When I first heard about a program aimed at women in STEM to develop their leadership potential, over the course of a year, with a capstone voyage to Antarctica, I knew immediately that I wanted to apply. I am a feminist physicist, but have always been a bit wary of leadership and management courses aimed at women that effectively say, you are broken unless you act more like men. But Homeward Bound seemed different – motivated by the greater good, recognizing that we need better leadership to address societal issues like climate change, and honoring the ability that women have to synthesize knowledge, think of others, and cultivate a legacy mindset rather than pursuing short term opportunism. I also really liked the global outlook of the program, with participants from countries across the world and at all career stages and ages of their lives. As someone living outside my country of birth, looking at worldwide issues and trying to find the connections between science, society, and culture, having such a diverse group of women all focused on the same issues sounded incredibly inspiring to me.
And of course, Antarctica! From my experience in the Arctic I knew full well the power that wilderness has to inspire, to provoke reflection, and to show us the consequences of our actions. At the time I applied, I was just coming out of six months of deep grief after losing my father, and it felt crazy to hope for an experience like this. Imagine being on a ship in Antarctica surrounded by incredible women. A dream, right?
So it was a shock when I was actually accepted onto the program: I had signed up for a year of leadership training, and a substantial amount of fundraising, followed by a sure-to-be incredible voyage to the bottom of the world. We had monthly video calls with faculty, homework, reading, coaching, and a lot of preparation. It was all pretty interesting, and I enjoyed talking to the other participants I met through discussion groups or our UK/Ireland chat group, but I have to admit that before I arrived in Ushuaia, at the southern end of Argentina to actually get on the ship, I wasn’t sure how all the training they were throwing at us would fit together.
One of the first things we did, which I later realized actually formed the connecting strands between everything else, was a values elicitation exercise. This was led by Fabian Dattner, and the intent was to help us understand our own motivations, why we do the things we do and what is most intrinsically rewarding to us. We considered it in the contexts of our work, our relationships, and our selves, but many people (myself included) found the same values coming across in different forms on all those fronts. When I had identified my own values – creativity, connectedness, empathy – suddenly a lot of my own projects made more sense to me. I have always viewed research as a creative endeavor, and spoken at length about the parallels between research and artistic practices like comedy, music, dance. And my love for interdisciplinary science also comes from a desire to make connections across fields, between different schools of thought. But I also care about connecting people, and understanding them, in both professional and personal contexts. My public engagement work strongly reflects these values, which is why Bright Club for example is so rewarding to run.
We did a lot of work with Kit Jackson of Strategy Together to turn our values into a personal strategy: she would ask us, based on our values, to think about our aspirations, what we hoped to achieve, and thus what our priorities were. We eventually turned these into action plans, and it was very interesting to see what actions led naturally from our values – as well as what actions were not there at all, but might be part of our daily activity. One surprising benefit for me of doing this work was discovering how many of the work and life pieces I cared about are things I don’t have direct control over. You can’t control other people, which is both wonderful and difficult, and thinking of the things I wanted to do with my time but then also reflecting on whether or not I could make them part of an action plan was actually a great exercise in finding out what I just can’t control. Which is very important to recognize!
These workshops and classes lasted about four hours each day, but often we would spend mealtimes and the shore visits discussing the same topics, or self-organising other lectures and projects (including an improv class that I co-led along with Ana Payo Payo!). Next time I’ll talk about how these learnings about the self connected to our interactions with others, and the broader context that we all hoped to do some good in.