For as long as there has been science, there have been members of the LGBTQ+ community contributing to its advancement. Whilst we may now know the names of some of those more famous LGBTQ+ contributors – such as Alan Turing, Sally Ride, or George Washington-Carver – many are not and may never be known, either as a result of erasure or simply because they were never permitted to be out during their working careers. Indeed, STEM Women estimates that even as recently as 2013, some 40% of LGBTQ+ people in STEM were not out – and of those who are, 70% feel unsupported and uncomfortable in their department. In a slightly more recent survey from 2019 of UK physical scientists, some 28% of respondents – and nearly half of those identifying as trans – stated that they had considered leaving their workplace due to discrimination or the work environment.

However, beyond these small smattering of fairly limited studies, statistics for LGBTQ+ people employed within the STEM fields – and particularly those who identify as non-binary and trans – are few and far between, meaning that contemporary data on queer employees’ experiences in the workplace is patchy at best, and more often than not nowhere to be found (as I discovered whilst trying to do a bit of research for this blog post). Even within our institution, the most recent data we have access to is from 2023, and states that 5.9% of staff members surveyed identify as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, or the all-encompassing “Other” – and there is no data whatsoever on Trans and Non-Binary staff numbers, or indeed how members of the LGBTQ+ community at Lancaster feel the University represents or supports them.

So, as a long time “science nerd” and card-carrying member of the queer community, I was very excited when our Faculty’s EDI Lead, Dr Suzi Ilic asked if I would host a discussion between some of our LGBTQ+ members of staff to discuss their experiences of being queer in science as a part of Pride Month. She had read the blog post I had written for our celebration of women + in STEM as part of International Women’s Day and bafflingly enough wasn’t put off from asking me and my team to write a similar blog post for Pride.

A call-to-arms to our LGBTQ+ forum delivered four academics who were willing to discuss their experiences: Dr Alice Rees, Lecturer from the Psychology Department; Dr Malika Mezeli, an Honorary Researcher from LEC; Dr James Grant, Lecturer from the School of Mathematical Sciences, and Physics PhD student Clio Johnson.

As in my last blog, below is a transcript of our conversation – censoring some of the more “colourful” language that was banded about in the course of the discussion.

Thanks everyone for agreeing to be a part of this! To start us off, would you mind telling me a little bit about yourselves, your research, your identities etc.?

Alice: I’m a lecturer in Cognitive Psychology, and I research the psychology of language – so I’m really interested in the things that we say (or don’t say), and why we may choose not to say certain things. In terms of identities, I’m non-binary/agender. When I ask people “oh how do you know that you’re a man, a woman, whatever”, they reply “oh I just do”, and that’s just not something I can do! I’m also bisexual, but I came to that very late after already legally binding myself to a straight man.

Clio: I work in the Physics Department as a part of the Condensed Matter Theory Research Group, using numerical methods to look at quantum systems. I’m a trans woman, and I’ve been out since about 2020/2021 and I came out during my final year of undergraduate. I’m also bisexual – I’ve flipped back and forth on that one a couple of times, but I have decided that it’s right for me.

James: I’m a lecturer in the School of Mathematical Sciences, with most of my research being in statistics and machine learning, researching theory and methods of algorithmic design, especially looking at how we guarantee those algorithms will work when they’re making decisions based on complex data. As for me, I am a cis gay man.

Malika: I’m a researcher in LEC, and I do a lot with plant-soil interactions, specifically working with nematodes and the phosphorous cycle. I actually started out as an undergraduate in Critical Theory, and worked with critical geographers in cross-council bids, coming to do a PhD in later life. As far as identities go, I identify as a cis woman, and queer/bi. Conversations around identities are becoming a lot more nuanced I think, and the communities are becoming a lot more inclusive, which is why I identify as queer. But also as a half-Algerian woman whose father witnessed and fought against colonial powers, the intersection of my ethnicity and my sexuality are very important to me too.

Wonderful, thanks all for sharing. My first proper question for you is what motivated you to pursue sciences in the first place? And do you feel that any of your LGBTQ+ identities played a role in that motivation, or has that always been something that’s more separate?

