Meet the Speaker: Q&A with Cassandra Extavour

Cassandra Extavour is a developmental biologist and a professor of molecular and cell biology at Harvard. On the occasion of her talk at our institute in May, we interviewed her about her scientific journey, inclusion in academia, and how her second career as a part-time soprano singer shapes her scientific work. The interview was conducted by Daniel Ming-Kang Lee, a postdoc in the Meissner Lab.

What originally drew you to science and why did you choose developmental biology? 

Science came to me pretty late, during my second-to-last year of high school. Until then, I wasn’t that interested in science. I did fine, but excelled in the humanities and the arts. I was always going to be a professional musician. 
You get channeled very early on into thinking, “This is what I like, this is what I do, and this is what I’m good at.” You seek feedback and want to improve for praise and support from your family and teachers. My secondary school was academically strong but also very sexist. It was established as an all-boys’ school over a hundred years ago and had only been admitting girls for less than 20 years when I joined. Many of the teachers had been students there back when it was all male, so the concept of girls in the classroom was met with hostility or indifference. All the women were under the radar – the teachers didn’t really care if we were good at math or science or not. Then we had a new chemistry teacher come in who was unexpectedly encouraging. That made me pay more attention in science, and I discovered it was actually really interesting. 
I also came to developmental biology by chance. I started undergrad thinking it would be interesting to find out how the brain works. But I didn’t like the atmosphere in the pre-med classes, which was very much about achieving a certain grade. So I gravitated towards very small classes, including a biochemistry class that caught my attention because it was empirical and logical. Then I found a research opportunity as a summer intern in a lab. (My goal was to understand what lab work entailed, since, as a graduate student, you have to live that life for several years.) It was a developmental genetics’ lab working on C. elegans and neuronal pathfinding. The core puzzle – how cells with the same genome do such different things – still feels like the most interesting question in biology. 

Supporting the next generation of scientists is clearly important to you – how do you think institutions could do better to help young researchers thrive? 

Scientists need different things at different stages. Early on they need a strong foundation. The best undergrad institutions hire and reward faculty who are skilled and passionate about teaching. The same applies to independent researchers: Institutions that produce them are those that hire leaders who have demonstrated – not just claimed – a real dedication to training independent scientists. Ultimately, it comes down to institutions showing their values through who they hire and retain. 
It’s also a good idea for organizations to invest in leadership training for scientists. Typically, we’re only trained to be scientists. But running a group also requires leadership and communication skills. 

In your tenure presentation in 2013, roughly ten years ago, you referred to the historical exclusion of women at Harvard. Comparing the past, ten years ago, and now, do you think we’ve made progress in terms of diversity and inclusion? 

There is some progress, but it’s very slow. For example, there’s no way I could be doing what I do at Harvard fifty years ago. But humans are culturally very inert – and the incredibly resistant infrastructural systems we’ve built to create and propagate culture aren’t designed to accept change. It’s like trying to fill a balloon with water – even if you do it slowly, you can only stretch it so far before it eventually bursts. I believe deep societal change can’t be achieved by continuously modifying the existing system. Eventually, you need to dismantle and replace the entire system with something new. That’s what revolutions are for.

Following this thought, do you believe diversity is the key to success in academia? If so,
how do we convince policymakers of its importance?

I like to take more than one approach to a problem. As I see it, the more diverse approaches you have in a room, the more interesting and unexpected answers you can get. However, the new and unexpected aren’t universally agreed-upon goals, just as not everyone agrees – even within the scientific community – about what constitutes success in science. I believe diverse viewpoints are beneficial to science, but not everyone shares this belief. 
We often fail to convince our colleagues of our viewpoint because we don’t see things from their perspective. I don’t find it fruitful to try to convince someone to care about what I care about. If I want to persuade them, my best chance of success is to find out what they care about. 
You will only be able to convince policymakers and organizations of the importance or utility of diversity if it aligns with their core values. If they’re fundamentally interested in making money, only demonstrating how diversity increases their profits may convince them.

How can academic institutions move beyond simply achieving gender balance to fostering genuinely inclusive environments?

