From PhD to Panelist — Part 1: What I learned from the Women in Chemistry Retreat
How does a PhD chemist end up a full-time project manager? Well, that’s a long story. One that I plan to reveal slowly over a series of posts… For now let’s just say that chemists and project managers share the same passion: solving problems and wrangling chaos.
Because of this overlap, I was invited to the 12th Annual Retreat for Women in Chemistry as a panelist. Unbeknownst to me, I would not solely impart my hard-earned wisdom on the next generation of women chemists, lunch, and leave. I would actually learn a few things — things that will stick with me.
Lesson 1: Introductions can be more impactful than keynotes.
How many webinars, lectures, and symposia have you attended where the intro was 15–20 minutes of sheer boredom? How many intros have you just skipped altogether? Why bother, right?
At best the introduction serves only to slather you with anticipation for the real prize, the keynote address. It is, very often, not in the least bit memorable. But this introduction was more. So. much. more. I was completely engrossed by speaker and his topic, so much so that I had to write a blog about it. A blog — about an introduction! *whoa*
Right from the beginning I was hooked. The retreat opened with a story from Dr. Lloyd Munjanja, Assistant Director of Graduate Diversity and Program Climate, about a trip that he took to Dubai. He painted a rich portrait of gender bias with staggering heat as its backdrop. Munjanja explained that it was the hottest that he’d ever been, but what struck him more than the heat was the clothing. The men were dressed in cool, white linen tunics while the women were covered head-to-toe in black, showing only their eyes.
Not only could I picture this scene in my mind, but I could feel it. I could feel the light-weight linen that the men wore with ease. I could feel the sweat dripping down my back as I stood under the sweltering sun, drenching in heat-trapping black. I could feel the inequality, and I was filled with anger and dismay.
Munjanja’s recount juxtaposed the group of women sitting alongside me. With the simple introduction as his vehicle, he deftly demonstrated the event’s (and his office’s) theme. What was happening that afternoon, that chilly August Saturday in the Union, went beyond learning, was more than camaraderie. It was a statement, a show of strength. A show of diversity, of equality, of inclusion.
And the lesson? You can say more in few minutes than you can in hours. That may seem counterintuitive, so let me give an example. We all know someone who is super quiet. Then one day, that person yells, and everyone is aghast. Yup, that’s impact. Munjanja’s 1000 words painted a visual picture that will last a lifetime. In just 10 minutes.
