Working (and battling) as a socially disadvantaged woman in STEM

I am incredibly proud of my culture and heritage. I am a first generation British Asian Muslim, with roots in both India and East Africa, and so it is only natural I start at the beginning with a little history on my parents. My father studied in the UK, and in the 1960s he renounced his Tanzanian nationality to become a British citizen. In the early 1970s he married my Kenyan mother, and due to the economic and political unrest in their homelands, they migrated to the UK with barely the clothes on their backs. My father was a mechanical engineer, and my mother was a banker, and they both worked incredibly hard to solidify their right to live in this country. Their initial years in the UK were tough, so much so that they had to work and save for nearly 10 years to assure enough financial security to consider starting a family. I know this story by heart, and I have so much pride and respect for my parents, never tiring of hearing just how determined and steadfast they both were in wanting the best for their future children. It is from them I learnt the importance of hard work, the true value of money earned, and just what it takes to make your life what you want it to be. I also know I am not the only one with the same brave family history. There are countless others, immigrants or the children of immigrants, with strong and courageous lineages, all facing adversity and uncertainty in the hope for a brighter future for themselves and their children.

My parents supported me in everything I wanted to do. When I told them that I wanted to be a scientist, they told me to go for it. The fact that science was still very much a male-dominated industry did nothing to dissuade me. I grew up reading about trailblazing female scientists and I knew of female doctors and engineers who were family friends, so I relished the challenge of contributing to the science, technology, mathematics and engineering (STEM) arena.

It is also from my parents that I developed my work ethic, with my father promoting education and learning above all else. So, when I started on my career, I assumed that hard work and a love for my subject would be enough to get me where I wanted to go. I put in the hours every day, reading, researching, networking and training. You name it, I did it. I continually studied new concepts and applications, stayed up late to trawl through research papers, talked to others in more senior positions and took on more responsibility. Even in my personal life, I pushed myself. I volunteered. I privately tutored. I mentored. I thought I was doing everything I needed to do to elevate myself into a position for greater opportunity and promotion.

The realisation I was a socially disadvantaged woman in STEM

Sadly, this was not the case. I was repeatedly overlooked for positions I was clearly qualified for, and it took me a while to realise that others just like me (women, persons-of-colour, families of immigrants) were also being sidelined. I could not understand it. I was always well-liked at school, and the colour of my skin as a child did nothing to hold me back – in fact, I was voted Head Girl of my secondary school. Now, don’t get me wrong, racism always played a (albeit minor) factor in my life – I grew up in a small city, the only Asian child during my primary years, and only one of a handful in my secondary school. The small number of racial and prejudicial incidents I was victim to, I put down to kids just being kids, not knowing any better. My parents were also well liked both in our local community and in their professions. They were both driven, working multiple jobs so myself and my brother did not miss out on any opportunity. We were by no means wealthy, but growing up we were comfortable and happy, living in a quiet and accepting neighbourhood.

So, when I entered the professional arena, I could not comprehend that my gender and race would have anything to do with my own career progression, especially with the belief that all the sacrifices made by my parents, coupled with my own hard work, would be the springboard for my own success. But it soon became clear to me that it was not going to be as unfettered as I had hoped. What made it even more frustrating was that there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I was completely helpless within an archaic system, without the traction or power to change my own trajectory, let alone positively influence the path of others. Overcoming the adversity of being a socially disadvantaged woman in STEM was going to take some battling.

Fighting fire with fire

My career has been littered with examples of where I have been stepped on or stepped over with complete disregard for my qualifications and experience, but there is one incident which has defined my outlook to the discrimination that exists.

This significant learning curve came for me when I had to work on a project with a colleague who was both racist and sexist. He was devious enough to only toe the line of being reprimanded with any formal warnings, and in doing so took great delight in undermining me at every opportunity with snide remarks and constant putdowns. The final straw for me came when he stole data from my own lab-books and personal work notes to pass of as his own in our senior collaborator’s meeting. I was devasted. All my hard work, all my meticulous notetaking, all my hours of lab-work and analysis, he claimed as his own for which he was applauded. There was nothing I could say. I left that meeting, came home and cried.

I sought advice from a colleague, and she told me to fight fire with fire. Which is exactly what I did. I channelled my frustration, at both him and the system that allowed this type of behaviour to carry on unchecked, into fuelling my work (which I was now hiding in another office). At the next collaborators meeting, I came prepared with folios of documentation showcasing my efforts. When it came for my time to speak, I dramatically stood up, and slid my folders across the round table to each attendee. Yes, the look on my antagonist’s face was priceless, and even better, my collaborators now realised that it was I that was the driving force behind this project.

Ever since this incident, I now approach new projects with my game-face on. I automatically collate evidence of my contributions, prepared and ready to stand my ground should I ever be in a position where I again have to defend my work.

