Diversifying the biological sciences: past efforts and future challenges

I am honored to receive the E. E. Just Award for 2010. In my invited essay, I have opted to discuss the state of diversity in the biological sciences with some recommendations for moving forward toward a more positive and inclusive academy. The need to develop cohorts of minority scientists as support groups and to serve as role models within our institutions is stressed, along with the need to ensure that minority scientists are truly included in all aspects of the academy. It is imperative that we increase our efforts to prepare for the unique challenges that we will face as the United States approaches a "majority minority" population in the next 50 years.     

A passion for the science of the human genome

The complete sequencing of the human genome introduced a new knowledge base for decoding information structured in DNA sequence variation. My research is predicated on the supposition that the genome is the most sophisticated knowledge system known, as evidenced by the exquisite information it encodes on biochemical pathways and molecular processes underlying the biology of health and disease. Also, as a living legacy of human origins, migrations, adaptations, and identity, the genome communicates through the complexity of sequence variation expressed in population diversity. As a biomedical research scientist and academician, a question I am often asked is: “How is it that a black woman like you went to the University of Michigan for a PhD in Human Genetics?” As the ASCB 2012 E. E. Just Lecturer, I am honored and privileged to respond to this question in this essay on the science of the human genome and my career perspectives.

“Knowledge is power, but wisdom is supreme.”

     

Sampling phylogenetic tree space with the generalized Gibbs sampler

A recent article published in Cladistics is critical of a number of heuristic methods for phylogenetic inference based on parsimony scores. One of my papers is among those criticized, and I would appreciate the opportunity to make a public response. The specific criticism is that I have re‐invented an algorithm for economizing parsimony calculations on trees that differ by a subtree pruning and regrafting (SPR) rearrangement. This criticism is justified, and I apologize for incorrectly claiming originality for my presentation of this algorithm. However, I would like to clarify the intent of my paper, if I can do so without detracting from the sincerity of my apology. My paper is not about that algorithm, nor even primarily about parsimony. Rather, it is about a novel strategy for Markov chain Monte Carlo (MCMC) sampling in a state space consisting of trees. The sampler involves drawing from conditional distributions over sets of trees: a Gibbs‐like strategy that had not previously been used to sample tree‐space. I would like to see this technique incorporated into MCMC samplers for phylogenetics, as it may have advantages over commonly used Metropolis‐like strategies. I have recently used it to sample phylogenies of a biological invasion, and I am finding many applications for it in agent‐based Bayesian ecological modelling. It is thus my contention that my 2005 paper retains substantial value.     

"Craziness" and "visions": experiences after a stroke.

For a stroke victim there may be at least three types of strange occurrences: incorrect saying, seeing, and thinking. To the patient only the third seems to be "crazy". After a stroke (left hemisphere), which mainly produced serious aphasia, I (the patient) felt crazy two or three times when someone said something I expected him to say. On the other hand, my initial aphasic "gibberish speech" and an occasional false vision did not seem crazy. In my case the vision is always a car or a child, seen on my extreme right, where I am otherwise blind from the stroke. I am always driving when it happens; in recent years this phenomenon occurs when I am tired or tense, or the light is poor. These rapid visions do not seem insane but merely physical problems in my eyes, much like ordinary people''s dreams.     

People's instinctive travels and the paths to science

To be the recipient of the E. E. Just Award for 2014 is one of my greatest honors, as this is a truly rarefied group. In this essay, I try to trace my path to becoming a scientist to illustrate that multiple paths can lead to science. I also highlight that I did not build my career alone. Rather, I had help from many and have tried to pay it forward. Finally, as the country marches toward a minority majority, I echo the comments of previous E. E. Just Award recipients on the state of underrepresented minorities in science.     

Twenty years of research on primordial germ cells.

