Egyptian-American astrophysicist Sarafina El-Badry Nance’s debut memoir, Starstruck, offers a window on what it is like growing up to be a scientist today as a woman of colour. Nance, 30, is a passionate communicator of cosmology, and an advocate for women’s health, after a preventive double mastectomy. The book intertwines her personal story with explanations of what we know about the universe. Nance is completing her PhD at the University of California, Berkeley, where she is studying exploding stars or supernovae.
Isn’t this a young age to be writing a memoir? You still have so much of your personal and professional life ahead of you.
It is, but I don’t think it means it isn’t the right time. It is immensely challenging and scarring to push through educational systems and institutions built for straight white men. There is a value in sharing my experience now. My hope is the book resonates with other young women, but also anyone who has felt othered or sought to belong. It is also for anyone curious about the cosmos.
Where does your passion for astronomy come from?
I fell in love with the night sky when I was four or five. I would listen to StarDate [a US National Public Radio show], drawn in by the ethereal voice of its then presenter. But ultimately, it was the way these glimmering objects I was seeing contextualised everything. From a young age I felt a lot of anxiety. I was sensitive to my parents’ dynamic [they argued a lot] and I felt pressure to succeed at school. The vastness of the night sky gave me a sense of reprieve because I felt so small. That feeling has never left me and it continues to act as a ballast when I get overwhelmed.
Women and minorities remain underrepresented in Stem (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) and it is perhaps little wonder given your experiences. They range from being told as a 10-year-old by an astronomer visiting your science camp: “Astronomy isn’t for you”, to a physics professor showering your class with jokes about sex workers and infidelity. How did this affect you?
Those type of comments, compounded over time, created an insidious belief that I didn’t belong and never would. It’s hard to identify the difference between your worth and what somebody else tells you your worth is. And so much happens subconsciously.
How can we move the needle on representation?
First and foremost, we need to stop thinking women and people of colour aren’t interested in Stem. That’s just not the case and they are being pushed out of Stem fields or never end up pursuing them because of it. Then we need more allies to support people throughout their journey. I was lucky to have some incredible mentors, who did happen to be white men. They used their privilege and power to support me in accessing opportunities. A necessary ingredient in dismantling systems of oppression is those with privilege and power stepping up.
You underwent a preventive double mastectomy and breast reconstruction in 2019, when you were 26. The procedure is somewhat controversial because its benefit isn’t guaranteed…
When I was 23, my dad was diagnosed with highly aggressive metastatic prostate cancer (he is still here and doing well, considering). Genetic testing revealed both he and I carried the BRCA2 genetic mutation, which is inherited and increases the risk of many different cancers, including breast, ovarian and prostate. I started the recommended monitoring protocol, which is getting a breast MRI every year, when I entered graduate school. My first one came back with a suspicious mass. Thankfully, it was benign, but I knew I didn’t want to have to go through a lifetime with this anxiety. Through my preventive double mastectomy, I have reclaimed some agency: there is no guarantee I’ll never get breast cancer, but it has drastically reduced my odds from 87% to less than 5%. It is such an individual decision – everybody has different risk factors, family histories and ways that they want to mitigate their risk – but, for me, it was absolutely right and I have no regrets.
You did a swimsuit photoshoot for Sports Illustrated in 2022. How did that come about and aren’t you bothered by the objectification of women the magazine promotes?
There was an open call and a friend who knew what I had gone through recovering from my surgery encouraged me to apply. The application process was submitting a video about my passions and my surgery decision – not bikini photos! Of course, I chafe against the way society tends to think that a woman’s worth is in her body. But I did this for me, to re-establish a relationship with my body, not for anyone else.
Impostor syndrome – this feeling of non-belonging that particularly crops up for women and minorities – is something that has deeply affected you, resulting in anxiety and panic attacks. How do you combat it?
Finding communities of people who look like you helps, as do supportive mentors. But the way I think about impostor syndrome has also evolved. I used to think I had generated it. But the reality is, it is my body recognising I am in a place that is not created or maintained for someone like me. And that is not imaginary: our broader systems and institutions inform these feelings of non-belonging. I will probably always live with [impostor syndrome]. But rather than self-flagellating internal narratives about not being smart enough or good enough (which I then reprimand myself for), I am trying to turn things back on the system.
What is the focus of your PhD and what comes next?
I am using explosions of massive, single-star systems [Type IIP supernovae] to try to work out the current rate of the expansion of the universe. We know the universe is expanding, and this expansion is accelerating due to this unseeable force we call dark energy, but we don’t know exactly how fast. Type Ia supernovae, which have been used historically because they all explode with the same brightness, give different rates. I am using these other types of supernovae to try to resolve the tension. I am planning to graduate within the next year. I’m not sure what’s next, but I’m excited to combine my love for science, space and communication in hopefully unique ways.
What advice would you give young women who want an astronomy career?
Don’t let anybody tell you that you’re not cut out for something. Nobody gets to determine what you love or how you love it. Systems of privilege will inevitably show up in different ways that make it difficult, but as long as you feel safe and it is rewarding, keep at it.
