PhD

May

2026

Johanna Grames

Born in Lower Austria • Birth year 1989 • Studied Mathematical Economics at TU Wien in Vienna, Austria • PhD in Mathematical Economics from TU Wien in Vienna, Austria • Lives in Vienna, Austria • Team Lead Global Governmental Affairs & Patient Advocacy, AOP Health

Mathematics has always felt like the most fascinating language to me.
You can express so much, so precisely, in just a few lines.
I was motivated by describing relationships and implications — understanding how things influence each other and getting closer to some form of truth. At the same time, I always wanted my work to have a positive impact on the world: grounded in evidence, but guided by empathy.
When I discovered optimal decision-making in a special course at school (Sommerakademie Semmering), I realised mathematics could do both. It offered beauty and challenge, while also helping to solve real-world problems.
During my PhD, I worked on socio-economic models combining natural systems and human behaviour. I developed equilibrium models and optimal decision frameworks to understand how people interact with their environment — and how decisions shape outcomes.

The questions were no longer theoretical — they influenced whether patients would eventually receive treatment

I enjoyed research, but I wanted to see decisions happening in reality, not only as policy recommendations presented at scientific conferences.
Almost by coincidence, I moved into the pharmaceutical industry — a place where passionate smart people work together towards meaningful progress: therapies for patients.
As a child, I had already been fascinated by the human body and even dreamed of becoming a brain researcher.
Instead of modelling societies, I started modelling decisions inside a company:
Which therapy should be developed?
How do we allocate resources under uncertainty?
What is the value of a treatment for patients and healthcare systems?
Using tools such as risk-adjusted net present value calculations (the “gold standard” to calculate a complex business case for investment decisions for research and development), mathematical thinking is part of research and development decisions. The questions were no longer theoretical — they influenced whether patients would eventually receive treatment.

Today, I work at the interface of science, policy and society, bringing together companies, patient organisations and institutions

Over time, my role evolved.
I combined my passion for enabling others and creating societal impact with my experience in healthcare decision-making, moving into governmental affairs and patient advocacy.
Today, I work at the interface of science, policy and society, bringing together companies, patient organisations and institutions.
My mathematical background helps me translate between perspectives:

researchers think in mechanisms
policymakers think in systems
companies think in strategies
patients think in lived realities

Mathematics trained me to structure complexity — but empathy makes solutions work.

Projects are very different. One example was e.g. to train journalists and policy makers on how companies make investment decisions for rare disease research. Based on rare disease prevalence, existing knowledge, alternative therapies and probabilities of success for different stages of clinical studies and pharmaceutical development we outlined the complexity and challenges to foster public private partnerships on national and European level to kick off research for the 95% of rare diseases without any treatment.

Diverse perspectives improve models, research and innovation, both in academia and industry

Outside work, I stay close to people: sports, music, dialogue initiatives and mentoring.
These activities may seem unrelated to mathematics, yet they rely on the same skills — listening, understanding structures and connecting ideas.
My vision is simple: equitable access to opportunities leads to better decisions.
Diverse perspectives improve models, research and innovation, both in academia and industry.
I am always happy to exchange experiences, because role models matter. Often, seeing a possible path is the first step to imagining your own.

You do not need to know where mathematics will lead you.
Curiosity and the courage to follow it are enough.
And choose your mentors wisely. There are many inspiring people in academia and industry who can strengthen your skills and help you grow along exciting paths.

Published on March 25, 2026.

Photo credit: private, background with DALL·E

Apr

2026

Tabitha Rajashekar

Born in Narsapur, Andhra Pradesh, India • Birth Year 1975 • MSc in Mathematics at Madras Christian College, Chennai, India • PhD in Mathematics from Visvesvaraya Technological University, Belgaum, India • Lives in Bengaluru, India • Associate Professor, Department of Mathematics, Christ University, Bengaluru, India

I was born in June 1975 in Narsapur, Andhra Pradesh, India. I studied at Nirmala High School, a prestigious school in the quiet town of Machilipatnam. When I was around 10 years old, I had the privilege of learning from a brilliant teacher who taught mathematics at my school and would occasionally read a story during class. Mathematics did not excite me much, but I fell in love with reading, most specifically, literature. Since the teachers who taught me mathematics in high school were strict, I dreaded my math teachers more than the subject itself. Some of the teachers expressed great displeasure that I was not following the subject at all. The fact of the matter was, I was unable to grasp the concepts. I had neglected the subject for a long time.

I realized that studying mathematics made me logical, precise and optimistic in life. The subject helped me gain the confidence and skills to achieve much more than I ever aspired to.

Though I made efforts, I could not follow the subject at all. With time, I became cold and distant with mathematics. Being a mathematics teacher herself, my mother insisted that studying mathematics was essential until a certain point in a student’s life. Heeding her advice, I pursued mathematics. Though I struggled initially, I did not give up and made persistent efforts to learn it. When I noticed in the first class of my undergraduate studies that a peer of mine performed very well in the mathematics class, I approached her for help, seeking guidance on strategies for learning the subject rather than on what to learn. In a couple of days that I spent with her, I picked up the skills to teach myself the subject and figure things out. There was no looking back since then. Gradually, I began to feel that mathematics was very interesting and not difficult to score well in. But love for mathematics developed much later during my Master’s as I learnt courses like abstract algebra and number theory.

Why teaching?

I still cannot decide what I love the most: Is it the subject of mathematics, or is it the joy of teaching it, or is it the excitement of learning mathematics?

As much as I felt intimidated by my teachers, I was in awe of them as well. So much so that I made up my mind to become a teacher very early in life. I wanted to teach, and wanted my students to feel differently from how I did as a student and see me as a very approachable teacher. I also realised that the best way to learn anything was to teach someone. At every stage, I would look for peers who were struggling and volunteer to teach them. I realized that studying mathematics made me logical, precise and optimistic in life. The subject helped me gain the confidence and skills to achieve much more than I ever aspired to. I started teaching right after my postgraduation. I took maternity breaks and quit jobs whenever my presence was needed at home. But even during those breaks, I upgraded myself in academics or taught individuals so that I stayed in touch with the subject. My kids have more memories of their mummy studying rather than playing with them. But that is what gave me joy in life and kept me going. I have close to three decades of teaching experience. With great conviction, I can admit that my career in teaching is all about learning mathematics every day and getting paid for learning. I still cannot decide what I love the most: Is it the subject of mathematics, or is it the joy of teaching it, or is it the excitement of learning mathematics?

Why Graph Theory?

Years later, when I contemplated doing a PhD, I realised that graph theory was the most suitable option for me. The nature of this course is that anyone can start learning this at any point. It is simple to learn, easy to visualise and totally captivating in mind. Completing a PhD was not an easy journey. Despite the challenges and lags, I tried my best! It was a great learning experience and a humbling one. When I started teaching again after my PhD, I took every opportunity to teach graph theory and promote research in it.

What do I love to do?

