Leave science to the scientists, AMIRITE? If medicine is a place where medical doctors do medicine, art is a place where artists do art, and music is a place where musicians make music, then science should be a place where scientists do science. It seems clear enough. Indeed, a major goal of the recent Science March on Washington was to protest political interference in science. And there is a long history of political interference in science that would be astonishingly egregious if we didn’t currently inhabit a political world that is continually redefining astonishingly egregious. For example, politicians have called for the revocation of scientifically-reviewed grants or cast doubt on solid scientific consensus; agency officials have advised scientists to remove certain words from research proposals (hello reproductive tract! goodbye vagina!); AIDS activists pushed scientists to stop neglecting HIV/AIDS; nonprofits provide money specifically for common diseases in the global south that otherwise go unstudied, etc.
Oh. Wait. Those last two aren’t exactly egregious, much less astonishingly so. They’re kind of great, actually, right? They show how “outsiders” have sometimes been crucial to changing science for the better, illuminating scientific malfeasance, and highlighting how science-as-usual can support problematic status quo’s (quos? quose? quoes?) (this was not tested on my Ph.D. quiz). Science for the Scientists! ends up being rather simplistic as a result, both empirically inaccurate and naive. Instead of restricting contributions to science to scientists and keeping out the brute hoards, which is an issue of who is allowed to be involved (plus an issue of me using hordes, which I feel mixed about), we could think about when or under what circumstances nonscientists/experts can be meaningfully involved, and how to adjudicate that.
How to decide when someone’s involvement in science (or other scholarship) is a contribution and not an interference? It seems hard but, luckily, scholars and experts have thought about when outsiders’ contributions should be seen as contributions, not interference. What have these experts said? One article I like to teach in my Sexuality and Science course is by Steven Epstein: “The New Attack on Sexuality Research: Morality and the Politics of Knowledge Production” (click here for the article). It gives some ideas about how to judge when non-scientists should get a say in science, and these can be extended to other disciplines or areas of expertise too. Based on Epstein’s piece and much else I’ve read in feminist science studies, I decided we needed a list in bullet form because lists!
It’s a contribution, not an interference, when…
1. People are educating themselves and learning the science they are critiquing and/or seeking to intervene in;
2. People’s involvement will lead to more effective, efficacious, accountable, and/or better science;
3. People provide engagements and/or critiques that are knowledgeable and relevant;
4. People provide careful assessments;
5. People have sincere concerns regarding scientific validity, reliability, and/or efficacy;
6. People have local knowledge and/or lay expertise that is unique and/or valuable (this is also known as epistemic privilege and so now you know a fancy word. Was I right about lists needing an exclamation mark or what?!);
7. People who are invested in process (by which I mean ongoing engagements and not a one-time soapbox shout-off) (which is not to knock one-time soapbox shout-offs in general because I would never offend soap);
8. People do not misrepresent the science;
9. The involvement is not based on opportunistic endorsement of predetermined political stances (note: this is NOT anti-political stance! It IS anti-political opportunism).
You know the story: feminists hate science. It’s clear, it’s catchy, it’s a headline that fits with most media messaging about feminists – they (we!) hate things. Everything! What else do they/we hate? SRSLY WHO HAS TIME TO ENUMERATE THE THINGS FEMINISTS HATE I AM TOO BUSY HATING THINGS. Now, I’m a feminist scientist, by which I mean not just a feminist who is a scientist but, instead, a feminist who is a scientist who does feminist science, which is just a teensy weensy bit of a paradox according to the rules and yet here I am feministing and sciencing and feminist-sciencing all the same as if I existed just like you. But, maybe I’m not a paradox: maybe the rules are the paradox (they are rules, yet not true!). Maybe the “feminists hate science” is the stupid; some sort of fake news just like most of what non-feminists and anti-feminists “know” about feminism. And, yes, I did just say “the stupid”. And, yes, please do not tell my seven-year-old because “stupid” is not something I am supposed to say.
So, like any self-respecting scientist, I turned to my Facebook friends to learn about things and stuff. Now, you should know that my Facebook friends are basically all feminists, including the men who are totally willing to use the heart emoticon but just haven’t had reason to yet (I SEE YOU). This might be surprise number two: feminists hate science, fer sher, but also definitionally hate men, so I am clearly lying already. Let me shake the foundations of everything you believe yet again: feminists don’t hate men, except that one guy, you know? We all hate him. Ok, so all my friends are feminists but, let’s be honest, not just feminist but super feminist. Like, feminist to the nines (what does that even mean). Like, feminist scholars and activists. We are all up in feminism and feminism is all up in us. And what were they/we all posting about on the day of the Science March? Here is a multiple-choice quiz:
A) How much we hate science and not only because, as feminists, we are contractually required to;
B) Our passion for science, super for real and not even ironically;
C) Milkshakes (because: obviously);
D) That guy we all hate;
E) Whether multiple-choice exams should have four or five answer options AND IT GOT UGLY!
The answer, people, is B. All my feminist peoples were like Science March here! Science March there! Below, ME with poster at Science March! A baby or dog or something (baby dog?) dressed as a science thing at Science March! Science this! Science that! Me, myself? I told you I was a feminist scientist. Here is what I posted that day, and I’m not even lying.
Here is another photo of us, in case you think the first one was faked like the moon landing. (Just kidding! Feminists hate humor, so I can understand if you took that too seriously.)
Ok, so, perchance I have proven to you with my lengthy and sophisticated exposition that feminists don’t hate science or at least some feminists don’t hate science, and that Run-D.M.C. sign supports our cause. But does that mean that feminists love science? Here’s where the nuances get started being nuancey. Most of the feminists I know do not hate science but many don’t love science either: we (the feminists, and luckily I’ve been elected to speak on behalf of all people all the time) are passionate about science; we want science to be better; we know that science has done, is doing, and will do really problematic things and we want people to understand that science – like every single other thing that human people do, except for milkshake-making – is not neutral but political. That’s right! WE THINK SCIENCE IS POLITICAL AND WE DON’T CARE WHO KNOWS IT! Well, in fact, we do care who knows it but in the sense that everyone should know it. Why? Because it’s true.