Malika: My undergraduate in Critical Theory was definitely driven by my social world, and trying to understand my personal identity. And in that, I was tied a lot more to creative people and creative industries as it was somewhere where I felt more welcome, and more surrounded by the queer community, and I needed that. But then I felt that I actually wanted to go into science, even though it doesn’t feed necessarily into that sense of community that maybe I needed earlier in life. But my work with nematodes has been really interesting for me, because they are super queer! And when I went into sciences, I thought I had left that side of things behind, but I love and am comfortable talking about the queerness of nematodes – and my own identities – in front of a group of generally white, straight, cis men.

Clio: For me, my biggest motivator for pursuing sciences was my family, as they have been really supportive. But I didn’t expect to turn out trans! There’s a lot of anxiousness about how it might effect my future career I guess, but it has given me a sense of determination to just give it a go.

Alice: Personally, I’m just really interested in what makes people tick, so that’s why I ended up going down the psychology route. I’m just fascinated by how we all have a very similar biological template but we all turn out completely differently based on how we interact and who we interact with, you know? And going to an all-girls school, and growing up believing I was a girl – and being told that “science isn’t for girls” - I wanted to prove people wrong. And then the fact that I could be called “Dr” as a gender-neutral pronoun was just fantastic. That very much helped as during my PhD was when I realised I don’t really do gender.

James: I’ve always felt that my interest in science and my LGBTQ+ identity were quite separate. As a kid, I was very drawn to stats and AI, but I always felt that it was very sterile and implicitly straight – it wasn’t somewhere you would bring your whole self. It wasn’t like I was ever excluded, but the rainbow carpet wasn’t exactly rolled out either. So yeah, for me the two never really overlapped.

Ah excellent, that brings me nicely onto my next question: do you feel that the LGBTQ+ community is represented within your field and is there more that could be done to improve inclusivity within your respective fields?

Alice: So, psychology is basically four different subjects in a trench coat, and depending what branch you go into, there are some areas that are more representative and welcoming than others. Social psychology tends to attract more of those who are in the queer sphere, maybe because their topics are more aligned to that area, so I suppose those areas feel a little more safe and comfortable for me. And because I deal with language – and our language is highly tied to our identities – I think that my area of research is actually fairly inclusive.

James: Yeah, I think we have a similar kind of phenomenon that it’s actually within the sub-disciplines in your subject that there’s the difference in inclusivity. And not just queer inclusivity, but gender and race too. I think it’s because certain areas tend to draw diversity – so, for example, in social statistics or where machine learning intersects with ethics. It’s difficult to say whether it’s just due to there being more positive associations within those fields and more sharing of lived experiences, or if because people in those areas are more socially-conscious and are therefore more welcoming.

Malika: My discipline was started by a bunch of mostly straight, white, men and pivots round the very conventional, normative, imperialistic model of whiteness, so I’d say it’s probably not the most inclusive sphere in any sense. And I think a lot of that might be due to the emphasis on the experimental model and disciplinary practice. Because it’s inherently apolitical, there is the assumption that we don’t need to delve into any of these more social issues, and that has further fed this negative feedback loop. But in a department that is very interdisciplinary, I’ve definitely had far more developed conversations with, say, the human geographers than I have had with those who work within my area of soil science. So yeah, it’s quite polarising within my department, depending on whether you’re speaking to the “pure” natural scientists or not. There are a hell of a lot of people not represented, but I think the nature of the practice itself limits some of that. But at the same time, the anonymity that can afford is quite freeing as people only really care about your work, so there’s less of a focus on how you present yourself or your identities.

Interesting! Would you say that any of that might formulate some barriers to get other LGBTQ+ people to engage in certain areas of science? And how can we deconstruct those barriers?

James: Personally I think I’m quite lucky because if I choose not to disclose my queerness, I just look like part of the historical majority, so I’ve not really encountered much in the way of barriers to entering science in that way. But that privilege definitely means I have a responsibility to try and stand up and say that people from those minorities in my field are welcome. And it’s not about requiring people to disclose, it’s about giving them a safe space to show that side of them if they want to.

Clio: Yeah, definitely making it a safe space to come out (if you want to) makes those barriers less intimidating. For me, for example, when I decided I wanted to live publicly as a woman, it was quite daunting having to email the people I worked with saying “this is my new name, these are my pronouns”, and it’s a lot easier to do that if the environment you’re working in is friendly. I think encouraging the adoption of pronouns in email signatures is actually a pretty good way of being more inclusive.

