Mara Shainheit, PhD and taking your place in science
By: Queer Scientists Ph
Tags: STEM, Education, LGBTQ, Features, Stories

by Jason Tan Liwag & Anthony Karl Alipit

For our first featured scientist for the month of September is Mara Shainheit, PhD (pronouns: she/her).

Though our conversation only happened digitally, Mara spoke with inimitable warmth and curiosity. It is obvious in her manner that she enjoys learning and mentorship, taking the time to ask about the organization, our backgrounds, and what lives we had outside of science. Her career has changed shape throughout her lifetime and it has taken her to many places in the US: transitioning from Massachusetts to Maryland and back again as she shifted from academia and basic science research to translational medicine. With an unwavering passion for immunology, her experiences have enriched her scientific perspective. She is currently Senior Scientist II at Genocea Biosciences.

We spoke to Mara in March 2021 to talk to her about her coming-of-age in the sciences, how different forms of representation helped her navigate her scientific career, and the value of taking your place in the sciences. This interview was edited for brevity and clarity.

Could you talk to us about your upbringing and what made you want to go into research?

I was born in New York City to my mom, who is from Iloilo in the Philippines, and my dad who is of German and Russian descent. We moved to New Jersey a few years after I was born in 1981, so I can say I was born and raised in the New York-New Jersey area. I have an awesome sister, Carolyn, who is four and a half years younger than me and so many cousins since my mom is one of ten children. I was always the kid digging around the dirt trying to find fossils, dissect worms, or look at water from a nearby creek under a microscope. This was the start of my being a self-proclaimed “science nerd.”

I knew early on that I liked the sciences. Like many Filipino families, ours had an abundance of doctors, nurses, engineers, architects. There are usually certain professions that I think are more popular within the Filipino community in which we do a wonderful job of representing and succeeding. Very early on, that shaped what I thought I wanted to be growing up — I wanted to be a physician. So, like many young college students, I entered my studies as a Biology major expecting to continue on to medical school.

The Shainheit family. Photoo courtesy of Mara Shainheit.

The pivotal part in my career to veer away from medicine and to go into biomedical research was my sophomore year in university. A new faculty member, Dr. Robert Kurt, had joined the department as an immunologist, and I joined his lab to see if research would be something that interested me. As it turns out, I really liked the small, very collaborative research community. I worked in the Kurt cancer immunology lab until I graduated from college.

During this time, I was also coming into my own. College gives you a lot of flexibility to live independently, grow, and learn about yourself. I identified my sexual orientation during what was an intense period where I was learning I was gay and trying to juggle that with rigorous studies and collegiate sports, which was all very challenging. What helped me work through it was immersing myself in studies and training in the gym and on the field, which distracted me from the confusion, isolation, and fear I felt when I started to come out. It was my saving grace. Being a scientist and working in the lab was something I identified with strongly since it was so collaborative — I really valued the teamwork mentality to figure out a scientific question.

I wasn’t out in college at all: not to my family, not to my friends or teammates. It finally just came to a head where stress was a little bit too much to handle and I decided to try to live my best authentic life. Truth be told, my parents knew I was gay way before I did, but they didn’t think it was their place to pull it out of me — they just wanted me to share it with them instead when I was comfortable enough to do so.

What was your trajectory in research like?

I graduated from Lafayette College with a degree in Biology and then pursued a PhD in Immunology at Tufts University in Boston. What really solidified my desire to pursue a career in research, specifically at Tufts, was a summer internship called Building Diversity in Biomedical Sciences (BDBS). This experience was really important to me not only as an early-stage scientist but also as a woman who was learning to embrace her sexual orientation. This was the first time I met a group of queer scientists and it was one of the most transformative and fun experiences. Through the BDBS program, we were all housed in the same dorm, commuting to the same labs and there was a cluster of students that I connected with that made me feel like I found my clique. I didn’t feel so isolated anymore as a queer, woman of color in STEM. Just by meeting them and seeing how freely they were living their lives, helped me muster up the courage to stop hiding who I was or lying by omission.