Are you like, no! Science is not and can never be political? I get it. I grew up in science too (and here is an interesting post about thinking outside that training called “Swimming Up From Scientism”). I’m a scientist now! Some of my best friends are scientists! But, let me assure you that you should believe me because I have a PhD and am the writer of this post: science is political. In fact, you know what? Don’t believe me! Believe all the people who actually do research on how science is political as their day job. Like, you say you want people to listen to and believe experts? Like, trust scientists on their science? Well, the same thing goes for whether science is political: there is literally no scholar who studies whether science is political would claim it isn’t. And if you find one, they are a crap scholar akin to the climate denial “scientists.” Read a whole nother post about “The March for Science… and Politics?”, by a brilliant wonderful person who does feminist and queer biology, Anne Fausto-Sterling (and yes I called her brilliant, how dare I but it’s true!) (also, it’s not a competition but someone once called me brilliant, though that person was British and I had only really brought them tea and they were thirsty) (and no, of course they did not like the tea that I, a Canadian in the U.S.A., made and brought them).
I also get that, if you’re a scientist, you might be thinking: how could anyone be more of an expert on whether science is political than me? Doing science isn’t the same as doing scholarship about science though. Another way to think of this is that scientists do science, but science studies folks study science. Sort of like, if you have a car, you drive it somewhere. You may enjoy it. You may know a fair bit about your car. But if you really need to know something about your car or fix it, you ask an auto-mechanic or a vehicular scholar (I totally made “vehicular scholar up) (see my post here on this called “I’m Made of Particles, so I’m a Particle Physics Expert!”). In other words, value expertise, which is (at least partly) what the Science March is all about, eh?
Maybe you’re like: I’m done with reading! Maybe you think feminists hate everything but really, you hate feminism! Ok. Fair enough, no more reading. Instead, I think you should watch this: an incredibly smart, thoughtful, and engaging speaker on the official line-up at the Ann Arbor Science March. I know we all hate watching video clips-what, that’s just me? Most people like watching video clips? Oh! Ok, we’re good then. Because this is a 7-minute clip of Yiran (Emily) Liu, a University of Michigan Honors Program Student with a major in Cellular and Molecular Biology, and a minor in Law, Justice, and Social Change explaining everything you need to know about this post: why feminists science so hard.
FULL DISCLOSURE OF PROUDNESS: THIS STUDENT WAS IN MY FIRST-YEAR SEMINAR AND TOOK MY GRADUATE SEMINAR (AS AN UNDERGRAD) AND I COULD NOT BE PROUDER!!
At the University of Michigan, I have been the Director of a Feminist Science Studies program, funded by our Institute for Research on Women and Gender, which means our group has had a lot of speakers come in. I haven’t introduced all of them, but I have introduced a lot of them. And, not to be all a bunch of bitches, but I’ve also given a lot of talks. Someone once said “DON’T SAY A LOT; SAY HOW MANY”, with the idea that someone might say “a lot” when they mean, like, four. So, maybe I’ve given 70-100 talks? And, maybe I’ve introduced 20-30 speakers? So, while I haven’t had as much experience with introductions as some, I’ve still had a pretty good share to think about. But only recently have I wondered what should actually be in an introduction. Or what an introduction is for. Or, for that matter, who it’s for. Or, for that that matter (the grammar police one), whom it’s for. Is it for the speaker, to welcome them or honor them? For the host, to explain why you invited the speaker? For the audience, to make clear why listening to the speaker is worthwhile, and/or to give them context for the expert/content/topic?
Sometimes, the more famous and fabulous the speaker is, the lengthier and more wonderful the introduction is. Arguably, though, this famous person is more likely to be known and therefore, perhaps paradoxically, be less in need of contextualizing for the audience than a less well-known person would be. But, does “Person who needs no introduction” really deserve no introduction? That feels a bit cheat-y. And, people coming to hear a talk might be coming for Super Famous Speaker (TM), but they might just be coming because it’s the Wednesday noon colloquium and that’s where they go on Wednesday noon times and they have no idea what’s on the menu. What if someone just wandered into the talk?
What if you ask the speaker what to say and they say “whatever you want to say is fine!”? Does that mean you can introduce them however you want? Clearly, no. there are still some expectations (but what are they?). And, what if the speaker feels like it would be rude to ask you to sing their praises, which is, incidentally, something that women and minoritized folks are socialized to feel (i.e., to take up less space than they deserve)? If you ask speakers, you might end up with really thorough elevating introductions for people who already occupy a position of privilege and sparse hellooos! to those that are less likely to be seen as gifted, accomplished, or leading experts by dint of their social position. In fact, this might happen anyway, if the host chooses what to say about the speaker, right? Like, the speaker might undersell themselves, but the host might do that too, because our culture tells all of us to see minoritized folks as less accomplished, able, brilliant, etc.
Why does this need to be a guessing game anyway? After some discussions with some thoughtful people, I came to the conclusion that, as host, I should aim to ask everyone for a set type of material – they can choose to give it to me or not, and they can choose to give me what I ask, more, less, or something entirely different. And, as a speaker, I would create a general bio, update it somewhat regularly, and send it out a few days before my talk to the host each time regardless of whether the host asks me for it. Will I feel kind of self-aggrandizing doing so? YOU ARE TALKING TO A PERSON WHO LITERALLY TEACHES A SEMINAR ON SELF-PROMOTION. Ok, yes, I will feel kind of self-aggrandizing. But so what? This introduction – this talk – this event – is not just about me, as counterintuitive as that may seem.
Another reason to ask for specific info and give it is that different people may value different things. Like, you as a speaker may be all “why didn’t they mention my Nobel Prize?” and they’re all “wow! this person was interviewed by Lindy West!” Or, you might be like “why didn’t they mention I have 200 papers?” (by the way, congrats on that!) and they’re all “no book!?” if you’re in different disciplines. Also, I would choose Lindy West over a Nobel Prize and you are duly warned, world.
What do I think should be in these bios? Let’s see… (oh, and aim for a paragraph unless you’re super famous, confident, or fabulous, and then do what you want with my permission!)
Maybe phonetically spelled out, now that I think of it! People always call me Suh-ree, or Seeree, or Sorry. It’s pronounced Sairy! It’s not even hard to say! Yes, it’s spelled like a garment but that is not my fault. Maybe we should do that.
Position and Institution. Should it matter whether you are a lecturer, named chair, graduate student, etc.? Should it matter if you are at the University of No One Knows It or Famous U? If your ideas are awesome, they should be judged as such. But, you do have a position and a location, in most cases, so let’s just say it unless you have really principled stances against doing so (and then: fair enough).
