Nowadays, it almost feels like the woman in STEM is the new ‘it’ girl. As science, technology, engineering and maths are still so male dominated, the woman in STEM is exclusive and the media can’t seem to get enough of her (both commonalities of our favourite ‘it’ girls). She’s the kind of woman who breaks boundaries and reaches the top of her field against the odds, all whilst balancing the everyday difficulties of being a woman in this patriarchal world. She’s almost reached fetish status.

I personally loved calling myself a woman in STEM. The label fit me well for a long time and I indulged in forming a good chunk of my personality around it. Being a ‘mathmo’, I envisioned myself floating to the top in a very Elle Woods at Harvard kind of way. Instead, I soon realised that STEM is much bigger than me and certainly much bigger than the notion of the woman in STEM. STEM well and truly chewed me up and spat me out, patted me on the head and said ‘run along dear’.

“The sweet nectar of a mathematician’s work is the final release after hours of staring at a blank paper. However, my staring led to more staring”

In all fairness, perhaps the realisation should’ve hit sooner. When practicing for STEP (the Cambridge Maths entrance exam), it appeared that the harder I worked, the worse I got. By some miracle, I still managed to get a place at Cambridge. Having faith in the system and its ability to pick good mathematicians, I settled down and worked, all while keeping imposter syndrome at bay. However, maths and I had a rocky relationship. After 18 sweet years, it appeared the honeymoon phase was over. I’d like to say it’s not you, it’s me but, I’m afraid, maths, darling, you must bear some of the blame.

Being a mathmo is often an isolating task. On arriving at Cambridge, each week I’d find myself staring at a new example sheet for hours at times, not writing a jot on the page. This in itself is said not to be worrying behaviour (as is often cited to the extent that it feels like the words of a sermon), for a mathematician learns most after having properly struggled on their own to overcome a problem. The sweet nectar of a mathematician’s work is the final release after hours of staring at a blank paper, time in which we’ve supposedly learnt so much we must surely be enlightened by now. However, my staring led to more staring.

“I don’t want to go against any odds and nor should I have to. I want a subject that is taught with me in mind.”

I’d turn to my fellow mathmos who then responded with cryptic clues which led me no further and so I’d end up at my supervision, the solution to the problem unfolding under my eyes, making a mockery of the false bravado I’d written down. But what should one do in this situation and why did this feel so different to the maths I knew at school?

The conclusion I came to was the very mantra I discussed before: lessons come from struggle. I just seemed to be doing the struggling part. In short, I wasn’t quite good enough. I craved and needed people to work with, demonstrations of what to do and solutions which I could learn (unfortunately the maths faculty aren’t a big fan of model answers). But by this point, my love of maths had started to wane and, instead, I realised I was in need of a more dialectical subject. I needed to talk to people and I wanted my work to revolve around this dialogue. At some point, I came to terms with the fact that maths wasn’t how I used to see it, but it’s hard to say whether it’s because I got worse or that university maths did not have me in mind. Maybe, had maths been a more female dominant subject, had it been taught differently, had the tripos been different, it would still all fit so neatly and each problem would still fall within grasp. But instead, I have found different elements of my identity have outweighed my need for maths. A bittersweet departure.

However, the problem with the notion of the woman in STEM is not that I couldn’t be one in the end; the problem for me is the attitude that comes with it. To fix the gender disparity within STEM subjects, it falls upon us women to work harder and pave the way for other women. It feeds into a need to prove ourselves and expects that we find motivation in going against the odds. We must be role models, guide other women, increase representation. I don’t want to prove myself. I don’t want to go against any odds and nor should I have to. I want a subject that is taught with me in mind. So I shall leave the groundbreaking victories to my fellow women in STEM who are the biggest reason I am sad to leave maths behind. And for that, maths, I am truly sorry but I wasn’t quite good enough.