Writing about women in science remains an important and worthwhile thing to do. That’s the premise that underlies Women in the History of Quantum Physics: Beyond Knabenphysik – an anthology charting the participation of women in quantum physics, edited by Patrick Charbonneau, Michelle Frank, Margriet van der Heijden and Daniela Monaldi.

What does a history of women in science accomplish? This volume firmly establishes that women have for a long time made substantial contributions to quantum physics. It raises the profiles of figures like Chien-Shiung Wu, whose early work on photon entanglement is often overshadowed by her later fame in nuclear physics; and Grete Hermann, whose critiques of John von Neumann and Werner Heisenberg make her central to early quantum theory.

But in specifically recounting the work of these women in quantum, do we risk reproducing the same logic of exclusion that once kept them out – confining women to a specialized narrative? The answer is no, and this book is an especially compelling illustration of why.

A reference and a reminder

Two big ways this volume demonstrates its necessity are by its success as a reference, a place to look for the accomplishments and contributions of women in quantum physics; and as a reminder that we still have far to go before there is anything like true diversity, equality or the disappearance of prejudice in science.

The subtitle Beyond Knabenphysik – meaning “boys’ physics” in German – points to one of the book’s central aims: to move past a vision of quantum physics as a purely male domain. Originally a nickname for quantum mechanics given because of the youth of its pioneers, Knabenphysik comes to be emblematic of the collaboration and mentorship that welcomed male physicists and consistently excluded women.

The exclusion was not only symbolic but material. Hendrika Johanna van Leeuwen, who co-developed a key theorem in classical magnetism, was left out of the camaraderie and recognition extended to her male colleagues. Similarly, credit for Laura Chalk’s research into the Stark effect – an early confirmation of Schrödinger’s wave equation – was under-acknowledged in favour of that of her male collaborator’s.

Something this book does especially well is combine the sometimes conflicting aims of history of science and biography. We learn not only about the trajectories of these women’s careers, but also about the scientific developments they were a part of. The chapter on Hertha Sponer, for instance, traces both her personal journey and her pioneering role in quantum spectroscopy. The piece on Freda Friedman Salzman situates her theoretical contributions within the professional and social networks that both enabled and constrained her. In so doing, the book treats each of these women as not only whole human beings, but also integral players in a complex history of one of the most successful and debated physical theories in history.

Lost physics

Because the history is told chronologically, we trace quantum physics from some of the early astronomical images suggesting discrete quantized elements to later developments in quantum electrodynamics. Along the way, we encounter women like Maria McEachern, who revisits Williamina Fleming’s spectral work; Maria Lluïsa Canut, whose career spanned crystallography and feminist activism; and Sonja Ashauer, a Brazilian physicist whose PhD at Cambridge placed her at the heart of theoretical developments but whose story remains little known.

This history could lead to a broader reflection on how credit, networking and even theorizing are accomplished in physics. Who knows how many discoveries in quantum physics, and science more broadly, could have been made more quickly or easily without the barriers and prejudice women and other marginalized persons faced then and still face today? Or what discoveries still lie latent?

Not all the women profiled here found lasting professional homes in physics. Some faced barriers of racism as well as gender discrimination, like Carolyn Parker who worked on the Manhattan Project’s polonium research and is recognized as the first African American woman to have earned a postgraduate degree in physics. She died young without having received full recognition in her lifetime. Others – like Elizabeth Monroe Boggs who performed work in quantum chemistry – turned to policy work after early research careers. Their paths reflect both the barriers they faced and the broader range of contributions they made.

Calculate, don’t think

The book makes a compelling argument that the heroic narrative of science doesn’t just undermine the contributions of women, but of the less prestigious more broadly. Placing these stories side by side yields something greater than the sum of its parts. It challenges the idea that physics is the work of lone geniuses by revealing the collective infrastructures of knowledge-making, much of which has historically relied not only on women’s labour – and did they labour – but on their intellectual rigour and originality.

Many of the women highlighted were at times employed “to calculate, not to think” as “computers”, or worked as teachers, analysts or managers. They were often kept from more visible positions even when they were recognized by colleagues for their expertise. Katharine Way, for instance, was praised by peers and made vital contributions to nuclear data, yet was rarely credited with the same prominence as her male collaborators. It shows clearly that those employed to support from behind the scenes could and did contribute to theoretical physics in foundational ways.

The book also critiques the idea of a “leaky pipeline”, showing that this metaphor oversimplifies. It minimizes how educational and institutional investments in women often translate into contributions both inside and outside formal science. Ana María Cetto Kramis, for example, who played a foundational role in stochastic electrodynamics, combined research with science diplomacy and advocacy.

