Canadian astrophysicist Louise Edwards is used to answering some of the universe’s toughest questions. But right now she’s trying to answer this one: How many Canadian black astronomers does she know?
Edwards, an associate professor in the physics department at California Polytechnic State University, is talking to while sitting in a friend’s brightly lit barn near her home in Berkeley, California.
She ponders the question and turns her head to the right, facing the white wood paneled walls. She is thinking hard.
“Ummm,” she says, looking into the distance. “There are definitely a few new graduates that I know.”
She pauses and smiles. ‘I know a few physicists. And a few people in the astronomy of education.’
It’s clear she’s having a hard time.
“Yeah, they’re very few,” Edwards finally says. “I don’t know if there are other people who are not currently working as students [but] as astronomers who are Canadian. I don’t know. I would imagine I would know them.”
Canada has some of the world’s most talented astronomers, astrophysicists and physicists. there is Victoria Kaspicwhose work on pulsars and neutron stars earned her Gerhard Herzberg Canada’s gold medal for science and engineering; Sara Seager, a world-renowned astronomer and planetary scientist at MIT who earned a “genius” grant from MacArthur in 2013 and is a leader in exoplanet research; and James Peebles, who won the 2019 Nobel Prize in Physics†
One thing do they have in common? They are all white.
Black astronomers are rare in North America, but especially in Canada. Within the community, members share stories of discrimination, micro-aggressions and feelings of isolation, which can ultimately prevent others from pursuing careers in the sciences.
#BlackinAstro
Monday marked the beginning of Black in Astroweek, which was created in June 2020 by Ashley Walker, a black astrochemist from Chicago. His goal? To use social media and hashtags to raise the voices of black scientists working in various astronomical fields.
The annual event grew out of a May 2020 incident in New York’s Central Park. Christian Cooper, a black bird watcher, asked a woman – who was white – to leash her dog. Instead, she called the police and falsely accused Cooper of harassing himr. It was the same day George Floyd was murdered by police in Minneapolis†
Shortly after the Central Park incident, a social media movement with #Blackbirders started on Twitter. The goal was to increase recognition of black people who love birds and to draw attention to the bullying they often receive. Soon a broader movement began with #BlackinX, where black scientists from other fields were similarly elevated.
Last week, Walker co-authored an article in the journal Nature Astronomy titled: “The Representation of Blackness in Astronomy”†
We are looking forward to #BlackSpaceWeek†#BlackInAstroWeek next week we spoke with @That_Astro_Chic and other members of the Black In Astro Community about their experiences: https://t.co/sTK3xr8omx @BlackInAstro #AAS240 pic.twitter.com/UQGE97P3qw
A similar article appeared in Wired magazine on June 7, entitled: “The Unwritten Laws of Physics for Black Women‘, which examined the experience of black women in physics academy.
The thread that weaves through the stories of these scientists is one of isolation. They struggle with being the only black person in a particular program or classroom; their ideas are not valued; and there are no – or few – black mentors.
According to the American Physical SocietyBlacks make up about 15 percent of the U.S. population ages 20-24, but only about three percent of those who earn a bachelor’s degree in physics. For PhD students, that number drops to just over two percent.
In Canada, the ratio is similar.
Kevin Hewitt, a professor in the physics and atmospheric sciences department at Dalhousie University in Halifax, led a study for the Canadian Association of Physicists (including those in the field of astronomy and astrophysics) in 2020. It found only one percent of respondents aged 18-34 identified as black† In the wider Canadian population, six percent of people between the ages of 18 and 34 identify as black.
“Black Canadian physicists, we’re a pretty small number,” Hewitt said. “I personally know about 10 others, including students and teachers.”
High School Challenges
Hewitt is active in bringing STEM to black youth. He was co-founder of Imhotep’s Legacy Academy, a STEM outreach program in Nova Scotia for black students. His programs include the Young, Gifted and Black Future Physicists Initiativea summer camp in Dalhousie.
