On Women in STEM and the "Other"

As a woman in STEM, I've come to appreciate reading the perspectives of other women in STEM, whether we work in related fields or not.  This morning I read Xykademiqz post about Honorary Dudeness.  I started to reply, but the reply got long and merged with the thoughts I'd been having about "growing up global."

Then I saw this post by Sociological Images, "To Whom is George Zimmerman a Hero? And Why" and it all came together.

I've come to realize that one of the things that makes me different from many of the Americans I have interacted with is my Brat heritage, growing up military.  Now, we were only ever stationed State-side, so I didn't get the full-up expatriate Third-Culture Kid experience.  Sometimes I call myself a Third Subculture Kid, because the Brat semi-suburban culture was very different from the rural culture my parents were raised in.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Xykademiqz blogs about the experience of teaching female students, and how there's often a sharp dichotomy between the female students she develops a mentoring relationship with and the female students who seem to decide "this professor sucks."

Patience is a virtue: A follow-up on preschool bullying

Almost two years ago, the parent's newsletter at preschool had a note asking the parents to talk with their children about bullying, there had been a few problems at the school.  I write a little about the journey on my previous blog (here: book reviews and reference articles and here: Memoirs, Pretty, and about fighting back).

Another suitcase in another hall...

As I mentioned, during my internship in St. Louis, I suddenly found myself with free time and space to start processing everything that had happened in recent years.


One of the first things I had to do at my new job, was locate and write down the addresses for all 8+ of the places I had lived in the 3.5 years since I turned 16.  If that's not a setup for asking "Where do I belong," then I'm not sure what is.

I had developed a pattern for moving.  One of the first things I did when I knew I had to leave a place, was take down my posters.  That made it obvious to me that I wasn't staying, and helped me get motivated to pack.  On the other side, often the posters were the last things I'd put up, when I finally felt settled in.

There weren't any love affairs involved, I don't want to give the wrong impression, but the rest of the lyrics to this song seem to fit:

I just had to shake my head with the realization that I had intentionally decided to move every 3 to 6 months for the next 4 years.  But at least this time it was my choice.  I knew where I would be, when.  I made connections in both locations, often with people who would still be there when I returned again.