Unreported Sexual Harassment at AAS Meetings: An Example

This week’s guest blogger is Nicole E. Cabrera Salazar, an NSF Graduate Research Fellow and Chateaubriand Fellow at Georgia State University. Nicole is studying the feasibility of finding exoplanets around young Sun-like stars using spectroscopy. After she defends her thesis, she will be leaving academia to pursue a career in public outreach, focusing on equity and inclusion of underrepresented groups in STEM.

 

I’m writing this post because after a week of depressing conversations with other female astronomers about sexual harassment, it has become clear to me that we need to keep bringing these issues to light. I chose not to remain anonymous in order to put a name and a face to this problem and show that harassment has real consequences for real people. I do not judge anyone’s right to choose anonymity, because it has taken me years to work up the courage to speak publicly. By attaching my name to this post, my harasser will know exactly whom I’m referring to if and when he reads this, and I’m glad. I hope that reading this instills remorse and shame in all of the perpetrators out there. You know who you are.

 

I was 21 when I attended my first AAS winter meeting in Long Beach in 2009. I had just completed the REU that had convinced me to pursue a career in astronomy, and I had the full support of my REU adviser. I was nervous about going to the AAS on my own, with so many researchers who would be scrutinizing my work. My adviser met me at the undergrad reception and made sure to encourage me and introduce me to people he knew, and I felt very relieved that I didn’t have to network by myself.

 

At my poster the next day, my adviser came up with two fellow postdocs he knew. One of them was particularly friendly and seemed very interested in my work. He asked lots of questions about my observing methods and the reduction pipeline I had coded, and I was so happy and proud that a real scientist (other than my adviser) regarded me as a legitimate scientist as well. The interaction boosted my confidence, and as a female minority who was already feeling the effects of imposter syndrome, it made me feel more prepared to interact with the Chambliss judges who came by later to judge my poster. Wow, I thought, this is what it’s like to be a real scientist!

 

I kept running into this man at the conference, which seemed odd considering just how many people attend the AAS winter meeting every year. I realize now that this was probably not a coincidence, but again, every interaction was friendly and professional, and we talked mostly about my research and my studies. I may be more naïve than most people, and I especially was at that age, but no red flags were raised.