Why are there so few black Canadian scientists in general, but especially those seeking careers in astronomical science?
One of the problems can be found in the education system.
Take the province of Ontario, for example. Until recently, high schools there had a “streaming” program, which directed students to various post-secondary routes. “Academic” courses were more challenging and required for college; “applied” courses prepared students for college and professions; and “essentials” provided support for students in meeting the requirements to graduate.
2017, a report headed by Carl Jamesa professor of education at York University in Toronto, found that only 53 percent of black students on the Toronto District School Board attended academic programs, compared with 81 percent of white students and 80 percent of other racialized students.
Conversely, 39 percent of black students were enrolled in applied programs, compared with 16 percent of white students and 18 percent of other racialized students.
“What we found in that study were many of the… [Black] parents talked about how their children were being enlisted in vocational or essential or primary courses,” James said. Some parents tried to “step in,” he said, but their concerns fell on deaf ears.
A need for early support
James says that another aspect is that some cultural groups tend to want their children to enter certain higher professions, such as law or medicine. If a child expresses a desire to pursue a program of study beyond what their parents want or know, they may not be supported.
†[Parents] maybe they know a teacher, maybe they know lawyers, but they might not know much about engineers. They may not know much about science,” James said. “The question for some parents might be, how can I support my child in those areas if [I’m not familiar] with it?”
Hakeem Oluseyi, an astrophysicist and STEM educator in the US who is active in the astronomical community, believes that scientific literacy and interest in science starts at home.
“The point I always make is that you can’t raise the kids without educating the adults,” he said. And parents who go so far as to teach their children math and science at home have an even greater advantage.
But James doesn’t think that’s enough.
“We just can’t look at the why and what we should be doing as just the parents — because as a parent I could do everything possible,” he said. Still, he acknowledged that many black children fail in science because “someone… didn’t engage and support them.”
A lack of black mentors
That’s a big part of the problem. A report of the American Education Advisory Board (EAS) found that 40 percent of black college students drop out of STEM-related programs across the country. While there’s no definitive reason, the study suggested it could be related to discrimination within academia and that recurring sense of isolation. (Although there is some data on race in canadian universitiesthere are no equivalent data on those who leave STEM-related studies.)
This does not surprise James.
“You can have the skills and the ability. But at the same time, once you’re in that position, you’re undermined in every way,” James said. “How long are you going to live in that situation?”
Margaret Ikape, a PhD student at the University of Toronto’s Dunlap Institute for Astronomy and Astrophysics, says she has had a largely positive experience in her field. But she too has the feeling of being alone in her community.
“You feel you are taking a new path,” says Ikape, who is originally from Nigeria. “You don’t see anyone like you who did it for you, and so it’s really scary.”
She wishes there were more mentors. “Sometimes I feel like I’d rather talk to someone who probably understands where I’m coming from.”
That there is discrimination — implicit or explicit — or even a sense of alienation shouldn’t come as a surprise, Oluseyi says.
“You know, there’s a standard frame of, ‘Oh, [astrophysics is] so racist,’ and yadda, yadda, yadda. And I’m going to argue that, of course, because we’re embedded in a society,” he said. “And that greater society is definitely coming into our field, and who we are in our field is a subset of society.”
Back in sunny California, Edwards reflects on her own experience and says she was lucky in some ways. Growing up in Victoria, BC, a very white city, she had already experienced a sense of isolation, so it was nothing new to her once she got into astrophysics. But she admits it took her a while to meet another black astrophysicist.
Edwards says Black in Astro Week is a good way to raise black voices and show black kids that not only are there black astronomers and physicists, but there is a place for them in science.
Edwards expressed his gratitude to Black in Astro Week founder Ashley Walker, as well as the Vanguard STEM, a similar initiative. †[It] gives wonderful space to a variety of physicists and scientists and astronomers so that different people can see that they don’t have to fit into one particular mold to do it.”
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