Transcriber: Trang Phạm Reviewer: Michael Nystrom
Mom, why did God take someone’s mommy?
Why did she get sick and not get better?
What is cancer?
These were questions that no one had the answer to,
and we were all reeling to figure them out
after my aunt passed away from a hard battle with breast cancer.
At age five, I had no clue what cancer even was.
All I knew was that I couldn't begin to understand what was going on.
I learned that life doesn’t always make sense
and doesn’t always have an answer.
However, it also instilled in me a need to question
and a need to understand that has driven me ever since.
As I grew up, however, these questions withdrew beneath a fear to raise my hand,
to stand out, or to embarrass myself.
I thought that you had to be an expert for your voice to matter.
I had no clue at the time that, in reality,
a scientist is anyone brave enough to dream and to ask questions.
So in 10th grade, I joined a science research class
where the goal was to create a science fair project.
I was really interested in nanoparticles,
which are these small particles that exist on the nanoscale,
meaning that they’re around 100 times smaller
than the thickness of a human hair.
They are a really powerful tool for engineering and innovation,
and I wanted to use them as a drug delivery system in cancer
to specifically target tumor cells and to improve outcomes.
Now, at the time, I was an enthusiastic 15-year-old,
not that different from a young five-year-old me
pushing against the friction of having little true understanding
of what I was talking about,
trying my best to articulate scattered ideas
and to gather the courage to reach out.
After dozens and dozens of emails around the country,
I emailed my future mentor a project proposal
and a list of questions from reading some of his papers.
His response to me was, “Where are you working now?”
which made me laugh as the only place I was working
was in the library to finish my homework.
(Laughter)
As we began to meet regularly, however, he would ask me question after question,
actually curious to hear my thoughts and eager to brainstorm together.
Now, at the time I only had minimal scientific training
and felt completely underqualified to be there.
I was in 10th grade.
I felt no match for those I met whose names were followed by M.D., Ph.D.,
and a slew of other degrees.
I had only just learned about chemical reactions in school
and was terrified to ask the wrong questions,
waste people’s time,
or to fail in the face of my inexperience.
I didn’t feel as if I was capable of making any difference.
However,
my mentor didn’t quite see it this way.
Rather, my inexperience and curiosity gave me
a fresh set of eyes, free from accepted boundaries.
For years, our conversations were punctuated by “any other questions?”
with the expectation for more and more
to actually challenge his assumptions and ideas.
During these meetings, I would stand at the whiteboard,
Expo marker in hand,
being quizzed on cancer biology,
sketching out new nanoparticle designs, and working to piece together ideas.
Through this,
we created a novel nanoparticle formulation
to treat breast cancer
by taking a lot of old parts and old concepts
and recycling them together into a new idea.
And through this,
I began to answer a lot of questions that younger me had.
I learned
not just to accept knowledge and ideas,
but rather to question how we found them,
what they mean, and how else we can understand them.
I found that the whole point
in the whole privilege of education is to break open preconceived notions
rather than to just confirm what we already know.
And this starts with anyone with a question.
With the help of my mentors,
my need to know more helps me to find a seat at the table,
treated as an honorary postdoc and affectionately known as “Little One.”
(Laughter)
Sometimes the biggest ideas
start from the smallest of questions from anyone
brave enough to ask and to trust that their voice truly matters,
which, believe it or not, in five-year-old me,
certainly would not believe that her questions led her here.
It was me at 15 years old
with significant support and encouragement
from my family and lab in a lifetime of questioning.
And I learned
that every voice has the capacity and the power to ask these questions.
Meeting with my mentor,
as I sat paralyzed by his complex research,
I began to notice a recurring pattern.
He always said “we.”
I was scrambling to piece together his sentences,
yet was struck by the fact that despite this being his lab,
every idea, patent, and paper was his teams together.
And I realized then
that my voice, too,
had a place on this team.
I began to attend weekly journal club and lab meetings, presenting my findings,
spending countless hours working and dreaming,
and also finding a sense of belonging.
Much as one sees distinct brushstrokes looking at a painting up close
and a few feet back,
they blend together into this beautiful image.
So too is the makeup of science in our greater world.
We are each one unique, colorful dot in the painting of life.
In claiming our spot, we do our best good together
with a multitude of voices, experiences, and dreams.
We must start by being brave enough to ask,
no matter how young or inexperienced we may feel,
to know that we belong
and to work to spark change.
Well, not every idea or every question
is going to be possible.
And believe me - I found that out the hard way.
It is the force behind them
that constant need to know more
that will drive the next generation of change.
Questions allow us to see the sky differently,
to look at the leaves differently, and to dig into our deepest interests.
Questions ...
are how we try to make sense of the world around us,
no matter how hard they are to answer.
The scientific field seems barricaded by the need for expertise and experience.
It is shrouded in degrees and qualifications.
But what science really needs is to be challenged by new voices
and to break the mold of who and what a scientist can be.
Because, in reality,
a scientist is anyone brave enough to dream and ask questions.
Something five-year-old me never quite gave up on.
Thank you.
(Applause)