The term STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) is widely used to promote women’s participation in these fields. Global organizations like UNESCO and the UN actively push for gender equality in STEM. Unfortunately, these initiatives are largely driven by a male-dominated world that still dictates the rules.
In my early career, I believed these efforts would create real change for women in STEM. But as the years passed, my definition of STEM transformed—from an empowering movement to something far more fragile: a stem of a tree.
Women in STEM are like stems hanging from a tree, vulnerable to the forces around them—pushed and pulled by internal and external pressures, just as a stem endures storms, rain, and wind. We are nourished by education and ambition, yet our growth is stunted by societal expectations, professional biases, and systemic inequalities. We always bend, weighed down by pressure and our own suffocating limitations.
Women in STEM compete fiercely in school and college, excelling against their male peers. They are the pride of their families—daughters and sisters who win against all odds. But this habit of winning doesn’t last forever. As they step into the professional world, the compromises begin. Their priorities are reshaped by society, family, and workplace biases, forcing them into roles they never chose. The girl who once stood at the top of her class slowly learns to accept an invisible tech treadmill, running tirelessly yet never moving ahead.
At work, merit dissonance becomes a daily reality. Promotions and recognitions are no longer based on skill or intelligence but on other metrics—staying late, networking, or simply being “seen” under the office roof. A woman who delivers excellence is often overlooked in favor of a male counterpart simply because her income is considered secondary in a household where her husband also works. Even after giving her all to a project, the credit often goes to a male colleague. The justification? “She has other responsibilities,” “She won’t stay late,” or “She might not take on leadership due to family constraints.”
If a woman in STEM decides to start a family, she faces another unforgiving push down the ladder. Pregnancy and motherhood, instead of being natural life phases, are treated as career crimes. The very workplace where she once thrived now sees her as a burden. She is no longer considered for leadership roles, promotions, or high-impact projects. The industry that once encouraged her to dream now punishes her for being a mother.
Over time, she stops thinking about growth and focuses on mere survival. A once ambitious, high-achieving woman shrinks into a shadow of herself, removed from the race, reduced to just a stem—hanging, struggling, enduring. She comes to a stage where she faces the reality that she cannot be the trunk of a tree because she is there only to bear fruit.
Many women eventually quit STEM careers, not because they lack skill or drive, but because they are repeatedly undermined, ignored, and demoralized. Watching less-qualified, less-experienced men climb past them in leadership breaks them. If they speak up about technology, innovation, or strategy, male egos are bruised, and they are sidelined even further.
At home, the challenges continue. Even if her spouse is equally qualified, his career always takes priority. He can travel for work, switch jobs for better opportunities, or work late without question. Meanwhile, she must seek stability, avoid travel, and ensure the home runs smoothly. It doesn’t matter that she once scored higher than him in exams—her career is treated as secondary. She is expected to compromise, whether it’s declining a job opportunity, taking career breaks, or staying in roles that offer “flexibility” rather than leadership.
Ironically, she is often a co-borrower on loans to increase financial eligibility, yet when it comes to career growth, she is conveniently excluded.
In recent years, we hear of 70-90 hour workweeks as the norm for success. But is this even possible for a woman in STEM who manages both a career and a family? These unrealistic benchmarks are designed to eliminate women from leadership while rewarding those who can afford to prioritize work above everything else.
From the outside, a woman in STEM might appear successful—working in a prestigious organization and handling responsibilities. But deep inside, she has been systematically pushed down. She was once a topper, a leader, a problem-solver. Now, she sits in the background—unnoticed, uncelebrated, unheard. Some women survive this reality and adapt. Others quit—not because they are incapable, but because they are exhausted from fighting a rigged system. This is why so few women reach boardrooms in top organizations.
You cannot see many highly qualified women from IITs in jobs after their mid-forties because, by then, they are financially settled, and their children have grown into what they believe they are meant to be. The fruits have ripened; instead of hanging on, they fall, and a new branch begins with a fresh passion, where they can devote their time and energy. They are no longer STEM women because they begin to resent their career choices. Learning to bake cakes, painting, or interior design was never their primary choice—it is an alternative to keep busy. But now they forget algebra and calculus, and instead, they watch oven temperatures.
Organizations boast about diversity and inclusion, but true gender equity is not just about hiring women at entry levels and filling quotas. Women in STEM understand how empty and performative these diversity promises can be. If the world is serious about change, it needs to redefine leadership metrics, ensure equitable promotions, acknowledge work output over office hours, and truly support women at every stage of their careers.
Until then, the STEM Paradox will continue—offering equal opportunities at the start but compromised rewards in the end. And women in STEM will remain like a fragile stem—hanging, fighting, surviving—but never fully thriving.
What can be the solution for making them a tree or a trunk of a tree? They need to be planted as saplings and nurtured as trees with dedication and protection from those who claim to be guardians of diversity and inclusion, or godfathers of equal opportunity. Until then, it is only a claim or a mere political statement to attract the innocent, but not the intelligent, woman in STEM. Everything is exposed to them, and they smile and ignore.
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