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Part II: The Breakthrough In Part I of these blog posts, I shared my story as it relates to experiencing Imposter Syndrome in academia. Here, I will share what I have learned about Imposter Syndrome, its potential effects on mental health, and how to address and overcome it. What is - and isn’t - Imposter Syndrome? Imposter Syndrome refers to a “pattern of behavior where people doubt their accomplishments and have a persistent, often internalized fear of being exposed as a fraud.” Basically, it is a form of cognitive dissonance, where despite evidence of your abilities and accomplishments, your feelings do not align with what you know to be true; it is a disbelief—a disassociation from belief. Interestingly, Imposter Syndrome disproportionately affects hyper-achievers, perfectionists, and hyper-rationals, such as us—academics. The feeling - or fear - of being a fraud is not an indication that you are unintelligent, incapable, unworthy, undeserving, weak, lazy, unsuccessful, or otherwise lacking or inadequate. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Although that paradox is of little comfort when you experience it, it is, nonetheless, part of the awareness that you must build for yourself. While a little self-doubt is normal, paralyzing self-doubt is not. In fact, that feeling of paralysis is a symptom of severe anxiety; it is an indication that your brain is stuck in survival mode because of perceived fear. Fear is not the same as danger, yet extreme stress triggers the same region of your brain - the amygdala - that engages the limbic system in a freeze, fight, or flight state—as if you were hunted by a predator. In this case, that predator is your disbelief in yourself. Your brain ceases to function in a thinking capacity, and instead is limited to functioning as a response mechanism as it relates to what is triggering your fear. The freeze response, in particular, occurs when you are reacting to a danger that you cannot overcome or run away from—in graduate school, the fear can be about not finishing your studies and also feeling unable to quit. Anxiety attacks are another symptom of severe anxiety, as are panic attacks, on the more extreme end of the spectrum; both are psychosomatic manifestations of fear. It is important to be aware of these distinctions, as they are beyond the scope of what Imposter Syndrome is and how it can affect someone. For me, the transition from a generalized anxiety to uncontrollable attacks was the impetus for seeking a mental health practitioner. Generalized anxiety is arguably more detrimental, because your brain and body are in a constant state of heightened stress. If you experience any or more of the severe symptoms described, please seek the mental health resources available to you at your academic institution or through your healthcare provider. I am an avid advocate for destigmatizing mental health and emotional healing. It is important to normalize mental health for yourself, and to advocate for the mental health of others. Taking care of your mental and emotional health are key components of your self-care, especially as a graduate student, because graduate school is the onset for mental health challenges in a vast number of scholars. Returning to my initial admission: Why did I feel like an imposter while writing this blog post? First, there’s the unfortunate feeling of being found out as “not a ‘real’ scientist,” because while anthropology is a science, there are many scholars in the so-called “hard” sciences who strongly disagree. Second, I only recently overcame this impostorism—through a combination of cognitive behavioral therapy and professional coaching. Third, I decided to permanently leave academia, and as a result, some would argue that I am not “a real scholar” anymore. Finally, and importantly, this blog post is one of the first writing tasks that I have accomplished in several years. We will return to these points shortly. What can you do about Imposter Syndrome? Informing yourself about Imposter Syndrome is an imperative first step to bringing awareness to a common experience that may affect you and your peers. As an anthropologist, I understand that culture shock is an important concept and an experience that can be lessened through preparation; I daresay that the analogy with Imposter Syndrome is very relevant. Awareness of Imposter Syndrome allows you to recognize the symptoms before they affect your performance or become debilitating as a professional. Likewise, understanding your specific academic cultures brings awareness to group dynamics that affect your experience as a scholar; these cultures include academia, as a whole, and your specific institution, field, and department. I would be remiss to ignore that systemic gender discrimination and racism also form part of the challenges that readers of this blog can encounter, and can contribute to a sense of isolation and self-doubt that can be exacerbated in the academic context. This process of awareness is akin to learning about the culture of an unfamiliar country before you travel to it. By taking proactive steps that are more advantageous than reactive ones, you will be in a stronger position to navigate the terrain. The next step that you can take is to integrate discussions about Imposter Syndrome with peers and mentors as part of your professional development. Create a space to talk about your individual and collective struggles. Suffering from Imposter Syndrome is very isolating; in the process of discrediting yourself, your sense of belonging to your peer group greatly diminishes. Despite how lonely it feels to be struggling with Imposter Syndrome, anxiety, depression, or any other challenge, I promise you are not alone. Vulnerability feels scary and exposing, yet it is a strength worth cultivating. By developing and nurturing peer and mentoring relationships that value vulnerability, you will build a strong support system for yourself and others. Finally, I cannot overstate the importance of actively implementing strategies to counter self-doubt and develop true confidence. Before implementing any strategies, however, you must become aware of your recurring doubts. As in, what are the thoughts that replay in your head about your perceived failures, shortcomings, or weaknesses? What are the emotions produced by these thoughts? How do you talk about yourself in relation to your qualities, abilities, or performance? What actions do you take in relation to these thoughts? You need to understand these patterns about what you think, feel, and say about yourself, and what you do about it, because they comprise part of your neuro-linguistic programming, which can be reprogrammed! Our brains tend to fixate on the negative data as a means to avoid future failures, which can be relevant from an evolutionary and survival standpoint, but detrimental for contexts where no actual danger exists. As a result, building a habit of positive evidence-based data to confirm your self-belief and counter your self-doubt is imperative—now and always. For example, what evidence can you use to demonstrate to yourself that you are capable and worthy as a scholar? Answering this question on a regular basis, and growing a comprehensive body of data about it, is a habit that you must be intentional in developing in order to strengthen your confidence as a scholar, and in whole, as a person. As with any new habit, it takes time to build. Be patient with yourself in the process, but stay committed! Another strategy you can implement is to reframe your doubts as strengths. Let’s put it into practice, using the earlier paragraph about my own doubts as an example. To apply the reframe strategy, I could take the first point and assert that anthropology is both science and humanities, and, as such, it is the perfect field for a blog post on The Human Side of STEM and STEM Life. Second, my breakthrough on self-doubt may have been recent, but it took many years of challenging emotional and mental effort to overcome, and now you and I get to benefit from what I learned. Third, while leaving academia was a difficult decision and process, it was also freeing and necessary to fully embrace my calling as a professional and executive coach—and the lessons that I learned will greatly benefit others who want support in changing careers or remaining in academia (Figure 1). On the final point, writing this article is an accomplishment worth celebrating, because it represents a great deal of personal growth that allowed me to overcome a significant obstacle impeding my personal and professional progress. As you can see, this process of reframing focuses on the (multiple) learnings and successes, instead of your perceived failures or judgments. Figure 1. The logo for Margie Serrato's company, Human Empowered, where she offers her services as a personal and professional coach. Wrap-Up The scope of this article was to introduce you to what Imposter Syndrome is through the narrative of someone who has endured and overcome it, explain its causes and effects, and begin to expose you to tools that will empower you as you face your own challenges related to self-doubt. There is a great deal more that I want to share with you, which will be possible through other Científico Latino opportunities, so stay tuned! Until then, comment below with any questions or comments that you have and I will gladly respond. As I mentioned at the beginning, this is not a success story—it is a quest for success. Undoubtedly, there have been plenty of successes in my journey that I can now acknowledge, celebrate, and embrace. Yet, my success story is about much more than academic performance—it is also about regaining my mental health, healing emotional wounds, trusting myself with unshakeable conviction, recognizing my worth, connecting with my wisdom, realizing my potential, disengaging from toxic environments, practicing self-advocacy, learning to love myself unconditionally, identifying fear-based emotions and channeling them into productive energy, taking empowered actions in all areas of my life, strengthening my whole self, and so much more! My quest for success is about unapologetically re/defining who I am, growing expansively, establishing my own parameters for success, and intentionally harnessing my gifts, experiences, and expertise in my mission to support others as they take charge of their lives and embark on their own quests for success. That mission includes YOU. So, if you take nothing else from this article, do remember this: you are much more than a scholar—you are a powerful human. FEATURED AUTHOR Margie Serrato, PhD Dr. Margie Serrato is a traveler, anthropologist, writer, educator, speaker, professional coach, performer, bodybuilder, martial artist, baker, and mother. Her personal expertise is in transcending boundaries and embracing nonconformity, and her research focuses on gender in non-traditional contexts and minority representation in STEM and business. Motto: “Be Powerful. Live Powerfully.” Superpower: Self-mastery. Kryptonite: Food, wine, and dancing.