Mara’s PhD Cohort. Photo courtesy of Mara Shainheit.

So as a PhD student in the Immunology program, I worked in Dr. Miguel Stadecker’s lab where I studied the immune response to a parasitic worm called Schistosoma mansoni. I was really enthusiastic to work on this pathogen since it’s a neglected tropical disease, meaning in part that it affects marginalized populations — individuals from less developed countries with poor infrastructure, poor access to food and clean water. It perhaps sounds a little cheesy, but feeling like my work could make a significant impact, a real-world impact, not just one that ended up in a paper or grant, gave me a bit more motivation to keep working hard even when I felt exhausted. More specifically, my thesis aimed to identify differences in the quality, kinetics, and magnitude of the immune responses between a person who develops the severe disease and dies, compared to a person that develops mild schistosomiasis and clears the infection. It was fascinating and oftentimes frustrating, but through this work, I identified a specific helper T-cell population called Th17 cells, and cytokines that they secrete that are strongly associated with the development of fatal forms of schistosomiasis.

Mara’s PhD poster presentation. Photo courtesy of Mara Shainheit.

After 6 years, I earned my PhD, but during this time I also realized that I loved science communication and science education. I taught as an adjunct faculty at a nearby college while I was a PhD student, which exposed me to teaching at the college level and I really fell in love with it. This motivated me to pursue a more “traditional” academic career path — earn my PhD, train further as a postdoctoral fellow and then hopefully earn the highly coveted tenure track faculty position. So after graduating, I submitted a grant to the National Institute of Health (NIH) and earned an IRACDA postdoctoral fellowship that allowed me to do a “hybrid postdoc.” I was still really excited by host-pathogen interactions, so I joined Dr. Andrew Camilli’s lab in the Molecular Microbiology Department at Tufts, where my research focused on bacterial genetics and virulence factors in the bacterium Streptococcus pneumoniae, which causes pneumonia, ear infections, and in rare cases, sepsis. I also was training to be a science educator and taught a course I developed from scratch at the University of Massachusetts-Boston. I absolutely loved this teaching experience. The students were first years in university, so most of them were bright-eyed, enthusiastic, sponges that wanted to know everything. This gave me the confidence I needed to commit to my path as an academic scientist and was incredibly excited when I earned a tenure track assistant professorship at Towson University, a large state university near Baltimore, Maryland.

The Shainheit Lab along with their posters. Photo courtesy of Mara Shainheit.

Professionally, I was over-the-moon excited. I had worked nearly 12 years at this point, since graduating from college to earn this position, and was finally a college professor. I had my own lab run by undergraduate and Master’s students and was teaching immunology and microbiology. My student’s projects examined the interactions between Streptococcus pneumoniae and neutrophils, which are the most abundant white blood cells in your body. If you’d ever gotten a cut and developed pus, that pus is a bunch of neutrophils that migrated to the site, killed that pathogen, and then died. Personally, however, this faculty position was a challenge; I was dating my girlfriend Zana (who is now my wife) who was in the middle of her studies, so we were long-distance for about a year and a half. It definitely takes a special kind of person to date a scientist — I’m grateful to have found someone who understands that sometimes I can be completely consumed by a project and might not always be available, and I might need a nudge to snap out of it. She is my rock and my support system in all things, whether it be related to science or just things that happen in everyday life.

After about 5 years at Towson, Zana and I had a daughter, re-evaluated our priorities as new moms, as professionals building our careers — so we made the tough decision to return to Boston. For me, that meant that I would leave academia, which at first was difficult because I felt like I was giving up so many years of hard work working toward a certain position. Looking back now, I can confidently say that it’s been the best decision for my family and for my goals as a scientist.

What made you transition from basic science research to more translational medicine?

