I am trying to gather all the ingredients necessary to cook up an impactful career in food science. Many tribal lands today are classified as food deserts — areas where grocery stores are scarce. The alternative is typically convenience stores stocked with products that aren’t fresh and nutritious or likely to be on a shopping list for traditional cuisine. Food is much more than calories: it connects us to each other, to the Earth, and to ceremony. Food science, therefore, is vital to advancing tribal resilience and sovereignty.

It was a Tuesday morning like many others, until I turned on the TV and saw the news coverage of the Hawaii wildfires. Seeing the devastation caused by the wildfires, I was determined to help, and the Hawaii wildfire project and my path through the sciences solidified that night. Now, I am a senior at Heritage Hall in Oklahoma City. I’ve used my time there to hone my interests, and I’m excited to explore the areas of plant science and microbiology in college.

My research focus is molecule-based magnetic materials — we make different molecules that demonstrate “magnetic memory.” If we alter the temperature, pressure, or magnetic field, bonds on the molecular level can break and reform. The science is applicable to technological advancements, such as materials in computer chips.

The lush Shenandoah Valley, which I’m grateful to call home, offers the perfect place for my family to garden, forage, and cook our traditional foods. Although far from our Choctaw community, I sought out opportunities to learn more through visiting family. My sister and I also grew up around traditional foods, like our heirloom squashes and corn, and those experiences grounded my understanding of Indigenous foodways from an early age.

From the time I was a young girl, I’ve wanted to help my people, the Yup’ik. Our remote Native village, Kongiganak, is in Southwest Alaska just a few miles from the Bering Sea. Living near the Kuskokwim River, which empties into the sea at the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta, I saw that engineering solutions can play a critical role in preserving our lands, our homes, and our way of life.

Sometimes what matters isn’t where you go or how you get there, but who’s by your side. For Dr. Alvin D. Harvey, a postdoctoral fellow at MIT’s Space Enabled Research Group, that journey has taken him from a rural childhood to the forefront of Indigenous-led space research.

Growing up in a multi-generational household on the Blackfeet Reservation in Browning, Mont., Ispitaki Chelle Brown set her heart on a career in health care. She was inspired by her great-grandmother, who was a nurse, and her great-grandfather, who passed along her legacy. “I was born to serve my people,” Brown says. “Serving others in my community keeps me tied to my culture.” 

Angélica Noel Lozano-Romines became an aunt at the age of seven. As the youngest of five, Lozano-Romines often took care of her nieces and nephews. That experience solidified what she had always known: that she wanted to support children and their development.

Lozano-Romines grew up in a predominantly BIPOC community in Ardmore, Okla., then moved to a smaller rural area for high school, where only a few students looked like her. This experience gradually led her to assimilate, which resulted in experimenting with blue-colored contacts during her early college years. 

Tackling a double major in computer science and mathematics didn’t faze Fraser McLeod. On the contrary, he graduated from the University of Saskatchewan (USASK) last year with a double honors degree and was recognized as the most distinguished computer science graduate. In his first year at USASK, McLeod was set on a business concentration until he took an introductory computer science course. “It spurred me to completely change my degree,” he says. “Eventually, I was enjoying my math classes so much that I decided to double-major.”

As long as I get to be with nature, I’ll be happy. The chaparral biome, here in the California coastal desert, is one of the only environments like it in the world. There’s unique flora and fauna, like California poppies — neon bright orange when they bloom — with cultural significance for our people as they’re medicinal and edible.