Part I: The Breakdown What’s the most challenging aspect of writing about Imposter Syndrome? Feeling like an imposter while doing so. I know… it’s very meta. So, let me begin by establishing my story and gaining some credibility. Be warned: this is not a success story—it is a quest for success. A little about me (that may resonate with you) I was the first person in my family to be born in the USA. My grandfather emigrated from Colombia to New York City in the early 1970s, in search of opportunities that would get him and his family out of poverty and to have a chance at the fabled "American Dream." Growing up as a first-generation American was challenging because I had to navigate often inconsistent cultural messages about my gender and my identity, such as an ideology of equality that conflicted with limited—and limiting—gender and ethnic values and role expectations. It was also challenging to be the first person in my family to pursue higher education, which was possible as a result of plentiful need-based scholarships to enroll in undergraduate programs. This was also difficult without a support system that understood what university life entailed. After earning two Bachelor of Arts degrees in Psychology and Anthropology, I continued onto the highest possible degree in the latter to grow expertise on human understanding and cultural diversity. Being a first-generation college student was especially challenging as a graduate student, where the achieved status of pursuing a PhD was at odds with cultural perceptions of humility in terms of both intellectual recognition and socioeconomic success. Upon applying to graduate school at Texas A&M University, I was awarded a three-year Graduate Diversity Fellowship to begin my doctoral studies. I was awarded numerous internal and external grants to support my research, as well as a year-long Graduate Writing Fellowship to finish writing my dissertation. I have conducted research in four countries, presented my work at 10 international conferences, and published my work in numerous peer-reviewed articles, encyclopedia entries, and book chapters. I have taught over 2500 students in the USA and Australia. And I have been awarded four National Science Foundation grants, two as a graduate student and two as a postdoctoral researcher. These accomplishments are all impressive. They convey a great deal of meaning about my abilities, intelligence, ambition, and tenacity. They also make me a poster child for affirmative action programs and initiatives aimed at increasing diversity in higher education, sciences, and leadership. The unfortunate truth, however, is that earning a PhD was not a cause for pride and celebration for me. In fact, it felt like a hollow victory—and I am not alone in that sentiment. I have yet to frame my diploma, seven years after I earned it. I feel no more successful as a scholar now, despite these and many other academic accomplishments. It has only been in the past few years that I felt comfortable including “PhD” in professional signatures, and I sometimes still cringe when introduced as Dr. Serrato. The onset of this pervasive feeling of self-doubt began during the dissertation writing phase. It was not the writing itself that was the cause, but an overwhelming and paralyzing feeling that I did not know what I was doing, I did not know enough about my topic, and someone was bound to find out and realize that I was not worthy of a doctoral degree. I started second-guessing why I was admitted into graduate school to begin with, doubted how I earned any previous opportunity at all, felt guilty at the thought that someone else could have made better use of the scholarships that I was awarded, wondered why my committee members never harshly criticized my writing when I clearly did not know how to write, scrutinized myself for not moving forward, felt like an absolute failure, and was horribly afraid that I would not finish my degree. It’s not surprising that I considered quitting numerous times. The emotional and financial burdens of quitting were as difficult to consider as those of not quitting. I struggled in isolation, suffocating in daily torment, for two years. Although I eventually finished writing what still seems (to me) like the most imperfect, poorly written 300-page dissertation ever, the self-doubt did not cease. The feeling of being a fraud went with me to my next academic appointment and to my subsequent postdoctoral position, exacerbated with every letter of rejection for academic positions. When writing was involved, whether a publication or a grant proposal, the relentless and paralyzing fear became insurmountable. It culminated into anxiety attacks and panic attacks that became more frequent and serious after, as a Senior Research Scientist, I was physically assaulted while writing a grant proposal, which specifically occurred in the context of my perceived productivity as a contributor to grant writing. Months later, my position was terminated and my mental health plummeted. I began to question much more than my achievements and abilities; I questioned my entire worth as a person. I questioned whether I deserved to live in the house that I was no longer financially contributing to. I felt undeserving of love, undeserving of friends. I felt like a complete failure. I did not realize it at the time, but the assault triggered deep childhood trauma that was, poignantly, related to academic performance. That realization was a gift from my first cognitive behavioral therapy session; it was a gift because that understanding, in itself, created a shift in me that led to healing myself and overcoming the pervasive self-doubt—which I finally acknowledged as a severe case of Imposter Syndrome. If this sounds like an academic horror study, then I concur. If you think that this is an isolated case, then you are mistaken. But, this fate does not have to be your own. You can thrive with the right tools and support. In Part II of these blog posts, I will share what I learned about Imposter Syndrome, as well as strategies for you to identify, address, and overcome this epidemic in graduate school. FEATURED AUTHOR Margie Serrato, PhD Dr. Margie Serrato is a traveler, anthropologist, writer, educator, speaker, professional coach, performer, bodybuilder, martial artist, baker, and mother. Her personal expertise is in transcending boundaries and embracing nonconformity, and her research focuses on gender in non-traditional contexts and minority representation in STEM and business. Motto: “Be Powerful. Live Powerfully.” Superpower: Self-mastery. Kryptonite: Food, wine, and dancing.

It happened. You received an invitation to an interview weekend for a PhD program. You’re overjoyed, but also worried? You’ve never been to one before. The few grad students you’ve spoken to tell you, “Interviews aren’t stressful,” or “You’ll be fine, getting the interview is the hardest part!” That can’t be right; you’re still nervous. You’re worried you won’t be able to hold your own in the interview, that you’ll be grilled to no end in the confines of some tenure-track corner office, or that your passion and dedication to your science won’t come across to the admissions committee. This article is for you. Here, we will outline how to become an adept communicator and present our tips for excelling in your graduate school interview through effective and confident conveyance of your research. What are the characteristics of a good communicator? While being able to spit jargon-heavy sentences is impressive and shows your knowledge of the field, its impact for most audiences usually ends there – unless you are able to demonstrate a deeper knowledge and mastery of your science. The goal of communication is not for you to impress people, but to effectively convey knowledge so your audience leaves with a better understanding of the topic. A good science communicator actively adapts to the audience and is able to convey complex ideas at many levels in a clear way. Improving communication skills is ongoing work, but with practice it will become easier and more comfortable. Know your audience In the interview, you will encounter different groups of people and it is important to adapt your conversational style to match each situation. Let’s talk about who these groups are and how communication with them throughout the interview experience may be different. Faculty (and maybe ‘The One’ professor you’re hoping to work with) This is perhaps the most intimidating of the groups you will come into contact with on interview weekend. Interactions with faculty can vary from formal (the actual interviews) to informal (a chat at lunch or dinner). While interview sessions are arguably the most important part of your recruitment process, you might find yourself discussing your science with professors outside of the interview as well. If you are given a list of interviewers ahead of time, research them and check out their publications and lab websites. This will give you an idea of the research questions they are interested in and the methods they use. Additionally, it will give you a feel for their base of knowledge/scientific background so you can determine the scope of your communication. Most faculty enjoy being asked questions about their own work, so bonus points if you have a few questions ready for them about their research (e.g. their broad research question or use of techniques/models, etc.). Current graduate students These are your future classmates and peers. Be ready to quickly discuss your research with them, as most interactions with them will be informal (e.g. during meals and activities). While these are great opportunities to discuss your research, conversations with current students can also be incredibly informative. These current graduate students are here to help and provide you with invaluable insider information about the school, graduate program, and individual labs. Feel free to ask them about their pre-graduate experience, current research, and life as a graduate student. During the interview, you are also examining the school to get a sense of the program’s strengths, weaknesses, and overall atmosphere to determine if it will be a good fit for you. Fellow interviewees Just like you, they are excited and nervous to be here. Some people have been waiting for months, or even years, for this opportunity! You will see them a lot throughout the interview weekend and often, at other institutions’ interviews. Whether you end up at the same graduate program or not, it is important to remember that the fellow interviewees you meet are your new scientific peers and colleagues. Your discussions with them will less likely be centered around research, but don’t be afraid to strike up an interesting conversation anyway! Communication among these groups can be highly variable, and you might encounter some surprises along the way. Not all conversations will be focused solely on your research. In fact, you will spend a lot of