I find great joy in teaching foundational courses such as discrete mathematics, graph theory and algebra. These courses promote a lot of dialogue in the classrooms, and I constantly learn from their queries and responses. Research in graph theory gives me a lot of fulfillment. It gives me immense pride when any of our students choose a career in teaching mathematics or research, and my joy is doubled when it is a female student. My message for future mathematicians would be to pursue the subject diligently. Without a doubt, I can say that teaching mathematics gives us a sense of purpose and a sense of great pride.

Published on April 22, 2026

Photo Credit: Tabitha Rajashekar

Feb

2026

Mikaela Iacobelli

Born in Giulianova, Italy • Birth year 1987 • Studied Mathematics at Sapienza University of Rome, Italy • PhD in Mathematics from Sapienza University of Rome and École Polytechnique in Paris • Lives in Zürich, Switzerland • Associate Professor of Mathematics at ETH Zürich

I was born in a small town on the Adriatic coast, Giulianova (Italy), where I lived with my family until the end of high school. As a child I was very curious and I loved reading; at school I enjoyed many subjects, without feeling particularly drawn to mathematics. Outside school, however, my real passion was figure skating, and for years I was completely absorbed by sport.

During high school, while I was changing my mind many times about what I wanted to study at university (from humanities to engineering to medicine), I also had a bad injury that made me stop figure skating, and this forced me to think seriously about what I could do if I could no longer be an athlete. Around the same time, at the beginning of high school, I encountered my first proofs in Euclidean geometry, and the very concept of proof fascinated me immediately.

Then, in my last year of high school, a teacher lent me the books by Henri Poincaré on non-Euclidean geometry, and that was decisive for me, because it made mathematics feel much larger than the standard school programme; it showed me that one can develop concepts with strong internal coherence and genuine beauty even when they are not tied to something directly visible, and study them for their own sake, not because of immediate utility.

(…) I became truly passionate about algebra, especially representation theory, because I was attracted by the beauty of symmetry and by the feeling that, once you find the right structure, complicated objects become understandable

Long story made short, I moved to Rome and started a Bachelor in Mathematics at Sapienza University, and it is there that I became truly passionate about algebra, especially representation theory, because I was attracted by the beauty of symmetry and by the feeling that, once you find the right structure, complicated objects become understandable. During my Bachelor and Master I specialised in algebra, although at the same time I was also fascinated by mathematical physics, which remained, for a while, a parallel interest rather than my main direction.

Towards the end of my Master, I decided to apply for a PhD in a different area, namely kinetic theory and PDEs, and in November 2012 I started a joint PhD between Sapienza University of Rome and École Polytechnique (Paris). Since I had to adapt quickly, both mathematically and personally, I remember that period as intense: you learn new tools, you learn a new language, and you also live with the constant uncertainty that comes with academic transitions, where the next step is never fully guaranteed.

(…) what I like in [Vlasov-Poisson] questions is the interaction between several scales: you start from a microscopic description (many particles), and you try to understand what kind of macroscopic behaviour can emerge, and why

The PhD became even more demanding because I changed topic between the first and the second year, which meant that I started the thesis “for real” only in autumn 2013, while I defended in December 2015. In spite of the stress, I was also lucky, because I ended up working on problems that genuinely interested me, such as quantization of measures and, later, quasineutral limits for the Vlasov-Poisson equation. Even if the technical details are not the point of this story, what I like in these questions is the interaction between several scales: you start from a microscopic description (many particles), and you try to understand what kind of macroscopic behaviour can emerge, and why.

After the PhD my path continued through several moves, and the places I studied and worked in have shaped me in very concrete ways: Paris during the PhD, then Cambridge, then Durham, and finally Zürich, where I am now based at ETH. Before each move there is the application phase, with deadlines and interviews, and with the need to accept that sometimes things simply do not work out; in that period you often do not know in which country, city, or department you will end up next. Then, once you move, the relocation itself is a restart: you build a new routine, you make new friendships, you try to integrate into a new department, and you adjust to a different academic culture. At the same time, I have very fond memories of all the departments where I have worked, and I have kept meaningful contacts in each of those places.

In mathematics, being wrong is normal, because it is part of the creative process, and it is often the only way to understand what is really going on

At times, I also experienced environments that were highly competitive and not particularly welcoming, and, as a woman, I sometimes had the feeling that belonging was conditional; over time I learned not to use that atmosphere as a measure of my value, and to focus instead on good mathematics and collaboration.

Over the years I have also learned something very simple, which I now repeat often to students: in mathematics, being wrong is normal, because it is part of the creative process, and it is often the only way to understand what is really going on. For the same reason, I do not think that speed is a good proxy for depth. What matters more, at least for me, is steady work, genuine curiosity, and the habit of writing and explaining with care, trying to make the argument readable rather than to impress.

(…) I care a lot about creating an atmosphere where asking questions feels natural rather than embarrassing

What I love most about my job is teaching and, more broadly, supporting students and postdocs in their path. I enjoy the moment in which something difficult becomes understandable, and I care a lot about creating an atmosphere where asking questions feels natural rather than embarrassing. When students write to me again after years to tell me about their next steps and their achievements, I feel genuinely fulfilled.

Alongside teaching and mentoring, I also like the research side in a very concrete way: choosing a problem and trying to understand it seriously, reading beautiful mathematics done by others, and writing with care in a way that I would still be happy to read myself a year later. I also enjoy moving between topics and borrowing techniques from different areas, because this often helps me look at a familiar question from a new angle.

Looking back, my path has not been linear, and I changed direction more than once; however, what has stayed constant is curiosity, even when the topics and the places were changing. This is also what I like most about mathematics: there is room for many different trajectories, as long as you keep following questions that genuinely interest you.

Published on February 25, 2026.

Photo credit: Giulia Marthaler Fotografie on behalf of ETH

Jan

2026

Lisa Hefendehl-Hebeker

Born in Germany • Birth year 1948 • Studied Mathematics at the Universities of Münster and Tübingen • Habilitation in Mathematics • Lives in Düsseldorf, Germany • Senior Professor of Mathematics Education at the University of Duisburg-Essen

I enjoyed math at school because I was good at the problems and really liked the inner clarity and regularity of the subject.

The transition to university mathematics was extremely difficult for me at first because I had to overcome a huge gap. But after a year, I made a breakthrough, and from then on, I gained a foothold and my appreciation for the subject grew steadily.

I had my first experience of deep amazement when I was preparing for a linear algebra exam. When studying Jordan normal forms, I suddenly realized what a magnificent overview this provided of what initially seemed to be an overwhelming variety of matrices, and what potential mathematical theory formation can unfold in terms of intellectual organization.

The interplay between mathematical content and questions and observations about how people deal with it in work processes was to become an important guiding principle for my future career

In the second part of my studies, I had the opportunity to participate in a working group led by my future doctoral supervisor I and was able to listen to the insider communication between advanced members. This gave me important insights into what motivates professional mathematicians—which questions they find interesting and which methods and results they consider remarkable, how they base their assessments on these, but also which informal, often metaphorical means of communication they use in the run-up to formally elaborate representations. These experiences have greatly enriched my relationship with mathematics. The interplay between mathematical content and questions and observations about how people deal with it in work processes was to become an important guiding principle for my future career.

