Being LGBT+ in STEM: One Scientist’s Experience
By: Sharna Lunn
When I am asked how I identify myself, the first thing I say is I’m a scientist.
This introduction can be off-putting when chatting to the general public. Science is often depicted as an inaccessible monolith in society that produces goods in an anonymous manner. For many people, to so much as attempt to understand science would do little more than insult their intellect, despite the benefits of science being as clear as the phone in their hands. For those that were to disagree with this statement, may have to look inwardly to the privileges they have in the means of exposure to science through life. For many without education, without a role model and without encouragement, science continues to be a faceless, unachievable ivory tower.
I have never felt that there was a ceiling in science, more like a narrowing corridor towards a goal, the walls closing in with each new progressing step. Many aspects of my character have driven those walls closer together: my family background, biological sex, gender expression, physical & mental health, and sexuality all have played a part. I haven’t met anyone similar to myself in STEM yet, and without a guide it can be a very lonely path.
Coming out at work
I wanted to throw my investigative net out at the Sanger Institute to see if a role model would appear from the myriad of brilliant scientists present. I joined the newly-founded LGBT+ society at Sanger and was the society’s first speaker with a presentation entitled ‘Bisexuality in the Workplace.’
In the past, I have found the LGBT+ community has not always welcomed me with open arms due to my bisexuality, straight-passing appearance and outspoken opinions, and when combined with not wishing to jeopardise any possible employment or study, I had decided to keep my sexuality very private and separate throughout my professional life. It was by far the part of my character I was most afraid to expose.
That presentation was one of the proudest moments of my scientific career so far, despite not being directly scientific. I didn’t catch a role model. Instead, I found a flock of people who were already in the same boat. I was inundated with thank-you’s from people who were scared just to be in the audience, never mind standing up and talking about misconceptions of bisexuality whilst handing out rainbow unicorn cupcakes. I acknowledged the benefits of being straight-passing in the workplace, but I did not want to hide behind my partner anymore to avoid awkward and damaging misconceptions.
Loneliness is commonplace for us
The confidence I gained from the audience’s support that day has now spurned me into more activism for queer STEM people, because there was a resounding voice from them:
‘We feel alone’.
Loneliness is not new to LGBT+ people. So many of us go through it that it’s nearly a rite of passage. To begin a career in STEM, a notoriously difficult career choice in of itself, when already feeling like you’ve got a bad hand could be a deterrent enough to shy away from a possible bright future. Without people standing in front, representing a community, how are they to know that they can achieve those heights whilst being themselves? Why risk it?
I’ve been there, and many have been before. Diversity has been proven time and again to strengthen society. Science is at the forefront of our advancing world, so why are so many STEM people hiding?
Support is essential
After my presentation, although the reception was excellent, the LGBT+ society ground to halt. The original tester meetings showed that there is a significant desire for such a safe place to exist in STEM, but a lot feared the repercussions if their participation was recorded, and thus volunteers were not forthcoming and the society’s existence has fizzled out.
A recent example of this in the media was featured on the recent reboot of Queer Eye on Netflix (of which I highly recommend). In one episode, a gay man of colour feels he must meticulously downplay any vaguely gay quality of himself because he wanted to be considered professional as a civil engineer. One of the hosts of the show described that “this conservative, masculine life he wants to live is more what society expects of him than what he truly feels inside.” The essence of this statement was a direct reflection of what I was hearing from my community.
There needs to be a plan to make sure we do not lose this much-needed diversity due to lack of representation, support, and political advocacy. We must start with policies such as protections against discrimination in recruitment and promotion, progress to education, sharing resources, and fact-based activism. Or if you’re feeling very spritely, do the lot all at once.
This encouragement needs to occur at all levels of science leadership. Although the tolerance of LGBT+ existence is almost there, many still feel that acceptance is a long way off.
What you can do
The best way for people to start feeling like they can stand up and be counted is threefold.
Start with yourself, and I’m talking to allies here too. Next time you see something that incites change, think of the implications for others not only from LGBT+ communities but other marginalized communities as well. After my talk, I began openly discussing with colleagues about scientific policy issues and how that would impact on the LGBT+ community specifically. Although there were no negative results from these conversations, it was a mixed response as to whether these issues should be relevant in a workplace as it was assumed that people weren’t discriminatory.
Secondly, stay informed by looking outside your immediate bubble. Personally, I find being an active member of several petition sites very helpful for keeping up to date with things outside of my typical remit. Care2, Avaaz, Change.org are but a few, and of course there are specialised charities like Stonewall that will help to keep you informed. If you find an issue that speaks to you, email the person involved. I’m sure they’d be delighted to hear from you. Use social media to passively engage with the community if you don’t have time or are not ready to actively take part by following Instagram hashtags and Facebook groups. For those in STEM, there are programs that introduce those in STEM to schools and provide the resources to put into practise what they learn from textbooks, such as STEM ambassadors in the UK, which are very resourceful and have hubs across the country.
And lastly, for allies and queer folk alike, talk to each other. Not just discussing issues but lending an ear to a person in need can do more in the way of influencing minds than anything else, because we’re human and we need to be heard.
Science is all for one goal, we’re all on the same team, running down the same corridor. We shouldn’t lose teammates because we let the walls close in.
Sharna Lunn has a BSc and MRes in Biology from two UK universities and will be beginning her neuroscience PhD at Cardiff University in July 2018. She has worked at the Wellcome Sanger Institute for over two years. She comes from a small town on the south coast of the UK where social mobility is very low and was a ‘first-in-family’ student . She is a bisexual, cis woman in a heterosexual relationship who suffers from fibromyalgia and anxiety. She lives two lives which follow her passions, science and art, and regularly try to show that they are not mutually exclusive in nature or society.
