ThinkHer

Scientific recognition does not always follow discovery. In many cases, credit moves toward senior scientists or institutions rather than toward those who first made the observation or produced the decisive evidence. This pattern is especially visible in the histories of women in science. Lise Meitner, whose work was central to the discovery of nuclear fission, was excluded from the Nobel Prize awarded to her collaborator. Rosalind Franklin’s data played a crucial role in uncovering the structure of DNA, yet her contribution remained largely unacknowledged during her lifetime. These are not isolated oversights but part of a long-standing pattern of omission in the telling of scientific history. Jocelyn Bell Burnell’s story unfolds within this same structure. Born on 15 July 1943 in Belfast, Northern Ireland, she grew up in a home where curiosity about the natural world was quietly encouraged. Her father, an architect and enthusiastic reader, introduced her to astronomy through books, w...

My first encounter with the concept of ecofeminism was during my bachelor’s degree, in an English literature elective. Until then, my ideas of feminism, environmental questions, and scientific debates sat in separate compartments—each treated as though it belonged to a different intellectual world. But the day we read Vandana Shiva’s work as part of the English coursework, ecofeminism offered a language that pulled these strands together. It argued that the exploitation of nature and the oppression of women were not distinct injustices but expressions of the same systems of power—structures built on extraction, hierarchy, and the devaluation of labour and knowledge. As I read and wrote more about gender, politics, and science over the years, the depth of those connections became clearer. Ecofeminism did not merely place women and the environment side by side; it revealed how deeply intertwined our social, political, ecological, and scientific worlds are. What happens to land is insepar...

  Science or mathematics, at its core, is inclusive. It is a space where logic matters the most, where curiosity and brilliance outrank prejudices. An equation doesn't care who solves it, a wind test tunnel doesn't ask for your skin colour. And yet, for so long, the laboratories and research centres of the world have been reserved for the privileged few. In this context, it is interesting to examine how women entered scientific institutions like NASA in the first place. “Computing” — the painstaking process of doing mathematical calculations by hand during that time — was seen as dull, mechanical work. Male engineers found it exhausting, and as an experiment, labs began hiring women instead. They were reliable, precise, and, in the eyes of the institution, inexpensive. It also freed male engineers to do what they considered “real science.” The experiment became a quiet revolution. Women excelled. Many had university degrees in mathematics but had been denied opportunities else...

 T he Moment the Music Stopped Recently, I witnessed a moment of pure, seamless team joy—a bus journey filled with amazing energy, musical talent, and unfiltered laughter among friends. It was the kind of spontaneous, high-trust environment every team member or leader strives for. Then came the catch: the singalong shifted to songs heavy with sexual innuendo, laced with lewdness and objectification. This moment brings to the forefront a painful question many face in professional life: Should we speak up about content everyone else seems to be enjoying? Will we be branded the "killjoy," isolated, or risk losing the goodwill of the group? This dilemma is amplified when family members are present, yet the reported response was a dismissive suggestion that the content would be enjoyed regardless. Created in Canva The Unfair Burden of the 'Single Voice' Speaking up for rights inherently runs risks. Gender equality is often unfairly delegated as the sole responsibility o...

“Why do scientists choose science?” Many would name curiosity, the thrill of discovery, personal ambition, or a desire for recognition. But what if a scientist were to challenge this — to say that none of those reasons are valid unless the work directly serves humanity? Françoise Barré-Sinoussi, the scientist who co-discovered HIV, does exactly that. “We are not making science for science. We are making science for the benefit of humanity,” she insists. This is the principle that has shaped her entire career.  File photograph taken on November 16, 2021, of Francoise Barre-Sinoussi Françoise Barré-Sinoussi was born on 30 July 1947 in Paris. From a young age, she was drawn to the living world — spending hours observing animals and insects, curious about how life functions at its smallest scales. However, after her undergraduate studies, she wasn’t fully convinced that a laboratory career was right for her. She resolved to test the waters: she reached out to many labs, offering to vo...