It so happened that I was assigned a dissertation topic that also involved a classification problem (four-dimensional quadratic division algebras over p-adic fields), and so a bow was drawn back to my first experience of admiring a mathematical achievement. While working on this, I also learned how inevitably successful problem solving in mathematics can depend on the favor of a good idea. You can prepare the ground for helpful ideas through persistent work, but you cannot force them. I was very grateful that productive ideas for solutions did eventually come to me in time.

(…) I read a lot of mathematical literature and noticed with regret that, over the course of history, presentations had become more sober and formal, and that human emotions and accompanying epistemological considerations had been largely stripped away in the face of mathematical discoveries

During my doctoral studies, I read a lot of mathematical literature and noticed with regret that, over the course of history, presentations had become more sober and formal, and that human emotions and accompanying epistemological considerations had been largely stripped away in the face of mathematical discoveries. The more I missed this aspect, the more my interest grew in the question of how mathematical knowledge develops in an individual, what thought processes and attitudes play a role in this, and how consciousness is refined during these processes. These were the reasons why I turned to mathematics education after completing my doctorate, and fortunately, life gave me the opportunity to make this field my profession.

After a long career, I am convinced that at every level of learning, it is possible to create an authentic picture of mathematics and convey an impression of how mathematics forms its own world of well-ordered structures with a striking internal consistency, and how this is precisely what makes it so effective in applications.

Published on January 14, 2026.

Photo credit: FAU/Ianicelli/Aslanidis

Dec

2025

Surya Mathialagan

Born in India and Grew up in Singapore • Studied Mathematics and Computer Science at Caltech • PhD in Computer Science from MIT • Lives in California, USA • Postdoctoral Researcher at NTT Research, USA

What first drew me to mathematics wasn’t numbers or formulas – it was the satisfaction of knowing why something was true. I loved puzzles and logic problems from an early age, and my parents noticed. I was extremely fortunate because they did their best to find the support I needed to keep exploring that interest and progress in the math Olympiad scene. I later represented Singapore several times in the China Girls’ Mathematical Olympiad. Those experiences drew me in. I loved the structure of Olympiad problems – the feeling that, with enough persistence, all the puzzle pieces would eventually fit. But what fascinated me most was the idea of a proof. Proofs were like perfectly tuned explanations: elegant, inevitable, and deeply satisfying. I remember learning how to write one and being amazed that something as human as convincing someone of something could be captured by precise logic.

For example, is solving a Sudoku puzzle as easy as checking that a completed Sudoku grid is valid?

During my undergraduate studies at California Institute of Technology, I learned that the idea of “proofs” also lies at the heart of theoretical computer science. I encountered the seminal P vs NP problem, which asked whether “finding a proof” (NP) is as easy as “verifying a proof” (P). For example, is solving a Sudoku puzzle as easy as checking that a completed Sudoku grid is valid? On the face of it, the former seems much more difficult – but for all we know, both tasks could be equally “easy” (i.e. NP = P). This is one of the biggest unsolved mysteries in theoretical computer science, and it drew me in with the deep mathematical ideas that had been developed to understand it. I soon decided to pursue a joint major in mathematics and computer science to explore that theory more deeply.

I could not stop thinking about this, how much can we push the limits of what a proof can look like?

Later, I took a cryptography class that introduced a concept called zero-knowledge proofs, which changed the way I viewed proofs. Proofs didn’t have to be static write-ups – they could be interactive, even conversational in some sense. With this relaxation, zero-knowledge formalized the idea of convincing someone that something is true without revealing why. For example, you could prove that you know a solution to a Sudoku without giving away the solution itself. It seemed absurd, but it was possible. I could not stop thinking about this, how much can we push the limits of what a proof can look like?

I also had the first taste of pursuing mathematics research during my time at Caltech. It was the first time mathematics felt creative rather than competitive. I had to decide for myself what questions to ask and what counted as progress. It was the first time I’d worked on something where there wasn’t a clear notion of “done.” I enjoyed the freedom that I had to choose where I wanted the project to go. I was motivated to keep doing this, and I decided to pursue a PhD in theoretical computer science.

During my PhD at MIT, I explored more problems in theoretical computer science, and landed on a problem that I am still obsessed with: constructing succinct proofs. Like zero knowledge, succinct proofs redefine what a “proof” can look like, but in a different way – they capture the idea that you can convince someone of a complex statement using a proof that is much shorter than the statement itself. For example, could we prove that a 100 x 100 Sudoku has a solution by providing a proof containing only 128 bits, instead of 10,000? At first, this seemed completely ridiculous. How could a proof possibly be shorter than the thing it proves? It shouldn’t even be possible. But instead of assuming an all-powerful prover, if we assume the prover has limited resources, say finite time – then it actually might be.

While I was at MIT, I had the privilege of being mentored by several incredible female professors whose sharpness and confidence quietly shifted how I saw myself.

That tension between truth and feasibility made me appreciate the “engineering” side of theoretical cryptography: sometimes the goal isn’t to prove that something exists unconditionally, but to show that it can exist within realistic limits. And one doesn’t need to stop there – one could also ask for a proof to be both succinct and zero-knowledge simultaneously! Indeed, succinct zero-knowledge proofs (sometimes called zk-proofs or zk-SNARKs) are now the backbone of blockchains, allowing large computations to be verified efficiently while maintaining privacy.

Representation shapes what seems possible, even when no one says it out loud. I feel so incredibly lucky to have crossed paths with these incredible women.

While I was at MIT, I had the privilege of being mentored by several incredible female professors whose sharpness and confidence quietly shifted how I saw myself. Watching them made it feel more plausible that I could be a researcher or academic too. Earlier in my life, during the Math Olympiad or even at Caltech, I was often one of the few girls in the room. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but looking back, I realize how much visibility matters. Representation shapes what seems possible, even when no one says it out loud. I feel so incredibly lucky to have crossed paths with these incredible women.

Perhaps my favourite thing about doing research is that unlike Olympiad math, it doesn’t exist in a vacuum – research is deeply conversational. I’ve learned that sharing half-formed thoughts – defending, revising, and rebuilding them – is often how the most enjoyable mathematics happens. Each discussion shifts how you see the problem, and sometimes that’s enough to move it forward. I’ve also come to enjoy the part that happens after the proof is done. I enjoy giving talks, explaining the ideas to others, and seeing how they react. Good talks feel like an extension of research itself: a chance to start a conversation about mathematical ideas.

I am now a postdoctoral researcher at NTT Research, a research lab based in California. I still work on constructing zero-knowledge succinct proofs and other related cryptography problems. Even though I work on theoretical computer science, by an ironic turn of events, much of my recent work uses traditional mathematical proofs to construct succinct proofs in the cryptographic sense. I am excited to see where else my research leads me. I hope to go into academia, where I can study these problems further. I hope that being here and doing this work helps make the field feel a little more possible for others who might not have seen themselves in it before.

