Graphic by Ivory Morales/OutWrite
Content warning: queerphobia, brief mentions of racism and ableism
I’m near the end of the room, tracing each student with my eyes. It’s my first day of discussion at UCLA, and my biology TA has us going around the room saying our name, year, major, and a fun fact about ourselves. My heart thuds in my chest and my instincts tell me to run. My name is Claude now — I no longer have the comfort of living in a cisgender girl’s skin.
As the countdown of people crawls closer to me, I think of what my fun fact should be. I have a cat? I collect bones? My favorite game is Minecraft?
But I already know what my fun fact is: I’m transgender.
No one else mentions their pronouns — not even the conventionally attractive “liberal-ally” girl who goes before me, nor my “inclusion matters” TA. When my turn comes and everyone turns to stare at me (I am the only visibly alternative and queer student there), I take a breath and prepare to expose myself.
“Um, my name is Claude, I use they/them and he/him pronouns, I’m a first-year psychobiology major, and my fun fact is that I collect ethically sourced bones.”
There’s a prolonged pause, and then it’s off to the next person. The moment my mouth shuts I’m already kicking myself internally, but the other part of me says I should be proud. Some of the people after me decide to share their pronouns. Most of them don’t.
Being queer is hard anywhere, but this is a sentiment that especially manifests in the experiences of queer people in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM). One annual study published in the United Kingdom found that about 30 percent of people identifying as LGBTQ+ have chosen not to pursue careers in STEM out of fear of discrimination. Though the study was published in 2021, the message still stands as more anti-queer legislation is churned out by the day.
This trend extends to the United States as well. A study in 2021 emphasized how queer people in STEM workplaces experience greater levels of harassment, limited career opportunities, and professional devaluation. Adverse figures like these reflect how institutions force many queer people to abandon the fields they love.
But we don’t need statistics and scientific studies to prove that queerness is alienated in society, especially in STEM. I can attest to the subtleties (though sometimes not so subtle) of anti-queerness that linger in lectures, classrooms, and curricula, despite how progressive UCLA claims it is. Even knowing all this, I still want to see how far the disparity goes — what about other queer Bruins in STEM?
I reached out to two student entities to explore various perspectives: my former TA from a psychological statistics class I had taken and the Learning Assistant program, QueerSpace. In total, I had the opportunity to connect with three people: Riley Marshall (they/them): a Ph.D. student in Social Psychology and my former TA, Owen Bella (he/him): an undergraduate student double majoring in Chemistry and Neuroscience, and Tucker Gruber (they/he): another undergraduate student majoring in Neuroscience with a minor in Science Education.
I realized that I wasn’t alone in my mixed experience of being “out” after asking about their experiences openly identifying with queer identities in their respective spaces.
“I try to be ‘out’ as much as I can,” Marshall said, “yet I still feel that a large portion of people easily forget my pronouns… I don’t always ‘out’ myself to faculty or coworkers I don’t foresee interacting much with, primarily because you don’t always know who you’re talking with, and sometimes it doesn’t feel worth the breath.”
Gruber described a similar experience: “In my academic and professional life, I feel that I am no less open about my identity. But because of the nature of professionalism, fewer people are aware that I am queer and trans.”
I can also attest to the experiences of having my transness be neglected among my STEM peers. If my groupmates saw my dead name in an old email, they would pose the question about which name is the “right” name, even though I very clearly presented myself as “Claude.”
Being out is a gamble for many queer people in STEM, because who knows if exerting the emotional energy to explain ourselves will even change the way people and academic institutions blatantly disregard and often disrespect our identities? On an individual level, being out to the wrong person risks professional repercussions considering the dominance of homophobia and transphobia in the field.
When asked about inclusivity in STEM, I received even more discouraging takes. Bella said, “Personally, being queer has [been] isolating at times.” Gruber echoed these sentiments, emphasizing how they “feel ostracized from UCLA’s STEM program” as opposed to feeling “more comfortable” sharing their pronouns in humanities courses. Their experiences resonated with me. Too many times, I have been the only queer person in my biology classes, or the only one to share my pronouns — and yet the only one to have their identity disregarded.
These barriers to inclusivity extend to even higher levels within UCLA. As a part of UCLA’s graduate program, Marshall notes that “the biggest thing [in understanding UCLA’s stance on inclusivity] was realizing that the fellowship application portal for graduate students only has ‘man’ and ‘woman’ for gender.”