To distill it down to two simple things, it had to do with needing to find a healthier work-life balance and feeling a bit more satisfied with how my contribution to science was impacting the lives of patients. As a college professor and even throughout graduate school and my postdoc, I struggled to strike a healthy balance and found myself always working in the lab, writing exams, writing papers and grants, grading papers, answering emails. A lot of others can do this well, but for me, I just had a hard time fully unplugging from work.

Pregnant in the lab. Photo courtesy of Mara Shainheit.

After my wife and I welcomed a daughter into our family, it really forced me to take a step back and reevaluate my priorities and to me, it was a no-brainer. I wanted to be more available as a mother to our daughter, a better spouse, and parent, and also explore opportunities in a different arena within science, with the hope that my scientific skills could have a more direct impact on patients’ lives. I loved having my own lab and it was hard to walk away from what had been my “professional dream job” for as long as I could remember, but I took the leap into the world of biotech and I was very excited when I landed a job at a company where I am now — Genocea Biosciences.

We are a small clinical-stage biotech company that develops personalized immunotherapies for people who have cancer. We have two immunotherapies currently in clinical trials, one is a vaccine and one is adoptive cell therapy, and I lead a group of five scientists that is responsible for developing and optimizing assays that are used to evaluate our clinical samples.

What issues have you faced as a scientist in the LGBTQ community or maybe as a Pinoy scientist? We talked earlier about not seeing any queer scientists until you were in this summer program. We talked about how you hadn’t really seen any Filipino scientists because most of the representation is in other fields. Could you expound on those things?

Visibility within our community — whether it’s as a Filipino-American, a lesbian, a woman — is so important. It’s critical to see a reflection of yourself in a field or profession you’re interested in. It gives you that extra boost of confidence that maybe that’s something you could do too. When I was growing up and in the earlier stages of my career, there was little to no representation. Being openly queer or gay was not something that even really seemed like an option to me. So perhaps one of my first challenges was more of an internal one, where because there was no one that “looked like me,” I felt like I didn’t truly belong in science. Imposter syndrome was a constant and still is, so I’m hoping that by increasing visibility in any small way, a person in a younger generation or in a similar situation will feel and know that they belong.

Pride March at Washington, DC. Photo courtesy of Mara Shainheit.

I wasn’t out yet during my graduate career, so another challenge was just living in constant fear because I didn’t know if people in my program would hold my sexual orientation against me. In academia, you are bound to your P.I. eternally for letters of recommendation, which are key for your progression in the field. Then you have your committee which is made up of other faculty who are also going to dictate your future. It was stressful to be unsure if they would have a bias against me simply because I was gay. Layer on top of that the stress of wondering if my projects would be successful and if I’d have the support I needed from the faculty to graduate. I was fortunate enough to have some supportive friends in my cohort who gave me the courage to just go for it and live a more authentic life.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to care a lot less because I’m more secure as to who I am and I also have this certain amount of privilege with support from my wife and my family. In some instances, I’ve lied by omission that my partner (now spouse) was a woman, but what it really boiled down to was “Did I want to join a lab or take a job where I couldn’t live out and be my authentic self?” At this point in my career, the answer is a hard “no.” But at other points in my career, on grad school interviews, forget it — I was too scared to mention it in case that could “jeopardize” my chance to get into a grad program. It should never be that way. I hope that sharing my story might give others the courage to be their authentic selves. I hope that other young queer scientists learn that there are people like us out there and we belong in the sciences just like anyone else does.

Has being a Pinoy scientist also been a barrier in a similar way?