Just twenty years ago I was preparing a research project centred on establishing methods for the isolation and culture of mouse primordial germ cells (PGCs). The project had been suggested to me by Anne McLaren and was to be developed at the Medical Research Council (MRC) "Mammalian Development Unit" in London under the direction of Anne herself. At that time I was a young postdoctoral researcher at the Institute of Histology and Embryology of the University of Rome "La Sapienza" and did not imagine that my decision to be involved in this project would signal a profound switch in my scientific life. From then on my research would mostly concentrate on primordial germ cell biology. I feel like saying that the modern history of mammalian primordial germ cells began twenty years ago at the MRC Mammalian Development Unit under Anne McLaren's impulse. It is not surprising that among the most active researchers in the last twenty years in studying mammalian primordial germ cells, three, namely Chris Wylie, Peter Donovan and myself, began their studies under Anne McLaren's guidance. Over the years, Anne's suggestions and encouragement were always precious for my studies and her presence marked my most important findings on PGC biology. She often invited me to present the results obtained in my laboratory to workshops and congresses. In the present article some of these results particularly influenced by Anne's teaching and suggestions will be briefly reviewed.     

A career pathway in protein folding: from model peptides to postreductionist protein science

This review discusses the inherent challenge of linking "reductionist" approaches to decipher the information encoded in protein sequences with burgeoning efforts to explore protein folding in native environments-"postreductionist" approaches. Because the invitation to write this article came as a result of my selection to receive the 2010 Dorothy Hodgkin Award of the Protein Society, I use examples from my own work to illustrate the evolution from the reductionist to the postreductionist perspective. I am incredibly honored to receive the Hodgkin Award, but I want to emphasize that it is the combined effort, creativity, and talent of many students, postdoctoral fellows, and collaborators over several years that has led to any accomplishments on which this selection is based. Moreover, I do not claim to have unique insight into the topics discussed here; but this writing opportunity allows me to illustrate some threads in the evolution of protein folding research with my own experiences and to point out to those embarking on careers how the twists and turns in anyone's scientific path are influenced and enriched by the scientific context of our research. The path my own career has taken thus far has been shaped by the timing of discoveries in the field of protein science; together with our contemporaries, we become part of a knowledge evolution. In my own case, this has been an epoch of great discovery in protein folding and I feel very fortunate to have participated in it.     

A letter from Professor Boysen Jensen to Professor Monsi, September 1955

Prof. P. Boysen Jensen Raadmandsgade 49 KøbenhavnN. 24 September 1955 Professor Masami Monsi Dear colleague Please allow me to reply in German. In this language, it iseasiest for me to find the right expressions. I would like to cordially thank you for your kind letter, andalso for the reprints, which I have read with great interest. Of course I am very pleased to hear that my Japanese colleagueswant to continue my investigations on productivity. I myselfhave     

Inclusion: an individual pursuit requiring organization-level investment to sustain it

If this was not happening in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, I imagine that I would be speaking these words instead of writing them on my laptop. Even so, I am so jazzed for this opportunity! No word or phrase describes what I am feeling in this moment in receiving the 2021 American Society for Cell Biology Prize for Excellence in Inclusivity. It is certainly an honor to be recognized in this way. I am grateful to the Howard Hughes Medical Institute for awarding me additional resources to keep on keeping on. My approach to finding the connection between people and their science certainly could use the monetary support. Resources open doors. At the same time that I am grateful for the attention, I am not exactly sure what to do with the spotlight. Importantly, there are a host of other folks out there also doing amazing things who have never been recognized. Let’s work to ensure that their contributions are supported, appreciated, and recognized. Instead of focusing the spotlight on me, I would rather redirect it to recognize my foundational influences. I also hope to encourage the need for institutional approaches beyond celebrating individual accomplishment.

