Carl Sagan once wrote, “For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.” I have found that love for physics or the universe isn’t enough on its own — it needs to be balanced by our love for each other.

I fell in love with astronomy and physics for its ability to answer the most fundamental questions of the universe. It’s why I initially pursued an academic career in astrophysics. Beginning with undergraduate studies at Oberlin College, I worked with Professor Daniel Stinebring and the NANOGrav collaboration to develop novel techniques for processing pulsar timing data. Having early access to research opportunities and the mentorship of senior researchers in the field was thrilling and fueled me as I progressed in my studies. Eventually, this culminated in a gap year spent on-site at the National Radio Astronomy Observatory’s (NRAO) Very Large Array (VLA) in Socorro, New Mexico. While there, I honed an interest and skill set in Fourier analysis and interferometric imaging fidelity. I worked with Dr. Urvashi Rau to develop simulations of both the VLA and the Atacama Large Millimeter Array (ALMA) — at the time, a young and relatively understudied instrument. These simulations gave us insights into the effects of various primary beam perturbations on the imaging fidelity of the data gathered by these instruments. Specifically, these simulations gave us insights into when more advanced imaging correction techniques, such as W-projection, would be required and when simpler and faster techniques would suffice. This work eventually culminated in my undergraduate thesis — which earned highest honors and the University of Michigan “Excellence in Astronomy and Astrophysics” award in May 2016 — and was later published in the IEEE Transactions on Antennas and Propagation in February 2017.

Getting accepted into UC Berkeley’s astronomy PhD program was the culmination of all my dreams. I was going to work with Dr. Aaron Parsons in his Radio Astronomy Laboratory to develop a new kind of telescope, designed specifically around Fourier sampling theory and the manipulation of spherical harmonics. This would let us observe the global (i.e. monopole) signal of the Epoch of Reionization with an interferometer, allowing our project to avoid the common pitfalls of systematic errors introduced by the instrumentation of a single-dish observatory. We were going to accomplish something groundbreaking — treading new territory for astrophysics and radio instrumentation. 

This project was everything I had ever wanted and everything I had been building towards. But it didn’t feel that way for long. Soon after beginning graduate school, federal funding we had been counting on dried up and disappeared. The project was canceled, and I was left without a dissertation.

At the same time, society seemed to lose its mind. Friends of mine suddenly had their visas thrown into limbo and their family members banned from entering the country. Once-in-a-century wildfires burned down huge fractions of the state and all we could do was stock up on N95s to walk to the grocery store. Soon, a pandemic broke out — keeping us distant from our loved ones as they died from a disease we didn’t understand.

As a cosmologist working in a world on fire, I often felt like I was operating in a mirror world. Everything I was doing felt meaningless compared to the suffering right here at home, on this little planet with no one to help us but each other. My problems, my whole life, felt so small in comparison — it almost felt like a joke the universe was playing on me. Studying cosmology gave me this finely honed sense of scale, and all it could do was tell me how far out of step I was with the needs of society. 

So I stopped looking up and started looking around. After leaving astronomy, I focused on building connections with my fellow travelers on this pale blue dot. I founded a nonprofit devoted to uplifting marginalized voices. I gave talks, sat on expert panels, and taught classes on DEI best practices. I learned how to write grants and argue persuasively for funding by working in philanthropy, and how to be a leader by serving as the executive director of a nonprofit whose work I believed in. I realized that almost every topic expands like a fractal the closer you look — so I looked deeper at everything and everyone I could. 

But I love science. Despite everything, because of everything, I love it. And despite numerous breaks from the field, I can’t stay away. When I got sick with COVID-19 in August 2022, it forced me to reckon with my life and what I wanted for myself. I knew about long COVID and how it disproportionately impacts younger women. Deeper down, in a darker corner of my mind, I also knew that this disease had killed my grandmother a year earlier. I couldn’t help thinking: if I never got better, what did I want to put my limited energy and effort into? And what if I got worse? Is this a life I would be proud to have lived?

I needed a new path. In my time and my various travels, I have realized that there are two things I need in my work: an endless stream of new challenges and a way that I can directly and meaningfully make the lives of the people with whom I work better. I am only happy and motivated by work that checks both of those boxes. Much like transverse electromagnetic waves, it is these strands together that create a self-propagating feedback cycle, keeping me engaged and motivated by my work and always, always moving forward.

That’s where you come in.