Published on December 10, 2025.
Photo credit: Asaf Etgar

Nov

2025

The Piscopia Initiative & How to Train Your Allies present: What Can You Do?

A practical guide for those wishing to improve gender diversity in mathematical research

by Rosie Evans & Ashleigh Ratcliffe

Rosie Evans and Ashleigh Ratcliffe have written a booklet entitled “What can you do?” which is a practical guide for those wishing to improve gender diversity in the mathematical sciences. It is based on previous events run by The Piscopia Initiative and How to Train your Allies as well as advice from academics across the UK.

Content of the booklet

The booklet offers advice on topics such as effective mentorship, contextualising mathematics courses at undergraduate level and debunking myths about PhD study. The booklet explores how staff and students can support underrepresented genders based on their role and expertise, with the objective to empower those who don’t know how best to help. Each chapter discusses a few themes followed by a space for reflections or a template to fill in. In this blog, we highlight a couple of the chapters and suggest some ways that allies can help within their roles.

Invisible workload

One of the key themes addressed in this booklet is the concept of the “invisible workload” which refers to tasks that are done during a job that are generally classed as “non-promotable”, a term coined by Babcock et al. in their book “The No Club: Putting a stop to women’s dead-end work”. They found that women are more likely to be asked to do service tasks, and have a greater risk to their reputation should they say no. We talk in this chapter about how this applies to those in academia. Tasks like sitting on various panels and committees, having impromptu career chats with students, organising timetabling, often fall on women more heavily. They are tasks that are often worthwhile to the department, and can be time-consuming. However, they are not proportionally accounted for when it comes to progressing your career and can take away valuable time from research.

As a starting point we make a couple of recommendations on raising awareness about the distribution of these tasks. Our suggestions are pitched as individual changes, however this issue is something that needs institutional buy-in to have widespread impact. For example, if women are required to sit on certain committees or interview panels, an ally could complete some of the administrative preparation to reduce the overall time commitment or mental load needed. Furthermore, if a woman is needed, then their role should reflect their specific expertise. The tasks that don’t require specific skills (e.g. writing up meeting notes, booking rooms etc) could be covered by an ally who does not have as many demands on their time.

We noticed when writing this booklet that this “invisible workload” is already present for PhD students. Our community said that they often feel they do a disproportionate amount of (volunteer) service tasks for their universities. We suggest that departments keep track of the service work done by PhD students (talking at careers fairs, being a part of student-staff committees) and consider alternative methods of finding volunteers. For example, a rotating schedule is the fairest way to allocate roles and reduces any unconscious biases sneaking in when asking for volunteers. As an ally, when you need volunteers, we suggest you consider the following: 1) Am I asking the people who I know are most likely to say yes?; 2) Have I asked these people previously?; 3) Is the person I’m asking already committed to other extra-curriculars?

It can be easy to think “they can just say no if they’re busy”, but the research shows that women are less likely to say no and as a PhD student there is the added pressure of fitting into a department where you are the earliest in career stage. The onus should be shifted to the person seeking help rather than on the student to say no.

Contextualising mathematics

We also talk about how lecturers can add context to their modules that will contextualise the way maths has been constructed through history. We spoke to Dr Jamie Mason at Durham University about their experience contextualising their representation theory course last year by providing a brief history when each new mathematician was mentioned. They noted that in representation theory, it was predominantly white, European men who were recorded as making the main advancements and so tried to acknowledge this during the sessions.

“As I progressed through the course, I began to notice that the vast majority of mathematicians were from late 19th or early 20th Century Germany, with a few British or French exceptions. Certainly, they were all men.”

Jamie suggested the following questions to assess your own modules:

Are there any patterns in the mathematicians in this area (e.g., are they predominantly one gender)?
In the time frame of these mathematical advancements, were particular groups excluded from mathematics?

They suggested that if there was a mathematician from an underrepresented group at the time, to make sure that they are highlighted in lectures. On our webpages, we suggest a few resources that have already been made where you can find key examples to include.

Jamie also said that when introducing mathematicians, they tried to give interesting (or scandalous) facts about them. There’s more to mathematicians than just their work, and so acknowledging their wider life can open up discussions about the ethical considerations of mathematics.

“Adding a contextual narrative will help students realise that the mathematics they learn was not developed in a vacuum, but influenced by the time and place of the society. I hope that this helps them become more conscientious and well-rounded students.”

We provide a template table for lecturers to use to log the mathematicians that are mentioned within their courses, to help them spot patterns and think about how this could be addressed in lectures.

Breaking barriers

Other chapters in the booklet cover things you can do for a student and for a member of staff, with a key theme around career building and navigating a research career.

A key aim of the Piscopia Initiative is to raise awareness of the PhD option for students of a gender minority in the mathematical sciences. A barrier to entry, even with sufficient grades and research interest, is a lack of knowledge as to what a research career looks like. To attempt to fill this gap, Piscopia hosts information events for students to find out these details. Piscopia also hosts PiWORKS, a monthly seminar series aimed at undergraduates and masters students to see different areas of research and showcase the work of women and underrepresented gender researchers, and their routes into research.

We acknowledge that opportunities can arise due to who you know or are introduced to. Sharing of information, opportunities and networks is invaluable, especially to first generation PhD students and minoritised groups. However, there is a caveat that just because something is aimed at a certain group, it does not mean you should send it to everyone belonging to that group. We suggest that you should send opportunities thoughtfully, especially if you think the person would be a good fit. It’s a great confidence boost for anyone to hear that a colleague thinks they are worthy of some new opportunity or prize, so try to be specific in your recommendations where possible.

We suggest building a spreadsheet of opportunities (not necessarily limited to specific groups, but make note of requirements where necessary), and provide a template to get you started. By building your awareness of opportunities outside of your own field or expertise means that niche grants and opportunities are more likely to reach the researchers that may benefit most from them.

How to access

A downloadable version of the booklet is available on both of our websites (The Piscopia Initiative | How to Train Your Allies), alongside a list of useful related resources and a HTML version of the booklet. Upon request, we can also provide a printable version.

About the initiatives

How to Train your Allies is a group founded in 2022, who create resources to support staff and students to be effective allies within their departments. Their website has materials about how to be an ally on both an individual scale as well as promoting allyship to your institution via an interactive workshop.

Website: https://sites.google.com/view/how-to-train-your-allies
Contact: howtotrainyourallies@gmail.com

The Piscopia Initiative was founded in 2019 and is a nationwide network of women and underrepresented genders with 16 committees at UK universities. Piscopia aims to improve gender diversity in mathematical research by highlighting role models, creating a supportive network to ask questions, encouraging a culture of belonging and hosting events to encourage more women and underrepresented genders to apply for a PhD.

