Welcome to the Queer Science Lab! Presumably you are here because something about the title piqued your interest. Frankly it could be any part of that title. The “queering” part is a sign that there is gaiety here. Perhaps the “science” part interested you because you find comfort in learning how the world works. Or maybe you had never thought about these two things in the same place, and the combination made you spit coffee/tea at your screen in sheer shock. Regardless of which one it is, welcome to the lab!
Perhaps, I should probably introduce myself. I am Ev Nichols, your lab technician. Currently, I am a Ph.D. candidate (read: late-stage graduate student) studying biology at Stanford University. For my thesis, I am researching the process of brain1 development. I have been doing research in this field for 7+ years and have published multiple studies that look at neuroscience at the level of cells in development and regeneration.
I am also a trans, non-binary woman whose pronouns are she/her/hers or they/them/theirs. I began my transition in early 2022, during my third year of grad school and at the age of 25. One of the first times that I mixed my queer identity and my scientific identity was when I came out to my thesis committee. My thesis committee is the collection of faculty who are responsible for monitoring my intellectual progress and who will ultimately decide whether I merit a Ph.D. My committee is made up of three men, and I came out to them before coming out to my lab (read: coworkers). At that time, it seemed logical that this would be the order of things: The thesis committee is more important in the long run, so they should know first. In retrospect, I’m not sure this logic holds up;;;
In addition to these identities, I am white and neurodivergent (OCD, autism). I was raised in an upwardly mobile, middle-class household in Akron, Ohio. I still joke that I am just a kid from Akron. I graduated from the University of Notre Dame (go Irish!) in 2019 with a major in neuroscience and behavior and began grad school at Stanford the following fall. While I try to remain detached from ivory tower hegemony, I cannot deny the immense privileges that lie at the intersection of my race, class, and educational background. I aim to use these privileges well and in the service of others.
I am also a science educator. In early January 2021, three friends (Taylar Hammond, Billie Goolsby, and Iris Mollhoff) and I launched a new class in Stanford’s Department of Biology: Building Up Developing Scientists (bioBUDS). This class was the brainchild of Taylar (who attended Stanford as an undergrad and for grad school). We aimed to institutionalize community and resource sharing from a design justice framework built around experiences of first generation or low income (FLI) students who often lack social and navigational capital in Academia. Our first class was on Zoom, but we are now meeting in-person each quarter with three distinct curricula, including an annual research internship for undergraduate students new to research. Our internship is the first paid research program in Stanford’s Department of Biology in its history. (Stanford Biology was founded in 1922.) Helping build bioBUDS from the ground up has brought me so much joy over the last few years and helped me refine my academic interests in new and unexpected ways. I probably wouldn’t be starting the Queer Science Laboratory if I never got involved with bioBUDS!
What is “queer science,” anyway?
I’m going to be honest. When this question was first posed to me last fall, I had no idea how to answer it. But, I did understand the problem: Academic science is rooted in white supremacy and seeks to use the authority of scientific knowledge to legitimize the knowledge and practices of cisgender, heterosexual white men. The institution of science oppresses so many, including (but definitely not limited to) queer folks. Personally, I have been subjected to transphobic harassment in my lab, in my department, and at scientific conferences.2 Medically, science as an institution has historically pathologized queerness, preferring queer folks as deviant objects of inquiry rather than valid humans. This alienation from the “knowledge” that is produced is most acute for queer folks of color who were systematically been excluded from initial studies in sexology. Intellectually, the scientific manuscripts that were produced often contain transphobic language – language still used in classrooms today.
So if that is where we are starting, then “queering” science is a transition toward an enterprise that affirms queerness in all people. This project will require a collective critical consciousness of the systemic issues that maintain the white, cisheteropatriarchal system we currently have. I believe that this movement should not be confined to the purely academic. Despite its flaws, science generates some valid knowledge about the world around us, and this knowledge can be both interesting and important to know. The scientific establishment has a responsibility to share this knowledge, not least of all because most science in the United States is funded using taxpayer (i.e. the public’s) money. In this way, science has a political dimension.