I think there are certain stereotypes related to professions or molds that relate to Filipinos and that’s a real shame since we’re such a diverse group. I’m proud that Filipinos are accomplished nurses, doctors, caretakers, or whatever professional box we are “supposed to fit in.” But I think we’re more than that. We occupy so many other spaces with the skills that we have — whether it’s through our creativity, or our acting, or our passion for science, or our grit and determination that you need to be successful in all of these fields and countless others. It can apply to so many places. The challenge is that when people see us in a space they’re not used to seeing us in, that sometimes makes people uncomfortable or in some instances, even question if we’re supposed to be there. I try to remind myself that their discomfort is not my problem: it’s their own issue and narrowmindedness. But there are always ignorant people, which is why we need to increase our visibility and try to have those support systems to remind us that we are talented in so many ways and we are in the fields we are passionate about because we deserve it.

A postdoc having fun at the lab. Photo courtesy of Mara Shainheit.

Are there any aspects of being a queer Filipino scientist that you like or have grown to love?

Both the Filipino community and the queer community can be very nurturing. When you meet other Filipinos, it’s almost a no-questions-asked, automatic sense of warmth and welcome. So I guess what I like the most about being a Filipino scientist is when you find folks that you identify with — who share your culture, your sexual orientation, your sexual identity — we’re part of that community. There are opportunities for lots of quick bonds to be formed. Of course, I don’t want to imply that everyone within that group is homogenous. We’re not. We’re a very eclectic group of individuals. But we have certain commonalities where we can help each other navigate our Filipino identities, or being queer in science or any topic that we have in common that we can discuss and bond over.

It’s rather common when you’re caught between these different worlds. It almost manifests itself as some form of imposter syndrome. Have you experienced that in any way?

Absolutely. People feel impostor syndrome for a variety of reasons. For me, I am half Filipino and half German/Russian — my mom was born and raised in the Philippines and moved to the US in her 20s. But I don’t speak the language. I wasn’t born there and unfortunately, I still haven’t had the chance to travel back home. Prior to this chat, I reached out to you to make sure you knew the details of who I was so there wasn’t a sense of disappointment if I didn’t “check certain Filipino boxes.” Of course, when anyone asks me what my ethnic background is, I never hesitate. I am always proudly saying that I am Filipino — I grew up in that culture, I’m immersed in that culture.

March for Science. Photo courtesy of Mara Shainheit.

Some of my best memories revolve around Filipino culture and my big family. My mom is one of ten children and we would have the best family parties — there would be so much food, endless amounts of lumpia, pancit, lechon, dinuguan (admittedly not my favorite though), and on top of all that, the ridiculous karaoke singing and games. But growing up, it was made abundantly clear to me that sometimes I was neither Filipino enough nor American enough. I never felt this way with my family, so it was a bit of a shock when I was younger to have others say things that would question my “Filipino-ness.” It was something that I certainly struggled with. Sadly, I think that many people from a mixed background struggle similarly because they don’t feel like they are fully accepted in either group.

It’s interesting that we all have our hang-ups as to whether or not we belong, so I believe you’ll be successful with just creating a space where a diverse group of people can share their stories. Hopefully, people will have a chance to see a reflection of who they are and know they are not alone. Truthfully, even now I certainly have moments of imposter syndrome. I wonder if I’m smart enough or innovative enough or whatever enough to do my job well and this is where I rely on my support network to help me take a step back and just remind myself of the successes I’ve had thus far. Also, they help to remind me that small challenges or setbacks do not define me and shouldn’t make me call my abilities into question. It’s certainly a work in progress though.

You talked about how you met queer scientists for the first time in that summer program, right? But what about Filipino scientists, did you get to meet anyone early on?

Unfortunately, not really. It could be partly because there are very few Filipinos in Boston for some reason. There was one other Filipino scientist in my program that was several years behind me, but that’s about it. Again, this reinforces the importance of elevating our visibility, especially now that social media can be so powerful so that folks in areas where there is not a lot of representation can see that Filipino scientists, queer or other, do exist and are successful in this space.

PhD Graduation. Photo courtesy of Mara Shainheit.

It’s interesting because just because you’re out to a portion of the population or to a personal space like school, it’s different for an online platform. Has your experience been similar?