Website: https://piscopia.co.uk/
Contact: piscopiainitiative@gmail.com

About the authors

Rosie Evans is currently a Learner Developer in Maths at Birmingham City University, having not long graduated with her PhD in Applied Mathematics from the University of Birmingham in July this year. Her PhD topic was focused on mathematical biology, specifically using differential equations to model hydrocortisone replacement treatment. Born in Shrewsbury, she first studied her BSc at the University of Exeter before returning back to the midlands for her masters and PhD. She has been an advocate for equality, diversity and inclusion throughout her career, acting as a committee member and then co-lead of the Piscopia Initiative from the years 2021-2024. Alongside this, she co-founded the “How to Train your Allies” group in 2022 during her PhD. Her goal is to help researchers not only understand why the gender gap exists in mathematical research, but to be empowered and equipped to help reduce it.

Ashleigh Ratcliffe is a current final-year PhD student and Graduate Teaching Assistant at the University of Leicester. Her research is in number theory and involves solving Diophantine equations, these are polynomial equations with integer coefficients for which we are trying to find integer solutions. Originally from Leicester, she studied a BSc in Mathematics at the University of Leicester. She is passionate about outreach and inclusion in mathematics and is a co-lead of the Piscopia Initiative and regularly writes for and edits Chalkdust magazine.

References

[1] Evans, Rosie, and Ratcliffe, Ashleigh. What can you do? – A practical guide for those wishing to improve gender diversity in mathematical research [Booklet], 2025. Available at: https://how-to-train-your-allies.github.io/what-can-you-do/ and https://piscopia.co.uk/what-can-you-do/

[2] Babcock, Linda, Brenda Peyser, Lise Vesterlund, and Laurie Weingart. The no club: Putting a stop to women’s dead-end work. Simon and Schuster, 2022.

Published on November 26, 2025.
Credit graphics of the women on the header image: Meg Evans (Instagram: @megserplet_artist)

Nov

2025

Ilse Fischer

Born in Klagenfurt, Austria • Birth year 1975 • Studied Mathematics at the University of Vienna in Austria • PhD in Mathematics from the University of Vienna Austria • Lives in Vienna, Austria • Professor of Mathematics and Vice-Dean, Faculty of Mathematics, University of Vienna

I was drawn to maths not because of my background, but because it came naturally. I loved being good at maths. Even though my father was a university professor in math education, he never pushed me into this field.

My inspiration instead came from the simple content we learned at school. I enjoyed mathematics as a creative process with very strict rules and gained immense satisfaction from overcoming these rules to achieve success. If I am perfectly honest, another reason was that I was just really good at maths in school, which boosted my ego. I enjoyed it when my peers asked me for help.

My Career Path – Between Klagenfurt and Vienna

After studying mathematics for 5 years at the University of Vienna, I returned to my hometown, Klagenfurt. I really appreciated the relaxed pace of living in Klagenfurt compared to Vienna. The position was in applied mathematics, with a focus on optimization. Optimization in mathematics refers to calculations identifying the best solution among a set of alternatives, such as the quickest route via train from Vienna to Paris if one transfers at a third train station. This was quite different from my original focus on pure mathematics.

To me this offer in pure mathematics was akin to winning the lottery, which is why there was no question that I would return to Vienna.

During my time in Klagenfurt, my mathematical taste was strongly shaped by my professor, who, like me, really enjoyed mathematical problems that are easy to state but hard to solve.

After a few years in Klagenfurt, I ended up back in Vienna having an offer for a postdoctoral position. To me this offer in pure mathematics was akin to winning the lottery, which is why there was no question that I would return to Vienna. Here, I returned to my initial field of pure mathematics. My specialty now is enumerative combinatorics. In enumerative combinatorics, our job is to count possibilities such as how many ways can you shuffle a deck of cards or how many different routes exist between two points in a grid.

Why Combinatorics?

Combinatorics used to be a bit of an underdog in mathematics.

What I love about combinatorics is that the problems are very easy to state, but hard to prove. Furthermore, it’s a very accessible field that does not require extensive reading in order for doctoral students to start working in it.

Combinatorics used to be a bit of an underdog in mathematics. However, it is valuable for applications in diverse fields such physics and statistics, and therefore now seems to have become a rising star, which I find really satisfying to witness.

Some people, not least my father, ask why I chose pure mathematics over applied mathematics. What drives me particularly in pure mathematics is the aesthetic aspect, the desire to do something nice. I also really enjoy working on blue skies research (where the immediate applications are not yet known) and chasing deep discoveries. This can lead to revolutionary and useful outcomes in the long run that we can’t even predict at the time of doing the work, which feels very inspiring.

My Advice to other Mathematicians

My advice to others would be to always follow your own taste and concentrate on your chosen field. I believe success comes from motivation rather than pressure.

Yet over time, I started to appreciate that a very satisfying aspect of mathematics is establishing intellectual connections with other people.

My second piece of advice is to forge intellectual connections and work collaboratively. I started out working alone, partially because, when I was applying for positions in the early 2000s, people looked closely at whether you had single-authored papers. It was also what suited me best at the time, probably due to the fact that I was a woman in a male-dominated field. Yet over time, I started to appreciate that a very satisfying aspect of mathematics is establishing intellectual connections with other people.

My Thoughts on Women in Mathematics

When it comes to the struggles of women in mathematics, I do believe a contradiction exists. I am on a lot of hiring committees, and I have observed that if women publish with other people, the committee members often end up saying, “Well, she didn’t do it.” And I find it incredibly frustrating that this still happens.

This is why I would say as a female mathematician, a smart choice is going for a balance of single-author papers and collaborations. But maybe more importantly, you should do what you think suits you best.

I hope that we will get to a point in the future where a woman can be an excellent mathematician without it being remarked upon as something out of the ordinary.

Another aspect about being a woman in mathematics that frequently causes me irritation is that people feel very surprised when they find out that I am a mathematician. When they hear this, they usually assume that I’m a high school teacher. Then they find out that I’m a professor and are even more surprised. I don’t think that’s good news, and I do think that this is just down to my gender. While it creates some funny situations, it shouldn’t be the case in 2025.

I hope that we will get to a point in the future where a woman can be an excellent mathematician without it being remarked upon as something out of the ordinary.

Published on November 12, 2025.
Photo credit: Joseph Krpelan

Sep

2025

Mihyun Kang

Born in Jeju, South Korea • Studied Mathematics Education at Jeju National University in Jeju, South Korea • PhD in Mathematics from Korea Advanced Institute of Science and Technology (KAIST) in Daejeon, South Korea • Lives in Graz, Austria • Full Professor at Graz University of Technology (TU Graz)

In a way, becoming a Professor of Mathematics was probably always on the cards for me. Even as a child, the only subject I remember enjoying at school was mathematics and so pursuing higher education in this field felt natural.

I had both my parents’ support and encouragement to pursue this path in life. My father, a professor himself, gave me an early insight into the profession and all it entails. What I saw was mostly positive and so it was maybe no big surprise that I ended up in academia as well.

After finishing my PhD in 2001, I made my way to Berlin, Germany, to become a Postdoc at Humboldt University. Almost everything there – maths, academic culture, language, people’s attitude, as well as everyday life outside the university – was new and sometimes challenging to me, but I loved it. In this new world I could be what I was, without feeling the need to try to overly adjust myself to the standards and expectations of society.