Even UCLA’s faculty and staff experience ignorant treatment, as genderqueer professors and TAs in STEM classes are misgendered by students, LAs, and TAs alike. In my fall quarter of 2023, I overheard other students refer to Marshall as “she” and “her” countless times. I have witnessed people in all positions — students, LAs, and TAs — from my previous courses ignore my genderqueer professor’s pronouns, even though they were denoted in their email signatures.
Even though queer inclusion is something that UCLA promotes through its LGBTQ Resource Center, Pride Admit Weekend (PAW), Gender, Sexuality, & Society LLC, and other queer-centered programs, there are shortcomings within almost every department and field that often go undiscussed. Bella stresses how these contradictions between inclusive measures and queerphobia can “feel performative at times.”
For many of UCLA’s STEM classes, undergraduate students volunteer as Learning Assistants (LAs) to work with TAs in classrooms and support student learning. Within the LA program are specific identity-based peer groups; QueerSpace, which Gruber and Bella are both part of, is one such group. QueerSpace meets daily and aims to provide a space for queer LAs to meet and support each other while tackling the problem of inclusivity across various classes.
One of the goals of QueerSpace has been to promote LGBTQ+ competence in STEM classes and curriculum. A notable achievement for QueerSpace was pushing for the Life Science 7 (general biology) series to employ inclusive language. For example, instead of using “mother” or “father” when speaking about genetics, the language in the curricula was changed to “XX parent” and “XY parent.”
Some departments, such as chemistry and physics, remain resistant to change, particularly those where professors have more jurisdiction over their own content. Gruber explains how QueerSpace has tailored informative resources for faculty undereducated about queer inclusivity, but those efforts “aren’t taken seriously unless they are released (and ideally mandated) by the UCLA administration.” However, the fact that student-led efforts such as QueerSpace can exist and take steps towards change is a feat in itself that should be recognized as progress.
A lasting criticism of UCLA is the lack of intersectional inclusivity. To be a queer STEM student is one thing — but what if you’re also a student of color and/or disabled? Gruber noted how many of their QTBIPOC (queer, trans, Black, Indigenous, people of color) friends in STEM “have felt like they were forced to choose between being a queer person in STEM or a person of color in STEM.”
This is another shortcoming that has directly impacted me. Being both Corean and trans/queer has made me feel especially isolated in academia, where most of my queer peers still benefit from institutions of power: most often white privilege.
When I walk into my next STEM classroom, I probably will still feel like the only burst of queer color amid those who blend in with “normal” identities. As healing as it is to hear other people’s experiences, there is no denying the fact that there is still much to do to pursue a future where queer Bruins do not have to endure this othering.
This is not all to say that UCLA’s STEM program is doomed for queer people. Although we share the collective weight of our negative experiences, continuing to stride forward together despite our marginalization builds a sense of solidarity and community. From the words of my peers, I could sense budding hope for the future of queer inclusivity in STEM at UCLA.
“Meeting fellow queer and trans students in my STEM classes always brings me so much joy! Having a queer and trans professor this quarter makes me so happy,” said Gruber. “I have also met quite a few LGBTQ+ grad students at UCLA who are pursuing degrees in STEM fields, and I have felt immensely inspired by them and their passions.”
Marshall said, “I’ve found a great community of fellow queer graduate students in the department!”
If there’s anything I have learned from my time at UCLA as a STEM major, as well as the experiences of others through these interviews, it is that we in the queer community are so much stronger than we give ourselves credit for. Even the very act of existing is an act of resistance when left in spaces where we are unaccounted for. Hearing about moments of queer joy in STEM from others in my community and thinking about the small instances where I have felt seen, I believe there is hope in creating and maintaining a community that can become the center of pursuing intersectional equity. To conclude my interviews, I asked my three participants for any last messages they wanted to share with UCLA and their fellow Bruins.
“Do what makes you happy/comfortable! You got this!” – Bella
“Science is still learning that not everything is an objective fact and that bringing in our own perspectives is still good science… There’s certainly work to be done, but I also think that there’s a lot of students who are going to keep pushing until it happens.” – Marshall
“Keep fighting! Keep sharing your pronouns!… Keep learning! Keep pursuing your STEM passions!… [Be] the best queer person in STEM that you can be and inspire those around you… To all my queer people in STEM, I see you, I admire you, and I thank you for being who you are. Let’s keep queering the future of STEM together.” – Gruber
Credits:
Author: Claude Chung (He/They)
Artist: Ivory Morales (They/Them)
Copy Editors: Ariana Castro (She/Her), Emma Blakely (They/She/He)