What You Study and Your Discipline. But just in a few words. Yes, everyone should know what you do by the talk title… maybe? Say your discipline/field/topics. I usually push people to say all of mine, which last an hour, because they help make what I do intelligible (or at least make its unintelligibility more clear ).
Your Big Deal Stuff. Maybe this is awards, fellowships, accomplishments, books, articles, places you’ve published, honors, your Nobel Prize (as if anyone cares). Someone once described these as gems? or jewels? Or sparklies? SHOW SOME SPARKLE. You judge what’s important. But don’t be disingenuous and be like: oh my, I couldn’t possibly decide what is sparkly on my CV. YOU KNOW WHAT IS SPARKLY. Also, don’t worry about offending people with your greatness. People won’t faint away when they hear your amazingness. Trust me: they’ll be able to manage. As we like to say in my house: don’t be so humble; you’re not that great.
Other Formal Metrics of Success/Accomplishment. You could say how many peer-reviewed papers you have published, your book titles, your art installations, your public outreach (twitter followers, e.g.!), grant amounts and/or funding sources, editorial positions, whatever. DO NOT BE SHY. Go be shy at a cocktail party. These people invited you to speak. By definition, they have decided what you have to say is worth hearing! Oh, and don’t say numbers unless they are impressive, is my unsolicited advice. You have 10 papers? Don’t mention that unless you’re a graduate student or in a field where 10 is impressive. Instead, say you have published in journals like X, Y, and Z.
You Do You. Are you a parent, and that’s an important part of your identity/academic experience, or you want people to expand their notion of what being a professor is? Say it! “And, Dr. So-and-So has three kids, one of which is a cranky cat.” If you can be funny (unlike me, there), do it. If there are other aspects of your life that are important to you and interesting to share, go for it! And consider sharing things that, as I noted about parenting, can expand people’s narrow ideas of experts and speakers by seeing you, who is X, do phenomenally well (but, um, don’t get stereotype threat-y). In addition, there may be social location factors that you need/want to say, from your gender identity to race/ethnicity to immigration status to tribe membership to all the things I should put here but amn’t.
Now, of course people will judge you by your introduction. If you are a minoritized person, your sparklies may be just what is needed for people to judge you as (just maybe) competent or exceptionally competent. But, of course, your sparklies may violate your social location norms – I mean, it literally violates the gender norms for women to be successful! rock, meet hard place! AMIRITE – and no one likes that. There might be eye rolls or internal sneers at you – who do you think you are, to have accomplished things and stuff! But, here’s the nice ticket: no one will know you gave this to your host! Your host is introducing you! They are saying these great things about you. So, even if you’re being too successful-read-uppity, the success will shine through more than the uppityness because it’s not coming from you! Win win. Yes, totally, your host may balk. More likely? They’ll be like: Yes! Now I don’t have to write an introduction! I love this person even more than I did when I invited them. So, introductions matter for you, your audience, and your host. They position us, they’re political, and they matter, so it makes sense to be more thoughtful about them. Go forth, and get that intro!
But, also, if I’m missing key things – let me know! Comment below.
The January 21, 2017 Women’s March on Washington, DC was quite the eye-opener. I am not a naïve marcher, since my first such trek to Washington dates back some 60 years to the 10,000 strong 1958 Youth March on Washington for Integrated Schools. So I fully expected to see signs and slogans pledging solidarity with immigrants, Muslims, Jews, and women. I did not anticipate that the first signs I would see would be about science.
Given this existential moment, when the very idea that there are facts and true things is under assault, perhaps this shouldn’t have surprised me. But still. As the geek at the party, inured to people announcing–right after being told that I am a biologist–that in high school they hated biology, I was fascinated. Participants in the March on Washington made it clear that the meaning of science itself is woven into our current political conflicts, and a group of scientists responded by announcing a March for Science, to be held on Earth Day– April 22, 2017. The organizers–an archeologist, a health educator, and a physiologist [Editor’s note: Can you believe I had to add in an Oxford comma here? That is the real scandal.]-–are not international science stars but rather educators and scholars who work “in the trenches”, and this is one interesting component of the march.
Indeed almost immediately the hashtags #ThisIsWhataScientistLooksLike and #ActualLivingScientist appeared on twitter and then on the March for Science Facebook page. Soon hundreds of moving portraits of working scientists materialized—some by the scientists themselves, some by children honoring their parents, some focusing on the human story, and many joyfully zeroing in on caterpillars, cheetahs, glaciers, molecules, and atoms. The resulting picture displays diversity in the scientific workforce–white, person of color, old, young, male, female, field biologist, theoretical physicist, from many different nationalities and in the many things we study. Putting human faces on science produces an inspiring montage. And what we investigate perfuses all aspects of human life and the natural world.
But humans, even—or perhaps especially–-scientists, are a quarrelsome species [editor’s note: I disagree!]. So when the organizers announced the goals and basic principles intended to guide and unify the March, a crack or two appeared in the growing wall of science. The organizers hope to unite marchers around a set of basic principles: science serves the common good, cutting edge science education is crucial to democracy, public outreach should be inclusive, and we should use science to make evidence-based policy and regulations that are in the public interest. The April 22nd March itself has five more focused goals:
To humanize science;
To partner with non-scientists;
To advocate for open, inclusive and accessible science;
To support scientists;
(and, perhaps most important of all) To affirm science as a democratic value.
These seem non-controversial to me [Editor’s note: Me too! But then, again, we are feminist scientists…], although there certainly are those who think that science is and ought to be an elite activity. But when organizers articulated specific Diversity Principles, supporting inclusion, diversity and equality in science and stating that citizens are best served when we build and sustain an inclusive scientific community, it was
not the alt-right or climate deniers, but some very prominent scientists who objected. At the end of January 2017, psychologist Steven Pinker set scientists snarling at each other by tweeting: “Scientists’ March on Washington plan compromises its goals with anti-science PC/identity politics/hard-left rhetoric”. Nor is Pinker the only one to paint with the tar of anti-science, scientists who emphasize diversity and who think that scientists should use their talents to lessen inequality. Two recent publications, the first from evolutionary biologist Jerry Coyne and the second from a less well-known neuroscientist/science journalist Debra Soh strike a similar chord.
