Being a Black scientist can be lonely. Juneteenth helped me find myself

From ScienceMag:

It was 19 June 2024, and I was 1 year into my Ph.D. Three years earlier, President Joe Biden had designated Juneteenth National Independence Day, recognizing the freedom of enslaved African Americans—a declaration that brought joy, relief, and a sense of pride to my community. But Juneteenth, though a federal holiday, does not receive the same recognition as other holidays, including at many academic institutions. On this day meant to celebrate my freedom to exist fully as a citizen, my department had scheduled a crucial laboratory demonstration. I looked around for someone, anyone, to express my grievances to, but I realized I only had myself. I was the only African American in my department. I had to carry this burden on my own.

It’s been a familiar feeling throughout my scientific training. I was one of the few women and Black Americans in my classes at the primarily white institution where I pursued my bachelor’s and master’s degrees in engineering. I was self-conscious; I am well aware of the stereotypes about people who look like me. I felt I needed to stand out and be the brightest, but also blend in and not draw attention to myself. In class I would only participate when I was confident I knew the correct answer; otherwise I sat in silence and refused to make eye contact. On the rare occasions when I spoke up and got an answer wrong, I perseverated on what others may have thought about me. I got good grades and felt I had convinced my teachers and peers I was good enough. But in the back of my mind, I questioned my own worth.

Then, I started my Ph.D. in a diverse department full of international students. I was still the only Black student, but I thought the feeling of being “other” would fade away. Except it did not. I still felt like an outsider who did not deserve to be in the program. And I still found myself trying to control others’ narratives of me—which, in this new environment, meant I was even quieter than before. I don’t think many of my peers even knew my name or what research team I was part of.

This isolation pushed me to look inward and gave me a chance to reflect. And I ultimately saw ways to allay my insecurities and stop worrying about others’ perceptions.

Growing up I had always been involved in community service, and I love talking about topics I am knowledgeable about. It boosts my confidence and reminds me why I fell in love with science in the first place: because it provides a level of truth we all so desperately need. During this time of frustration and fear, I thought reincorporating these activities into my life might be exactly what I needed. I began to participate in outreach opportunities through my department, visiting local high schools, hosting demonstrations, and speaking to the community about the work we do and how we got here. Seeing students’ interest in my knowledge and experience reminded me of what I have accomplished. I felt I was finding my place.

Then came that Juneteenth lab demonstration. I quietly attended, tamping down my feelings. But after this holiday that is so meaningful to me was effectively ignored, I realized I needed to reflect on the source of my insecurities. Instead of focusing on things outside my control, I chose to shift my effort into expanding my knowledge, speaking up when I want, and asking for help when I need it without worrying I will be seen as inferior, incompetent, or troublesome.

With this new mindset, I have noticed an increase in my productivity and passion. I am less drained at the end of the day, and my mind is freer now that I have taken away this imaginary power I gave to other people. Each day I move forward with a Bible passage in mind: “Whatever you do, do it well.”

When Juneteenth came around this year and was again largely overlooked by my academic community, I did not dwell on the hurt. I decided to plan the day on my own terms, to meet my own needs—without worrying about what others would think. I did some work in the morning to support my research team, and then spent the rest of the day with friends. Juneteenth represents historical freedom, and I’ve finally found my freedom to fully exist as myself.

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