The concept of meritocracy —the idea that individual effort correlates with success— sounds really appealing and encouraging. Yet history shows that meritocracy often works only for those who already have access to privilege: education, networks, and identities that align with societal norms. The bicycle of meritocracy is usually very well inflated and greased if you are a rich white man but often has a flat tire and is rusty if you are not. Within this framework, many women —especially those from marginalized groups— had (and have) to constantly battle systemic biases and barriers to earn the recognition they deserve and to get higher up in the ranks of institutions. In academia it is not a different story. The ideals of meritocracy often mask deeply entrenched inequities. Access to research opportunities, funding, and mentorship frequently depends on existing networks and institutional affiliations, which can exclude underrepresented groups. Consequently, success in academia is not always a reflection of pure talent or effort [1].

Maybe you have come across the term underdog. It refers to someone who is at a disadvantage or in a subordinate position, often struggling against stronger opponents or overwhelming odds. In sports competitions, conflicts, or life situations, the underdog is the person or group expected to lose but may still fight persistently, embodying resilience and determination. The canonical example of this would be David’s triumph against Goliath. But one does not need to go to biblical stories to find underdog stories —academia is littered with them. These involve individuals overcoming significant barriers, ranging from blatant race and gender discrimination to more subtle ones such as limited access to funding, few networking opportunities, or the difficulty of navigating hierarchical structures. The Facts&Reasons section “The second scientist” concludes with this article as a tribute to all the underdogs in science, exploring the stories of three remarkable scientists —Rosalind Franklin, Chien-Shiung Wu, and Katherine Jhonson— whose contributions to science despite being crucial were overlooked for years. 

Consider the story of Rosalind Franklin, a chemist and crystallographer whose work was pivotal in uncovering the structure of DNA —the molecule that carries the genetic instructions for life. Her famous Photo 51, captured using X-ray diffraction, showed for the first time critical data about the shape of DNA. This image and its analysis provided key evidence that allowed her colleagues at King’s College, James Watson and Francis Crick, to conclude that the DNA molecule has a double helical structure. Simultaneously, they and Rosalind Franklin, built the first correct model of the DNA molecule in 1953 [2]. Nowadays, the ethics of scientific research would likely have led to a joint publication of the discovery. However, Watson and Crick published their theoretical model, and in the same issue of the scientific journal Nature, Rosalind Franklin and Wilkins, another colleague, published their experimental data separately, in what is commonly known as a back to back publication. Unfortunately, today, the double helix model is popularly attributed only to Watson and Crick.  Despite her essential contributions, Franklin was largely overlooked and dismissed in her time. She passed away in 1958, at the age of 37, four years before Watson, Crick, and Maurice Wilkins were awarded the Nobel Prize for their discovery (Nobel Prize cannot be awarded posthumously). Neither Watson nor Crick mentioned her in their speeches. It was only in later years that Franklin began to receive the acknowledgement she deserved [2,3]. 

Another example of a female academic underdog could be Chien-Shiung Wu, often called the “First Lady of Physics”. She was a pioneering Chinese-American physicist whose work was instrumental in advancing nuclear physics. In 1956, Wu conducted a groundbreaking experiment that disproved the “law of parity”, a fundamental assumption in nuclear physics. Her experiments provided evidence needed to validate the theoretical work of her colleagues, Tsung-Dao Lee and Chen-Ning Yang, revolutionizing the understanding of particle physics [4]. They published their theory in 1956, and one year later, Wu published her experimental work. However, only Tsung-Dao Lee and Chen-Ning Yang were awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1957, and Wu’s essential contributions were overlooked. It is important to note, however, that (in this case) both Lee and Yang, acknowledged Wu in their speeches when receiving the prize and later advocated for her recognition by the Nobel Committee [5]. Throughout her career, Wu faced significant barriers as a woman and an immigrant in a male-dominated field. “Almost anything written about her at that time refers to how pretty she was, Orientalist in a leering way” her granddaughter states in a Washington Post article [6]. Despite this, she became one of the most respected physicists of her time, contributing to the Manhattan Project during World War II and mentoring many next-generation scientists [4]. However, like her friend Oppenheimer, she had later on complex regrets about the use of nuclear weapons [6]. While she received numerous awards later in life, including the National Medal of Science, her exclusion from the Nobel Prize is a prominent example of the systemic biases that often overshadow the contributions of women in science. 

Similarly, the inspiring story of Katherine Johnson, popularized by the book and film Hidden Figures is another relevant example of a female underdog. This African American woman, along with other black women, worked as a mathematician at NASA for more than 30 years during the time of the Space Race, overcoming the dual barriers of racial segregation and gender exclusion. Johnson’s calculations were instrumental to the success of John Glenn’s orbital flight in 1962 [7]. This was a significant step for the U.S. to equalize the space race between the U.S. and the Soviet Union during the Cold War. She also contributed to the calculations for the moon landing in 1969 [7]. Despite the impact of her work, her figure was not widely recognized until the publication of the book Hidden Figures in 2016 (30 years after Johnson left NASA), which highlights the untold stories of the women behind NASA’s success. The book led to a film adaptation, which received two academy nominations. Katherine Johnson at the age of 98 was invited on stage where she received a standing ovation at the Oscars. In 2015, President Obama awarded her the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest civilian award of the United States, acknowledging her groundbreaking work and role in the advancement of space exploration. 

Despite their not favorable contexts, all these women managed to still challenge the status quo, and ultimately rose above their circumstances (with or without recognition in life). But beyond their scientific discoveries and merits, their stories all share and exude one thing: they are stories of hope. Even in the harshest realities, underdogs can be able to reveal the cracks in meritocracy, serving as hopeful and powerful examples. Of course it is important to take into account that some of these women, within their difficulties, were born in families and/or countries that provided them with a certain level of societal and economic privilege. Once more, this demonstrates that even within a group of people facing systemic challenges, individual circumstances can create varying levels of privilege and access.

To truly level the playing field, we must first understand and acknowledge the concept of privilege. Understanding privilege is not about assigning blame or guilt; it’s about recognizing disparities in opportunities, it’s about acknowledging that only some people are hindered by certain barriers. Acknowledging these inequities and the flaws in the notion of meritocracy is a crucial step toward creating a more inclusive and fair society [8,9]. When inequality persists, it often leads to a homogenization of viewpoints and experiences, limiting our ability to explore new, meaningful questions and increasing the risk of scientific stagnation [10]. Academia should be as diverse as humankind is.

We cannot go back in time to award the Nobel Prize to the many women scientists unjustly overlooked by history, nor can we make them feel and receive the recognition they deserve. But what we can do is share and acknowledge their past stories so that they can have an impact in our present. Fortunately, things are beginning to change. Many institutions and organizations are implementing programs aimed at fostering inclusivity, such as diversity-focused hiring practices and criteria for speaker selections at conferences, mentorship initiatives and funding opportunities designed to level the playing field [10]. But just as important is that people with their daily attitude make work environments pleasant for everyone, for those who are non-white, non-male, or otherwise just different (from the current demography at institutions) [8,9,10]. While there is still much to be done, these efforts (individual or systemic) signal a growing recognition of the value of diversity in academia and a collective commitment to building a more equitable future.