Should women’s accomplishments be recognized in relation to other women’s, or should they be integrated into a broader historiography? The answer is both. We need inclusive histories that acknowledge all contributors, and specialized works like this one that repair the record and show what emerges specifically and significantly from women’s experiences in science. Quantum physics is a unique field, and women played a crucial and distinctive role in its formation. This recognition offers an indispensable lesson: in physics and in life it’s sometimes easy to miss what’s right in front of us, no less so in the history of women in quantum physics.

• 2025 Cambridge University Press 486 pp £37.99hb

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Women and ethnic-minority groups are still significantly underrepresented in UK astronomy and geophysics, with the fields becoming more white. That is according to the latest demographic survey conducted by the Royal Astronomical Society (RAS), which concludes that decades of initiatives to improve representation have “failed”.

Based on data collected in 2023, the survey reveals more people working in astronomy and solar-system science than ever before, although the geophysics community has shrunk since 2016. According to university admissions data acquired by the RAS, about 80% of students who started undergraduate astronomy and geophysics courses in 2022 were white, slightly less than the 83% overall proportion of white people in the UK.

However, among permanent astronomy and geophysics staff, 97% of British respondents to the RAS survey are white, up form 95% in 2016. The makeup of postgraduate students was similar, with 92% of British students – who accounted for 70% of postgraduate respondents – stating they are white, up from 87% in 2016.

The survey also finds that the proportion of women in professor, senior lecturer or reader roles increased from 2010 to 2023 in astronomy and solar-system science, but has stagnated at lecturer level in astronomy since 2016 and dropped in “solid Earth” geophysics to 19%. The picture is better at more junior levels, with women making up 28% of postdocs in astronomy and solar-system science and 34% in solid Earth geophysics.

A redouble of efforts

“I very much want to see far more women and people from minority ethnic groups working as astronomers and geophysicists, and we have to redouble our efforts to make that happen,” says Robert Massey, deputy executive director of the RAS, who co-authored the survey and presented its results at the National Astronomy Meeting 2025 in Durham last week.

RAS president Mike Lockwood agrees, stating that effective policies and strategies are now  needed. “One only has to look at the history of science and mathematics to understand that talent can, has, and does come from absolutely anywhere in society, and our concern is that astronomy and geophysics in the UK is missing out on some of the best natural talent available to us,” Lockwood adds.

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The UK technology industry is struggling with persistent challenges around diversity and inclusion. That is according to a new report by the Department for Science, Innovation and Technology, which concludes that despite some modest recent progress, all minority groups still remain significantly underrepresented in the technology sector.

The tech startup ecosystem is valued at over $1.1 trillion worldwide with the technology sector employing more than 1.8 million people in the UK. Women and people from ethnic-minority groups, however, account for only around a quarter of the technology workforce. People from ethnic-minority groups also only hold 14% of senior roles.

Based on surveys of UK technology industries and a review of existing research on the sector, the report finds that recent diversity gains diminish at mid-career and leadership levels. In the last year, female representation in senior technology positions increased by only 1%, while one in three women are planning to quit their jobs due to a lack of career progression, poor work-life balance and an unsupportive culture.

This persistent “leaky pipeline” is linked to structural and cultural barriers that result in poor retention and promotion of underrepresented people. Cultural attitudes reinforce this gender bias, the report says, with one recent study finding that 20% of men in technology believe that women are “naturally less suited” to technical work. Indeed, a previous national study found that underrepresented minorities were nearly twice as likely to leave a technology job because of unfair treatment than for a better role.

Underrepresentation is particularly stark for Black technologists, who make up only 5% of workers, while just 0.07% of technology employees are Black women. Socio-economic diversity is also poor with only 9% of technology employees coming from poorer backgrounds, compared with 29% in finance and 23% in law. Data also shows that individuals from working-class backgrounds in technology earn, on average, almost £5000 less per year than their peers from more affluent backgrounds.

’Lack of progress’

There is also a lack of diversity when it comes to technology funding, with the report showing that 92% of angel investments in 2022 went to all-white teams, while female and ethnic minority-led startups secured just 2% of venture capital funding. On average female-founded technology businesses receive £1.1m, figures show, while male-owned startups receive £6.2m.

The report also points to one analysis that found that about 14% of technologists identify as disabled, while another put the figure as low as 6%, suggesting a reluctance to disclose disabilities. The later survey also suggests that 53% of technology employees identify as neurodivergent, yet employers claim that just 3% of their staff are neurodivergent.