time learning about others’ work too! By understanding your audience and asking plenty of questions, you’ll be unfazed as each conversation develops its own unique flavor. Know your key ingredients When discussing your research, there are a few critical elements we think help with clearly and logically communicating your research to any audience. Think of yourself as a chef and your research is your signature dish. Now, everyone should enjoy your signature dish (it’s wonderful, you made it yourself) but some people may have different dietary restrictions (knowledge bases). You will need to tweak your signature dish for each person, or audience type. Your recipe for clear and effective communication boils down to a few “key ingredients,” but you may need to tailor them or make substitutions for those with different dietary needs (all your different audiences). Let’s briefly walk through our “key ingredients” for a great talk/poster/scientific conversation. (1) Context: As researchers, it is easy to get bogged down in the minutiae of your project and day-to-day work. Introducing your research in a larger context – for example, implications for expanding scientific knowledge in a field or contributing to understanding and treatment of a particular disease or disorder – helps the listener comprehend the importance or significance of your work. (2) Overarching or "big picture" question: Much like context, introducing the overarching question (think along the lines of the general focus of your lab) helps give the listener something to connect to in your research. When done effectively, it will leave the listener wanting more, excited to hear how your project fits into the grand scheme of things. (3) Specific question or particular area of interest: Here is where it starts to become critical that you know your audience. The level of detail you use when explaining your specific question will be highly dependent on who is listening. Now is a great time to also explain what excites you about your project – enthusiasm for what you do can go a long way when describing your work. (4) Hypothesis and approach/methods/techniques: Your hypothesis is your guiding question – it should be based on what is known and what you seek to learn. The experiments you run and the data you collect should all link back to this central question. It is critical to know what kind of techniques you use (e.g. imaging, electrophysiology, biochemistry, etc.) and what the data they yield can tell you. While you most likely won’t need to know the nitty gritty of the analysis, it will behoove you to understand the advantages and limitations of any technique you use. Be explicit about any techniques you specifically learned and executed in the project. (5) Results and interpretation: Results should tie back in with your hypothesis – these are usually fairly straightforward: either you saw an effect or you did not. How you interpret those results can take many paths or directions. When explaining your interpretation of your results, it is essential to think about your data from all angles – alternate explanations are always a possibility. (6) Next steps: What is the future of this project? What are the follow-up experiments? Who will do the follow-up experiments? These are questions worth considering since most science is never really complete. Just as you have thought a lot about the past and current experiments of this project, it is equally important to consider what the project has contributed to the field and where it can go. In order to be particularly engaging when communicating, incorporate information about you and your experiences with the project – this includes what excites you about your research, what you specifically contributed and where you envision the project and your career going in the future. Complementing your key ingredients with your experiences and personal flair will help you stand out from the crowd! Know your scope A competent scientist knows their project at many different scales. An effective communicator is able to use this knowledge to share understanding to any audience. As a trainee, you have a magnifying glass and know the precise details of your experimental protocols, while your mentor sees the project on a much larger scale. What knowledge gap is being filled, and what “macro-level” question is being asked? If you need help understanding this, don’t be afraid to ask questions! Consider asking your current PI/supervisor to recommend review papers, book chapters, or show you the project grant. This high-level knowledge is essential for research communication and serves as a great introduction to your work. Should you encounter an interviewer that works in an entirely different sub-discipline than you, you will likely spend most of your time talking in these broad, conceptual terms. Likewise, if you encounter an interviewer with highly similar work to yours, you will have an opportunity to delve into the more familiar details. Another part of research communication is representing the history and rationale behind the approach. By reading previous literature, you will understand some of the successes and failures that brought the field to where it is now. Highlight the findings and conclusions that motivated previous work with awareness of their respective strengths and weaknesses. Similarly, be able to communicate the future of your research, even if you will leave the lab/project. What advances will your work contribute to the field? Learning about the past and future of your research project may seem intimidating, or even humbling – most scientists feel this way. However, this is a sign of maturity as a scientist to recognize that you stand on the shoulders of giants. Practice! Finally, and unsurprisingly, one of your priorities should be to practice the interview itself. The above suggestions will be tremendously helpful during this step, and you should use this time wisely. If your PI or lab mentor is willing to help you practice, write out what you want to say ahead of time and share it with them if you are comfortable doing so. Your written ideas should not be mistaken as a script to be memorized; rather, this exercise should help you identify the main points that you want to communicate. Keep in mind that the length of your conversation or interaction can be highly varied (could be 30 minutes, could be 3). You may not always have time to discuss all the details of your research. Rather than overwhelming your audience, just focus on the key ingredients – short conversations may not accommodate much more than that. Practice speaking out loud as often as you can, and eventually the concepts will flow more candidly. Don’t worry if you find this step difficult – academia makes public speakers out of the shyest of people, and it does get easier over time. Additionally, practice with any friends or colleagues who are willing to help. Each interview experience is unique, so you will benefit from practicing with different people. Why is effective communication such an important skill? Scientific communication doesn’t happen on its own. Researchers are often siloed within their specific sub-discipline and often even within their own lab. Because of this, it is important to be equipped with the proper tools as you set out to share your work with the research community. The concepts covered here will help you effectively communicate your research on your interview day(s) and beyond. Interviews and other types of research communication outside your comfort zone require adaptability. You will interact with different audiences, including professors, current graduate students, and fellow prospective students. Remember, the commonality that ties you together is your passion for science, and this is a great time to make connections and learn from others. Above all, be curious about the program and its opportunities – graduate school will be one of the most transformative experiences in your life, so your evaluation of the program is just as important as its evaluation of you! Additionally, be able to adapt your scope of communication. Understand the broader ideas that inspired your project, and use your highly specialized knowledge to your advantage when an interviewer asks followup questions. Be able to explain the findings preceding your project, and where it might be headed in the future. Finally, practice talking about your work as much as possible. Keeping written notes of your main ideas (including your key ingredients) will be very useful when you are getting started. Use this time wisely and be open to feedback from peers and mentors. Ultimately, effective communication will help you leave a lasting impression during your interview. If you’ve ever written a grant, these tips may seem very intuitive and familiar – we are not reinventing the wheel. Instead, we hope to emphasize that the same structure used often in written scientific communication can be translated into verbal scientific communication as well. The real benefit of an interview is its interactive nature – you have the chance to adapt and adjust your key ingredients in real time. Even though the beginning stages can be challenging, remember that this is a lifelong skill and your perspective has value in the scientific community. If you make the effort to know your project thoroughly and practice the strategies listed above, your unique communication style will eventually shine through and continue to drive you forward as you tackle new challenges in your academic career. FEATURED AUTHORS Eden Barragan Eden is a graduate student at UC Davis in the lab of Dr. John Gray where her research focuses on mechanisms underlying synaptic plasticity and the specific changes in neuronal activity that occur following learning. She is a Southern California native who enjoys propagating houseplants, knitting, whipping up a fire batch of beans, and making neuroscience research accessible and exciting to those outside of the immediate scientific community. Rose De Kock Rose De Kock is a 3rd year Ph.D. candidate at UC Davis working with Drs. Wilsaan Joiner and Julie Schweitzer to study the link between cognition and action in an ADHD population. She values interdisciplinary work, and aims to use integrated methods from motor control and clinical psychology to better understand psychiatric conditions. Outside of the lab, she enjoys art and music, the outdoors, and participating in outreach activities to make STEM more accessible and inclusive. Sasha Mikhailova Alexandra (Sasha) Mikhailova is a 4th year Ph.D. candidate at UC Davis and a recipient of the NRSA F31 Fellowship. Previously, she worked on translational stroke research in her Bachelor’s Degree at UC Davis, and as a technician at UCSF. She currently works on neuroimmune modulation of early brain development. She is originally from Russia and grew up in the SF Bay Area. She is passionate about education and outreach, sourdough, embroidery and complexity science.