I spent ten years in Germany, managing to progress from a postdoc to Heisenberg Fellow and then to Acting Professor at the University of Munich. I also used this time to learn the German language, which I now speak fluently. But I must say it took quite a few years to be able to teach in German, because the language of maths research is English and I taught only small Master’s courses, also in English.

Only later, when I started to teach Bachelor’s courses in German for engineering students and took part in academic administration as a Senate member of TU Graz, did I become more confident in using German in teaching and daily discussions.

I believe my approach of bridging multiple fields has contributed greatly to my career success, as it allows me to be more inventive and recognise patterns among seemingly different objects and mathematical behaviours that can only be discovered by thinking in an interdisciplinary manner.

For the past 13 years I have been a full professor at TU Graz in Austria, where I lead the Combinatorics Group. In my work, I draw inspiration from many neighbouring disciplines. My main research is centered around the phase transition phenomenon, partly because it appears in many different disciplines, including combinatorics, discrete probability, computer science, statistical physics, and network sciences. In fact, this phenomenon is almost everywhere including daily life, e.g., the change from ice to water and then to gas.

I believe my approach of bridging multiple fields has contributed greatly to my career success, as it allows me to be more inventive and recognise patterns among seemingly different objects and mathematical behaviours that can only be discovered by thinking in an interdisciplinary manner.

Doing research in mathematics involves a lot of collaboration with mathematicians from all over the world. I greatly enjoy discussions with mathematicians from different mathematical and cultural backgrounds.

Although mathematics may appear too abstract and detached from real life to most people, everybody has been exposed to hot topics such as digital security or artificial intelligence, which, in fact, rely heavily on progress in mathematics.

In addition to being part of this international network, my participation in the SFB (Research Network) “Discrete random structures: enumeration and scaling limits” – supported by a science and research funding organization in Austria – gives me a rewarding opportunity to forge closer collaborations with mathematicians coming from top universities in Austria. This research network brings together researchers from the fields of combinatorics and probability and even touches on areas such as quantum physics.

Although mathematics may appear too abstract and detached from real life to most people, everybody has been exposed to hot topics such as digital security or artificial intelligence, which, in fact, rely heavily on progress in mathematics. I therefore strongly believe that maths is invaluable to our society and a field worth pursuing a career in.

Published on September 3, 2025.
Photo credit: TU Graz

May

2025

Alexandra Edletzberger

Born in Vienna, Austria • Birth year 1995 • Studied Mathematics at University Vienna, Austria and Journalism at University of Salzburg, Austria • PhD in Mathematics from University of Vienna, Austria • Lives in Vienna, Austria • Innovation Manager at UBIMET Group

When I handed in my bachelor’s thesis in 2017, I couldn’t believe it – I thought to myself, “Well, here is my math degree. I’m finally done studying.” Little did I know that seven years later, I would be celebrating the completion of my PhD in mathematics and embarking on new research endeavors.

Since I had always been good at math in school, and since a math degree typically opens doors in finance, insurance, or consulting, I made my decision: I would become a mathematician as well.

My original career plan was set. Ever since my teenage years, I knew that I would become a sports journalist, most likely for a major newspaper or magazine. So after high school, I enrolled in a specialized program at the University of Salzburg to become an Academic Sports Journalist in two years. And so I did. But at the same time, I was aware that the writing business could be tough. As a Viennese girl, I knew it would be challenging to find my place in Austria’s ski-obsessed and male-dominated sports scene. So, I decided to be strategic and enroll in a second study program – one with secure and stable job prospects – just to be on the safe side. Since I had always been good at math in school, and since a math degree typically opens doors in finance, insurance, or consulting, I made my decision: I would become a mathematician as well.

There had already been very few women in my bachelor’s program, and I wondered if I would fit into the master’s program at all.

Everything went as planned. I completed my sports journalism degree, found a job at a newspaper in Vienna, and finished my math degree on the side. But then, with a very heavy heart, I realized that I am not supposed to attend math lectures any more. At the same time, I wasn’t sure whether I even had what it takes to continue with a higher degree in math – especially as a woman. There had already been very few women in my bachelor’s program, and I wondered if I would fit into the master’s program at all. A sneaky look at the master’s program curriculum got me excited – there was a specialization in algebra, my absolute favorite area of math. So I decided to enroll – just for fun. I am very thankful for the Austrian education system, where there are no entry exams and studying comes at no cost. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to take this opportunity.

The more courses I took, the more I enjoyed studying. And when I realized that this could also be my chance to move abroad for half a year through an exchange program, I took a leap of faith. I quit my job as a journalist, went to Sweden, and decided to try my luck as a mathematician.

Once again, I didn’t feel ready to end my math journey just yet.

When I was completing my master’s degree, a familiar feeling crept in. Once again, I didn’t feel ready to end my math journey just yet. I was fortunate enough to be offered a PhD position by my master’s thesis supervisor, and I accepted with excitement. My math journey that had started as a practical decision, continued out of passion.

While I enjoyed doing research and the freedom of an academic position, I realized very early in my PhD studies that I did not fit – and did not want to fit – into the academic system. The structural discrimination of women, the exploitation of early-career researchers, and the lack of opportunities to make meaningful change wore me down. I felt like a flower expected to bloom with far too little water and sunlight.

But when I was done, for the first time, I felt truly content with my math chapter coming to an end. And I found a new way to use many of the skills I gained during my PhD.

Don’t get me wrong – I am very grateful that I had the opportunity to complete my PhD, meet incredible people, do exciting research, and contribute to diversity and inclusion in STEM. But when I was done, for the first time, I felt truly content with my math chapter coming to an end.

And I found a new way to use many of the skills I gained during my PhD. As an innovation manager at an Austrian medium-sized company with a focus on natural sciences and its own Research and Development department, I design and develop research projects, find project partners, write proposals, and manage ongoing projects. My fundamental knowledge about mathematical modelling is a key asset. Plus, this role combines my interest in storytelling, investigating new leads and juggling several projects – talents that once led me to journalism – with the skills that steered me to mathematics. In the end, the two plotlines of my career have merged into one in an unexpected yet fulfilling way.

Published on May 7, 2025.
Photo credit: Nora Kamml

Apr

2025

Kateryna Marynets

Born in Uzhhorod, Ukraine • Birth year 1988 • Studied Applied Mathematics at Uzhhorod National University in Ukraine • Highest Degree PhD in Differential Equations from Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv in Ukraine • Lives in Delft, The Netherlands • Occupation Assistant Professor in Applied Mathematics at Delft Institute of Applied Mathematics, Delft University of Technology

4 countries, 5 languages, and 1 mathematics…

Was it my big dream to pursue a career as a math professor? No, it wasn’t. In fact, when our primary school teacher asked who we wanted to become in the future, I said that I wanted to be a pediatrician. But that was only because my parents are doctors, and my grandmother was leading the children’s department in the hospital at that time. To be honest, medicine has never been my thing—but as a kid, you tend to take on the role models you see around you. And I wasn’t an exception.

Many years have passed, and mathematics and languages have become inseparable parts of my life.