Coyne holds court on his blog “Why Evolution is True”, where, at the end of 2016, he posted a piece entitled “The Ideological Opposition to Biological Truth.” In it he did not attack creationism, ridicule Northern Kentucky’s extraordinary “Creation Museum”, or launch a jeremiad against climate deniers. Instead, like Pinker, he excoriated “the ideological left” for ignoring biological data that they supposedly believe conflicts with their leftist political preferences. Coyne offers two examples—the conflict about whether the human race is/is not a “real” biological entity, and conflicts over the evolution of “innate (e.g. genetically based) behavioral or psychological differences between human males and females.” To press his point on gender, Coyne starts with a generally accepted fact: in most (but not all!) primate groups males are physically larger than females. He provides evidence that this size difference derives from inter-male competition for females and that larger size provides a competitive advantage. As Coyne sees it, only ideologues or enemies of science (mostly misguided feminists) could possibly disagree with him.
His essay provoked a counter-attacking tweetstorm from Holly Dunsworth, an anthropologist at the University of Rhode Island. Coyne’s account of the evolution of size dimorphism, she writes, is simplistic and biased toward explanations which feature males while ignoring females. [Editor’s note: In case you’re new, this would be far from the first case of evolutionary scientists – or any scholars, really – ignoring females/women/femininity; there is literally a book by renowned evolutionary anthropologist Sarah Blaffer Hrdy called “The Woman Who Never Evolved.”] Suppose, though, as a result of natural selection, that gestation, which is metabolically demanding, is more successful in smaller bodies. Pregnancy might limit growth. Indeed, it is possible that selection on women for small body size is an important force driving known sex differences in size. “Knowledgeable people,” writes Dunsworth “aren’t objecting to facts”…but to “biased story-telling” of the sort found in Coyne’s post. Dunsworth’s standpoint as a woman and a feminist leads led her to notice women and to think about how they form part of the evolutionary story. And this leads us back to the March for Science’s Diversity Principles. It is not just about being fair to previously underprivileged members of our society. It is that, unless we have scientists bringing diverse standpoints to the table of knowledge formation, the resulting science will be incomplete at best, and altogether wrong at worst.
In a recent op ed in the LA Times, Debra Soh similarly lit into a non-existent group she labeled “gender feminists.” [Editor’s note: When I heard this term, I laughed and laughed and laughed. It’s like the fake news of made-up labels.] The headline and lede give the message. Whoever these gender feminists are (and like Coyne she doesn’t name nor directly cite the scholarly work of the anti-science nemesis), they refuse to acknowledge the role of evolution in shaping the human brain. (The term “gender feminist” was invented by Christina Hoff Sommers in 1994 in her book Who Stole Feminism, which attacks “feminists who believe that “our society is best described as a patriarchy, a ‘male hegemony,’ a ‘sex/gender system’ in which the dominant gender works to keep women cowering and submissive”, as “gender feminism” [taken from Wikipedia].
This seemed to me to be such an outrageous accusation that I consulted a group of evolutionary psychologists who are inclined to validate Soh’s claims to see if they could name these anti-evolution feminist scientists. The best a listserv of over 100 active respondents could do in an extended interchange was identify one feminist psychologist who, in some of her writing, writes some sentences that with malice could be interpreted as supporting Soh’s account. [Editor’s note: Some scientists hate when you ask for evidence for their anti-feminist claims, because: irony.]
Such attacks present us with a conundrum. One side of an intra-science debate has charged the other with refusing to accept facts and data and thus with being anti-science and political. When launched at someone whose life’s work has been dedicated to the advancement of scientific knowledge and love of rational thought, these are truly fighting words. But even while squabbling with each other, both sides are horrified at creationism, anti-vaxers, climate deniers, and tobacco, oil and gas companies which claim (using paid scientists!) that their products and activities are harmless. How do we identify and counter the real science deniers while at the same time accepting that political differences also and often legitimately shape the conclusions of scientists who are passionately committed to producing reliable results using the tools of objective investigation?
One reason this is such a complex task is that science is porous. It is not always easy to tell when we have crossed some line between legitimate scientific critique and science denial. Obviously, as compellingly laid out in Naomi Oreskes’ Merchants of Doubt: How a Handful of Scientists Obscured the Truth on Issues from Tobacco Smoke to Global Warming (Bloomsbury Press, 2010), the economic interests of large actors such as tobacco and pharmacy influence knowledge production as they seek to control public policies that might curtail the sale of their products. Sometimes, too, a special interest lobby successfully enforces ignorance about a topic. When this happens, it is not that results are doctored but that we refuse to obtain data needed to make sound policy. Science critic Robert Proctor coined the term “agnotology” to denote the study of culturally-induced ignorance. [Editor’s note: In the feminist science studies literature, this same approach is largely called “epistemologies of ignorance” and you could check out our post on it here.] Indeed, we are in a moment of agnosis so serious that scholars have set up guerrilla teams to save data that are rapidly being purged from US government science websites.
But even while science is molded from without, the attitudes and cultural perspectives of individual researchers also shape scientific inquiry. The social standpoint that you enter the lab with frames what questions you pose, how you pose them, the level of evidence you require before accepting a result, and how you interpret your findings. This is why, in order to have productive debates about many types of research, scientists themselves must learn how to acknowledge their differing standpoints.
Starting in the late 1970s and thinking and writing furiously especially in the 1980s and 1990s, feminist science studies scholars grappled mightily with the concept of scientific objectivity. If science was completely objective, the diversity of the scientific workforce shouldn’t matter. But (all male, all white) communities of scientists always found that women or people of color were biologically inferior while women and scientists of color refuted such claims. [Editor’s note: if I could do that fancy typed out ironic shrug emoticon sort of thing, I would! But it looks hard.] In an infamous example I cite in Myths of Gender (Basic Books: 1985), Darwin and others described as fact that women were more biologically variable and hence more unreliable and less suited for the public sphere than men. But in the early 20th Century, the (still) all white male science cabinet found that men were biologically more variable, and declared variability a virtue that, while it produced more men of inferior ability, it also meant that the extreme high-end geniuses were going to be men, not women. Many examples of this sort addressing women, people of color and the intertwining of race/sex theory can be found in older books such as Cynthia Eagle Russett’s Sexual Science: The Victorian Construction of Womanhood (Harvard: 1991) and newer ones such as Melissa Stein’s Measuring Manhood: Race and the Science of Masculinity 1830-1934 (University of Minnesota Press: 2015).