PHOENIX – First a bit about me and my credentials for writing on this topic. I am a former “NASA Space Grant News Consortium” intern in Southern Arizona and was responsible for covering the University of Arizona's contributions to the field of Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics (S.T.E.M.). During this time, I was a reporter for a newspaper under the umbrella of USA Today’s parent company, Gannett. The name of the newspaper was the Tucson Citizen, a daily afternoon newspaper, for Tucson, Ariz. The newspaper has since been closed. This paper served as a news source for much of Southern and Central Arizona. I also had stories get picked up by the Associated Press, the Huffington Post - College edition, as well as other news aggregator websites. During college, I had a brief internship with The New York Times Company as a freelance journalist. My brother was the scientist and resident “smart guy ” of the family. He built his very own gaming computer and continues to make modifications as the World of PC Gaming evolves (which is one of his favorite hobbies). He was diagnosed from an early age with Asperger’s Syndrome, an Autism Spectrum Disorder. While he was always a brilliant young man, sometimes even the simplest of communications was  difficult for him. That is, until my brother found the Si Se Puede Foundation’s Robotics Program. This taught him how to socialize and speak to judges; he learned that having technical knowledge and being able to explain it are different areas of expertise. He discovered that a person could be limited if they could not communicate what they knew, especially to those with different (or no) science backgrounds. And this is no easy task - there are even degree programs dedicated to Science Journalism. A quick excerpt from Kathryn M. O’Neill, Associate News Manager & Senior Writer at MIT School of Humanities, Arts, and Social Sciences: “Whether the public is reading about the Ebola outbreak in Africa or watching YouTube videos on the benefits of the latest diet, it’s clear that reporting on science and technology profoundly shapes modern life.". "Ultimately, the science a person does, no matter how important, won’t matter to the lay-person unless it is communicated well." Things like applying for further funding, or something as simple as explaining to judges during a science fair (especially to those who are not science-minded), all require good verbal and/or written communications to be accessible. An important way to communicate science-related ideas to others, especially those with little science knowledge is by using an “elevator pitch.” The pitch needs to be tight and easily accessible. For example, there is a scene in a S.T.E.M. Hollywood movie called ‘Spare Parts’ in which a young Latino high schooler is trying to explain to judges in an underwater robotics competition what parts his team used and how the robot functions. In the movie, his team wins not because they used the most technical terms or were even “accurate” about what to call the functions or pieces of the underwater robot, but because the team could explain what they did and how the robot functioned well enough for the judges to understand. When I first started reporting on S.T.E.M. topics the summer after my Freshman year of college, I felt a bit lost. My editor didn’t give me much guidance, other than what topics to cover. Essentially, I had to become a self-taught science reporter. There weren’t many comments from either those I reported on, or from my boss. The only comments I heard were that my articles sounded too much like Public Relations pieces, and not enough like Science Journalism – go figure. Eventually, I pursued other types of journalism in newspapers and magazines in Tucson. By the time I was a Junior in college, I was invited back into the world of science journalism, via the NASA Space Grant Consortium internship with the Tucson Citizen. This time, I got more feedback from both my sources and my editor. However,  I was no longer reporting for a student newspaper. I was reporting for the entire city of Tucson, and even Southern Arizona. There were instances when I (and/or my editor) made errors. We always promptly fixed errors online and ran corrections in print in the next issue. My best estimate is that these issues arose from a “lost in translation” dilemma. While journalists like to imagine themselves as having a breadth of knowledge on many different subjects, we don’t really know very much about any one topic, other than how to report the news. There was a specific article in which I was reporting on a rock (or possibly water/ice) leaving a trail on the planet Mars. The distinction was important to the findings. There was a difference between notoriety and rocks just leaving a trail. The University of Arizona’s Space program was assisting NASA in researching and recording these trails on Mars. A problem arose because the details of the rolling rocks/water or ice was initially misreported. I still contend something happened in the editing process. My editor claims it was me. The researcher didn’t care; he just wanted the story fixed. We fixed it online immediately and printed a correction the next day. I personally had to apologize profusely to him as well. Then there was a time I had a successful reporting venture. I was given an opportunity to get a scoop on the Southern Arizona Regional Science Fair, which plays host to over 1,000 high school and middle school students. The fair was going to lose some (and possibly most) of its funding. The cut in funding was going to affect the next year’s fair, which hosted close to 1,500 student-scientists. I felt empowered by the story, not simply because it was a page 1-above-the-fold article (a big deal in the news business), but because it was shedding a light on what a travesty it was that this important science fair was going to lose its funding. FEATURED AUTHOR Matt Lewis Matt Lewis is an Arizona native and lover of all things science. He comes from good stock. His grandfather received his Ph.D. from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) with a Chemistry specialization. His grandfather worked on polymer chemicals, earning numerous patents, and worked for a variety of oil & gas companies, until he retired from Dow Chemical, where he served as an Executive Vice President. Lewis’s mother got her B.S. degree from Oklahoma State University in Geology (probably where Matt got his love for rocks). While Matt did not pursue a S.T.E.M.-related field in college, he did cover science topics for a variety of newspapers in Southern Arizona, both as a young cub reporter and as a more seasoned intern. He graduated from the University of Arizona with a B.A. in Journalism. He then went on to work as an editor and multimedia reporter in Central Arizona. Eventually, he would work at Intel Corporation as a Manufacturing Technician for more than two years. Currently, he serves as the Director of Special Events for the Si Se Puede Foundation, a 501 c-3 nonprofit that focuses on S.T.E.M.-based learning in Chandler, AZ. The foundation works with Title 1 schools in the Phoenix-metro area and around Arizona to improve educational opportunities for those with less access to resources. His work currently centers around youth robotics, which encompasses the FIRST® LEGO League and SeaPerch (underwater) robotics competitions. For more on Lewis, please visit: https://matt20hew.com/bio/.

