“Science can be so much more rewarding when you are grounded in your own identity - when the hidden contributions and intellect and success of your people are revealed to you.”
Dra. Nicole
I came up through academia. Research projects, grant proposals, qualifying exams, the whole nine yards. My dream in life was to become an astrophysics professor, and while being an immigrant and first generation student who grew up in poverty, I persisted. Four years into my Ph.D. program I decided to leave my field.
It was not an easy decision to give up on my dreams. I had fought tooth and nail to get to where I was. I carried the weight of my Latinx community on my shoulders. I was stubborn as all hell. But after developing a physical disability, increased panic attacks, and a major depressive episode I had to reevaluate.
I was miserable. I felt alone, devalued, and inadequate. My once fervent passion for astronomy became a dull hatred for anything related to research. I couldn’t stand going to lab everyday. At first I thought it was me, that I just wasn’t cut out to be a scientist. I internalized every mistake, every painful interaction. I rationalized that someone smarter, more capable, better would be able to handle the pressure.
So I decided to leave. Maybe I would be better at being a science communicator. Okay, but if so I would want to focus on marginalized audiences. I figured I knew what it was like to be a Latina in the ivory tower, but I needed to learn about other experiences to better serve my audience. So, unbeknownst to my advisor, I started taking a race and ethnic relations class - and it changed my life.
Dr. Itai Jeffries taught me that everything I had lived in academia - the harsh scrutiny, the gaslighting, the rules applied differently to me than my white peers, the feeling that I couldn’t be myself and a scientist - came from white supremacy culture. All those negative experiences I internalized as my fault were actually part of the structure of academia, built on the exclusion of folks like me.
At that point, it was too late for me - the harm had already been done, and it was too painful to try to pick up the pieces. But I wanted to make sure that other marginalized people didn’t have to go through the isolation, fragmented self, and imposter phenomenon I had gone through. So I created Movement Consulting, a company to transform academic spaces so marginalized people can thrive.
Now, even though I no longer conduct scientific research I am still part of the scientific community - working on leaving it better than it left me. And I get to do it in community, in right relation with everyone I collaborate with. It may not be the dream I started with, but it is a testament to my resilience, compassion, and power.