To improve diversity and inclusion in the technology sector, the report calls for improvements in flexible-working options; diversity, equity and inclusion reporting; improved governance structures; and socio-economic mobility initiatives.

Sarah Bakewell, head of diversity and inclusion at the Institute of Physics, which publishes Physics World, describes the report’s conclusions as “concerning” as “it reveals the lack of diversity in the sector and who funding is allocated to”. Even more worrying, she says, is the lack of progress in boosting the diversity of people in UK tech. “To unleash a new wave of UK innovation, we must attract, develop and retain people from all backgrounds in inclusive work environments where everyone can realise their full potential.”

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It wasn’t until the second year of my undergraduate degree that someone finally put a name to why I’d been struggling with day-to-day things throughout my life – it was Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). It explained so much; my extreme anxiety around work and general life, my poor time management, the problems I had regulating my emotions, and my inability to manage everyday tasks. Being able to put a label on it, and therefore start taking steps to mitigate the worst of its symptoms, was a real turning point in my life.

As such, when I started my PhD at the Quantum Engineering Centre for Doctoral Training at the University of Bristol, I got on the (notoriously long) waiting list for an assessment and formal diagnosis. I knew that because of my ADHD, my PhD journey would look a little different compared to the average student, and that I’d have to work harder in some aspects to mitigate the consequences of my symptoms.

People with ADHD exhibit a persistent pattern of inattention, hyperactivity and/or impulsivity that interferes with day-to-day life. It is a type of neurodivergence – when someone’s brain functions in a different way to what is considered “typical”. Other neurodivergent conditions include autism, dyslexia and dyspraxia, but the term also encompasses mental-health issues, learning difficulties and acquired neurodivergence (for example, after a brain injury).

According to Genius Within, at least 5% of the population have ADHD, 1–2% are autistic, 14% have mental health needs, and many more have other neurodevelopmental conditions. It is also common for those with one neurodivergence to have one or more other co-occurring neurodivergent conditions.

However, if you look specifically at the scientific community, these percentages are much higher. For example, in a 2024 survey “Designing Neuroinclusive Laboratory Environments” run by HOK, it was found that out of 241 individuals, 18.6% had ADHD and 25.5% were autistic. If neurodivergent people remain highly overrepresented in the sciences, then it is imperative that we understand and accommodate for the needs of these individuals in work and research environments.

Spiky skills

One common trait among neurodivergent people is that they have greater strengths and bigger weaknesses across skillsets when compared to neurotypical people. This is known as having a “spiky profile” – it appears as peaks and troughs above and below a “normal” baseline (figure 1). The skillsets commonly included in a profile are analytical, mathematical, motor, situational and organizational skills; relationship management; sensory sensitivities; processing speed; verbal and visual comprehension; and working memory. So while neurodivergent people may be extremely capable at certain skills, they may really struggle with others.

Figure 1 – Peaks and troughs

A neurodivergent person will have what is known as a “spiky profile” because they can find some cognitive skills easy (peaks) but struggle with others (troughs). Every person has an individual profile – even if two people have the same neurodivergent condition, they will have different strengths and weaknesses.

This example compares a neurodivergent profile (red) with a neurotypical one (green) and an average (dashed), for a small set of cognitive skills;

• Verbal comprehension – how we communicate and understand speech and its meaning
• Visual perception – how we interpret our visual environment and surroundings
• Working memory – our short-term memory that assists us with decision making and problem solving
• Processing speed – how quickly we take in information, interpret it and respond
• Emotional intelligence – how we perceive, use, understand and regulate emotions
• Social – how we develop and maintain social relationships
• Analytical skills – how we solve problems by analysing information

Personally, I have problems with working memory, organization and processing speed, but each of these issues present differently in certain situations. For example, it’s not uncommon for me to reach the end of a meeting with my supervisor and feel that I understand all that was discussed and have no questions – but then I may come up with some important queries sometime later that didn’t occur to me at the time. This demonstrates a difference in processing speed, which thankfully can be accommodated for by maintaining an open line of communication between myself and my supervisors.

Meanwhile, for Daisy Shearer – who leads the outreach and education programme at the National Quantum Computing Centre (NQCC) in the UK – their autism affects their day-to-day life in other ways. “I experience sensory inputs and emotion regulation differently to neurotypical people, which uses a lot of energy to manage,” Shearer explains. “My executive functioning skills [those that help you manage everyday tasks] tend to be poor, as well as my social skills, which I work hard to overcome.”