I am a 27-year-old second-year graduate student in the Department of Physics and Astronomy at the University of California, Riverside (UCR). From 2010 to 2015, I attended two community colleges within the Los Rios Community College district in Sacramento, California. In 2015, I transferred to UCR for my Bachelor's degree in Physics and am currently working towards a Ph.D. in Theoretical Physics. Having had experience as an undergraduate transfer student and currently as a graduate student, I hope to share some insight to transfer students considering or preparing to transfer. Below, I outline some challenges that were (un)foreseen and how I handled those situations. What I Anticipated "Tougher" Professors Before I transferred, I anticipated having "harder" professors, even if I didn't know exactly what that would mean. In my experience, the perception that research university (R1) professors are harder than community college professors seems to stem from the functions they serve at their institutions. At the community colleges I attended, it seemed like my professors were there to teach students as their principal responsibility. They did their own grading, made their own lesson plans, gave their own lectures, and ran the lab components of their classes. This direct engagement with students is what I typically think of when I hear the word "teacher." I considered my community college professors to be teachers at heart, and it translated into me feeling like they genuinely cared about my learning and success as a student. In comparison, the primary function of R1 professors is typically to conduct research and generate new knowledge. Teaching is not the primary function of R1 professors, which may result in students feeling like their professors don't care as much about them. This was certainly true for me during my first few quarters until I was able to articulate this difference and change my mindset. My R1 professors did not spoon-feed me information the same way that my community college professors had. In general, they point to where I should learn from, usually a particular book, and leave the acquisition of information to me. Overall, I noticed that community college professors gave me information, whereas R1 professors directed me towards information. "After transferring, I found that my education was in my own hands and that it was now my responsibility to acquire information." How did I respond to this? I adopted the "you get out what you put in" mentality and studied hard. While I could put in the minimum effort required to pass my classes, I thought this would be disrespectful to all of the time I had spent at community colleges preparing for this experience. Instead, I focused on my studies. This meant doing readings ahead of schedule, reviewing and rewriting lecture notes every day, and doing homework not just to complete it, but to understand what every problem was aiming to teach me. I wanted to ensure that the time I spent at UCR was utilized to its fullest potential. Less Free Time I already anticipated having less free time after transferring, but my perception of "free time" changed after doing so; it continued to change as I entered graduate school. This ongoing change wasn’t inherently good or bad, but rather something I feel is important to point out prior to transferring. While I was in community college, I could finish all of my classwork by mid-afternoon, and the rest of the day was "me time," where I could do whatever I wanted. Typically, how I decided to spend this time was completely by impulse, with no intent on accomplishing anything in particular. I would play video games, go for a drive next to the river, ride my bike, or paint. While these activities have intrinsic value, I did these activities simply because I wanted to, with no particular goal in mind. After transferring to UCR, I found myself with less free time, which was something I expected. I was more critical of how I spent my ever-decreasing free time, and I slowly began to notice that the activities I undertook started serving new purposes. Instead of taking a drive because I wanted to, I started taking drives because I needed to recharge myself. I played video games to give my brain a break from working all day. I painted because I had been doing physics calculations all day and the analytical part of my brain was burnt out. In this way, I started approaching my free time with a specific goal in mind: to alter my current state of being. If you go to graduate school, this goal-oriented approach to free time may be taken to an extreme level. Throughout my first year of graduate school, I found myself feeling exhausted, stressed out of my mind, frustrated with classmates, and completely overwhelmed with homework. The amount of free time I had each day to address these emotions was typically only an hour, or two, if I was lucky. This meant that whatever I was going to do had to be the most effective thing for maintaining my sanity. If I could redo the semester before I transferred to UCR, I would explore how my hobbies affected my state of being. Prior to transferring, I only knew that I enjoyed taking drives, or that I enjoyed painting. I didn't stop to think why I enjoyed doing these things and I definitely didn’t stop to think how they affected my state of being. This is important to understand about yourself, because the adjustment period into a new university is already difficult. Specifically, during my first quarter post-transfer, I experienced a lot of emotions that impeded my academic progress. I often felt overwhelmed, exhausted, or unmotivated. It would have been convenient to be able to identify an emotion and quickly find a solution, to be able to say to myself, "I am feeling very mentally exhausted, but I know that I will feel recharged after taking a drive." Instead, I had to figure out how to deal with these feelings while experiencing them. Ultimately, this may not have been a major factor affecting my adjustment to a new university, but it did complicate the adjustment process. What I Did Not Anticipate Temporary Social Isolation As a transfer student, you are probably aware that you will transfer with a certain class standing, mine being a college junior. This means that the university acknowledges you at that level and that you will take appropriate level courses with other students of the same standing. Although I was a junior on paper, I was not a junior in practice. My junior level standing only applied to academics, not to the social environment. Even though I transferred in as a junior, I did not have the same social support network as a typical junior level student. This point is unique for each transfer student, but many transfer students enter a university at a level where friend groups are already established, and thus may need to build a completely new social support network. For me, I transferred to a university 400 miles away from my hometown, and I had no social support system at all when I arrived. On the first day of classes, I didn't know a single soul and it was intimidating to see students who were already part of groups and cliques from their prior two years. I immediately realized that I was alone and would need to find a new group of friends and social support network. Rebuilding my social support network and making a completely new set of friends scared me because I am a fairly shy and introverted person. I dreaded the thought of attempting to integrate myself into an existing social network. However, after two months of "socially sampling" various cliques, I ended up connecting with other transfer students in the Physics department and immediately felt accepted. These other transfer students became an incredible resource for me, precisely because they had a similar set of experiences and goals that I had. They provided a tremendous amount of insight about how to succeed as a transfer student and I am still grateful for their friendship to this day. If I could redo my first quarter, I would have sought to meet other transfer students from the first day. My undergraduate education was significantly enriched thanks to this small network of transfer students and the sage wisdom they passed onto me. In the spirit of continuing to pass down information, I hope that my story will guide you, future transfer students, during this stage of your academic journey. FEATURED AUTHOR Adam Green Adam Green grew up in Sacramento, California, where he developed a passion for both learning and teaching while he was a student within the Los Rios Community College district. This passion has driven him to pursue a Ph.D. in Theoretical Physics at the University of California, Riverside. Ultimately, he hopes to become a professor at one of the community college institutions he attended. Outside of academia he is an avid cyclist, tackling the mountainous landscapes of Riverside, California.

When successful scientists talk about their career journeys, it often seems like the inevitable conclusion of some early dream. However, finding one’s path can be a challenging endeavor. As a result, it is important to keep an eye out for people and opportunities that might influence the horizons of how we conceive our futures and to allow ourselves to venture into new directions. Growing up, I wanted to sell elote (roasted corn often topped with mayo and hot sauce); it seemed like a good way to spread the same joy that I got out of eating it. The people selling elote were part of my community and thus among the possibilities of a future I could conceive for myself. This was not true of physicians or scientists. In fact, in high school, I didn’t even know the difference between the two. It wasn’t until after my freshman year of college at Yale University that I tried biological research for the first time, before even taking a college biology class. Rather than out of a genuine interest in research, this happened mostly because I knew several other students who were doing summer research internship programs, and these programs provided stipends that would allow me to support myself over the summer. I applied for the UT Health Science Center Summer Research Program in Houston, Texas, and worked in the lab of Dr. Iraida Sharina. I recall being asked by Dr. Sharina early in the program whether I was planning to do an MD or a PhD. I didn’t know what either degree was for. I do not remember what my answer was, but I do remember having a moment of realization of how little I knew about what I was embarking upon. Despite a feeling of uncertainty, I found myself in a supportive and enjoyable atmosphere in the lab. That summer, I learned how much I enjoyed the meticulous nature of scientific experiments. I found that coming up with careful controls and elegant assays to learn truths behind very specific processes was incredibly rewarding for me. However, because of my sparse scientific background, I initially had no idea how to interpret most of my results. When I returned to college the following semester, I decided to take biology classes. As a first-generation college student, college biology (and really all of college) felt like an academic struggle. I did not know what to expect and I constantly felt like I was trying to learn what everyone around me already knew. My high school had not prepared me for college level courses. Ultimately, my grades were not terrific, especially in science courses where so much material is based on previous knowledge, and is often brought up in class as “a brief review of something you learned in high school”. Thanks to my interest in science stemming from my summer research experience, as well as a healthy curving of grades (read: grade inflation), I was able to pull solid Bs. Although I was happy to be passing all of my science courses, I was still discouraged. Was I cut out for science? Would I ever catch up to those around me? Ultimately, because I enjoyed being in the lab so much, I decided I didn’t really care what the answers to these questions were. Whether as a research technician or the head of a lab, I figured I could be involved in research one way or another if I just