Biologists Ruth Bleier (Science and Gender: A Critique of Biology and Its Theories on Women, 1984), Ethel Tobach (Challenging racism & sexism: Alternatives to genetic explanations, Genes & Gender VII. The Feminist Press: 1994), and Ruth Hubbard (The Politics of Women’s Biology, 1990) led the way with critiques of biological theories about women. They opened intellectual doors that the philosophers, especially Sandra Harding (The Science Question in Feminism, 1984), Helen Longino (Science as Social Knowledge, 1990), and Elizabeth Potter (Gender and Boyle’s Law of Gases, 2001) stepped through. By the time (1988) that Donna Haraway wrote her still widely-read essay “Situated Knowledges: the Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective,” a review engaging with Sandra Harding’s 1984 book, science studies scholars (see also Daston and Galison’s Objectivity: 2007) were heatedly debating the meaning of objectivity and attacking the idea that science dis-covers objective facts that lie passively awaiting revelation. Exploding the idea of objectivity gave way, in turn, to debates about strong and weak objectivity, standpoint, and situated knowledge.
It is the idea that objectivity is always partial, shaped by the collective standpoints of theorizing and investigating scientists, which feminist evolutionary biologists such as Dunsworth and primatologists such as Linda Fedigan (Primate Paradigms: Sex Roles and Social Bonds, University of Chicago Press: 1992) bring to debates about human evolution. At the heart of Coyne’s, Pinker’s, and Soh’s attacks on feminist resistance to their understandings of evolution and sex differences in the brain, and the resistance to seeing a March platform for inclusion and diversity as essential to the future of good science, is that they cling to an out-dated vision of the scientific process itself. Thus—figuratively speaking—Soh does not blush when she exhorts feminists and transgender activists to stand down and simply let science speak for itself. [Editor’s note: I’m curious how this would even work and I would like some answers! Because sometimes I yell at my data and IT DOES NOT EVEN RESPOND.] Nor does she acknowledge the many years of scholarship from Shapin and Schaffer’s Leviathan and the Air Pump: Hobbes, Boyle and the Experimental Life (Princeton: 1986), to Bruno Latour’s ground-breaking books all of which show that scientific facts emerge through a process of negotiation, theory and experiment and that their shape reflects the specific cultures and historical periods of their production. [Editor’s note: This is asking scientists critiquing feminist science studies to actually read feminist science studies or, put another way, collect evidence. How. Dare. You.]
Where, then, does this leave us? Even as scientists argue with each other about the nature of the enterprise which, quite apparently they deeply love—each in their own way–larger forces threaten empirical knowledge projects and decision making based on the best existing data and analysis. As I write on March 16, 2017, news is spreading about Donald Trump’s budget proposal. Agencies that fund scientific research—the NIH, NSF, EPA, NOAA, DOE, and more do not fare well. Proposed cuts would further the agnotology agenda by defunding research on climate change, rising sea levels, and the effects of pollution while interfering with beloved and productive basic research programs. On the inside, progressive scientists can legitimately struggle with their more cautious or conservative colleagues to push science towards the service of social justice, but at the same time progressive and conservative scientists need to unite to protect the enterprise as a whole.
Figuring out how to have substantive debates that engage different standpoints within the big science tent and without denouncing opponents as anti-science is not easy. Recently historian Alice Dreger tweeted “when the science march happens I plan to be with my fellow historians and sociologists of science in the ‘yes, but’ crowd.”: To which historian Ben Gross responded: “What do we want? Ans: Acceptance that science is a complex social process! When do we want it? Ans: After a well-researched historical discussion.” It is a tricky dance.
The March for Science is important. It demonstrates our numbers as well as our concern for the nation’s future. It provides a counter-message to the idea that scientists are haughty elites who do not care about the common welfare, and it creates a narrative, long forgotten, I am afraid, that science is essential to democracy and that part of our job description as scientists is education and explanation. Pinker is wrong. The political messages of the March for Science will strengthen our hand and create space for us to have our internal spats. And although it would be nice to disagree without calling each other mean names, perhaps that is too much to expect from #ActualLivingScientists.
Guest Post by Molly Freeman, Artistic Director of Smoking Apples Theater Company.
Making theatre from scratch relies on unflinching determination, total belief in what you’re doing, and a good deal of perspiration. But before the lights, the sound, the characters, the plot, the script, the movement, the set, the costumes, the props, the stage itself – you need inspiration. A little nugget of a story, found probably by chance, which follows you around all day, tugging at your arm. A tantalising thread just waiting to be pulled.
Lise Meitner was just that. “The greatest scientist you’ve never heard of” and the inspiration behind the latest show from my theatre company, Smoking Apples. Born in 1878 in Austria, Meitner was a naturally curious, highly intelligent child, keeping records of her research on reflected light under her pillow at night. (Editor’s note: The only thing I kept under my pillow was sometimes my hand, which would then fall asleep; not that it’s a competition). Throughout her education she continued to smash through the gender barriers raised against her, proving her worth as a scientist and in 1926, she became Germany’s first female physics professor. The rise of the Nazis forced her to flee Germany to Sweden, where she received a letter from long term scientific collaborator, Otto Hahn, explaining that he had achieved the seemingly impossible – to split apart a uranium nuclei with a single neutron. Meitner pushed this discovery further, concluding that the loss of mass that occurred from this process was due to the creation of energy, something imperceptible to everyone except Meitner. Nuclear Fission was born, the basis of the devastating nuclear weapons dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945 and nuclear energy today. Meitner was a key part of the team behind one of the most provoking and impactful scientific discoveries of our time, yet in 1944, the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for Nuclear Fission went solely to Otto Hahn.
As nuclear fission began to be harnessed as a weapon of war, Meitner distanced herself from the infamous Manhattan Project, declaring the atomic bomb a ‘destroyer of worlds’. Her research led her to develop one of the first peacetime nuclear reactors. Her headstone reads ‘Lise Meitner: a physicist who never lost her humanity’.
In classic Smoking Apples theatre company style, we don’t like to make it easy on ourselves and this show may be our biggest challenge yet. How to translate complicated science onto the stage in an educating, entertaining & inventive way that doesn’t patronise or alienate a diverse range of audiences? Unfortunately, in order to do this, we first have to understand it ourselves and, having specialised in drama, it’s fair to say our brains do not naturally bend towards science. Cue lots of head scratching. In the end it comes down to how much the audience really need to know in order to enjoy the show and empathise with the character. We’re still searching for the answer to that and, terrifyingly, will only know if we’ve got it right on opening night.