Alice: I think it can be quite difficult when you learn the views of certain people who were prominent in your field or who you respected and wanted to cite, and then have found that they have less-than-savoury views of your community. That can be very difficult to navigate. Psychology in particular is historically quite a white, problematic subject and trying to decolonise it can be tricky. Do we try and teach this content? Do we not? Do we continue to acknowledge the contributions of people who perpetuated discrimination against minorities? It’s difficult because actively teaching this content could serve as a barrier to those groups for entering into our field. It’s definitely something I’ve struggled to deal with effectively in my work.

Do you think that representation plays a role in getting aspiring LGBTQ+ scientists into the field then? And who should be responsible for encouraging these minorities into the fields?

Alice: I think it’s tricky because on the one hand – why should it matter that they’re queer and you’re queer, and why should I have to advertise these things about myself when I want the focus to be on my work? You should be able to pursue science regardless of who you are, but then on the other hand, you want these people to see that they will be accepted and come and have conversations with you – and as you said James, I feel as though there is a responsibility for us to open those doors for people.

Malika: I agree, it’s a big burden for us to bear, and I feel like the responsibility for showing that the field is welcoming and inclusive should fall to those who are at the top, those who have tenure and power, to step up and publicise what work they’re doing to make those places inclusive. It’s not the woman in your team, or the queer person, or the black person’s job to do these things – as a leader, it is your responsibility.

Alice: Yes, rather than just wheeling people from those communities out as tokens and saying “look at our women/queer/minority ethnic scientists”, we need people’s help, and by that I mean we need people to do more than just show up holding a flag.

James: Yeah, there’s a huge amount of voluntary labour that is given to people within minorities, and it shouldn’t just be up to them. We need other people who might not necessarily be within those communities to offer a helping hand and not just take it for granted that it will be done by the marginalised communities – be it racial, gender, or LGBTQ+.

Those are some incredibly valid points. We’re running out of time, so I have just one last question: what would you say to your younger self about where you are in terms of your identity and your career, and do you think that there’s anything that would surprise them particularly?

Malika: Honestly, this question made me cry! I’ve just become an adoptive mum so I’ve been thinking about this sort of thing quite a lot. If I were to tell my younger self anything, it would be to just do it, just do whatever it is you want to do. Even if you’re feeling intellectually inadequate, or that you never belonged in academia because of your sexuality or ethnic identity, just put your raincoat on and do it!

Alice: In terms of what would surprise me… I mean, I thought I was straight and cis until I was about 26 because that was what I was told I was. I went to an all-girls school, so obviously I was a girl, right? We would have all sworn blind that there were no queer people in this school of over 1000 girls, so I think I would be quite surprised as a kid to find out that I was neither straight nor a girl! But I have to say, it’s been really comforting seeing the younger generation being more accepting of queerness, and things do seem to be getting brighter for them. My younger brother came out at the age of 11, and he was very happy and comfortable, and very supported by his friends.

Clio: I think that virtually everything would surprise my younger self, up to and including going into condensed matter theory! At 18, I was starting to question my identity but like, I didn’t know what my field was about back then, and I was only just starting my physics undergraduate. It took me many years to process my feelings about my gender and figure out what I am, so I think it would be a very genuine surprise to my younger self to find out that I transitioned.

James: I think my younger self would think I was having my cake and eating it to somehow both be an out, happy queer person and working as a scientist! It was something that I just didn’t think would be possible – I thought being a maths lecturer meant you dressed up like a wizard and did sums up in your tower! I just didn’t think what I am and what I wanted to do were compatible.

Do you think that things will continue to get better for the queer community then?

James: Quietly yes, but I’m almost reticent to say it because things are quite precarious. I don’t think we can afford to take our foot off the brake as we need to sustain the momentum.

Malika: Yeah, and I think discussions around queerness are becoming more nuanced and sophisticated too, but some really difficult conversations need to happen in a careful and respectful way both within our community and beyond it. And I think it’s important that we discuss not just queerness, but its intersectionality and how issues surrounding immigration, racism, sexism, disability etc. also spill into our community.

We hope to do some similar blogs exploring the role of women+ and other minority groups in STEM in the near future. If you want to get involved, or have an idea for a blog on the theme of “STEMMing the Leaky Pipeline”, please get in touch with us at fst-research-and-engagement@lancaster.ac.uk.

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