Physics as a subject can seem abstract and exclusive, with its difficulty consistently being emphasised and overstated. Take Richard Feynman, for example, who said ‘If you think you understand quantum mechanics, you don’t understand quantum mechanics’ - some are inspired by his challenge, many flinch at the idea of studying something they’ll never fully understand. Media representations of physicists enforce this exclusivity, by involving socially awkward brainiacs who seem to speak in a language only geniuses can understand. I, for one, am far from considering myself a genius, so it was only natural that I felt excluded from these intellectual wizards. My point is, the reason I didn’t pursue astronomy from a young age was because I wasn’t aware that I could.
Even still, as a child I was drawn to space. I remember buying a Solar System poster from my primary school in Anfield and sticking it next to my bed, each night trying to dream of the planets, of where they were and what they held. But it wasn’t until year 11, when an astronomy student from UoL visited my GCSE physics class, that I found out astrophysics could hold a viable career path. Before that afternoon, I’d been set on a career in the arts – I loved literature, music, and design, and they came to me much more naturally than mathematics or science ever had – but I loved the challenging nature of physics, and the satisfaction I got when finally solving a problem. So, I pivoted my goals towards a degree in astrophysics.
Many women in STEM experience imposter syndrome, and I am not the exception. Since school, I have constantly felt the need to prove myself and have often found myself working harder than others to achieve the same goal. When I got my place on the joint astrophysics undergraduate course at UoL/LJMU I was (pardon the pun) over the Moon, but I was still convinced that I wasn’t clever enough to be there - that my success was simply a fluke. So, I threw myself into my studies, eager to prove to myself that I was worthy of my position. I surrounded myself with fantastic friends and was ecstatic to be awarded a First Class (Hons) MPhys degree. Not only that, but I was awarded the prize for the Best Astrophysics Student in my cohort and gave the valedictory speech at my graduation ceremony. Now, I’m in my first year of my PhD at the LJMU Astrophysics Research Institute, researching cosmology as a part of the Liv.INNO Centre for Doctoral Training. I’m using the state-of-the-art FLAMINGO and BAHAMAS cosmological simulations to investigate the impact of black holes in setting the baryonic content of the Universe and hope to travel the world sharing my research with others.
I wish I could say that I no longer struggle with imposter syndrome, that I am filled with self-confidence and knowledge of my own genius, but that is not true. What I can say is that I am surrounded by people who feel exactly the same way as I do, and that if I’m in a room filled with imposters, then there aren’t any imposters at all.