O. A. Quintero‐CarmonaJo Rae Wright was my graduate advisor and the model for how I have tried to work with my students and colleagues to support their opportunities while also “doing science.” I wanted to start graduate school as soon as I could after graduating college, so after letting the Cell and Molecular Biology Program at Duke University know that I was accepting their offer, I started thumbing through their program booklet looking for labs with interesting research projects (a web presence wasn’t even really a thing for departments in 1996). I worked alphabetically and contacted a handful of labs one at a time to see whether anyone was willing to take on an early-rotation student. It was an unusual request for the way that the program had operated previously, and Jo Rae was the only person to agree to it. I don’t remember exactly, but she said something like, “We accepted you into the program, so I would be happy to host your first rotation.” The sense that I got was that, within the limits of her time and resources, she was willing to become my mentor because I needed one. She trusted the admissions process, so why not bring an eager student into the lab. I spent the summer settling in to the life of a graduate student—sort of.At first, I was bad at graduate school. I am curious about all sorts of things, which means I am also easily pulled in too many directions. In that first year of school I spent way too much time simply visiting other students in my cohort to see what it was that they were up to each day. I cannot imagine how distracting I must have been to them and probably extremely irritating to their PIs as well. If you were in Cell Biology at Duke in 1996–97, I am sincerely grateful that you tolerated my shenanigans. Where others might have taken me to task, Jo Rae looked for opportunities to redirect my energies more productively. She and another professor, Dan Kiehart, guided me toward participating in the Physiology Course at the Marine Biological Laboratory, where I learned what I needed to do to be a scientist in a way that would not have been possible otherwise. While there, I saw PIs working with students chasing the joy of discovery, and it felt like it was purely for the sake of a deeper understanding of biology and preparing the next generation of scientists to do the same. Resources gave us the liberty to focus on scientific discovery with minimal concern for where would be the highest profile place to publish. Although I acknowledge that the summer course environments may not be the most representative of the daily life of a scientist at a home institution, such an opportunity left a mark—I wanted to come as close as I could to emulating that environment when I got back to Duke and (eventually) when I had the chance to run a research group and teach students.Along the way, Jo Rae made sure to include me and my fellow lab mates in all aspects of the science. At national meetings she included us at every step, introducing us to her contemporaries and putting us in spaces where we would rub elbows with luminaries in the field. When we were in those environments, she made sure that I felt like a junior colleague. I cannot recall ever feeling like a “trainee.” Back home at Duke, I had opportunities to do everything that a scientist might do in addition to “sciencing.” Sure, I would write papers, contribute to grants, and be part of her review of papers. I was also encouraged to mentor undergraduates, teach, advocate for federal funding at the time of the National Institutes of Health (NIH) doubling, and plan events for Duke’s summer undergraduate research program, if I so chose. Similarly, when I expressed an interest in focusing on science with undergraduates, she was 100% on board with finding ways to combine my graduate school commitments with teaching and mentoring opportunities. Importantly, at a time when expressing interest in an “alternative career” was not always supported by faculty mentors, Jo Rae encouraged me to seek out only those potential postdoctoral mentors who would actively support my goals. Not only that, she went out of her way to find out what options I might have, which led to her learning about the NIH-funded Institutional Research and Academic Career Development Award postdoctoral programs in their first year of existence.In a sentence, because Jo Rae was 100% invested in including me in science by finding the framework that best suited my interests and potential, I grew into my success. This was a form of success that wasn’t decided by someone else; I had defined it for myself with Jo Rae serving as a true advisor in every sense of the word—she was in it for me. She helped to build the crucial foundations that helped me find the opportunities that matched my goals. As a result of her influence, I have also had the strength to make some critical, nontraditional choices along the way. Her mentorship style was tailored to each individual’s needs. She invested the time to figure out our strengths, and also learned which levers would motivate us to meet our potential. The members of her lab became successes because she helped all of us to both define success and achieve our own version of it. Such a personal approach is extremely powerful. Jo Rae passed away in 2012, and with her passing I lost the most important