kept going. Since it was hard enough to get through my classes, I initially put off doing research during the school year. Then, as a junior, I decided to return to what had inspired me to learn more about biology in the first place. While in my previous summer program, there had been a system that helped match us to labs. In college this process was much more amorphous. I had to email professor after professor, just hoping for a response. I had nothing to go on but brief descriptions of their research, but eventually felt desperate enough that it did not even matter what kind of research they were doing. Most professors didn’t respond. Sometimes I got a response asking me for my CV. The worst was receiving “advice” after sending my CV suggesting I should find something I was better at. After contacting over twenty different labs, I eventually found a lab that would take me, a home for my scientific curiosity and, most importantly, a mentor who would invest time and effort into my training as a scientist. In Martín García-Castro’s lab, I studied the development of a fascinating part of the developing embryo called the neural crest. As in my experience, it can be hard to find a good mentor, but it is worth the arduous search. If you are pursuing scientific research, at some point you will hear that you should choose a lab based on the potential mentor and not the specific research they are doing. I fully endorse this message, and encourage everyone to always keep an eye out for good mentors. I hope to be that kind of mentor some day. "After contacting over twenty different labs, I eventually found a lab that would take me, a home for my scientific curiosity and, most importantly, a mentor who would invest time and effort into my training as a scientist." Once in the lab, I had somewhat made up my mind to try the PhD route and continue with research. But in the midst of this, I had also searched for more ways to get involved with the local community. One particular thing I missed about home was speaking Spanish, my native language, on a regular basis. I volunteered as an interpreter at a free clinic run by medical staff and students. I spent most weekends not only interpreting language, but also attempting to do so in a culturally conscientious manner, attempting to convey meaning often encoded into the nuances of word choice inherent to a patient's background. This was an incredibly fulfilling experience and showed me how rewarding it was to be in healthcare. My experience made me realize the importance of diverse healthcare providers in delivering culturally competent care, especially because I was helping  patients in a community like the one that I came from. Although I was already on the path towards research and applying for graduate school, at the same time, I could not ignore this potential part of my future career that I also really valued. Thankfully, after speaking to some of the medical students that worked at the free clinic, I learned about combined medical (MD) and research (PhD) programs that could prepare me for a career encompassing both spheres that I was interested in. When I decided to apply to MD/PhD programs, I knew that it would not be easy; I would have to convince programs that I could handle the academic rigor despite my lackluster GPA and even lower science GPA. Given the difficult road ahead, I had to cast a wide net to give myself the best chance of getting accepted into a program. I applied to over 20 schools for both MD/PhD and DO/PhD programs. MD and DO medical schools have different philosophical guiding principles at their core, but both similarly train excellent physicians in a way that can be complementary to biomedical research. I also played to my strengths and focused my application on my dedication to research in order to make up for the shortcomings of my application. To further enhance my research experience, I spent an extra year as a research technician in the lab that I had been studying in during college. I found that the programs that invited me for interviews were receptive to hearing about my journey, and were at least somewhat understanding of my grades and late start in being involved in medicine. It did at times feel like I was invited to interview in spite of my grades, but I was given the chance to explain why I had received these marks in person. Program directors ultimately expressed an interest in my ability to bring a different perspective to the table as a physician scientist in training and the vast majority reassured me that the process of selecting students was about more than grades and standardized test scores. Eventually, I received some offers of acceptance (several of which came after being initially waitlisted) and have now been in an MD/PhD program for the past six years. Looking back, I am grateful for allowing myself to explore new opportunities and discover new interests. Giving myself the flexibility to re-envision my future has led me down a path where I find myself constantly challenged, but also excited about a professional future that allows me to fulfill my multiple passions. FEATURED AUTHOR Jonathan Marquez Jonathan is currently a sixth year MD-PhD student in the Department of Genetics at the Yale School of Medicine. He studies the genetics and molecular mechanisms underlying birth defects. He received his Bachelor’s degree in Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology from Yale University. After graduating, he continued his undergraduate work as a research technician in the Lab of Martín García-Castro at Yale. Jonathan is also a 2018 recipient of the Paul and Daisy Soros Fellowship for New Americans. Jonathan is passionate about mentoring future healthcare and research-oriented students from underrepresented backgrounds, including first generation and limited resource college students.

Leaving one’s family and hometown to build a better life elsewhere can be a very isolating process. Both sets of my grandparents moved from ranches in the countryside of Mexico to the city of Tampico, Tamaulipas so that my parents could grow up surrounded by more resources for education and jobs. With the same motivation, my parents decided to go even further and move to Las Vegas, Nevada to provide more for my brother and I. I imagine my grandparents and parents needed to learn so much to adapt to their new lives, which can be overwhelming for even the strongest person. Similarly, with no scientists in my family, I’ve sometimes struggled to adapt in the scientific environment. However, I’ve persevered because I believe that my presence and achievements in science will open up opportunities for myself, my family, and future generations of Latinx going into STEM careers. Feeling alone in science is often caused by the sacrifices we are expected to make to pursue it. The first sacrifice I made in my career was attending college at the University of Nevada, Reno (UNR), a 7-hour drive away from my hometown in Las Vegas, because they offered a major in neuroscience. That first year, I struggled to find a balance between studying for my classes and beginning scientific research studying sleep in fruit flies. I constantly had to remind myself that I could not find the opportunities I had at UNR in my hometown. I found myself carving out a second home within the lab as I gained more experience with research, but I also realized more and more that a life in science would be one mostly spent away from my family. This hit me the hardest when I was awarded a summer research experience in 2016 at Columbia University in New York City through the Howard Hughes Medical Institute Exceptional Research Opportunities Program (HHMI ExROP). At first, I was incredibly excited and nervous at the idea of working in the lab of one of my scientific idols, Dr. Richard Axel. I prepared for my internship by reading every paper from his lab over the last twenty years. Once I arrived and learned more about the techniques and questions being asked in the lab, I felt even more passionate about a career in science. But at the same time, I realized how far away I was from my family and how isolated this made me feel. Nevertheless, I applied to graduate schools in the hopes of returning to New York City because of how impactful my summer in Dr. Axel’s lab had been. Now, as a third year graduate student at Rockefeller University, I’ve reflected on the sacrifices I’ve made to be where I am and can imagine how a scientific career may be difficult for so many brilliant people. I’ve been privileged to have a family who understands the importance of sacrifice for a better future, but it can still be extremely hard to give up the comfort of family and friends to pursue something new and risky. This conflict often resulted in chronic self-doubt and excessive feelings of inadequacy in science, otherwise known as imposter syndrome. "My mentors were critical in helping me stay in science, assuring me that my presence and contributions were important. While I was an undergraduate at UNR, my mentors gave me a lot of independence on my projects and treated me like a graduate student because they had faith in my abilities as a scientist." At the end of my summer in the Axel lab, I met with Dr. Axel to discuss graduate programs and he assured me that any program would be lucky to have me. I’ll never forget the profound sense of confidence in myself that I gained from that meeting and from my entire experience in the Axel lab. This is part of why I decided to go to Rockefeller University, because the junior faculty there brought out that same confidence in myself that has kept me in science, which makes me feel like I am prepared and capable enough to continue. Another contributing factor to my scientific trajectory has been the support of institutions and scholarships dedicated to increasing diversity among the next generation of scientists. Most notable to me has been my summer research experience through HHMI ExROP, which transformed my scientific career by giving me an experience so different from the ones available at UNR. The annual ExROP meeting itself was impactful, bringing together all of the funded undergraduates of that summer at the HHMI headquarters in Maryland to meet each other and learn about the importance of diversity in science. It was the first time I critically thought about my identity and how it affects the way I think and approach science. Unfortunately, HHMI has suspended ExROP in order to fund their other initiatives to advance diversity in STEM, such as the Gilliam Fellowship for graduate students and investigators committed to HHMI’s mission. As a recent recipient of the Gilliam Fellowship, I continue to be inspired by HHMI and hope to be a testament to the importance of programs like ExROP and Gilliam. The opportunities for scientists from underrepresented minority backgrounds continue to increase as more institutions fund programs dedicated to supporting us. There has never been a better time for us to enter and succeed in science. The investment in us will surely lead to great science, as countless studies have shown that innovative approaches to longstanding questions come out of diverse perspectives. Funding scientists whose perspectives are unique due to their race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, and/or disability works directly to increase this diversity. When I first entered science, I prided myself on how objective my ideas were on the questions I was interested in pursuing. Now, I pride myself in how unique my ideas are due to my personal and scientific background. FEATURED AUTHOR Josue Regalado Josue is a third-year Ph.D. candidate in the Graduate Program in Biosciences at Rockefeller University. His thesis work is focused on the brain processes that support flexibility in cognition. He is also co-president of the Rockefeller Inclusive Science Initiative (RiSI), a student group aimed to promote the presence and active participation and of underrepresented minorities at Rockefeller. He is a NSF-GRFP and HHMI Gilliam fellow. Feel free to reach out to him at jregalado@rockefeller.edu. Learn more about RiSI at rurisi.com.

