Choosing And: How Vera Rubin Teaches Me to Embrace Every Part of My Identity

Vera Rubin: A name I had heard often in scientific circles, for her groundbreaking discoveries in galaxy rotation rates and discoveries that proved the existence of dark matter. 

But until very recently, I had never heard of her incredible legacy as a feminist, and did not know she was Jewish. Because society often remembers only one aspect of women’s identities, dismissing their complexity She can be remembered as a phenomenal scientist, but not as a fierce feminist who fought tirelessly for women in science. She can be remembered as an astronomer, but not for the fact that she continued working while raising children. She can be a scientist while we quietly blot out the fact that she was Jewish. 

Although she likely knew her legacy would be reduced to one aspect of her identity, she fought for it all anyway. She refused to let the world tell her where she did or didn't fit, or where she could or couldn't be. According to Carnegie Science, when Rubin was accepted to the Palomar Observatory, Rubin was told that her time at the observatory was finite because there was no women's bathroom (a common tactic at the time to prevent women from accessing such workplaces). Instead, she cut out a paper skirt, taped it to the stick figure on the door of the men’s room, and said, “Now you have a ladies’ room.” 

This story highlights her incredible stubbornness and refusal to give up—a quality that clearly persisted throughout her entire life. In an interview with Historic Chevy Chase DC, she said that she was one of the only girls in her high school physics class. Her professor ignored her and didn't believe in her ability to do science. With a single exception, Rubin refused to talk to him all year, often refusing even to do the homework in protest of his blatant sexism. The first and only time she ever talked to him was the day she got a full scholarship to college. In response, he told her, “As long as you stay away from science, you should do okay.”

In spite of the plethora of obstacles she faced, Rubin never let her curiosity falter. Stories of her as a young girl include her staring at the stars every night for hours at a time, and she “decided at an early age that we inhabit a very curious world." As an aspiring scientist, this boundless curiosity is inspiring to me. 

Throughout her career, Rubin remained a staunch feminist, stating that one of the assumptions she lived by was that “There is no problem in science that can be solved by a man that cannot be solved by a woman”. She mentored and guided dozens of women, helping them find their footing in a field unwelcoming to them. This sisterhood that she actively fostered is an example of her impressive activism and lifelong dedication. She was described by many of the women she supported as a “guiding light," paving the way for other women in astronomy.

As a scientist and observant Jew, I sometimes—often—feel these parts of myself in conflict with one another. When this happens, like many generations of Jews and scientists before me, I turn to those who preceded me for guidance. Rubin's tireless fight for inclusion and refusal to be molded by the world provide me with courage and inspiration.

Like me, Rubin was a practicing Jew her entire life, famously stating that she felt no conflict between science and Judaism. “I'm Jewish, and so religion to me is a kind of moral code and a kind of history…and, I believe that, ideally, science should be looked upon as something that helps us understand our role in the universe." 

I think this quote beautifully sums up the duality many of us Jewish scientists experience. However, I think it is important to note that although this particular quote is famous, there are few others about her Judaism. Many of the articles remembering her, including multiple from Carnegie Science, where she worked for much of her career, do not mention her Jewish identity. In fact, it is so glossed over that I could only find mention of it once, in a recording of an interview conducted by the historical society of the neighborhood where she grew up — an example of so many people disregarding her multiple identities. In it, Rubin notes that while her Judaism was an important part of her identity, science was more so. While I am unsure of the extent to which I identify with this or which identity is most important to me personally, I am inspired by her ability to prioritize and care about both aspects of her identity.

 Where I live, it can be hard for me to find scientific spaces that aren’t anti-religious, and Jewish spaces can be difficult to find. In recent conversations with a religious, but not Jewish, friend, I have found myself thinking about this a lot, and I keep coming back to Rubin’s refusal to choose between the parts of herself. I am learning that nobody can tell me what to believe or to choose between parts of myself. While I don't know exactly what I believe—I am always learning and questioning my identity and faith—I think that this is what both Judaism and science are about. Neither should be about blind belief, but rather about curiosity and hope. I love science, and I love being Jewish. I think holding multiple truths is both a Jewish and a scientific concept, as is endless curiosity. Both Jewish values and the scientific process teach us to constantly question the very framework of our world. I believe that Vera Rubin deeply knew this, and to me, it is one of the most inspiring and powerful parts of her activism. I am moved by her refusal to choose and her refusal to ever, ever give up.

Rubin teaches us that sometimes, the most powerful form of resistance is simply refusing to back down. Sometimes it's not shouting as loud as you can, but quietly standing your ground and forcing the world to make space for you that makes a difference.

She teaches us that we don't have to give up one thing for another—we can be Jews and scientists, mothers and professors. We can hold all the parts of our identity together, taking pride in each one. These pieces of ourselves can complement each other instead of diminishing each other—we can be good scientists not despite our Judaism but because of it. Because it gives us faith, and hope, and community, and purpose. Vera Rubin teaches us that our identities and priorities don't have to be a compromise. 

In a society where women are forced to choose either/or, Vera Rubin looked the status quo in the eye and said, "And."