ThinkHer

I had heard of Bertha Lutz before—as a women’s rights activist, a leader in Brazil’s suffragist movement, and one of the four women who signed the UN Charter in 1945, the document that officially established the United Nations. That’s how she’s usually remembered: a fierce feminist, a diplomat, someone who stood her ground at the world’s most important political tables. But what surprised me was where else her name shows up—not in laws, monuments or even street names, but in frogs and lizards!! It turns out Bertha Lutz was not only a political force, but also a trained biologist and naturalist. Before her name became tied to international diplomacy, she was studying amphibians at the Sorbonne and working as a researcher at Brazil’s National Museum. Her background in biology wasn’t a footnote—it shaped the way she thought, worked, and fought. She approached activism with the same discipline and curiosity she applied to science. I’m often struck, in conversations with fellow researchers,...

Microfeminist actions often emerge as responses to daily frictions—small slights, subtle exclusions, and invisible burdens that compound over time. Take the workplace, for instance. A recent study shows that 40% of women reported experiencing microaggressions, harassment, or both at work in the past year [1]. Paired with the unequal load of domestic responsibilities, these experiences create a constant undercurrent of inequality. For many, microfeminist acts are a way to push back against these imbalances, to claim space, and to foster dignity in places that rarely offer it freely [2].  We tried to understand why our respondents chose these acts of microfeminism, hence we asked the question "   What motivates you to do these acts ?" Made in Canva We came to realise that for many, microfeminist acts arise from a deep frustration with how society continues to downplay women's authority, intelligence, and autonomy.   “It’s normalized for men to give their opinions ...

I remember how, during my years of higher education, students in the sciences were seen as the most apolitical. Unlike universities, India’s scientific research institutions actively discouraged student politics.  When we had a few protests organized on campus, and there were professors who told students that if they were absent from the lab to participate in the protests, they should not come back to work.  This was all justified by the belief that science 'should not be politicized.' But I often felt the discomfort of being asked to detach my intellect from the political realities around me.  I knew that this so-called objectivity wasn’t objective at all, but a quiet reinforcement of the status quo. Wangari Maathai through protests and recognitions Reading about Wangari Maathai brought this tension into sharper focus. She was the first woman in East and Central Africa to earn a Ph.D. in Biology—and she refused the apolitical ideal so often pushed in scientific instituti...

When you pick up the memoir of a Nobel Prize-winning scientist detailing a groundbreaking discovery, you expect to be inspired. You anticipate admiration for the brilliance and perseverance of those involved. What you don’t expect is to finish the book with a deep sense of anger and resentment toward its author. Yet that’s exactly what happened when I read ' The Double Helix'  by James Watson, his account of the discovery of DNA’s structure. Instead of inspiration, I was left with a heavy heart for Rosalind Franklin, who should have been known as a co-discoverer along with Maurice Wilkins, Watson, and Francis Crick.   Rosalind Franklin  © Novartis Foundation Born on July 25, 1920, in Notting Hill, London, Rosalind Franklin grew up in an affluent Anglo-Jewish family that valued education for both men and women. A brilliant and independent child, she excelled at St. Paul’s Girls’ School, where she developed a strong passion for science. She went on to study chemistry a...

An average woman (or a menstruating person) has periods approximately 500 times over a lifetime, that is almost seven years of their life, and 29 liters of blood [1]. Periods are such an ingrained reality of all of our experience, and yet we are not sure how it is supposed to be. The experience varies widely from person to person. Bleeding can last anywhere from three to seven days, with flow ranging from light spotting to heavy loss exceeding 80ml (which can be considered menorrhagia). Symptoms like cramps, bloating, and fatigue also differ significantly, leaving many to question what constitutes a “normal” period. Despite this variability, society has normalized period pain (dysmenorrhea), with many dismissing severe discomfort as an unavoidable part of womanhood—even when it disrupts daily activities like work or school. This dismissive attitude often leads to underdiagnosed conditions, such as endometriosis or polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), perpetuating stigma and delaying neces...

In my academic years, I often found myself in heated discussions with colleagues about the paradoxical nature of scientific pursuit. We would marvel at how some of our peers, despite their rigorous training in science, held onto deeply irrational biases—especially against women and marginalized groups. “ What’s the point of doing science if you can’t rise above prejudice? ” we would ask. But the reality is that science and scientific training do not exist in a vacuum. It is shaped by the social and political biases of its time, and scientists, no matter how brilliant, are not immune to these influences. This realization hit me hardest when I learned about Kamala Sohonie’s encounter with the legendary C.V. Raman.   During my PhD, I used Raman spectroscopy as the primary tool to study phase transitions in condensed matter systems. My thesis introduction paid homage to his groundbreaking ideas and his legacy as an experimentalist. So, it was both shocking and ...

I recently attended a Richard Bona concert with my partner, who is an avid fan. The performance was incredible, and afterward, Bona was signing t-shirts outside the hall. My partner, eager to meet him, rushed to the front of the line but froze in awe when it was finally his turn. As he hesitated, others—mainly women and Black men—pushed past him to get their moment with the musician. I pushed him forward, determined not to let him miss his chance. This moment made me reflect on why some people push through while others wait. I realized that those who wait often do so because they are accustomed to receiving opportunities without having to assert themselves—a privilege not everyone shares. Meanwhile, others (except the entitled opportunists) must push their way through to claim their chances. I am someone who pushes through crowded spaces, demands action, speaks up, and insists on being heard. I get irritated when asked to be softer or quieter, and I wonder if this assertiveness stems f...