When we talk about women in STEM, the conversation often centers on how far we’ve come. But my research on the lived experiences of Egyptian women in science and technology has made it clear: the challenges we face are still deeply embedded in our homes, communities, and workplaces. These are not small inconveniences; they are barriers that shape careers, limit potential, and, in many cases, push women out of STEM entirely.
One of the most striking themes that emerged from my work was the role of personal relationships in shaping professional lives. Many of the women I interviewed shared painful accounts of discouragement from their partners. For some, pursuing a PhD led to broken engagements or even divorce because their academic ambitions were perceived as threatening to traditional gender roles. Others left promising careers in engineering or academia because their husbands objected to the nature of the work or the social interactions it required. Even when partners were supportive in principle, the distribution of household responsibilities remained heavily unequal. Nearly all of the women with children took extended breaks from their careers because caregiving was seen as their sole responsibility. The absence of structures like paternity leave, which some had observed abroad, highlighted just how much progress still needs to be made in redistributing care.
These stories were not only about partners. Families, brothers and in-laws also played a significant role in reinforcing expectations. While initial encouragement was common, subtle forms of discouragement often emerged as women advanced in their careers. Parents advised daughters not to “overcommit” to research if it interfered with family duties. In-laws criticized women for traveling for conferences, spending too much time in labs, or “neglecting” children. Women described the emotional toll of being constantly judged, blamed, or scrutinized by extended family members for every perceived shortcoming at home. For some, these pressures led to missed opportunities, like declining prestigious PhD scholarships abroad to remain primary caregivers for elderly parents.
The workplace, too, presented challenges that went far beyond long hours or demanding projects. Women consistently described environments where they were overlooked or undervalued. Male colleagues received instant respect in meetings; women had to prove themselves over and over again just to be heard. As one participant explained, “It takes much longer for us—females—to put our feet down.” Several noted that as women, they were never allowed to be “average.” While men could progress steadily with competence, women felt they had to be exceptional just to be noticed, respected, or promoted.
This double standard was compounded by how workplaces treated motherhood. The same society that insists caregiving is a woman’s duty often punishes her when she takes maternity leave. Female scientists I interviewed shared that promotions were blocked, or they were bypassed in hiring decisions, simply because managers assumed they would be “less committed” or take “too much leave.” One participant put it bluntly: “A single hour for breastfeeding was seen as incompetence.” These stories underline the contradiction—women are expected to bear the caregiving burden, but penalized for doing so in professional spaces.
These barriers are not isolated incidents; they reflect broader societal norms that see women’s careers as secondary, optional, or conditional. They also echo what the Social Cognitive Career Theory (SCCT) reminds us: that career choices are shaped not just by individual interest or ability, but by the expectations, support, and obstacles encountered in one’s environment. For women in STEM, that environment too often undermines rather than empowers.
Why does this matter? Because every time a talented woman leaves STEM—whether because of partner discouragement, family pressure, or a chilly workplace climate—we lose out on the innovations, perspectives, and leadership she could have contributed. The gender gap in STEM is not just a matter of fairness; it is a barrier to progress in fields that shape our future.
The challenges I heard in women’s stories cannot be solved overnight. But they can no longer be ignored. We must confront them openly—by building family and workplace policies that recognize caregiving as a shared responsibility, by dismantling exclusionary networks in male-dominated fields, and by ensuring that women’s voices are valued in classrooms, laboratories, and boardrooms.
As someone who works in higher education, I believe the first step is visibility. We need to acknowledge women’s struggles as much as we celebrate their achievements. Only then can we create the inclusive systems that allow women in STEM not just to survive—but to thrive.
