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Why Are Girls Not Capitalising on Current STEM Opportunities? #WiSTEMspotlight
As part of Digital Science’s celebrations for Ada Lovelace Day, for the month of October we are running a series of blog posts where inspiring women and men in STEM are sharing their personal stories. Anyone can get involved and we encourage you to read and share your thoughts using the hashtag #WiSTEMspotlight.
Mimi Keshani recently joined Figshare as Implementation Manager. She spent three years at Sparrho, where she realised she enjoyed working in product and making users happy. Prior to this, Mimi worked in a startup that made graphene and carbon nanotubes at the tonne scale. However, after catching the digital-tech bug she hasn’t looked back.
A few years ago I was invited to a #GirlsInSTEM roundtable discussion with various high-profile tech CEOs, investors, and even an MP. Everyone was a university graduate, most from Oxbridge – each was considered a thought leader in their respective fields. My invitation had actually been a clerical error. Out of my depth doesn’t describe it, but nevertheless I found myself with a seat at the table.
We gathered to tackle the question of how the government could encourage more girls to adopt Science and Technology subjects at A-level and beyond. I’d assumed that a shared passion for girls’ education was what had brought this group together. I realise now that invitations were in reality based on personal brand. I was struck by how easily some of the participants leveraged the platform to promote their own agenda. The discussion focused heavily on generating new ideas for better schemes to engage girls in STEM. Schemes that seemed to be focussed on the people, friends, and products of those present.
It is undoubtedly a positive thing to have influential individuals, those that can raise capital, on board to tackle challenges of this scale. Nevertheless, it’s well known that one of the biggest problems for campaigns like #GirlsInSTEM is that it exists in an echo-chamber. What feels like a growing movement, is ultimately driven by clicks and broad assumptions of inferred interests made by platforms like Facebook or Medium, or the postings of those you have chosen to follow on Twitter. However, sitting at this roundtable, I realised that policy making suffers in the same way. Governments are understandably keen to appear relevant and raise money; I was simply watching a modern form of lobbying, a hijacking of the latest buzz word (#GirlsInSTEM) by the current fashionable industry (Tech).
We briefly discussed the success of recent schemes – many of which I, at 22, had recently participated in myself. I recalled one summer spent with a PhD student at the Natural History Museum, thanks to a Nuffield Science Bursary (now Nuffield Research Placements). I might have applied with my UCAS form in mind, but it’s important to note that I took this one because it paid. Funding meant I wasn’t tempted to take another summer job, could buy a laptop ahead of year 13, and complete a gold BA CREST award at the same time. I recollected a rather fun weekend spent at Imperial College, which ended with a challenge to build a clock for Mars. I remembered the dedication and kindness of the teachers who volunteered their Saturday mornings to teach GCSE Maths classes at UCL on behalf of London schools like mine that didn’t have the capacity to teach A* topics in detail. There are countless other events too – a forensics day at QMUL, cosmetics making in the London College of Fashion, an evening at one of Andrea Sella’s famous explosive lectures, and more – that I also look back on fondly. I have no doubt that it was the combination of these experiences that led me to pursue science degrees.
However, I’m acutely aware that I was lucky enough to be in a position to take advantage of the opportunities available. I would argue that there are many great schemes already in place, but which may not necessarily fit into the lives of the girls who need them most. Firstly, I remember that availability meant top-set classes were always given priority. I also remember those peers of mine who were child carers, or already mothers themselves, who never had the option to join in outside school hours. I remember the additional costs, often just enough to cover travel, that instantly excluded some of my classmates. I even remember an after-school statistics workshop at The London Metropolitan University that was stopped half way through term when it was suddenly found with no teacher able to volunteer their time, and the parents were unhappy that their girls would have to travel home alone on dark winter evenings.
I wasn’t confident enough to raise these issues that day. My contributions were worse than bad; they were irrelevant. I was intimidated by those around me and didn’t challenge the assumptions and preconceptions I heard. But now, looking back I realise I had a unique perspective to offer.
And, these are just my memories. I wish I’d asked those policy-makers and thought leaders to stop thinking about new and better schemes – instead to look critically at those already in place. Rather than assume everything is broken, begin by asking “why?” to those girls who aren’t using the current opportunities available to them. Ask the same of the teachers who regularly make sacrifices for this movement. Ask the latest female science graduates what led them to STEM.
Imagine, that instead of a political issue, #GirlsInSTEM schemes were startups. To quote Paul Graham – “the verb you want to be using with respect to startup ideas is not “think up” but “notice.”” We’d scoff at those who didn’t take time to understand their market and waste valuable funding on an idea with no basis. Yet, somehow, when it comes to policy making we’re content with “thinking up” ideas with just the people at the top. Let’s move this conversation beyond the echo-chamber; forget the buzzwords, influencers, and new, better ideas – let’s start actually noticing why girls are not choosing the opportunities that are already here.