influence in my professional life. Duke University and the pulmonary physiology community lost an example for inclusive mentorship and a significant amount of capacity for such an approach. Since her passing, multiple awards have been established to honor Jo Rae’s legacy as an outstanding woman in science. I would argue that mentoring of junior colleagues may be a more significant legacy than her scientific output. Jo Rae is deserving of this award.Recognitions such as this one are an important way to amplify examples of what we often say we hope to achieve as a department, an institution, or a scientific society. However, if our focus is solely on the efforts of individuals, we are missing an opportunity. While I am humbled to be considered in the same league as the previous award recipients, we are each in our own way scrambling to do what we can while we can do it. When individuals have some positive outcomes, our institutions and organizations will celebrate what these folks have done as they have played some role in supporting these opportunities. Although what we do is worthwhile, it is really hard to do it successfully and sustainably without proper institutional support. We each face hinderances that can undermine the work that we want to take on. Burnout is a real outcome of doing the work that we care about and that our organizations publicly state is important. This is especially true in environments where that work is undervalued and underresourced. You do not have to do a very extensive internet search to identify where the institutions that have supported my work also have exclusionary legacies and current negative influences that continue to hinder their potential for broader, more meaningful progress. In many instances inclusion has yet to be baked into institutional culture in a way that impacts how organizations operate. Although I have had some institutional support to develop a career modeled on what I experienced under Jo Rae’s mentorship, the students and faculty at these institutions know that what gets headlines can often be an exceptional situation, rather than a typical everyday experience. Rather than showcasing the good work of individuals in their ranks, an organization should devote itself to furthering the idea that it is willing to make significant institutional investments in that good work. By building the internal infrastructure and capacity to support inclusion efforts, organizations would demonstrate that inclusion is an essential component of the institutional standard practice. The positive outcomes that this award is intended to highlight would then be a shared characteristic of the community. A shared vision paired with shared effort and resource-support might cut down on burnout of those currently carrying more than their share of the load.I imagine that the idea for these awards is to celebrate good work while also demonstrating to other individuals what is possible. With that in mind, if institutions worked at using the example of those in the vanguard as a way to build structures that value and support inclusive approaches, they would increase their own ability to serve their constituents. They may also influence other institutions to do the same. My graduate institution benefited from Jo Rae’s work while she was present and was beginning to institutionalize her view of inclusion in the last years of her life. As Dean of the Graduate School, the model for how she ran her lab informed her vision for graduate education campus-wide. She wanted to build a structure that would identify, recruit, and retain talent. She wanted to provide that talent with opportunities to become expert in how they wanted to contribute to the world. By ensuring that they had access to the relevant experiences and skills, she hoped to support them as they set themselves up for success as they defined it.I accept this award in honor of Jo Rae Wright, and on behalf of the students who have trusted me. All I have ever wanted was to be able to recreate for my undergraduates what Jo Rae had done for the people under her wing. I am building a career around that goal as part of a department keenly supportive of these efforts. My hope is that other individuals will develop their own approaches to inclusion because they find themselves in supportive institutional environments. More importantly, I would like to see organizations begin to truly prioritize inclusive approaches through funding and through policy. Institutions could make sufficient resources available to support inclusive efforts and allow creativity in how faculty mobilize those resources. Just as Jo Rae had the flexibility to adjust to our needs, institutional efforts will benefit when limited resource access is not a hindrance to inclusive excellence. Additionally, it will be critical to acknowledge the time and effort that such endeavors require in evaluating faculty contributions. It can no longer be the icing on the cake of a portfolio—developing inclusive capacity has to be recognized as an essential component of our work. Until these changes take root at the institutional level, this kind of work may shine brightly, but will continue to be stochastic and short-lived. All those efforts “will be lost in time, like tears in rain.” It is on all of us to prevent such a tragic ending.     