Two weeks into rehearsals we have a main character – “Kate” an ambitious, brilliant young nuclear researcher in the 1980s. We have a story arc – as “Kate” delves deeper into her research, she is confronted by the climate of ‘nuclear fear’, the moral dilemmas of her potential discoveries, and the sacrifices she will have to make to achieve them. We have a name for the show – “New Clear Vision”. We have a prototype puppet.
For us, one of the most important elements of this show is the chance to explore the challenges faced by women in science, many of which Meitner was a pioneer in overcoming. Our research led us to some sobering reads. Women in the UK make up just 12.8% of the science, technology, engineering and maths jobs. 12.8 percent. In 2014, 78.9% of the students sitting their A-Level Physics Exams were boys. Last year, Nobel laureate and English biochemist Tim Hunt said at the World Conference of Science Journalists “Let me tell you about my trouble with girls … three things happen when they are in the lab… you fall in love with them, they fall in love with you, and when you criticise them, they cry.” (Editor’s note: I always like how basically this guy is all: my number one criteria for falling in love with someone is that the person is (a) under my direct power, and (b) in my lab, as if the gender dynamics of what he said wasn’t bizarrely/normatively messed up enough.)
Family, work life balance, lack of role models, confidence & mentoring, unconscious bias, harassment. These are just some of the obstacles to career women in science, neatly stacking up and seemingly refusing to budge all the way from school level to post-graduate and beyond. We want to give these statistics and reports a human side allowing the audience to experience these enormous frustrations with “Kate.” In one scene, “Kate” leaves the lab and heads out to a bar but actually, that’s not what the audience sees. Instead, we use a combination of flip chart paper, bendy pipes and convex vases to create a science experiment which results in a liquid being poured into a cocktail glass (complete with glacier cherry and straw). Making use of the best chemical compound there is – the magic of theatre. (Editor’s note: I’m not a chemist but I still give my full approval to this analogy.)
Tricks and scene changes aside, in order to get the character of “Kate” right, we have been talking to a range of female scientists and working with various organisations who aim to encourage girls into science at school. In fact, it was a very early decision of ours to have an all-female cast for this very reason. Our previous work has always had a male protagonist and this was a completely unconscious decision, one which we only recently acknowledged. This is our chance to combine the challenges faced by women in science with the challenges faced by us in exploring it.
As a woman creating this show, I’ve certainly noticed that my attitude towards developing a female puppet is very different. In rehearsals so far, I’ve found myself questioning, is she too thin, are her legs too long, what shall we do with her hair, does she need hair? These are questions that we have been through with every puppet we’ve made, but this time they have a whole new meaning.
Then comes the big question; how are we going to do all this with no words on stage…with a puppet…on a budget?
Paradoxically, when you constrain yourself creatively, it is often the moment when you come up with the most imaginative theatre – hence why one of our best scenes came from us throwing balloons around to the Eurythmics (Editor’s note: PHOTOS OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN). The set currently looks like a huge periodic table and we have been looking at playing scrabble with the elements (and making rude words).
Devising a piece of theatre is a bumpy road and it’s still early days. One thing is for certain however, this show will be a celebration of women’s achievements in science and an opportunity to shine a light on the challenges they face in our modern world.
Lise Meitner once said “in nuclear physics we have experienced so many surprises that one cannot unconditionally say; it is impossible.” This may become something of a mantra for us as we head towards opening night.
If you’re like most academics I know, then you’ve probably typed the title of this post a number of times. “Apologies for the delay” you’ve written, to help alleviate the guilt you feel in taking too long to respond to someone’s email. But, how long is “too long?” Isn’t there an emotionally-loaded nature to the term “delay”? And, why can’t I decide whether to put the question mark IN the quotes or outside of the quotes? SHOULDN’T I KNOW THIS BY “NOW”?
I’ve been gone a little while, doing a bit of reproduction. For various reasons, that would bore some of you and be extremely interesting to others, I had very limited time on the computer during most of my pregnancy and the first year of my baby’s life. I had to make some priorities, which included, predictably, “everything.” (Also: “everything”.) It turns out, however, and some of you may already know this, that “everything” can well be your verbatim priority list IN THEORY but not in actuality. So, though I planned to post on here each week, and duly felt like a guilty no-goodnik each week for failing to do so, I couldn’t do postings because of the actual things I actually had to get done to keep things afloat. What were they, you ask? AREN’T WE NOSY! They included miscellaneous things like, in no particular order: showering, eating, reading student drafts, doing my editor stuff, reviewing people’s papers, doing some of my own research (HOW DARE I), trying not to barf 24/7 with all-day pregnancy nausea, pushing a baby out my bagina (I can say bagina because I’m a sex researcher but you should use the proper terminology until you get a Ph.D. in baginaology), breastfeeding a baby 24/7 (did you know a baby can be on your nipple ALL THE TIME with no consequences except for your sanity?! I DO!), being with my older kid, drinking water, doing Facebook (IMPORTANT), and the many “just one things!” that people ask you to do until you are one-thinged to death (except I didn’t die: surprise!). Well. Writing that list wasn’t cathartic at all. ANYWAY. I could apologize for the delay in posting. Clearly, some time passed. I felt guilty. It rolls so easily off the fingers and seems eminently appropriate: Apologies for the delay.I hope you can ever forgive me for being the most horrible person in the world for taking X time to do Y.
But if I apologize for the “delay”, what am I apologizing for? Sorry for reproducing? Sorry for gestating? Sorry I got so nauseous I could barely be on my computer? Sorry my life happened? Sorry I exist? Sorry I’m a woman and was socialized with feminine gender norms and I’m also Canadian and that is a double whammy of I can’t stop apologizing? Sorry for babies? Sorry for birth and breastfeeding and my uterus and my bagina?
The thing is, though, this reproductive happening isn’t the first time I’ve wanted to “apologize for the delay.” Sometimes it takes me a few days to respond to someone’s email. GASPY! Less frequently, BECAUSE I LOVE EMAIL, it takes me a week or longer. Is that a delay? Sometimes, I’ve emailed someone on, say, a Friday, and they respond on a Monday. With apologies. For the delay. For Saturdays and Sundays? Yes, it maybe three days between when I emailed you and you responded but – in my book – that’s not a “delay.” That’s what labor activists fought for us to have and I call it “the weekend.”