I think of inclusion as everyone having as close to equal access as possible to everything that is available. Having the numbers doesn’t necessarily mean anything – it’s necessary, but not sufficient. 
There’s no area of human activity where it’s irrelevant to ask, “How is your experience different from mine?” We should be open and curious about others without making assumptions. Especially as scientists, we tend to generate hypotheses from data and apply this to everything – even subjects we know nothing about. 
When early career PIs ask me “How do I get my students to work?” – the moment they start saying, “When I was a student…” I stop them. What you did back then is irrelevant, because you are not them. They live in a different time and place, in a different context. 
We have to ask people what’s important to them and we have to listen. We also have to help students understand what they can realistically expect, so they don’t join our lab and then get disappointed and frustrated. I also have to become conscious of what my expectations are and ask if they are reasonable. Inclusion goes both ways. Not every organization is for everyone. Not every lab is for every person. And that’s OK. 
Inclusion in the lab also means having a variety of different personalities: quiet observers, fast talkers – everyone has something to contribute. When hiring new lab members, it’s crucial to consider their impact on the health of the existing team. Candidates should meet and spend time with the people they’ll actually be working with at the bench. And then you should get feedback from everyone. Thinking about how people in the lab interact and what effect introducing someone new will have is essential.

Do you think “positive discrimination” – or “affirmative action” – is still necessary? Are there other measures that could help academic institutions become more inclusive?

I think it’s important not to conflate these two terms. One has a clear negative connotation because it includes the word “discrimination.” It’s also crucial to acknowledge that the data clearly shows that affirmative action policies have not resulted in any disadvantage or imbalance in power. Just look at any system with these policies and see who still retains power: the policies haven’t suddenly transferred power away from those who historically held it. 
The principles of affirmative action – legal policies the US introduced a while ago, and that are now being removed – don’t mean that anyone who meets certain criteria automatically gets an opportunity. The idea is that, if we have equally qualified candidates – based on whatever metrics – and one is from a historically marginalized group, then we will give preference to that person. It’s an opportunity to change access. I believe this definition of affirmative action is essential as long as we remain human, because we’re all biased. We constantly project and assume, and we can’t be relied on – individually or collectively – to discard that bias. Even the qualification criteria are created by people. There’s no escaping it. 
So, the short answer is: Absolutely, affirmative action is necessary. But it’s important to be clear – we’re not talking about ticking boxes, but about opening access where historically it’s been closed. 

As female scientists or scientists from Asia or the Global South, many of us struggle with imposter syndrome, feeling like we’re not good enough or are only here to fulfill the quota. Could you share some exercises or strategies to help empower us?

Language is powerful. A “syndrome” suggests something we want to control, that comes from within us. The concept of imposter syndrome is often discussed as if all someone needs is more confidence. But these feelings aren’t just made up in your mind. If you feel this way, it’s likely because others have been suggesting – directly or indirectly – that they don’t think you belong here or should do this. 
So, what can we do? Unfortunately, no matter what you do, if someone insists on focusing on something other than your work or ideas, you can’t change their perspective. But you also can’t rely on them to give you an accurate picture of your worth. It’s crucial to develop your own internal standard of whether your work is good enough. Only you know if you’ve done your best. You can’t rely overly on external feedback – whether it’s positive validation or negative discouragement. At the end of the day, you have to be your own best judge.

Your second career is as a part-time soprano singer. How do you think your alternative career or hobby also helps shape your scientific work?

The biggest benefit of having a passion completely unrelated to science is the break it provides. My alternate career offers an entirely different social and professional community. Taking a mental and physical break from an intense, intellectually – and sometimes physically – taxing vocation helps you perform better in that field. Continuous work without rest – like spending 18-hour days nonstop in the lab – is not sustainable. And you’ll lose creativity. 
Certain skills from my secondary career are also beneficial to me as a scientist. Performing from a young age has made me fearless when it comes to speaking in public, which you have to do all the time as a scientist – whether you’re giving a presentation or talking with peers, students, or the dean.

What’s one take-away that you’d like us to remember?

Don’t take academia too seriously. I love my job, and I believe biology and science are real – we’re learning incredible things. But the world is much bigger than that, and your life is much longer. Enjoy it. Do your absolute best, and don’t forget that there’s so much more out there.