Bridging the gap between STEM and humanities majors

“It’s just I’ve never met a respectable woman in STEM.” 

In my senior year of high school, I overheard this sentence while eavesdropping on a conversation from one of my classmates, advising a then-junior against taking any STEM-related classes or pursuing a science major. 

Truthfully, the advice — and snide remark toward the science major I planned to declare — made me feel nauseous. The sentiment followed me the rest of the day, taking residence beneath my skin, inhabiting each restless movement I made to try and shake it.

Somehow, three years later, I’m still thinking about it. 

As a woman in STEM, I pride myself on my alleged respectability and willingness to learn about other career paths and areas of study. I actively avoid sounding boastful when talking about my neuroscience major.

However, senior year wasn’t the first time I’d heard about the supposed rudeness and brash nature of STEM majors. It wasn’t the first time I’d experienced criticisms of women pursuing science. It definitely wasn’t the last, either. 

Though American society has tentatively opened its arms to women in science and higher education, these conversations are still commonplace. To many, women pursuing science and math degrees are arrogant. Women seeking PhDs, MDs or JDs are seen as selfish and cunning, and since there are so few, they’re left to claw their way to the top of male-dominated areas of study. 

During a time when connection is integral when it comes to enjoying education, they’re often pushed away by those pursuing other areas of study. 

Women in STEM aren’t only victims in this situation. For all the pushback from humanities majors, it seems we’re pushing equally hard.

STEM majors are quick to acknowledge the rigor required to complete four years of specialized math and science classes, quicker still to forget the effort required to receive a political science or communications degree. 

This perceived dispute over which major is hardest has become commonplace, transcending campus quads to permeate collegiate social media feeds with memes about business majors learning to color or do long division. 

The truth is, the division between like-minded students attending the same university is beyond harmful, both with regard to social life and education.

Good students aren’t the product of 70 credit hours limited to one specific biology focus. They’re not the product of four years spent writing papers solely on politics. Good students are well-rounded and understanding of the work required to acquire any degree, not just their own. 

By fostering animosity between different areas of study, women who may be feeling outnumbered in their STEM classes may now be unable to find connection with those in other majors, potentially leading to isolation and suffering in silence.  

The same applies to any person feeling unwelcome or underrepresented in their classes. If there’s a negative implication about their major, others are less likely to build a connection, and thus a community inclusive of all students.

Loyola has some requirements to combat this divide, though they’re not perfect. 

The Core Curriculum forces STEM majors to branch out of their equation-driven classes and complete courses in writing, philosophy or theology. Unfortunately, these required courses are tailored to be easy to complete for humanities majors, touting a majority humanities-based requirement, offset by a single math class as well as one science class — the options for which are limited to mostly environmental science courses. 

Though the school considers these classes to be important enough for all students to complete, they completely overlook valuable courses teaching business, finance, crime or chemistry. Most humanities or arts students won’t need to determine the identity of various bond-line structures in their future, but it’d go a long way in creating a sense of understanding and empathy for those who do. 

Thinking back to my senior year of high school, bogged down with the thought that no one would take me seriously as a woman in STEM, I realize the reason my classmate made that comment wasn’t from a deep-rooted hatred of science or women — it was from a lack of understanding on both our ends of the work required for each area of study. 

Since then, I’ve made it a point to engage in activities and experience classes outside of my neuroscience major. I started writing for The Phoenix, added a journalism minor and put more attention into the literature-based honors class I had previously taken for granted. 

By exposing myself to the world of humanities, I became a better student. The lab report I turned in for a chemistry lab was well-written and well-researched. I’ve applied my philosophical thinking from my HONR 101 lecture to my day-to-day life and lived more meaningfully because of it.

I began to see my sociology class not as a hoop to jump through to finish the prerequisites I need for medical school, but as an area of study I enjoyed engaging with. 

Putting myself into the shoes of my humanity major peers made me the one thing my classmate said she hadn’t seen — a respectable woman in STEM. 

Every major deserves equal respect for the rigor of their classes. Yes, chemistry may be hard, but so are other courses, just in different ways.

By bridging the gap between STEM and non-STEM students, we can forge new and exciting connections while also improving ourselves as students. Learning to emphasize trying new things and becoming well-rounded shouldn’t be major-specific lessons.