Despite our different neurotypes, Shearer and I also have some symptoms in common. For example, we both struggle with switching between tasks, and time blindness, which means we have difficulty in perceiving and managing time. But while many traits can overlap between neurotypes in this way, even two individuals with the same diagnosis won’t have the exact same symptoms or profile.

Abilities and sensitivities can fluctuate day-to-day or even hour-to-hour, regardless of the accommodations and strategies in place

Furthermore, neurodivergent people can be “dynamically disabled”, meaning that our abilities and sensitivities fluctuate day-to-day or even hour-to-hour, regardless of  the accommodations and strategies in place. Shearer, for instance, used to be primarily lab-based and would find that environment soothing, but occasionally the lab would become overwhelming when their sensory profile shifted.

Meanwhile for me, one day I may be able to focus and complete multiple large tasks in a day, attend various meetings and answer e-mails in a timely fashion. But on another day – sometimes even the next day – I may only be able to answer half of my e-mails and will flit between tasks, unable to focus deeply on any one thing. This can make monitoring progress and completing milestones difficult, and requires a high degree of flexibility and understanding from those around me.

Accommodating the troughs

So what can the physics community do to help people who are neurodivergent like myself? While we absolutely don’t want to be treated leniently – we want our work as physicists to be as high a standard as anyone else’s – working with individuals to accommodate them correctly is key to helping them succeed.

That’s why in 2019 Shearer founded Neuroinclusion in STEM, after having no openly autistic role models in their physics career to date. The project, which is community-driven, aims to increase the visibility of neurodivergent people in science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM), and provide information on best practices to make the fields more inclusive.

Shearer also takes part in many equality, diversity and inclusion (EDI) committees, and gives talks at conferences to highlight how the STEM community can improve the working environment for its neurodivergent members.

Indeed, Shearer’s own set up at the NQCC is a great example of workplace accommodations helping an employee thrive. Firstly, Shearer had a high level of autonomy in defining their role when they joined the NQCC. “It was incredibly helpful when it comes to managing how my brain works,” they explain. Shearer also has the flexibility to work from home if they’re feeling particularly sensory sensitive, and were consulted in the design of the NQCC’s “wellbeing room” – a fully sensorily controllable space that they can use during their work day when feeling overwhelmed by sensory stimuli. Other, small adjustments that have helped include having an allocated desk away from general people-traffic, and colleagues being educated to ensure a more inclusive environment.

For physicists working in a lab – dependent on health and safety measures – it can help to wear headphones or earplugs and have dimmable lights to minimize sensory inputs. Some neurodivergent people also benefit from visual aids and written instructions for experiments and equipment. Personally, as a theorist in an office, I find noise cancelling headphones, and asking colleagues to consider e-mailing rather than interrupting me at my desk, can help reduce distractions.

Reaching the peak

While education and accommodations are key, it’s also important to remember the strengths that come with having a neurodivergent spiky profile – the peaks, so to speak. “I have strong analytical, communication and creative skills,” explains Shearer, “which make me very good at what I do professionally.”

For me, I excel in visual, written and communication skills, and try to use these to my advantage. I’m good at spotting errors in mine and others’ work, I’m a concise but detailed writer, and when not working on my PhD, I’m trying to communicate complex ideas in quantum physics to different audiences with varying degrees of understanding of physics and science.

By recognizing all of our unique capabilities and adequately accommodating those additional neurodivergent struggles, we can build systems that empower instead of limit us

Reminding myself of these strengths is key, as it can be too easy to focus on the negatives that come with being neurodivergent. By recognizing all of our unique capabilities and adequately accommodating those additional neurodivergent struggles, we can build systems that empower instead of limit us.

I believe Shearer put this best: “By embracing our individual strengths, we can enable everyone to thrive in their professional and personal lives, but that can only come with understanding how to accommodate each other.”

The post Unique minds: why accommodating neurodivergent scientists matters appeared first on Physics World.

According to a recent white paper from the UK’s National Association of Disabled Staff Networks, 22% of working-age people in the UK have a disability compared to less than 7% of people working in science. At the upper echelons of science, only 4% of senior academic positions are filled with people with disabilities and just 1% of research grant applications to UK Research and Innovation are from researchers who disclose being disabled.

These disappointing statistics are reported in “Towards a fully inclusive environment for disabled people in STEMM” and this podcast features an interview with one of its authors – the physicist Francesca Doddato.

Based at Lancaster University, Doddato tells Physics World’s Michael Banks about the challenges facing scientists with disabilities – and calls for decision makers to engage with the issues and to remove barriers.

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