In Ukraine, we say that children inherit the talents of their grandparents. And with my grandparents working in the fields of physics and mathematics, following that logic, I was probably predestined for these directions. Interestingly enough, those were indeed my favorite subjects at school. I really enjoyed solving math puzzles and diving into the laws of physics. I was extremely lucky to have great teachers who recognized my interest and kept me engaged by offering challenging problems—even though my school had a linguistic focus, and the sciences didn’t occupy much of our curriculum. Many years have passed, and mathematics and languages have become inseparable parts of my life. Those seemingly different disciplines have a lot in common: languages help in sharing my mathematical expertise to a multilingual community, and logical thinking, developed through solving mathematical problems, helps in mastering a new language.

Obtaining a PhD brought new opportunities, but it also came with a lot of pressure—pressure to deliver, pressure not to disappoint.

The path to my current position was long and quite “nonlinear”—just like the math problems I work on. In my last year of high school, I seriously considered studying international economic relations, with applied mathematics as a second option. It was the study program where I could combine my passion for mathematics and foreign languages. But in the end, I chose applied mathematics, and I’ve never regretted the decision I made.

After graduation, I was offered a teaching position at my home university, which I combined with enrollment in a doctoral program. I studied boundary value problems for systems of nonlinear differential equations and developed iterative methods for approximating their solutions. It was a great combination of analysis and work with mathematical software—something I still enjoy doing. Back then, I could conduct research at my home institution but had to defend my thesis at a different university. I still remember all those trips to Kyiv, accompanied by my parents, who helped me organize everything…I am incredibly thankful for all their patience and time that they have invested.

Obtaining a PhD brought new opportunities, but it also came with a lot of pressure—pressure to deliver, pressure not to disappoint. Since then, sports has become my first aid when I feel overwhelmed and need to change my focus during the intense periods at work.

[Fractional differential] equations are broadly used in porous media modeling and systems with memory

After graduation, and having 3 languages ‘in my pocket’, I continued teaching at my home university for a couple of years but felt an urgent need for change. I seriously considered switching to industry and even received an offer from an IT company, but something held me back. Around that time, I won an individual grant for a short-term research stay in Slovakia, where I was introduced to a new field—fractional differential equations. These equations are broadly used in porous media modeling and systems with memory. Moreover, they are able to capture more complex dynamics of a physical system in comparison to their integer-order counterparts. Back then it was still a completely unfamiliar topic for me, something I had never worked on before, but it eventually became part of my current research profile.

My time in Bratislava was a period of reflection, and it gave me the motivation to continue pursuing an academic career. I saw many opportunities that European universities offered and started applying for postdocs. Among all the negative responses and unanswered emails, there was one that changed my life. I got a postdoc position in Vienna, which I still consider my biggest achievement to date. It might sound silly but moving from Uzhhorod, that is by the way famous for its Japanese cherry blossom, to join one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in Austria was something I couldn’t have even dreamed of!

During my postdoc, I explored real-world applications of differential equations by analyzing mathematical models related to ocean and atmospheric circulation

During my postdoc, I explored real-world applications of differential equations by analyzing mathematical models related to ocean and atmospheric circulation. I was fascinated by the opportunity to apply my mathematical training to real-world phenomena, expanding my knowledge beyond purely theoretical research. As time passed and my postdoc was nearing its end, I realized I needed something more permanent. And again, I stood at a crossroads: should I switch to industry and stay in Austria with my partner, or pursue a career in academia but accept the fact that I would likely have to move to a third country within the last three years? I know many couples for whom cross-country moves didn’t work out, and in the meantime I was already fluent in German and had good chances on the Austrian labor market. Luckily, my partner was incredibly supportive, and when I got an offer from TU Delft, he did everything he could to make my decision easier.

And here we are. Five and a half years after moving, I’m now a tenured assistant professor at one of the best universities in the Netherlands, developing my own research line in nonlinear (fractional) differential equations with applications in geosciences, speaking my fifth language, and making future plans with my husband. Time has sorted out everything, and despite all difficulties I feel that I am in the right place.

Of course, at the end of the day it’s all about hard work, determination and family support —but sometimes, it’s also about that one email that changes everything in your life.

Published on April 23, 2025.
Image credit: Kateryna Marynets

Apr

2025

JoAnne Growney

Born in rural Pennsylvania in 1940 • Studied PhD in Mathematics at University of Oklahoma, United States • Lives in United States • Occupation Taught mathematics at Bloomsburg (PA) University (now part of Commonwealth University); now retired

Before I was a math girl, I was a farm girl – the oldest of three children growing up on a farm in Pennsylvania — the one who went to the barn with her father while her mother took care of the little ones.

Math (often numbers and counting) was an inconspicuous but central part of farming – counting eggs as I collected them from beneath the hens, counting the sheep as they came into shelter at night to make sure that none had drifted away. Geometric quantities also were important – the volumes of harvested grains and fruit, the distances between parallel rows of corn, the gallons of milk expected from our Guernsey cow which I milked morning and evening.

My teacher, a graduate of an elite college and unashamed of her math ability, was an energetic and supportive example of “girls can do math.”

Perhaps my farm experience helped me to be good at math – and that skill seemed fine in elementary school years but as my classmates and I moved through high school my female math ability seemed to make people turn away from me. In my senior year, I was one of only three girls in my math classes. BUT that year I also had an inspiring experience. My teacher, a graduate of an elite college and unashamed of her math ability, was an energetic and supportive example of “girls can do math.”

Receipt of a scholarship from Westminster College in New Wilmington, Pennsylvania, enabled me to go away from home to continue my education. (To my dismay, at Westminster I had several “only girl in the class” experiences.) I started out as a chemistry major but, during my sophomore year. I learned that my “science scholarship” could be used toward a math major and then (preferring math to chemistry) I switched, combining studies of math with secondary education. AND I took creative writing courses and had work published in the campus literary journal. In those days (early 1960’s), many jobs were not available to women – but teaching was.

Graduation from Westminster led to marriage, to secondary school teaching in the Philadelphia area, to evening graduate classes at Temple University – from which I obtained an MA in Mathematics. My husband (Wallace/Wally) – who had studied physics and math and a bit of computer science – took a job at Susquehanna University in Selinsgrove, PA. I did some part-time teaching at Susquehanna and at nearby Bucknell – but soon we moved to Norman, Oklahoma where Wally would pursue a doctorate so that he could qualify for tenure at Susquehanna. While we were in Oklahoma, with lots of time on my hands, I was able to attain a teaching assistantship and continue my studies also.

One of the requirements for mathematics professors at Bloomsburg University was to teach “general education” courses for non-majors and this experience led me to write and publish a textbook entitled Mathematics in Daily Life – a book containing material that engaged students in mathematical reasoning related to counting, voting, travel, decision-making, and other frequent concerns.

