One answer to how we encourage and keep women in STEM fields

Seeing ourselves in others

Something very human and very connecting happens when we see ourselves in the other. We relate, we’re similar, we have common ground. If you think of when you last made a new friend or connection, it would’ve been over something - maybe you met at a yoga class, or through someone else, or sharing similar content online. There would’ve been something that bonded you, that became a bridge over which you were able to send and receive ideas, information, laughs. 

In a work context, it’s natural to want guidance and to learn. If women don’t see themselves (i.e. have relatable role models) in the people who are further ahead than them, then it’s very hard to know where to step, to feel as though they belong, that what they want is possible and achievable.

One reason women are leaving STEM is that there is a distinct lack of relatable role models. Without this, loneliness is inevitable and our need for connection becomes real. I’ve experienced this first hand and it’s one of the reasons I left academia.

‘Be that woman?’

In academia, I felt alone, different, like a fish out of water most of the time. The way my male colleagues communicated felt ice cold / distant and sometimes condescending. And so I said to one, I don’t think I’ll stay. 

At the time my research group was making an effort to hire a female lecturer. For context, at PhD student level there were perhaps 10% women, at post-doctoral research level there was one with a permanent role and one visiting, and beyond that (i.e. higher up) there were no female lecturers and no female professors in my research group of some 150 people. In my department (of five research groups) there was one female professor and one female lecturer I knew of.

There was considerable debate - among the mostly male group - as to whether they should give a less-qualified woman the job of lecturer, purely because she’s a woman. It’s something that’s discussed quite widely in Western society, where it’s now been proven that more diverse teams produce better results, better companies and ultimately more profit. Either way, the woman they’d tried to hire didn’t accept and so we were back to square one.

Why did any of this matter? I didn’t want to stay in academia partly because I couldn’t relate well to my colleagues and I couldn’t see the path ahead of me. I didn’t know how it would look to become a postdoc, lecturer or professor. What it would take, how to get there, whether I even wanted it. Because there were no women to show me and no way for me to envision myself getting there.

When I tried to explain the fact that I don’t have a female role model to relate to, my male colleague said ‘become that woman, then’. This was both triggering and presumptuous. While I hugely admire the women who are the trailblazing pioneers, managing to be the first in their fields, I knew I didn’t have the energy to be on that path. Perhaps it takes a level of grit, determination, or simply put, a willingness to sacrifice and be a martyr that I didn't possess. After years of what felt like swimming against the current, constantly battling to fit into a culture where I felt like the odd one out, I yearned to tap into my old strengths again. I wanted to love my work, to collaborate with like-minded individuals, and to communicate the topics I was truly passionate about without constantly feeling like I was on my own.

What’s the solution, then?

One innovative idea I heard was being implemented at some institutions in the States was to hire 'cohorts' of women faculty and researchers simultaneously; now this approach really resonated with me. When a single woman is hired into a department or research group consisting predominantly or entirely of men, the odds are stacked against her. She has a lower chance of staying long-term, feeling settled, or achieving her full potential. At the very least, she's going to struggle with feelings of isolation, lack of relatability, and an uphill battle to truly belong in that male-dominated culture.

By hiring a cohort or critical mass of women into these STEM spaces simultaneously could create a supportive network right from the start. These women can collaborate, relate to one another's experiences, and collectively help drive cultural change within their department or institution. 

If I came across a job posting at a university department or research institution that highlighted an existing network of female collaborators, mentors, and role models, I would seriously consider that opportunity. To know I wouldn't be alone, that I could tap into the wisdom of other women navigating similar paths – that resonates deeply with me after years of feeling like the odd one out.

Or, I suppose, we could simply continue waiting for more solitary martyrs to blaze that trail alone, one institution at a time.