As a mixed-race, queer woman with an invisible disability, I always have a hard time feeling like I belong anywhere. Over the past four years, I have suffered two traumatic brain injuries that have left me with permanent symptoms including chronic pain, fatigue, and anxiety. There are days when I feel pretty good, and I can go about my life without many issues. On other days, the pain gets so bad that I have to turn off all the lights and lie in silence for hours, with nothing to distract myself. However, none of these struggles that I face are apparent on the surface. Most people meeting me for the first time assume that I am a perfectly healthy individual, leading them to make harmful assumptions about what activities I can do. When I arrived at graduate school, I quickly became isolated and adrift. It was incredibly hard for me to form meaningful friendships in a social scene centered around drinking and overworking oneself, and it was difficult for me to find someone that I could identify with. It was only through the tremendous support of my girlfriend and my family that I was able to persist through the first few years of graduate school, and I was very fortunate to have those people around me. While I do believe that certain facets of my identity made my experience in graduate school more difficult, I also believe that they serve as one of my greatest strengths. I bring a unique viewpoint whenever I enter any room at my university, and I can relate to the experiences of the undergraduate students that I teach in ways that many of my colleagues cannot. One of the most affirming moments of my entire graduate school career was when I received the National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellowship in 2018. I worked for many months on that application, including taking part in a peer review group with other graduate students applying for the fellowship. A frequent refrain that I heard among some members of my peer review group was that unlike me, they had nothing “unique” about themselves that they could “use” on their applications. The implication to me was clear: they believed that I was using my marginalized identity in my application to help me get the fellowship. As I sat there listening to one of the straight, cisgender white men complain about his privilege, I wondered if he had any idea what it would be like to live a week in my body. They had no idea the journey that I had been through to get to where I was, nor the pain and disparaging behaviors that I endured every day. Earlier that year, my girlfriend and I had been honked at and followed by a car down an empty street for several blocks when the man driving it saw us holding hands. It was the middle of the day, but I was afraid for our safety, and how that small sign of affection could cause us to be targeted. The year before, I had almost given up on pursuing a career in research when multiple students and professors at my interviews suggested that I was lazy for being unable to work longer hours, and that I would never succeed with the accommodations that I require. Due to their comments, I began pushing myself past my physical limits, which only made my health decline. On the day of this peer review session, I remember vomiting in the bathroom from the physical pain I was in and the anxiety about whether I would be able to make it to the session. Perhaps if these students in my peer review group understood my experiences, they would see how my identity shapes everything about me, and was important to discuss in my application. In the end, I was awarded the fellowship and they were not. I briefly wondered if those students would think that I received the award because of my scientific capabilities, or simply because of my marginalized status. Nonetheless, I felt invigorated by the fellowship committee’s response to my application. For the first time since I entered graduate school, someone in a position of authority had told me that my story matters, and that these parts of myself that had caused me pain also gave me a perspective that would be a valuable addition to science. I spent a long time trying to hide certain aspects of my identity for fear of how I would be treated and of experiencing negative consequences to my career. I can’t deny that I am treated differently when people find out that I am dating a woman, or when they learn about my chronic pain and fatigue. "But at this point, I have decided to be open about my life, because it could help someone like me who is looking for a role model or mentor, or simply to find a friend that can relate." At the same time, I believe that our institutions need to drastically improve their policies towards the recruitment and retention of students from marginalized communities. There is only so much that we can do to protect ourselves from the emotional toll of marginalization at the individual level, and to make scientific communities more accepting of marginalized identities that come after us. I don’t know whether my choices to be vocal about my identity and my experiences will harm my chances at a career in academia. I would be lying if I said that I was not discouraged by how few scientists from marginalized communities, especially women of color, LGBTQ+ individuals, and individuals with disabilities, I see in positions of authority. But I know that I would be overjoyed to have access to a single scientific mentor with a background at all similar to my own. I hope that I can be that person for younger scientists, and give them the advice that I wish I had received. Because of them, I have decided to be brave. FEATURED AUTHOR Emma Tung Corcoran Emma is a third-year Ph.D. candidate in the Department of Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology at Yale University. She received her bachelor’s degree from Brown University, where she discovered her interest in plant molecular biology. She currently works on plant epigenetics and is passionate about mentoring students from marginalized communities. In her free time, she enjoys reading, drawing, and watching competitive cooking shows. Feel free to reach out to her at emma.corcoran@yale.edu.

Asking what I do or where I come from is a loaded question. I am currently a graduate student studying RNA biology at The Ohio State University, but I am also a brother, friend, son, scientist, fiancé, fruit grower, and Mexican. All of these identities directly impact how I view the world, and how I do my work. Recently, it has become more apparent that the further I advance in my career, the more difficult it can be to balance all of these identities. As under-represented minorities (URM) in STEM, is vital for us to celebrate what makes us unique and diverse and stop ourselves from leaving behind these identities just to fit in with what we expect a scientist should be or how they look. Identity crisis is something that URMs constantly struggle with as we progress in STEM fields. These feelings often force us to speak and portray ourselves differently in the lab than at home. This phenomenon feels like hanging up your identity when you walk into work. My first real struggle resolving my identities occurred early on in graduate school. I was the only URM working on our lab’s floor. At the time, I felt like there were very few moments in the lab when I could express my Mexican side, and if I did, it could feel very isolating. For example, when the White House decided to phase out DACA, I was the only person on the floor with a family member directly impacted by this decision. Members in my lab could not relate to this the way that I did. It quickly became more comfortable to not include these conversations, along with other aspects of my identity, in my life as a scientist. I continued to “check out” my Mexican-ness at the door. Even though I did not feel direct pressure from my peers and mentors to change who I am, the lack of representation indirectly contributed to my feelings of inferiority in science. I value my Mexican identity, so I felt like this was not the right approach to becoming an excellent Mexican scientist and took proactive steps in an attempt to correct this. "At the time, I felt like there were very few moments in the lab when I could express my Mexican side, and if I did, it could feel very isolating... It quickly became more comfortable to not include these conversations, along with other aspects of my identity, in my life as a scientist. I continued to 'check out' my Mexican-ness at the door." Recently, I have begun to be more vocal about my experiences and tried to include some of my identity in the lab. When possible, I listen to Mexican and other Latino music and I have decorated my workspace with items that remind me of home, like my day of the dead calavera mug and a picture of my family from our most recent trip to Colorado. I also sometimes end my lab meeting presentations with a little bit of my personal life, where I include things like pictures of my vacation, books I have been reading not related to science, or my activities over the weekend.  I was surprised how interested other lab members are in learning about my culture. Also, reaching out to mentors and other Latino scientists that look more like me has helped tremendously. For example, SACNAS is an incredible organization and community that has connected me with other mentors and given me the opportunity to reach out to students that may be facing a difficult time. My SACNAS chapter has bi-monthly meetings that usually include a social event. Having this personal connection to other URM scientists has been crucial. Additionally, Twitter and LinkedIn have also been incredible resources for connecting with and reaching out to other scientists.  These platforms enable direct contact with a community of scientists from all over the world who would otherwise be out of reach. A great role model of mine once told me that me that identities do not subtract from but add to who we are. We are all of our identities, and for this reason, they should be a part of you in everything that you do. I believe diversity initiatives have made an admirable effort and many excellent programs help lift minority students towards successful science institutions. However, that only covers half of the equation as long as there is inadequate support and diversity is not celebrated. What good is to look different if we all feel pressure to act the same? It is an advantage to have our unique experiences that offer new perspectives on how we approach everyday problems. I believe we are on the right path. As we continue to look for opportunities for improvement, images of what great scientists look like will begin to include more of us. FEATURED AUTHOR Juan M. Barajas He was born in the state of Jalisco, Mexico. He and his family immigrated from Mexico to the United States when he was just a year old. They settled in Colorado where he completed his Bachelor’s degree in Biology from Colorado Mesa University. During his undergraduate training, he was introduced to research at The Saccomanno Research Institute through a work-study program. Juan is currently a fourth-year Ph.D. candidate in the Biomedical Sciences Graduate Program at The Ohio State University College of Medicine. His thesis work focuses on studying RNA biology in liver disease. He is currently a member of The Ohio State SACNAS chapter, mentor for the Discover-PREP and Aspire program, as well as a Howard Hughes Medical Institute (HHMI) Gilliam Fellow.