A year since George Floyd

The murder of George Floyd sparked an awakening, long overdue, which reverberated throughout society. As science begins to acknowledge its role in perpetuating systematic racism, the voices of Black scientists, which have largely been absent, are now being called on. As we rightly begin to make space for diverse voices and perspectives in science, we all must think about what it is we are asking minoritized individuals to do.

It has been roughly 1 year since the murder of George Floyd, an unarmed Black man, who was killed over an alleged counterfeit 20 dollar bill in Minneapolis, Minnesota (Hill et al. 2020; Kaul, 2020; Levenson, 2021). In many ways, his murder was no different than the murders of thousands of other murders of Black people in this country (Thompson, 2020; Lett et al., 2021; Tate et al., 2021). However, what distinguishes George Floyd’s murder from many other high profile cases is that it was unambiguously captured on video (Alexander, 1994), an act of bravery by Darnella Frazier, a 17-year-old Black woman (Izadi, 2021), at a time when the world was mostly housebound by a raging global pandemic. As a result, his murder reverberated through society in a way that has not happened in my lifetime. While there have been other high profile cases of murders carried out by police (Treyvon Martin, Walter Scott, Breonna Taylor, and Philando Castile, among many others), these cases failed to fully sustain the attention of a national and international audience (Chan et al., 2020; Chughtai, 2021). The murder of George Floyd was fundamentally different, and for once, more than just Black people were paying attention. His murder sparked protests across the nation led by the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement (Day, 2015; Taylor, 2016; Banks, 2018; Taylor, 2021), and the demands for change were so loud people could not help but hear.As a Black, gay man who is also a scientist, I was thrown into despair. All of my life I have thought if I just worked hard enough, if I am kind and unthreatening, if I play the game and keep my head down, maybe I can make it in academia. Maybe then I will be seen and accepted, not just by society, but by the scientific community. George Floyd’s murder reminded me, and many of my Black colleagues, that our degrees can’t protect us, that our privileged middle-class upbringing (if we had one) was not a shield. Our lives were not worth more than a counterfeit 20 dollar bill.Science, which has always been a product of society, was not impervious to these reverberations. By late June my inbox began to slowly fill with invitations to speak at several institutions for their seminar series, retreats, or special symposia. It felt as if the scientific community, for the first time, realized that there were Black scientists among them. In the throes of my own despair, and the feeling that I needed to be doing something for my community, I began to say “yes.” I was not going to participate in the nightly protests that occurred in my newly adopted hometown of Portland, Oregon. Aside from fearing I could be next to lose my life at the hands of the police (Edwards et al., 2019), these protests were happening in the backdrop of a global pandemic. I came to the conclusion that by accepting these invitations to speak, this could be my activism, my way of sparking change, increasing visibility, and being seen not only for my own sake but also for other Black scientists.Before I write anything else, I want to be clear: I am extremely thankful to all the institutions and organizations that invited me and gave me a platform. I am extremely proud of my students’ work and of the research we produce. I am sharing my experiences with the hope that they can be instructive to the greater scientific community, but if I am being frank, there is a bit of anger.I received over 15 invitations and gave an additional three or four interviews over the course of the year. Most of these came with the expectation that I would also talk about my work in Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion. But here’s the lowdown: prior to this year, I did not view myself as someone who did Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion work. I am co-chair of the LGBTQ+ committee of the American Society of Cell Biology and a member of the Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion committee of the Genetics Society of America. I volunteer for both of these committees because they speak to something I care deeply about, the advocacy for minoritized ¹ scientists. I also embody both of these axes of diversity; so, in some way, I am only looking out for myself. This is far from being a scholar or doing “Diversity work.” I fully recognize that there are individuals who have dedicated their lives to this type of work with entire academic fields populated with accomplished scholars. So, I started this year of talks being invited because I am a Black, gay scientist at a time when science was grappling with its own systematic racism, under the guise of my nonexistent Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion work.What has this year actually taught me? The first thing it taught me is that I have been missing out. Prior to George Floyd’s murder, I had only received three seminar invitations from major research institutions and unfortunately all within a year of being posttenure. That is after nearly 6 years in my current position.In giving these talks I got the opportunity to meet with some of the giants in my field, people I have looked up to for years. I received reagents, offers to collaborate, and a litany of great ideas that will help drive my research program for