My Journey to Neuro

As a child, I was fond of the natural world and admired those who sought to explore it through asking questions. Every holiday season, I asked for presents that reflected my excitement to understand the world around me, from astronomy puzzle books and kids’ medical sets complete with a dummy for mock vaccinations to mini-archeological ‘excavation’ kits. These activities fulfilled me for years because I could learn so many things while using my hands to explore the world around me.

While the fervor I had for the natural world waned through middle and high school, I often remembered the joy it would bring me as a young girl. At one point I explored a career in law, but quickly realized the technical aspects of the field were not for me. Even so, I quickly grew interested in how changes in the human brain can lead certain people to commit crimes, and how those changes may play into how a case was prosecuted. My law teacher unknowingly set off a lightbulb in my head.

I didn’t know that neuroscience existed as a field until my junior or senior year of high school. Initially, I was interested in psychology. Through my psychology classes, I was exposed to the idea that the brain and the body are constantly receiving stimuli from the world around us, and producing a behavioral output as a response to these external cues. While I learned a lot more about how the brain can drive the maladaptive behaviors addressed in my law class, I become more interested in the brain itself, for both its architecture and how it responds to the world. No matter how interesting my psychology classes were, one thing they lacked was the hands-on experiences that I treasured as a child. I sought to fill in this missing piece through my other science courses, specifically biology. Biology classes always brought me joy because after learning biological concepts from a textbook I could then apply them in a laboratory setting. I needed to find a way to combine my appreciation for psychology and biology, so I went to Google, typed in “brain psychology and biology”, and there it was: Neuroscience.

While applying for colleges, I revealed to my high school counselor my plans to pursue this magical field of Neuroscience. I exuberantly expressed my interest in the field and confidently stated my plan to major in it wherever I chose to go for college. My excitement was completely shattered the second these words escaped her lips: “That’s not for you.”

I ran through all the possible reasons that she would say something like that to me. There was nothing on my transcript that would be particularly alarming to admissions committees. She knew I was involved in extracurriculars, maintained a good academic standing, and, most importantly, was excited to learn. She said, “You should go for something easier. You’ll drop out your first semester if you major in Neuroscience.” It hit me then that she had probably not met a Black person in Neuroscience. Ever. Even after I proclaimed that I wanted to join this exciting field, she decided that I did not fit her narrative of what a neuroscientist should look like. It hurt.

My counselor’s blatant microaggressive (arguably macroaggressive) attitude towards me and my academic goals opened the door for imposter syndrome, self-doubt, and self-critical thinking. It also fueled me to do what I could to change how she viewed a neuroscientist. Thus, this negative encounter somehow propelled me forward.

Months later I began at Agnes Scott College, where I was finally able to dive deep into the brain, disregarding my counselor’s “advice” to find something “easier”. During my sophomore year, I began working with two wonderful professors (and eventual PIs of mine) who supported me and all my endeavors, a stark contrast from the counselor who tried to stifle me. I reflect now in amazement at how the level of support you receive can make or break you.

I conducted biomedical research in college, at Agnes Scott, Emory University, and Columbia University. Each of these experiences pushed me further towards a research-based career. Over my 4 years of college, I studied mice, fruit flies, and nematodes. Being in the lab brought back the child-like excitement I had when I was doing a puzzle or when I was finding fake dinosaur bones in my mini-excavation kits. It reminded me of one of my goals in life: To always be learning.

On a less cheerful note, these experiences also showed me the lack of representation of Black women in Neuroscience. Though intellectually stimulating, each of these laboratory experiences also came with a degree of isolation, where I felt unwelcome, and I had to fight to advocate for myself. The experience of being “the only one” was prevalent and silently deafening at times. Outside of Agnes Scott, I was ignored in some labs until my last day, bullied by mentors who seemed dedicated to breaking my spirit and pushing me out. Further, I was expected to show up to work unscathed while the world around me was filling with more blatant and destructive forms of racial and social injustices.

These negative aspects of my research journey almost pushed me out. I remember struggling to open my graduate school applications in the Fall of 2020. With each click of the “Open Application” link I could hear a previous mentor mocking me in my head, like she did when I asked the simplest questions in the laboratory. I could hear my counselor telling me that this would not be for me. I could feel my stomach twisting in knots the way it did when other lab members ignored my questions or looked at, rather through, me as if I was a piece of litter on the ground that they needed to step around to get to their more important destination. 

Somehow, thinking of the larger purpose of my journey propelled me to continue. In attending graduate school, I realized I would have the chance to combat the notions of who a scientist is/should be and open more space for more people like me to have a chance. And at the most foundational level, I did not want to let these negative experiences bar me from learning in a way that was fulfilling to me.

Now as a PhD student at The Rockefeller University in New York City, I find myself living in a combination of the stories I shared. In managing my own thesis project, the explorer in me that I’ve fostered from a young age is constantly being stimulated. Being a marginalized individual in STEM, like many of us, I am faced with injustices, disrespect, and blatant disregard in our campuses and by the greater science community. Being a Black queer woman, I am compelled to help change the idea of what a scientist is “supposed” to be or look like.

In conclusion, my journey into Neuroscience taught me a lot about feeding your inner child, self-advocacy, and how there is so much work to be done to make Neuroscience diverse, equitable, AND inclusive. Scientifically, I aim to work on projects that will have an impact on human populations. Currently, my thesis project focuses on brain-ovary communication in the yellow mosquito Aedes aegypti, the deadliest creature to humans. From this work, I hope to uncover key molecules that travel between the brain and ovary of mosquitoes that allow it to make crucial decisions about biting humans. Mosquitoes kill over 700,000 people a year, so better understanding what drives their behavior is critical. It is projects and topics like these that keep me motivated as a Neuroscientist.

Outside of the lab, I aim to build community amongst Black scientists, where we can support each other in a field that continues to hinder that. Black In Neuro has provided a community for us to make our own inclusive environments while also reminding the larger STEM communities that Black scientists are present. As I continue to progress, I hope to contribute to the field in a way that can increase the representation of Black people in these spaces, while also uplifting the amazing contributions of those around me. I firmly believe that we are all in these journeys together and that togetherness is what keeps me going in Neuro.