This quarter, I’m taking two science classes.
They’re not necessarily difficult ““ but they’re
science classes. And, to put it mildly, science has never been my
forte. Harvard President Lawrence H. Summers remarked last week
that “innate differences” between men and women may
render some females less qualified for the scientific and
engineering worlds.
I wanted to know if Summers was a pure sexist, a misunderstood
speaker or a man with a valid point. Why, above all, is science so
difficult for me?
The past week has proved quite a ride for Summers and his staff.
It seems that journalists, academics and politicians deride or
defend him left and right. Summers issued an official apology
stating, “I was wrong to have spoken in a way that has
resulted in an unintended signal of discouragement to talented
girls and women.”
And letters have flooded papers, such as the New York Times,
offering brazen, bold, even accusatory opinions. “As the
president of Harvard,” wrote David Ballantyne of North
Carolina to The Times, “Summers should be media-savvy enough
to realize that according to currently fashionable double
standards, it is not advisable to make public statements claiming
that men might be innately better at anything.”
Summers has received an unprecedented level of attention. Some
see his comments as unapologetically sexist. Others, like
Ballantyne, see him as a victim of double standards. Personally, I
don’t think his speech was a very big deal ““ it was
small fries.
But I do understand the implications and issues raised by his
speech. Overall, Summers offered a less-than-politically correct
remark and was harshly berated for doing so. But he didn’t
intend to offend anybody, and he didn’t wish to spark
national controversy.
At the very least, his speech directed attention toward some
very important issues, namely, women in the science and technology
sector.
I believe that women today still face real barriers in these
worlds. As a young girl, I noticed these problems myself, in spite
of the fact that I attended a single-sex school from kindergarten
to eighth grade. At this school, I learned a lot about what was
expected of me.
The majority of the students I studied with preferred history
and English ““ not chemistry. Our only exception to the rule
was, perhaps, sexual education. Essentially, the humanities seemed
sympathetic and flexible. Science, on the other hand, remained
logical, impersonal and dependent upon awkward tools. These were
all things we tried to avoid as young women. So, at the end of the
day, science was unavoidably masculine.
But of course it wasn’t that simple. Many of my all-female
classmates enjoyed our science classes. And many scored very high
marks in them. But all too commonly, these students downplayed
their scientific abilities, explaining that they were only decent
students ““ nothing exceptional.
There was a general feeling of discomfort in science class. It
seemed that science was interesting and fun but just wasn’t
expected of us. So we gave very little back in return, only waiting
for our photography and sewing electives later into the day.
Nobody told us we were unfit for science. But there was an
unwritten understanding that it wasn’t best for us.
This brings me back to my original question: Were we actually
unqualified? In one sense, some may claim that we were. As the
Harvard president hinted, men and women may have different
brains.
According to the Canadian Press, “Women’s brains are
more densely packed than men’s in the “˜executive’
portion of the brain, the area responsible for reason, judgment,
memory and some emotion.” Women also traditionally have a
more-dominant left brain, which has been shown to process
information linearly and sequentially.
Meanwhile, men typically employ the right brain, and “test
better on spatial tasks, target direct motor skills, spotting
shapes embedded in complex diagrams, and mathematical
reasoning,” according to the Encyclopedia of Educational
Technology. For example, men have been found to be more skilled in
rotating an object in their head.
However, these innate differences just aren’t enough.
Women are making major strides in science, regardless of which
brain hemisphere they supposedly employ, and they are forces to be
reckoned with.
In 2003, I started my first year at UCLA. Happily, I found that
while some departments, such as engineering, seemed predominantly
male, others seemed refreshingly equal. I was pleased to see a
plethora of female science and pre-med students.
And as a North Campus loyal, it was great news to hear success
stories from my South Campus counterparts, male and female.
Sometimes I wonder what Summers would have to say about them.
How “innate” are their inabilities? Usually, I just
like to think that they’re all great scientists, regardless
of their gender.
So here I am, taking two science classes, and, admittedly,
I’m a bit nervous. Sure, I’m a North Campus kid. I
wasn’t even a great science student in high school. But the
more I think about my worries, the more I understand their
socialized roots and meanings.
The truth is I was never encouraged (or discouraged) with
respect to science. I was just lightly led to believe that maybe it
wasn’t the best for me. I think it’s high time I
changed my ways. There’s no reason not to.
Fried is a second-year history student. E-mail her at
ifried@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments to
viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.