Not the Only One: Black in Marine Science (BIMS) Tidal Wave Fellowship

Abstract

When Tiara Moore penned the seminal L&O Bulletin article “The Only Black Person in the Room” (Moore 2018), she did not know how far her vision would go. In this piece, she poignantly details her struggles with loneliness and representation during her tenure as an ASLO Student Board Member. Six years later, Dr. Moore, now President and Founder of Black in Marine Science (BIMS), led a cohort of forty Black scientists to Barcelona, Spain for the UN Ocean Decade Conference as part of the BIMS Tidal Wave Fellowship.

I have never personally related to a L&O Bulletin article more. I am one of a few Black Ph.D. students at Oregon State University studying marine science. I have been to a healthy number of conferences as a student researcher, and it is rare to see myself reflected throughout the room. Although I grew up in a predominantly Black neighborhood in West Philadelphia, I currently live in a U.S. state founded as a white utopia (Novak 2015) that actively excluded Black people from establishing residence and purchasing property. My entire professional journey has been confined by eschewing the safety and support of my community in pursuit of career opportunities where I was the only one in the room. I wanted to feel for once that these two parts of myself did not need to be in complete opposition, and that I did not have to sacrifice one for the other. This sentiment inspired me to apply to the BIMS Tidal Wave Fellowship, and before I knew it, I was on a red eye to Spain.

The BIMS Tidal Wave Fellowship brings together Black researchers and marine advocates from all career stages to a large ocean conference (Fig. 1). For the UN Ocean Decade, we were given full funding to attend the conference, and professional development opportunities in the months prior. I was given free attendance to the first in-person BIMS week, Spanish lessons, and a workshop on how to give an effective scientific presentation. These experiences allowed me to get to know my Tidal Wave Fellows and develop confidence in networking and public speaking.

The UN Ocean Decade conference represented the perfect platform for the birth of the Tidal Wave, our first international foray. The conference brought together government delegates and other ocean stewards to share solutions under the theme of sustainable development. The conference was not strictly scientific—the opening plenary featured high-level speeches from the leaders of nations (Cabo Verde, Seychelles, among others) making commitments to safeguard our world's oceans. The typical UN modus operandi appeared in order—there were working groups, task forces, committees, and programs formed to address the ten Ocean Decade Challenges. I was pleased to see some representation from communities across the globe—pacific islanders, east Asians, south Americans, and so forth—although white Europeans still seemed to make up most participants. I believe strongly that we can only protect our oceans if everyone is given a seat at the table, united over one cause.

The BIMS Tidal Wave Fellows arrived as one large group, donning our royal blue letterman jackets with “Black in Marine Science” emblazoned all over. We entered with a confident swagger, skipping the check-in line with our passes that we had preprinted prior to the conference. The mood was electric. We were intent to carve out space for ourselves if it did not exist. Black people tend to be more expressive than is customary in professional society meetings. Our bright jackets and unique hair styles contrasted sharply against the gray and navy suits of the UN delegates. We laugh loudly. We do not hide our facial expressions—you know the food was bad from our grimaces.

Our cohort is nothing short of magical. We are made up of scholars from high schoolers to professors, divers, and researchers. Over a quarter of our cohort have PhDs. I typically feel isolated among other scientists since I did not grow up outdoors and was not skilled in activities like backpacking or rafting like many of us have. The wonderful thing about BIMS is that we are not a monolith, and our experiences are more diverse than your typical ocean crowd. No one pities me when I mention my inexperience swimming in open water—we have ample representation from expert divers and nonswimmers. Some of us have never been out of the country or presented at a conference before, while others are bona fide world travelers. Everyone groans sympathetically when someone brings up the struggles of caring for curly hair during field season.

There were many moments when we were made to feel small. Someone had their poster taken down by someone else who preferred their space. Another person was told “but you're not that Black” when they explained why they chose to join BIMS. We were chided for attempting to ask questions to presenters (“there's not enough time left!”), referring to each other familiarly as brother or sister (“am I not your sister as well?”), or celebrating too loudly when our presenters would finish speaking (“okay audience, let's be sure to cheer for everyone”). Some of these experiences were more obviously racially charged than others, but all of them led to a feeling of not belonging. If we were attending the conference individually, we might cry in the bathroom, crumbling under the weight of being othered. Together, we rise above and shine strongly. We catch each other before we fall. When one of our group presents, we show up en masse, a delegation of blue. We cheer and clap loudly. We envelop the speaker with hugs and smiles. When one of us is disrespected, we leave the room. We cut in and change the conversation. We value our time and our energy. And most importantly, we never feel alone.

Our presence attracted attention, turning our attendance into a bit of a spectacle. Of course, we knew that just by being there this would happen, so we embraced it. Everyone complimented our jackets, asking if they could have one. Why a white scientist would want to wear a jacket that says, “Black in Marine Science,” I cannot know. Allyship is important, and I would not mind if folks wanted to wear a t-shirt or other forms of our drip. It is my personal belief, however, that folks should always maintain a respectable distance from our culture and special identifying symbols. They desired to take up the space that we created because we made it look cool. They wanted our slick attire, our found confidence and camaraderie, but did not know our hardships and fears. In their ignorance, they did not realize that we eked out the space we assumed, denting the ice that frosted over the door to the elite spaces.

Everyone wanted to collaborate with us, citing interest in our networks. I was pleased to see that there was a considerable interest in diversity, equity, and inclusion work, and many people were excited to support our communities and to see us present in the room. Not all bids for collaboration were made in good faith, though. When asked for a free jacket or one-sided collaboration, I always kindly asked for a donation towards an ally or organizational membership. This was met with a vague “I'll do it later.” It is fine—I do not take seriously partnerships that want to take credit for inclusivity work without considering investing in us as the experts who are already working in those spaces. All of us are familiar with underpaid and underrecognized labor on behalf of making science accessible, it is why we joined an organization that was by us and for us.

This is the part where I must say that there is more work to be done. And that much is true—the international marine science community is not equipped for the reality of adequate representation from the African diaspora. Many are not truly ready to give up space, to allow color and expression, to see our joys and sorrows rendered plainly and bravely, to allow your words and platitudes to become tangible.

For now, I suggest that you support affinity organizations like BIMS, Black Women in Ecology, Evolution, and Marine Science, Minorities in Shark Sciences (MISS), Minorities in Aquaculture (MIA), among others. Open your purses and donate or become a member. Engage with our work and listen to us when we speak. As humans, we do not always notice who is absent from a room when everyone looks like us. Take a moment and ask yourself next time, who are we missing? Do not just invite us as tokens but invest in our communities. Create dynamic and inviting affinity spaces for ASLO25. We cannot afford to wait any longer, our planet will not survive it. Representation is a vital thing. We know we belong, and we refuse to shrink ourselves. The Black in Marine Science tidal wave is forming, and you either swim with us or get left behind in our wake.