Julian pushed forward too. He took the position at Fisk and found that he enjoyed teaching and the challenge of staying one foot ahead of his brightest students. But he didn’t give up on his dreams of working in the lab. He kept clearing hurdles. He secured a grant that gave him admission to Harvard, where he earned a master’s degree but was blocked from earning a PhD. So he leapt an ocean, earning his degree at the University of Vienna.
For the rest of his career, Julian continued to navigate the obstacles a racist society threw in front of him. We celebrate his success in doing so because it’s astounding. It’s also a narrative we’re partial to. We are enamored of tales of self-made heroes, who achieve success through determination and independence. Similarly, we tell stories of the lone scientist in a lab, who catapults over obstacles through sheer willpower and genius. These narratives engender pride, self-esteem, empowerment—undoubtedly good things, but these narratives also have shortcomings.
Julian was aware of narrative’s dual nature. Perhaps as analog for his own experience, Julian writes about one of the heroes who inspired him to pursue chemistry and apply to college, St. Elmo Brady, the first Black man to receive a PhD in chemistry.
Brady’s success in receiving the degree from the University of Illinois was celebrated and highlighted in the Black newspapers of the day. Julian recalls hearing the news himself, in the summer of 1916 when he was applying for college. He writes, “Brady’s accomplishment strengthened my determination to attend college.”
The PhD was an incredible accomplishment. And yet, even after earning it, Brady found his ambitions blocked. As Julian tells it, Brady struggled to find a job suited to his talent. He was denied access to peer communities, libraries, and labs in a world built on segregation.
And herein lies the problem with glorifying lone scientific geniuses and self-made heroes. It’s simply not how the world works, and it’s certainly not how science works.
These stories overlook the importance of networks and institutions to all forms of human success. Whether it was natural philosophers corresponding about the recipe for the philosophers’ stone in the 17th century or research assistants who helped run a Nobel Prize−winning scientist’s lab gathering for a summer social, science is, and always has been a community. Discovery is buoyed by associations of peers; research is supported by materials and equipment. We say “it takes a village” to raise a child, but it also takes one to move science forward.