Graduate school brought complications to our marriage. In our earlier studies, I had gotten better grades but we credited it to his sports and fraternity activities – AND, I studied more carefully. But at The University of Oklahoma, it became evident that I was the better student and, eventually, that caused stress for both of us. I became his helper. We studied together. During our work on dissertations, I became pregnant. When our doctoral studies were completed, we returned to Pennsylvania, bringing with us a baby daughter. I secured a tenure-track position at nearby Bloomsburg State College (now part of Commonwealth University). AND I was able to keep my on-campus schedule to three days per week and to find excellent child care; our care-giver, Erma, was loving and dependable. Our family grew with another childbirth and two adoptions.

Keeping busy helped our marriage survive but over time we began to recognize that things weren’t working and weren’t repairable. This eventually led to divorce and to me and the kids moving to the town of Bloomsburg (and to me avoiding the 30-mile commute). My time in Bloomsburg involved congenial colleagues, a great neighborhood – a safe place for my children even if I was not with them and walk-to schools. When my children grew up – and left home for college and marriage and . . . I found time to revive my childhood interest (begun as a child reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses) to poetry.

One of my favorite poems celebrates the mathematician, Amalie Emmy Noether; it’s title is “My Dance is Mathematics”

One of the requirements for mathematics professors at Bloomsburg University was to teach “general education” courses for non-majors and this experience led me to write and publish a textbook entitled Mathematics in Daily Life – a book containing material that engaged students in mathematical reasoning related to counting, voting, travel, decision-making, and other frequent concerns. Work on this project and — even more so — my interest in poetry drew me into connections with other colleagues (in English and Philosophy and . . . and I gradually began to participate in poetry events and publication in addition to my math-related activities.

Writing poetry was an activity that I much enjoyed – and many of my poems incorporate mathematical ideas. One of my favorite poems celebrates the mathematician, Amalie Emmy Noether; it’s title is “My Dance is Mathematics” and it is available online at this link: https://joannegrowney.com/ChapbookMyDance.html ; here is its opening stanza:

They called you der Noether, as if mathematics

was only for men. In 1964, nearly thirty years

past your death, at last I saw you in a spotlight,

in a World’s Fair mural, “Men of Modern Mathematics.”

Once my kids were grown – and using some funds inherited from a great aunt – I began to engage in travel-related math-and-poetry activities. Via “Teachers for Tomorrow” – a non-profit organized by one of my high school friends – I spent part of several summers teaching (math and poetry and English conversation) – in India and in Romania.

A few years into retirement, I moved south to the Washington, DC area where three of my four children were living with their young families. And I am still here!

More can be learned about me at my website: https://joannegrowney.com. In 2010 I began to write a blog entitled “Intersections – Poetry with Mathematics” (found at https://poetrywithmathematics.blogspot.com/) – and, with more than 1600 posts so far, my blogging continues. My own thought processes seem to follow the rule that “everything connects” – and this article shares some related ideas: https://joannegrowney.com/Everything-Connects–JMA-Growney-26June2020.pdf

THANK YOU for reading! I hope you also enjoy math and poetry and their connections!

Published on April 9, 2025.
Image credit: Diann Growney Harrity

Mar

2025

Bindi Brook

Born in Nairobi, Kenya • Studied Mathematics at the University of Leeds • Highest Degree PhD in Applied Mathematics from the University of Leeds • Lives in the UK • Occupation Professor of Mathematical Medicine and Biology at the University of Nottingham

When I think back to school days, my sense is that I’ve always enjoyed mathematics. But there is one particular memory that is contrary to that. I was around 10 years old and had been finding most of the “maths” we did quite easy. Then some combination of factors (teacher, specific content) brought a sudden loss of confidence. I could not get my head around what we were being taught and I thought that was it – that I did not like maths anymore. My dad decided I was being silly (thankfully) and worked through some examples with me, every night, for about a week. By the end of it, my temporary lack of confidence had gone and ever since then I have really enjoyed some form of maths (here one can read – NOT pure maths). In fact, whenever I couldn’t make a decision about what I wanted to do next (at the end of A-levels, at the end of my undergraduate degree) I just picked the thing I enjoyed the most (maths and then applied maths) and went with it. I come from a South Asian culture where, if you’re considered “able”, you’re expected to study Medicine. That wasn’t for me – I really did not like remembering lots of facts and much preferred the problem-solving needed for studying maths.

(…) I have started to look into the mechanisms that could lead to a rare lung disease called lymphangioleiomyomatosis (LAM) and Long Covid.

In an interesting twist though, in my research career, I have essentially specialised in applying mathematics to biological and medical problems! My PhD was all about understanding what happens to blood flow in collapsible blood vessels like the giraffe jugular vein. In my postdoc I was investigating how to optimise ventilator settings for patients in ICU and then how to deliver inhaled therapies into the lungs. Since then, my focus has been in trying to understand how diseases like Asthma and other respiratory diseases originate and then progress. This involves incorporating biology and physics into mathematical and computational models, using approaches from different areas of applied maths. More recently I have started to look into the mechanisms that could lead to a rare lung disease called lymphangioleiomyomatosis (LAM) and Long Covid.

Although I am now a Professor and have spent much of my working life in academia, I took a somewhat torturous path getting there and could have picked a different route a number of times. Immediately after my PhD I worked for a credit card company, applying statistical models in a somewhat robotic fashion. There was no problem-solving involved and within 3 months I knew I could not stay and 3 months later started a postdoc in Sheffield. Towards the end of my postdoc I had my first daughter and worked part-time to complete it after which I decided I would just take time out to look after her. Two years later I had my second daughter.

Throughout my career, I have had some fantastic mentors (both women and men) who guided me through some tough times. These included workplace bullying and discrimination (as a woman of colour) and I have had to work hard to overcome these hurdles.

When my second daughter was around 2 years old I was starting to consider alternative careers to academia (I felt I had been out of it too long, hadn’t written up my postdoc work into peer-reviewed papers, etc) when I got a phone call from a previous academic colleague from the University of Nottingham asking if I would be interested in covering his teaching part-time, as he was taking a sabbatical. I took up this offer and continued to teach and work part-time until I felt my daughters were old enough for me to consider getting back into research. I applied for and was awarded a fantastic “return-to-research” Daphne Jackson Fellowship which allowed me to restart my research on a part-time basis and also write up some of my postdoc work. I will be eternally grateful for this opportunity, as it allowed me to start my research in asthma, build up a network of collaborators and eventually my first MRC grant. The other most important thing that made all this possible is my amazing, hugely supportive, parents who helped look after my daughters for many years.

Throughout my career, I have had some fantastic mentors (both women and men) who guided me through some tough times. These included workplace bullying and discrimination (as a woman of colour) and I have had to work hard to overcome these hurdles. Unfortunately, these things still exist. More recently (in my case) these have been more in the form of unconscious bias rather than overt. And significant efforts are being made to address these issues in my School. I try to contribute the best I can with these efforts. Nonetheless, it does mean that I regularly have to sit back and ask if it’s worth it. The answer isn’t an easy “yes”, not just for the above reasons but also because of the way higher education is going these days in terms of massive budget cuts and increased bureaucracy. On the positive side, I work with wonderful friends and colleagues, on worthwhile research problems, and great students.

Published on March 26, 2025.

PhD

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