A delay IS something that merits an apology by definition, one I just made up with my gut. So guess what? I’m not apologizing for the time that has passed since I last posted because I’m not apologizing for reproducing and its completely regular accoutrements-slash-complications. I’m not apologizing for having a weekend. I’m not even apologizing for taking some workdays to respond (people who know me are like: WHO ARE YOU FOOLING YOU RESPONDED TO MY EMAIL RIGHT THIS SECOND). Those aren’t “delays”; they’re life. And my life doesn’t need any apologies. And you know what? Neither does yours.
As Heather Shattuck-Heidorn explains in her recent post, scientific researchers, particularly in the health sciences, are being required by funding institutions to consider the concepts sex and/or gender in their research. Despite the introduction of these requirements, as Sari van Anders [Editor’s note: Hi! that’s ME!] summarizes in her review of Johnson et al., (2014), there is still inconsistent use of the concepts across disciplines as many researchers continue to use gender as a proxy for sex and sex and/or gender to simply mean including women in research studies.
This led us to search the feminist science literature for some direction. We limited feminist science scholarship to feminist scientists and feminist science studies scholars in the fields of biomedicine and public health. These scholars explicitly indicate that they use feminist approaches to science or use feminist conceptions of gender, sex, race and/or ethnicity in their work. What methods have feminist scientists developed to do biomedical science differently? How do these methods improve scientific knowledge and understanding of the world? Using these questions to guide our work, we sought to synthesize the theoretical and methodological approaches in the feminist biomedical science literature.
In our paper, we categorize feminist approaches to biomedical science into three main approaches: strong objectivity, partial perspective, and gendered innovations. By grouping the literature into these categories, we identify and describe different ways of doing feminist biomedical science and the particular aspects of the scientific method that each feminist approach seeks to change and improve.
The strong objectivity framework draws on the work of feminist science philosopher Sandra Harding and argues that science can be more objective if researchers include diverse perspectives and subjects/ experiences (for a deeper explanation, see Sari’s post Is Subjectivity Biased[Editor’s note: I am glad someone finally noticed how deep I am.]) into their research designs. Feminist empiricist and feminist standpoint approaches offer methodological direction for feminist scientists looking to apply the strong objectivity framework [Editor’s note: after all, it’s hard to take theory into practice, so this is really important]. Feminist empiricists offer a way for scientists to think critically about the theories and concepts they will employ by applying feminist and/or antiracist concepts and theories to critically analyze research in their fields of interest. This allows researchers to identify critical flaws in previous research designs and thereby open up new opportunities for research. Feminist standpoint approaches offer a way for scientists to locate their subjects and account for interacting social factors produced by gendered and racialized environments. The work of feminist biologist Anne Fausto-Sterling, The Bare Bones of Sex and The Bare Bones of Race[Editor’s note: I don’t mean to brag, but I totally know Anne Fausto-Sterling AND Sandra Harding so basically I am famous], provides an example of research that falls under the strong objectivity framework. Fausto-Sterling identifies critical discrepancies in how researchers define and measure bone health among and between women and men and suggests using a dynamics systems approach to account for social, geographical, and historical environmental factors that shape sex/gender and racial differences in bone health. In other words, the strong objectivity framework uses feminist concepts and theories to think critically about hypotheses, data collection methods, and interpretations of results, and promotes the design more complex and rigorous research studies
The partial perspectives framework draws on the work of feminist science philosopher Donna Haraway [Editor’s note: I don’t really know Donna Haraway but we emailed once so, basically, we are BFFs] and encourages feminist scientists to go beyond exposing gender and racial assumptions and “bad science” to examine the partial perspectives of scientific researchers. The partial perspectives framework does not seek to provide a more objective or truer knowledge of the world but rather strives to achieve what Haraway terms “feminist objectivity”. In contrast to strong objectivity, feminist objectivity requires researchers to think reflexively about their research interests and locate their objects of study and in doing so, deconstruct the web of power relations that allows certain sexed, gendered, and raced bodies to be produced and naturalized. Feminist science scholars El-Haj (2007),Gannett (2004), and M’charek (2005,2013) provide examples of research that falls under the partial perspectives framework. These scholars use examples from population geneticists, DNA forensics and medical practices to trace how “biological races” [Editor’s note: I put irony quotes around biological races because I think they belong there and also because you can “never” have “enough” irony “quotes”] have been re-constituted in and through these scientific technologies and practices. And so, the partial perspectives framework seeks to deconstruct fields of research even before researchers consider the concepts, theories, and data collection methods they will use to design their research and thereby creates conceptual space for new research possibilities.
Finally, the gendered innovations framework draws on the work of feminist science historian Londa Schiebinger [Editor’s note: I don’t know Londa Schiebinger at all but I have read her work so, um, well, I’ve got nothing] and argues that integrating feminist concepts such as sex and gender into scientific research will advance our understanding and produce more scientific innovations. The methodology of this framework draws largely on the work of feminist scientists working in the fields of public health and biomedicine that have proposed ways to integrate and operationalize the concepts of sex, gender, race and/or ethnicity into the research process. Feminist scientists such as Johnson et al. ( 2009), Kaiser (2012), Krieger (2003), Springer et al. (2012), Ritz et al. (2014), Ford and Airhihenbuwa (2010), Gravlee (2009), and Hankivsky (2012) offer practical guidance to researchers seeking to use these concepts. The cross-disciplinary collaboration required to do this work has the potential to foster a shared language and the creation of new ways of operationalizing these concepts (both the social and biomedical sciences; see Hird 2009). Basically, the gendered innovations approach introduces additional steps in the scientific research process so that researchers account for sex, gender, and other intersecting factors related to their research that they might not have captured otherwise.
The various feminist methods we identify in our paper are illustrated in Figure 1. There are areas of research that I’m sure we missed in and outside the field of biomedicine. This paper is by no means an exhaustive review but rather simply seeks to provide a starting point to discuss, refine, and name some of the different feminist methods for doing science differently. [Editor’s note: what an awesome figure!!].
See: Sarah Singh and Ineke Klinge (2015) ‘Mining for Methods: A Review of the Theoretical and Methodological Contributions of Feminist Science Studies’, Freiburger Zeitschrift für GeschlechterStudien (fzg). 12 (2). Pg. 15-31.