Politics often employs the authority of science to promote narrow partisan interests. Queer people have been continuously conscious of this reality – from political inaction in the face of the AIDS epidemic to the ongoing assault on queer and trans rights by state and national legislators who use the authority of science as a false justification for cruelty. These politicians dress up arguments about the right of queer and trans people to exist in society as mere declarations of biological principles about sex and gender. Trans folks demonstrate these arguments to be wrong through our lived experiences. But, conservative arguments also lack basis in reality. For example, immutable and binary sex designations do not account for the over 5.3 million people in the US who are intersex. Intersex folks are valid regardless of the bad faith politicking of the moment.
Yet, the simplicity of the conservative argument combined with the appeal to science is convincing to many people. Challenging this false authority and misleading simplicity requires amplifying the accurate information into the collective consciousness. To be clear, queer and trans lives are valuable regardless of the underlying scientific theories. We do not need to justify our existence. However, we must defend ourselves from those who wish us harm, and bad faith arguments assailing our basic rights must be exposed. It is my hope that this space will be a new line of defense in this ongoing struggle.
That’s nice, but what does that mean for me (the reader)?
You can expect a post every 1-2 weeks that focuses in on a STEM topic, practitioner, or ideal examined from a queer perspective. Given the sprawling project of queering science, these topics will be varied. I hope to reframe already existing knowledge; promote historical and contemporary queer scientists; highlight connections between science, society, and politics; and challenge metatheories of science from the perspective of queerness. In each post, I’ll provide some basic scientific background information (including links where you can learn more if interested), try to “queer” it, and examine some future facing or real-world connections. The best part is that you don’t have to wait long for the first edition. Dropping tomorrow is the ultimate 2 for 1 special on estrogen and testosterone. Why should these two share the stage? Subscribe find out.
But let me also tell you what this isn’t.
This is not a health advice newsletter. I am not a doctor or trained medical professional. If you have concerns about your personal health, please consult your doctor. When I approach the topic of estrogen and testosterone, I think about them as small chemicals the enter cells to change how they function. And I actually think they’re pretty interesting! Yes, many of us have heard about the effects of estrogen and testosterone on the body. But just maybe, the underlying biochemistry will have something to tell us about the role they play in the construction of our selves.
Yet, it is not the only factor in this process. The construction of gender is a multifaceted process that cannot be isolated from a specific social atmosphere. Many people point to biology when describing their gender, but it is not a universal sentiment. And that’s ok! I hope to promote a base of knowledge that does not marginalize these perspectives but instead coexists with them. No one newsletter or person will be able to fully accomplish that task, but I hope to be able to contribute to the best of my ability. So, we will see where this takes us! I can see lots of possibilities, but one post at a time.
I hope that this space can be a lively lab where ideas are generated communally. If you have suggestions on things I should cover, let me know!! My point of view is solely my own as a white, neurodivergent trans woman with training in developmental neuroscience. My positionality biases the ideas I can come up with but that does not mean that you must sit at your computer and passively absorb the ideas I subject you. I want this to be an opportunity for me to grow and learn too! I invite you to help me in this process!
Last, I ethically will never put this content behind a paywall. We all have a right to this knowledge, and charging for access would perpetuate classist inequities in science and education.
Thanks so much for joining me. If you’ve made it this far, then you should come back tomorrow for estrogen and testosterone 101. Is there really a hormonal binary? Subscribe to the Queer Science Lab to find out!
Not brain. I study nervous system development in C. elegans, a nematode worm. C. elegans do not actually have a brain as most people think about it. Instead, they have a “nerve ring” that is made of bundles of neuronal branches that coordinate the worm’s behavior and functioning. The nerve ring is analogous to a brain.
To avoid trauma dumping, I will share these stories only when they are relevant. Trust me. I don’t spilling the tea.