years to come. I left some of these meetings truly inspired and excited to start experiments. These opportunities would have been invaluable to me, pretenure. One could argue, I did not need it. I made it even without this networking and the advantages these visits bring. Before you applaud my ability to persist and be resilient, we should take a deep look at the systems that have forced people who look like me to be doubly resilient. If George Floyd had not been murdered, would any of these invitations have happened? If the previous 6 years are any indication of a trend, I would have to say most certainly not. Why did it take a murder and the reignition of a Civil Rights movement for me to have the type of interactions I now know many of my straight, white counterparts have had from the very beginning of their independent careers? Let me be clear: this is a form of systematic racism, plain and simple.As I began to make the rounds, I was often asked to either share a bit of my journey or include my Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion work in my talks. This sometimes came at the expense of sharing my lab’s work. While I was very happy to do so, this was very much implicit in the invitations I received. At times it did feel that my inclusion was only checking a box, placating the graduate students so that they could see that their department or institution was responding to their demands. This also had the consequence of making me feel as though my science was merely performative. I was being invited to do the Diversity work institutions did not want to do. This is the tension I, and many other minoritized scientists, face. I want to share my experiences with the hopes that the next generation will have it better; but, my scholarly work is not in Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion. I fully recognize that it is my embodied diversity that is bringing me to the table; but, it is the science I want to share.On the first invitation to give a seminar, I promised myself that I was going to be honest. This meant that I would tell the truth about my experience and bare my soul over and over again. What I had not counted on was the emotional toll this would take on me. Reliving my own trauma, on a regular basis, left me emotionally drained after these visits. In one of my “stops” (I use quotes here because these “visits” were all virtual), I met with the queer, person of color (POC), graduate students. This session quickly turned into an emotional support group where I heard stories of mistreatment, racism, and discrimination. It was nearly impossible to maintain my composure. Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion work is clearly extremely important, but, maybe, we could just start by listening to the needs of the students and having a bit of humanity.The trial of Derek Chauvin has come and passed, and much to my surprise, and to the surprise of many other Black people nationwide, he was found guilty and was sentenced to prison (Arango, 2021; Cooper and Fiegel, 2021). This, of course, is not justice, not even close. Justice would mean that George Floyd is still alive and would get to live out his life in the way he chose. We are also at the beginning of the end of the pandemic. In 6 months or less, we may all be returning to life, more or less, as it was before George Floyd, before COVID-19. Does this mean we stop fighting? Does this mean that I, and many other Black scientists, suddenly disappear? For George Floyd, for countless other faceless Black people before him, I sincerely hope not. We need to continue to give Black scientists a platform. We need to ensure that they, too, are given the opportunity to network, collaborate, and interact with the larger scientific community. This means the invitations cannot stop. To further this, we need to ensure that Black scientists are included in every grant review panel, are included on speaker lists at every national and international meeting, are funded, and are in the room where funding, tenure, and other critical decisions are being made. We need to recognize that systematic racism has not gone away with Derek Chauvin’s conviction and sentencing. We need to continue to push forward. And, for all of you young, minoritized scientists (and allies) reading this, demand change and do not take "no" for an answer. I am truly sorry this has fallen on your shoulders, but enough is enough. The next generation of minoritized scientists should be recognized for their science without the additional burden of creating their own space.About the AuthorI am currently an Associate Professor of Biology at Reed College (https://www.reed.edu/biology/applewhite/index.html), which is located in Portland, Oregon. I arrived at Reed in 2014; prior to that, I was a postdoctoral fellow at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. I received my PhD from Northwestern University in Cellular and Molecular Biology and a BS in Biology from the University of Michigan where I was also a 4-year letter winner in track and field. My research focuses on the cytoskeleton where I study cell motility and morphogenesis using Drosophila and Drosophila derived in tissue culture cells to explore actin, microtubules, and molecular motors. My current lab is composed of fierce, determined undergraduate students. I am a member of the American Society of Cell Biology (ASCB) and the current chair of the LGBTQ+ Committee (https://www.ascb.org/committee/lgbtq/). I am also a member of the Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Committee for the Genetics Society of America (https://genetics-gsa.org/committees/). I also serve as an editor for MBoC’s Voices series.     

