For those of us lucky enough to work in the marine sciences, the camp-like research stations dotting the world’s coastlines often have a special place in our hearts. These stations are collections of laboratory and classroom spaces that host an ever-shifting community of scientists, both budding and well-established. 

I’ve been lucky enough to live and work at three different marine stations. While they all have their quirks, there are unifying characteristics that make one feel at home in any marine station. The proximity to the ocean, the pervasive smell of algae, and the lab equipment corroded by seawater are ubiquitous, but there’s something more. Maybe it’s the distance from city life or the hypnotic rhythm of waves breaking on the shore. Maybe it’s the small-town-esque sense of community or the collective desire to work with and understand the ocean. Whatever it is, all three of these stations have had it—especially UW’s Friday Harbor Laboratories (FHL).

I was fortunate to spend just over a month of my summer at FHL, and it was just as magical as I hoped it would be. FHL is tucked away in a forested biological preserve of nearly 500 acres, far from the hustle and bustle of the touristy Friday Harbor. As the road leading from town to the labs curves downhill, you suddenly find yourself amongst moss-covered giants towering over you. It feels as though you’ve entered another world.

On a sunny day in early June, I arrived to a community abuzz with the new summer semester. For many of us, it was our first time at FHL, and curiosity and excitement were in the air. Some were there to take a course in marine botany or coastal ecology and history, others were set to participate in an undergraduate research experience, and others still were more permanently installed to complete longer-term projects. The scientific community at a marine station is a fascinating combination; there are students getting their hands dirty in the marine sciences for the first time, somewhat more experienced scientists both contributing and building their knowledge, and scientists who are giants in their fields that hope to pass some of their vast knowledge down to their successors. As the teaching assistant for the larval biology class, I fell into the second category.

While I learned about the inner workings of invertebrate larvae in great detail—maybe more than any reasonable person should want to know—I often found myself also considering the diversity of the human community around me. Some of the moments of connection that I witnessed absolutely warmed my heart: students shrieking with joy as they leapt off the dock into frigid waters, professors excitedly debating that afternoon’s lecture, a particularly bold and creative student dancing down the main drag of Friday Harbor in their handmade crustacean costume for the July 4th parade. But there were also some sobering realizations I couldn’t overlook. When working on a puzzle (at my own behest) with my four housemates, I couldn’t help but notice that we were all able-bodied, white, and from economically stable backgrounds. As I got to know my students, I found that many of them shared similar identities, and it made me wonder if the same was true for the rest of that semester’s student body. Although I didn’t know each person on campus personally, there were noticeable majorities in apparent identities like race, gender, and physical ability.

It’s no secret that the marine sciences lack diversity in terms of race, gender identity, physical ability, and more. In fact, a 2021 National Science Foundation survey reported that just under 9% of participating graduate students in the ocean sciences identified as part of a minority community (e.g., Black, Native American, Latino/a/x). As such, there is a burgeoning body of research and advocacy that tackles the behemoth that is systemic change in the marine and environmental sciences. Some researchers are studying the ecological consequences of systemic racism in urban environments while others are illustrating an Indigenous framework that would transform fisheries research and management. Other researchers provide a plain language summary alongside the traditional abstract to increase accessibility. It’s not all science and statistics, though—there are also people sharing their stories, like a marine geochemist who deals with chronic pain or a field marine biologist with polymorphic arrhythmia that altered her career path. Others, like Chris Mantegna of the UW School of Aquatic and Fishery Sciences, are working their way through academia and mentoring young students through programs with Black in Marine Science at the same time. 

During my undergraduate invertebrate zoology class at the Oregon Institute of Marine Biology, I distinctly remember my mentor, Dr. Richard Emlet, encouraging female-identifying students to continue their careers in the marine sciences. “Most of our students are female, but the field remains male-dominated,” he had said. Since then, I’ve often considered the identities that are most prevalent among my colleagues, the scientists whose work is widely studied in this field, and so on. I’m grateful that my time at the UW School of Marine and Environmental Affairs has helped me to further broaden those horizons through a wider range of perspectives. From day one of the program, we are challenged to reconsider what we know and how we know it. We are asked to think about ways of generating and sharing knowledge that falls outside of the traditional Western-centric perspective. We learn about other ways of knowing, and in turn, other ways of being. In my mind, the goal is that we become not only more compassionate and understanding, but also more fortified in our foundational sense of purpose.  

While there is a great foundation of community at FHL, we still have a long road ahead of us to combat the exclusionary ways of old. Diversifying the ocean sciences will only strengthen the community that is centuries in the making. Maybe it looks like forming formal partnerships with organizations to provide educational and research opportunities to their communities. Maybe it means moving toward a more interdisciplinary approach to marine science education by incorporating diversity, inclusion, and justice work into classroom spaces, especially by centering marginalized voices and educators. I would hope it also includes more fully integrating local Tribes in the management of the space and its resources while also highlighting Indigenous perspectives on and methods of studying the natural world.

We can all certainly begin to further educate ourselves by exploring the stories of how others experience the world, whether we look to books like Ed Yong’s An Immense World, which ideas on how to interact with the natural world using all of our senses, or the stories of scientists like Dr. Gareet Vermeij, an evolutionary biologist and paleontologist who became an expert on marine mollusk shell morphology as a result of lifelong blindness. Maybe you can even look within your own community for stories of experiences that differ from your own. There are so many stories to hear and tell, and the only way to bring those stories to light is to make some room.

I realize how lucky I am to have spent time at one marine station, let alone three. And it’s my hope that more and more students from all walks of life may one day share in my wonder at this magical place. 

While I, a cis white woman, do not have the lived experience that others with marginalized identities have, I recognize that it is my responsibility to lift up those marginalized voices in whatever way possible. That’s why I aim to direct you to the organizations and resources linked throughout the article for more detailed information. I also recognize that I still have a lot to learn and am grateful for the opportunity to do so.

Contact Currents’ Editor-in-Chief for access to the following references:

Harris, L. A., Garza, C., Hatch, M., Parrish, J., Posselt, J., Alvarez Rosario, J. P., … & Reyes, K. (2021). Equitable Exchange: A framework for diversity and inclusion in the geosciences. AGU Advances, 2(2).

Reid, A. J., Eckert, L. E., Lane, J. F., Young, N., Hinch, S. G., Darimont, C. T., … & Marshall, A. (2021). “Two‐Eyed Seeing”: An Indigenous framework to transform fisheries research and management. Fish and Fisheries, 22(2), 243–261.

Schell, C. J., Dyson, K., Fuentes, T. L., Des Roches, S., Harris, N. C., Miller, D. S., … & Lambert, M. R. (2020). The ecological and evolutionary consequences of systemic racism in urban environments. Science, 369(6510).