The Key to Success as A Woman in STEM

By Tessa Filipczyk

Tessa conducting research in Bodega Bay

From a young age, I thought the path to success was built upon a ladder. That you accomplish one thing after the next, after the next, check every box, and eventually you’ll be successful. What I failed to realize until well into college, is that is absolutely not true, and that “success” is really a meaningless term used to make people feel crazy. My path to what I accomplished during undergrad, and where I am today, was anything but linear. There was always a new disappointment after every goal achieved and always someone else to compare myself to. Especially in STEM fields and even more so as a woman, I find that there is a communal mentality that we are never doing enough. Every time I thought about what my college career would look like, I’d feel this overwhelming sense of anxiety over what I was supposed to be doing to be “successful”. Classmates would be landing internships, summer jobs, and cool opportunities starting just as early as my freshman year. I kept thinking to myself, “Why don’t I do that?”, “What’s holding me back?”. The truth is that I was scared of starting my career as a marine scientist because I thought wasn’t going to be good enough. This was based on my assumption that science in general was hardcore, competitive, no room for mistakes, etc.; however, with the help of some incredible female colleagues and mentors, I realized that science is really about communication, a passion for exploration, and collaboration.

My first experience working in a lab started my sophomore year at UC Davis. I applied to be an intern in Dr. Tessa Hill’s ocean biogeochemistry lab. Ecstatic didn’t even begin to describe the emotions I felt when I was selected. I chose to pursue marine science at UC Davis above other schools specifically because of Tessa. Her lab focuses on “principles of feminism,” while also aiming to “address issues of justice and equity” (Hill). I felt drawn to this type of environment especially as a young scientist because I knew that I would be surrounded by people who were once trying to navigate their way through a competitive STEM field just as I was. As an intern, I was tasked with helping Melissa Ward, a PhD candidate, and one of Tessa’s postdoctoral fellows, Aurora Ricart with their respective projects. Melissa’s PhD work focused on carbon stocks and exchanges in blue carbon habitats along the Pacific coast and Aurora’s experiment focused specifically on how seagrass meadows can affect seawater chemistry, which has implications for how calcifying organisms will respond to ocean acidification. Melissa used sediment cores from a variety of blue carbon ecosystems to run her analysis, while Aurora created a mesocosm* experiment at Bodega Marine Lab.

*Mesocosm: Any outdoor experimental system that examines the natural environment under controlled conditions. They provide a link between field surveys and highly controlled laboratory experiments.

The mesocosm experiment setup consisted of baby oysters being placed in small cages and into tanks with varying densities of seagrass to see exactly how seagrass affects seawater chemistry. In theory, the tanks with the most seagrass shoots would be more basic (higher pH) because photosynthesis dominates (more oxygen), thus allowing the oysters to calcify more readily. In control tanks where no seagrass is present however, we would expect that the environment would become more acidic (lower pH) as respiration dominates (more carbon dioxide), making calcification more difficult. On my first day as an intern I helped Aurora clean out her experimental tanks that had been accumulating a nasty brown algae. This was problematic because it physically grew over the seagrass and small oyster cages, possibly preventing them from photosynthesizing and respiring properly and thus altering some of the measurements being taken in the tanks; pH, salinity, temperature, and dissolved oxygen. Over the course of an 8-hour workday, we removed the pots of seagrass and the oyster cages from each tank in order to scrub them clean and rid them of the algae. I literally and figuratively had to roll up my sleeves and get to work. Throughout this entire process, however, all I could think about was “Is this what working in a lab is like?” Was cleaning out tanks going to be where my career started? I tried to be grateful for the opportunity I had been given but couldn’t help thinking about when the “real work” would get started. At the end of the day, I climbed into the van and headed back to Davis with my shirt soaked in water and covered in brown gunk. I didn’t realize until after I had taken off the dirty shirt, that I had one of the worst sunburns I’ve ever gotten all over my arms, my ears and the back of my neck. I couldn’t help but laugh and think, this is what I get. So, the short answer is yes, this is where my career started. But, I didn’t have the capacity to be reflective of that important moment until then end of my time as an intern.