I’m 40 years old now and I came out in my early 20s. In that time I’ve had the chance to gain confidence and to build a network of individuals, my security blanket, to give me that strength to fall back on even if I’m out to a broader population and individuals decide to say bigoted things. I’m also fortunate to live in a progressive city (Boston) and to have employers that are actively supportive of the LGBTQIA+ community, so I don’t have to worry about backlash. But I know that I’m so privileged to be in this position. If you don’t have that, I can see why that would be an almost insurmountable task or step to take because it can be so intimidating. It’s so unfortunate because I feel like it blunts the people that you could have out there to be role models and faces for people that would benefit from that.

What’s your wish for the Filipino community or for queer scientists or for people who are in science allied professions? If you want, it can be something you wish you knew about before, something you wish you told yourself when you were younger, or something you tell a young scientist growing up maybe somewhere in Boston.

I would tell a younger version of myself or any young scientist out there that you deserve to be here. You deserve to be a Filipino scientist; a queer Filipino scientist. You don’t need to question your capabilities or your status. You earned the right to be here. This links back to impostor syndrome — when there’s a lack of representation and you look at those around you and you don’t see a similar face either in your department, on television, you just start to wonder: “Am I really supposed to be here?”. The answer is yes, absolutely! I wish that I spent less time worrying about that and wish young scientists instead spent that effort on sharpening their skills, working on their projects, improving themselves, finding a hobby, or anything to enrich their lives. Constantly worrying about belonging or what others think about you simply because you are queer and Filipino is not productive.

Mara and Zana’s Wedding. Photo courtesy of Mara Shainheit.

I wish to increase our visibility and make real contributions in whatever professional space we occupy so we can show that we can be successful in whatever field we choose. Not just the professions that have historically been the ones we’re “supposed to be in”, which I think we are phenomenal at. I feel like there’s a chance now to put a spotlight on sciences and I hope that, if this is something that happens in 15 years, next time you interview someone and you ask them “Did you know any Filipino scientist”, they could list them because they know so many. So yeah, that’s my wish: we become more abundant and be more visible so that there is no doubt that we are plentiful and successful at what we do. Visibility is critical and I hope people see this interview and find something that speaks to them.

What’s something that you wish all Filipino queer scientists have throughout their scientific journey?

The mentoring support that they want and need to be successful. In my opinion, mentorship is one of the most important components not only to succeed as a scientist but to help overcome the many life challenges you might experience during that journey. It is truly a marathon, not a sprint. These mentors can take on many forms: faculty in your program, other programs, at other institutions, more senior students, friends that aren’t in science, family — whoever can give you a fresh perspective, listen to your struggles, provide you with support. It will be a mix of people from all parts of your life, but you need to have these people to be successful in this journey. Even after you complete your studies, it’s so critical to be surrounded by supportive people.

Shainheit class. Photo courtesy of Mara Shainheit.

In some cases, it can take a lot of time to earn degrees as a scientist, for me, it was a total of 12 years for a PhD and postdoc, and during that time, so much happened. First and foremost, we are people who experience much more than what happens in the lab and for me, it’s impossible to compartmentalize my personal and professional life — so much becomes intertwined. What happens outside of the lab almost certainly can positively or negatively impact how you work in the lab, so you need folks to help you navigate and overcome science and non-science challenges. My parents were my biggest cheerleaders even if they had no clue about the technical aspects of my projects (they’re both in finance). My sister was always there for me when I was struggling to come out and embrace my gayness, and I had great classmates to reassure me when projects were failing.

Even now, 11 years after earning my PhD, I rely on these people to help me continue to grow and deal with challenges I encounter. So I hope this platform helps you reach a wider audience of individuals, in the sciences or outside of it, to let them know that they can truly make a positive, meaningful impact in a scientist’s life by just being there for them. And to the PIs and faculty, please remember, the folks in your lab (especially these days), have more on their plate than just their projects. We need more kindness and understanding to balance out the rigor and intensity of research.