Carpineti and Dr. Shaun O’Boyle.

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This Week in SciArt

Rachel Lense is a science communicator with NASA, who recently created and shared a Pride flag made entirely with space images:

“…White is Earth clouds, pink is aurora, blue is the Sun in a specific wavelength, brown is Jupiter clouds, black is the Hubble deep field, red is the top of sprites, orange is a Mars crater, yellow is the surface of Io, green is a lake with algae, blue is Neptune, and purple is the Crab Nebula in a specific wavelength.”
Rachel Lense (@rachellense.bsky.social)

What a creative, supportive way to share science. (I particularly love the purple marbling of the Crab Nebula.)

Cosmic Pride flag by Rachel Lense (2024)

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