But I should not have had to do this. I am fully aware that going in on the offensive is not the healthiest of approaches, but it gives me a sense of security in a culture which is still steeped in unfairness and prejudice. In the case of the episode above, my organisation should have been open-minded and progressive enough to have provided me with the necessary safe space to articulate my concerns and hold those that are not only unprofessional, but also sexist and racist, accountable for their words and actions.

This whole experience jaded me. Of course, I knew that people can be underhanded and conniving, but I had gone through enough life experience to have a thick enough skin to deal with this type of behaviour. It was the sexism and racism that really affected me – that those with authority were willing to turn a blind-eye to such unforgivable behaviour.

I do not want this anecdote to disillusion others following a similar career path. However, I think it is important for those on both sides of the line to understand how events like this can affect individuals. I can empathise that those in more senior positions may also feel like they need to play by the same old-fashioned rule book, scared to speak up should they themselves start encountering professional roadblocks. But if nothing changes from the top down, then how is the culture on the ground ever going to evolve?

The power and reward of mentoring

This is why I mentor. I want the next generation of scientists (and other professionals) to understand that when they climb these industry ladders, they have the power to drive real positive change in the culture and mindsets of organisations that are too ingrained in their bad behaviours to see the wood for the trees.

My experiences have clearly shaped me into the person I am today. And while it was incredibly unfair that I had to fight even harder for the same opportunities, I will not deny that I am tougher, stronger and more resilient than I may otherwise would have been. I like to think that the struggles I have faced in my own professional journey can be used as lessons-learned for the next generation of scientists, especially those young women from the same socially disadvantaged, immigrant background that I am from. So, while we may have to work that bit harder to make our voices heard and for our accomplishments to be acknowledged, we can still make our careers a success, and that there are organisations out there that will recognise our worth.

I am affiliated with three different volunteer mentoring schemes, assisting secondary school, undergraduate and graduate students with the next stages of their professional journeys. These are wonderful schemes, and I thoroughly enjoy interacting with all the students I am assigned who are all so full of passion and excitement for their future. It is a real honour to be able to provide them with whatever support they need as they head out into that big, wide world.

Mentoring schemes I am proud to be part of

Alumni mentoring scheme – I did my bachelor’s degree at University College London (UCL), and so it was an easy yes to sign up to this programme. This scheme is so well organised, and it is such a rewarding feeling to be able to give something back to a university which I loved studying at. The mentoring you offer can vary from networking to job applications, and your interaction with your assigned student lasts for as long as the student finds value in it.

1-Hour Project – I learnt about this programme from the UCL Alumni Mentoring Scheme, and it is such a brilliant concept. You arrange a single, one hour conversation with a graduate student who has been matched with you based your professional expertise. The student comes prepared with a list of topics they want guidance with, and then you have an opportunity to continue your interaction outside the 1-Hour Project if you wish.

Social Mobility Foundation (SMF) – This scheme is aimed at school-leavers, so you need a current Disclosure and Barring Service (DBS) certificate, which the SMF will arrange and pay for you to complete. These students are either in their first or second year of their A’ Levels (pre-university exams), and so all communication is run through a safeguarding messaging platform. However, the programme arranges regular virtual meetups, where you have the chance to speak with your assigned student.

All in all, I typically spend about an hour a week mentoring, as all these schemes run at different paces, with the students needing different levels of interaction as the academic year progresses. If supporting the next generation of scientists (or professionals from any expertise) is something you feel passionate about, I would highly recommend looking into mentoring. It is so rewarding on many different levels.

While it is such a shame that these schemes must exist, I am glad that they do. I myself was not given the opportunity to have a mentor in the early stages of my career. Looking back at the struggles I had to face alone and without any guidance, I know I would have been very appreciative of having a mentor, if nothing else to connect me with those professionals who could have provided insight and opportunity which I was never exposed to before entering the working world.

On a final note…

It is getting fairer in the professional world. Thanks to so many brave individuals (think back to the #metoo and #blacklivesmatter movements), those that are profiled or discriminated against now feel that they have a platform on which to raise their voices. And I would like to stress, this is not about giving certain groups of people an unfair advantage – we are just looking for equality. We want to be assessed on our intelligence, our drive and our ability to fulfil a role, and nothing more. I saw a post on LinkedIn the other day about a young black scientist who recently achieved her PhD in biophysics. There were so many people commenting as to why the colour of her skin and her gender should be a predominant talking point. What some fail to realise is that when gender, skin colour and cultural background are no longer a detrimental influencing factor in professional and personal advancement, only then that we can stop talking about it.

So, this blog post is dedicated to the next generation of scientists and other professionals, who I know will have the courage and determination to smash through those prejudicial barriers and make a more equal professional playing field for all.