by the Científico Latino Team You applied to graduate schools but come April you did not receive any offers or did not get into the top schools of your choice. During this difficult time, you may be thinking, Did I prepare enough for graduate school? Should I apply to Master’s programs instead? What is the next step I should take? What are my options? "First of all, do not take graduate school rejections personally or see it as a reflection on your skills as a scientist. Before you decide to reapply again the next cycle, think about how you can improve your application." As graduate students who were also not accepted the first time we applied, we want to share options that are available to you: 1) Work as a Lab Technician — You can work as a lab tech for a year or two to build up your research experience and possibly even get a paper out your work. Choose the right lab wisely; work with an HHMI professor, Nobel laureate, or a PI who is well known in the field of study you want to go into. The letter of recommendation from this PI will definitely help you to get an interview. One of the advantages of going this route is that, depending on the school where you have a lab tech position, you can take graduate school classes. These are sometimes even reimbursed or discounted by your employer, which can help when graduate school applications come around again. Being a lab technician is a great opportunity to work on research full-time, help you develop your scientific abilities, and confirm that graduate school is really the right fit for you. You can read more here. 2) Do a Post-Baccalaureate — You can take part in a post-baccalaureate program in which you receive a stipend to do research for 1-2 years, take graduate school classes, and take the time to prepare and focus on the GREs and application essays. Most importantly, post-baccalaureates give you the opportunity to devote your time to a research project. Through your project, you can gain perspective as to what completing a research thesis requires, explore your fields of interest, and broaden your skill set and knowledge in science. Remember that post-baccalaureates are becoming an increasingly common step to take before applying to graduate school. Having experience doing research full-time will make you a more serious candidate. Experience as a lab technician or a post-baccalaureate can also give you the opportunity to network with grad students and postdocs and reach out to faculty who could help you prepare for applications and interviews, as well as write letters of recommendation. Moreover, after post-baccalaureate experience, you will have a better idea of what you are looking for in a research thesis lab and a graduate program. If you end up staying the same institution for graduate school, you will also be able to easily identify professors you want to rotate with to decide on your thesis lab. You can learn more about what this program entails here. You can also check out our list of post-baccalaureate programs. 3) Do a Master’s — While this can be a more expensive option, if you have large gaps in your relevant science coursework, this could be a good way to get you on an even track for graduate programs. Certain PhD programs even allow you to apply to the Master’s program with the same application, so you can be admitted directly to the Master’s program in the event that you aren’t accepted into the PhD program. Some institutions also allow you to transition from the Master’s program into the PhD program, allowing you to get coursework out of the way, and saving time before graduating with your doctorate. 4) Improve GRE Scores — Many graduate school or department websites have information about basic requirements for acceptance. Some schools have a cutoff minimum score as a baseline applicant filter, while others consider the GRE score as one piece of the whole application. One has the option to report the most recent score or all scores, so an improvement can replace a previous low score. If your transcripts are low in a particular area, it might also be worth considering taking a subject GRE test to indicate your proficiency. Whatever you decide, it is best to get started at the end of March so you can have something lined up by the summer. All of these experiences will shape you into a better scientist, give you more research experience, a strong letter of recommendation, and a more competitive application. Check out GSMI, our graduate school application mentorship program, if you are thinking of applying in a future cycle.

As far as I can remember, I’ve been in love with math and art. Math for its decisiveness, either the answer is 129 or it’s not. Art because there could be 129 books on the shelf of a new elementary school, 129 oranges that a retired gardener needs to sell, or 129 recipes a novice baker is working their way through, and they are all stories that deserve to be told. When I discovered chemistry in high school, a discipline that uses math and the laws of physics to understand the tiny molecules that build the beauty of the world and stories happening around us, my heart was set on studying this field. I am a first-generation Salvadoran American college graduate. Statistically, I should not have made it to where I am, but I was privileged to have had the right teachers throughout my education who acknowledged my fascination with numbers. “You could be an engineer,” said my fourth-grade teacher. I had no idea what an engineer was, but I knew you probably had to go to college to do something that sounded so fancy. My headstrong fourth-grade self decided I would go to college one day if it meant I could keep doing math. It takes a certain stubbornness to have thought I had the right application for being admitted to top colleges, and to attend Amherst College in Massachusetts when I had never set foot on a campus outside of Miami (or in snow), a certain stubbornness to decide to ignore classmates saying, “Oh, you’re Hispanic, that’s why you’re so bad at physics,” and keep studying. A certain stubbornness to be the first in my family to graduate college and decide that scientific research is my passion. The key to this stubbornness, though, is that I have not been fighting alone. The support from my teachers and mentors from elementary to college who said, “You can do this!” was the encouragement I needed to keep pursuing my love of chemistry. How many talented Latinx students don’t have a friend or mentor to say, “You can do this!”? A lot. Many Latinx students who enroll in even top colleges and universities don’t graduate. This is why I am committed to a career that will help these students, students like me, who are trying to carve their paths. I want to become a professor, but more importantly, I want to be a mentor who encourages these students’ desires to pursue higher education and fuels the talent they have. "The best support system we have is each other, other Latinx students who can say, “If I can do it, you can do it.”" Having one friendly face that came from a similar background and is achieving the same goals makes a world of a difference because it allows us to pictures ourselves there, too. By sharing our struggles and experiences with each other, I believe we can lift some of these students’ fears, and show that it is necessary to ask for help and that help exists. Helping each other succeed, we will continue building the community of talented, diverse scientists we dream about. FEATURED AUTHOR CATHY AMAYA She is currently a second-year graduate student in the Molecular Biophysics and Biochemistry Department at Yale University. She works on the morphology of the endoplasmic reticulum. She received her Bachelor’s in Chemistry from Amherst College, where she discovered her interest in the intersection between chemistry and biology. After graduation, she worked as a lab technician at MIT for two years. Cathy is passionate about mentoring future generations of underrepresented scientists and hopeful that we can work together to address the problem of lack of representation of underrepresented minorities in higher education.

As a woman in engineering, I have always taken pride in paving my own way. I was always the only girl or one of very few girls interested in science fairs while in grade school and high school, and in college, I was one of the very few women in engineering and the only Hispanic woman in my classes. Being in an environment without mentors who could truly relate to me was something I was used to and I took it as a personal token of success when I overcame obstacles regardless of that lack of mentorship. This helped me develop resilience, problem-solving, and observational skills early on that I then used to help other students in similar situations, as well as in the classroom or lab. Whether it was a school science fair, a college laboratory course, or now in my current job, coming from a different background as a woman of color in STEM has always provided me the opportunity to engage different perspectives necessary for solving complex problems. After pursuing a dual bachelor’s degree in Chemistry and Chemical engineering, I was hired at a startup company in Chicago, Illinois called Hazel Technologies, Inc. I work with a small team of intelligent scientists to develop and produce post-harvest technologies designed to extend the shelf life of fresh produce. My role shifts between synthesis, wet chemistry, and quality control, working on anything from analyzing gas chromatography data to developing products and engineering ways to manufacture them in the most efficient way possible, to testing said products on fresh produce to determine their efficacy. As one can imagine, every single step to innovate, test, manufacture, and scale up production of a new product requires collaboration, teamwork, direction, working knowledge of the task at hand, and problem-solving skills. "In particular, speaking Spanish has given me a career advantage. I am the only Hispanic woman in the small company and the only person who can speak and write in Spanish fluently." Even though my job title is a Production Scientist II, my role includes being a liaison between the company and Spanish-speaking customers here and abroad. I work closely with our patent agent to assist her in problems regarding regulation and registration of our products. Having a different mother tongue makes me a more valued employee because I can communicate with potential customers in Latin American countries and open new business opportunities for the company. Our diverse customer base includes people who may or may not be able to speak English fluently. Oftentimes, even customers who can speak English would rather talk to me than my coworkers because of an implied closeness in both of us being Hispanic. All in all, the difference in my background from that of my colleagues has given me career development opportunities I would not have had otherwise. FEATURED AUTHOR YEILYN COLÓN RODRÍGUEZ She was born and raised in Bayamon, Puerto Rico. She completed a dual degree in Chemistry and Chemical and BIomolecular Engineering in Saint Mary's College and the University of Notre Dame. During college, she had extensive research and work experience through internships in Northwestern University as a formulator in SC Johnson among others. She is currently a production scientist for Hazel Technologies.