The evolution of a cell biologist

I am honored and humbled to receive the E. B. Wilson Medal and happy to share some reflections on my journey as a cell biologist. It took me a while to realize that my interest in biology would center on how cells are spatially and dynamically organized. From an initial fascination with cellular structures I came to appreciate that cells exhibit dynamism across all scales—from their molecules, to molecular complexes, to organelles. Uncovering the principles of this dynamism, including new ways to observe and quantify it, has been the guiding star of my work.

Jennifer Lippincott-Schwartz     

Amoralist Rationalism? A Response to Joel Marks

In a recent article, Joel Marks presents the amoralist argument against vivisection, or animal laboratory experimentation. He argues that ethical theories that seek to uncover some universal morality are in fact useless and unnecessary for ethical deliberations meant to determine what constitutes an appropriate action in a specific circumstance. I agree with Marks’ conclusion. I too believe that vivisection is indefensible, both from a scientific and philosophical perspective. I also believe that we should become vegan (unfortunately, like the two philosophers mentioned by Marks, I too am still struggling to reduce my meat and dairy consumption). However, I am in the dark as to Marks’ vision of normative deliberations in the spirit of amoralism and desirism.     

A career at the interface of cell and developmental biology: a view from the crest

Just as neural crest cells migrate great distances through the embryo, my journey has taken me from a childhood in a distant land to a career as a biologist. My mentoring relationships have shaped not only the careers of my trainees, but also the trajectory of my own science. One of the most satisfying aspects of mentoring comes from helping to empower the next generation of scientists to do more tomorrow than is possible today. This, together with a passion for discovery and learning new things, motivates me and makes science such a rewarding career.First, let me say how honored I am to receive the Women in Cell Biology Senior Award. I am particularly thankful to my former postdoctoral fellows and students. I have learned as much, or more, from them as they have from me and take great pride and vicarious pleasure from their successes. My goal as a mentor has been to impart an enthusiasm for science and for the satisfaction it can bring at both a professional and personal level. It is the pleasure of discovery and the bonds of collegiality that make being a scientist not only a worthwhile and interesting but also a very fulfilling career.When looking back upon my life as a biologist, many of the “choices” made along my career path were more of a random walk than a premeditated trajectory. Perhaps the most important and constant influences come from my family background, wonderful friends and colleagues, and an inherent interest in the natural world. For me, these were mixed with a good deal of luck and the generous mentorship of valued colleagues.     

Teaming up: from motors to people

When I reflect on how I became a cell biologist and why I love being one today, one thing that comes to mind is the many terrific collaborations I have had. The science I am most proud of from my graduate and postdoctoral training would not have been possible without working in teams with other scientists. Now, in my own group, much of our best work is being done collaboratively, both within the lab and with other labs. In this essay, I will highlight my experiences working in teams as a trainee, the role teamwork has played in my own research group, and how important I think collaborative science is for the future of biological research.     

Establishing an academic laboratory: mentoring as a business model

It is a tremendous honor for my group and me to receive the recognition of the 2014 Women in Cell Biology Junior Award. I would like to take the opportunity of this essay to describe my scientific journey, discuss my philosophy about running a group, and propose what I think is a generalizable model to efficiently establish an academic laboratory. This essay is about my view on the critical components that go into establishing a highly functional academic laboratory during the current tough, competitive times.     

Editorial Go faster,further — put some (unleaded) GaAs in your tank

For the privileged, one of the great mixed blessings of the late 20th Century is “cheap” personal transport — the car. I say mixed because while I like driving about when and where I please, my conscience is about as clear as the trail of exhaust fumes my car leaves behind. I, like an increasing number of motorists, am concerned about how much air and noise pollution the car causes and how many resources we are destroying in the process. Recent developments in automotive electronics (subject of a recent Elsevier Profile, incidentally) are hopefully going to ease my conscience. With these in mind, I was set to thinking as to how III–Vs might be likely to contribute to this progress over the next decade.     

Support for a career in science

I am so very honored to receive the Women in Cell Biology Sandra K. Masur Senior Leadership Award from the American Society for Cell Biology (ASCB), particularly because many of the previous awardees have served as mentors and sources of inspiration throughout my own career. I also thank the ASCB for always striving to be maximally inclusive, in terms of both the scientists it supports and its broad vision of what constitutes cell biology. As a graduate student I gave one of my first talks at an ASCB meeting, and I am proud to have been an ASCB member for almost 30 years. In this essay, I describe my own career to illustrate the support that I believe is needed to achieve a career in science.

S. L. Wolin     

Aquaporin Water Channels

Thank you very much. I am humbled, I am delighted; I am honored. This is every scientist’s dream: to give the Nobel Lecture in Stockholm. But I would not be honest if I did not tell you that I am having a little anxiety being on this platform. I have lectured a number of times in Sweden, and I thought I would share with you some events preceding a special lecture that I gave here a few years ago. Arriving at Arlanda Airport, I waited in line at the Pass Control behind a group of businessmen in suits with briefcases. I heard the first in line asked by the control officer to state the purpose of his visit to Sweden. When the man replied “business,” the officer approved and stamped his passport. One at a time, each stepped forward and was asked the same thing; each answered “business” and was approved. Eventually it was my turn, and I was dressed in rumpled clothes after spending the night in the Economy Minus section of an SAS jetliner. The officer asked me the purpose of my visit, and I said “I am here to give the von Euler Lecture at Karolinska Institute.” The officer immediately looked up, stared at me, and asked, “Are you nervous?” At that point I became intensely nervous and said “Yes, I am a little nervous.” The officer looked up again and stated “Well, you should be!“ So if the lecturers look a little nervous, the problem is at Arlanda.