Years later, during her transition from Ph.D. student to Post-Doctoral candidate, Melissa gave me words of advice that I wish I had considered in my early years as a college student. “I think it feels most impactful early in each new career stage (e.g. an early graduate student and now again as an early post-doc).” Melissa told me, speaking to her own feelings of imposter syndrome “I do think this is normal, and just recognizing that everyone was in your shoes at some point does help a lot.” However, my anxieties about success hadn’t completely faded by the end of my internship as I felt this looming pressure to figure out what I was supposed to do next.

Bodega Bay tide pool showing a sea anemone taken by Tessa

Fast forward to my senior year, I was accepted to take classes at BML and selected to do independent research in Professor Hill’s lab. It was an accomplishment that I had thought about since I was first accepted to UC Davis. What I hadn’t thought about, however, was what exactly I was going to research. I knew how tough choosing a research question could be from the graduate students I worked with, so I was pretty nervous. In the weeks leading up to my first official day at BML, I went through a roller coaster of emotions. I am not the journaling type, but I had too many overwhelming thoughts going through my head and I needed to write them down. The page became a mess of questions: Am I good enough? Am I smart enough? Should I even be here if I don’t have a research question at the ready? How can I ever go to grad school? What will Tessa and the rest of the lab think of me if I don’t have a research topic? I really couldn’t shake those thoughts of self-doubt, and seriously evaluated if I could even bring myself to go to BML. With every big life change, however, there seems to be a pattern of behaviors and feelings that I go through. I doubt myself, debate if I want to do it in the first place, eventually do the thing that scares me, and end up loving it and feeling even more confident. Knowing this, I pushed myself to go to BML because I knew that I would be thankful in the end, even if I still had no idea what I was doing.

A few days after my first day at BML I had a lab meeting with my other classmates to discuss what research we would be conducting. Walking into the lab, I immediately felt calmed by the sight of familiar faces, though still uneasy about the prospect of choosing a research question. As the meeting ensued, the members of the lab gave us a general road map of what topics we could research, the likes of which included how oysters respond to current and elevated levels of carbon dioxide, categorizing phytoplankton (small marine plants), and how clam harvesting affects carbon stocks in seagrass meadows. The latter called my attention because this was exactly the type of work I had done as an intern 2 years earlier. Not only was I familiar with the topic, I felt comfortable executing the sediment core processing protocol by myself. This kind of independence, with supervision and guidance of course, helped me gain confidence in my abilities and solidified my career choice. Over the course of 6 weeks, I had the opportunity to paddle board across Bodega Harbor to collect my sediment cores, process the data in the lab, present my findings to Professor Hill’s lab, and even get interviewed by the College of Biological Sciences at UC Davis.

While walking out of that first lab meeting, I relished how sweet it felt to be surrounded by incredible female scientists, who’s advice and guidance I think about every day. In the hopes of fostering a sense of solidarity within the scientific community, and anyone who has felt imposter syndrome, here are some words of advice from two women who have helped dissipate some of my own self-doubt.

“Don't let anyone tell you you won't be able to hack it in the sciences, you can”- Melissa Ward

“Choose your battles. There will certainly be times when you are wronged, overlooked, or you or your work taken advantage of. I would advise to choose your battles wisely and consult with trusted peers when you aren't sure.” - Melissa Ward

“Follow your curiosity. And, build a network of supportive people around you who will remind you that you are capable of following your dreams. Science can be rough - having a support network is pretty essential.” - Tessa Hill

So today, I am sitting on the patio of the house I grew up in, very unemployed, with my Marine & Coastal Science degree from UC Davis in hand, and a new definition of success.

Bodega Bay captured by Tessa

Follow Tessa’s journey on Twitter, @FilipczykTessa