In May 2014, the NIH released a new policy mandate requiring equal representation of “sex” in all preclinical research (the research on animals and cellular materials that occurs before clinical trials in humans). I am part of a Harvard-based working group of scientists and science studies scholars that spent the last year reviewing the evidence for this new policy. In a recent opinion piece in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, we argue that while this policy is well intended, if the goal is to address women’s health inequities, it is ultimately unlikely to be effective. Here, at the invitation of Gap Junction Science, I delve into some of our criticisms in a more substantial way for a feminist science studies audience.
First, a bit of history. Once upon a time, white males were taken as the normative “species type” and clinical medical trials largely included only white men as participants. As a result, occasionally women using medications would have serious and unanticipated adverse reactions to drugs that had proved safe in men. In the 1980s feminists and/or medical scientists began agitating to improve the representation of women in medical research. This led the NIH to mandate the inclusion of women in clinical trials and to establish the Office of Women’s Health Research in the early 1990s. Yet today, despite adequate representation of women in clinical trials, women continue to disproportionately report adverse drug reactions. These drug reactions are a serious public health concern, as they are responsible for up to 5% of emergency room visits and roughly 100,000 deaths a year in the US.
Why, when women are approximately equally represented in clinical trials, do women continue to report a higher percentage of these reactions? According to proponents of the new NIH mandate, it is largely due to the unequal representation of females in preclinical research; i.e., with animal models and cellular material. Similar to human studies of yore, in some areas of preclinical research, research material is predominately male, and the donor sex of cellular material is often not reported. The new mandate suggests that unequal representation in preclinical materials is lurking behind the health disparity seen in men and women’s adverse drug reactions. NIH policies must serve human health and the explicit policy aim of the new mandate is to improve health outcomes between men and women in the realm of adverse drug reactions.
In our opinion piece, we argue that this policy is not likely to achieve that goal for two primary reasons. First, the non-hypothesis-driven study of sex differences in all preclinical research lacks conceptual clarity about just what sex is. Animal and cellular materials that poorly model human sex run the risk of generating non-replicable or irrelevant findings. For some preclinical materials, such as cell lineages, it is unknown whether XX and XY lineages are valid models of sex differences in humans (see this older post by Stacey Ritz!). For example, a non-negligible percent of XY cell line material has lost the Y chromosome during repeated replication. To what degree do these materials model human male biology? Animal models of sex difference are also challenging – in social animals housing condition produces significant variability in study outcomes, and male animals are often housed at lower densities than females. When modeling human sex differences in the lab, it is not enough to simply include XX and XY tissues or male and female animals and then attribute any differences found to intrinsic sex. Depending on the disease or condition under investigation, researchers analyzing sex-related factors may need to consider whether hormone exposures are relevant, the appropriate age or developmental stage to discern differences, and other variables. A broad mandate requiring study of sex in preclinical materials overlooks these considerations; instead preclinical sex difference models should be hypothesis-driven and validated with respect to the research question at hand.
Second, human sex-linked health disparities may be attributable to sex, gender, and the interaction of the two; focusing solely on sex variables, the mandate presents an impoverished approach to advancing scientific understanding of health disparities between men and women. Highlighting the need for research on gender alongside sex is a critical contribution of feminist science studies scholars. The case of health disparities in adverse reactions is an excellent example of the need for greater intellectual and institutional commitment to sex-gender research, and here I’ll develop this point in greater detail than our short PNAS piece allowed.
We know that gender influences how women and men interact with the medical system. For instance, women are more likely than men to regularly visit a doctor. The reporting of adverse drug reactions is voluntary, and fascinating recent data released by the FDA indicates that for women, nearly half of the adverse drug reactions on record are self-reported to a doctor, while for men, the majority of reactions are reported by a healthcare professional or other third parties. Similar to women’s greater likelihood to regularly visit a doctor, these data could indicate a greater propensity by women to report the experience of an adverse drug reaction.
Furthermore, there is evidence that some of the sex differences in adverse reactions are due to differences in outcomes such as allergic skin reactions. Allergic skin reactions are especially interesting to consider in light of known sex and gender differences. Outside of the context of adverse drug reactions, women generally report more allergic dermatitis reactions than men, a disparity linked to differences in exposure and contact factors, rather than intrinsic sex differences. Research on eczema has also shown that women experience greater distress from active eczema episodes, and that men are more likely to leave their eczema untreated. How these gender-inflicted differences in exposure factors, distress experience, and treatment probability in non-drug associated allergic dermatitis relate to the greater reported incidence of allergic dermal adverse drug reactions in women is unknown.
This is not to say there are no sex-intrinsic differences in adverse drug reactions, including those potentially related to drug metabolism. On average, there are known differences in enzymatic activity between men and women, though these are not consistent in all studies and may vary by age and ethnicity. We emphatically support basic and preclinical research on these types of sex differences. In our article we specifically argue for more validation research on how animal and cellular materials can model human sex differences. But we believe that the wholesale introduction of sex as a variable into all preclinical research will produce results of dubious meaning and introduce conceptual muddle into understanding sex and gender disparities in health outcomes. In an atmosphere of limited funding, this mandate will capture institutional resources and energy, which come at an opportunity cost to research on other types of questions. On the question of why women have greater rates of adverse drug reactions, we sorely need studies that examine how both sexed and gendered factors interact in the lives of men and women to create this health disparity.
Heather Shattuck-Heidorn is a Ph.D. candidate in Human Evolutionary Biology, with a secondary field in Women and Gender Studies, at Harvard University. Her research focuses on immune function in humans, and sex and gender in science. You can contact her at email@example.com, HEB Department, 11 Divinity Ave. Cambridge, MA 01239.
Here is a new posting for that Feminist Biology postdoc/sabbatical position at the University of Wisconsin-Madison! This is the second year, and it seems like a great opportunity. Here is the link! Wittig Postdoc ad 09 15
Some details: “The Wittig Postdoctoral Fellows Program in Feminist Biology offers the opportunity to combine research in a Fellow’s specific area of interest with teaching at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. We seek a highly motivated new or recent Ph.D. in one of the biological sciences or public health or MD, who wants to develop research skills in an area of biology related to gender and teaching skills in feminist approaches to biology. The position is also open to a mid-career or senior scholar, for example on sabbatical.” But look at the attachment for more info!