91福利

Linda鈥檚 journey challenges the idea that environmental science only happens through visible research roles. She began as a researcher, completed a PhD in virology and antibody-based research, and spent many years working across fixed-term research contracts. But over time, the uncertainty became exhausting. As her children grew older, she wanted stability, boundaries, and a role that allowed her to switch off at the end of the day.

Leaving research was a major crossroads. 鈥淚 really didn鈥檛 know what I could do,鈥� she recalls. Through conversations with others, she began to see technical support as a meaningful route rather than a fall back. Moving into a senior support technician role meant taking a salary drop, but it also allowed her to use her research expertise in a different way: supporting researchers, looking after labs, teaching inductions, solving problems, and keeping scientific work running.

Her next pivot was into teaching lab management. The role was not easy. The team was under pressure, morale was low, and there were operational challenges. Linda applied anyway: 鈥淥pportunity is really hard to come by. I鈥檒l just try for it.鈥� Within a year, she had rebuilt the team, supported students, won awards, and gained public recognition. 鈥淚 felt like I found my flow,鈥� she says.

Linda鈥檚 story foregrounds invisible labour. As a teaching lab manager, she oversees the systems, people, safety, consumables, equipment, waste management, and sustainability practices that make laboratory teaching possible. She had not initially seen herself as part of environmental science. Being nominated as a role model made her rethink that: environmental work also includes the people who create safe, efficient, sustainable spaces for others to learn and experiment.

Her identity as a Chinese woman and ethnic minority staff member also shapes how she leads. Having experienced under-recognition, she is attentive to others who work hard behind the scenes.

Her message is that there are many ways in. 鈥淵ou don鈥檛 have to be just in the research lab to be involved with environmental science,鈥� she says. Technical, teaching, and support roles are not peripheral. They are the roots that allow others to grow.

Cher entered environmental work through what she calls a 鈥渟ide door.鈥� Her current role is as an administrator supporting 91福利鈥檚 Spotlight programme, particularly the Sustainability and Behaviour strand. She did not begin with a background in environmental science; her academic training was in museum studies and art history. Yet through professional services work in higher education, she found herself supporting interdisciplinary sustainability research and gradually seeing how broad the environmental field could be.

Her route has involved several major transitions. One pivotal decision was withdrawing from her PhD programme. Another was stepping away from her original academic background while choosing to remain within higher education. Rather than seeing this as failure, Cher frames it as a career transition: a movement into a different kind of contribution. She notes that PhD training gave her project management skills, a sense of the 鈥渂ig picture鈥� of research, and insight into how academic projects work 鈥� all of which now shape how she supports others.

Cher鈥檚 story also challenges assumptions about what counts as environmental work. She does not see professional services as secondary to academic research. In fact, she argues that modern research cannot happen without it: 鈥淲ithout professional service, research projects cannot be delivered.鈥� Her work involves coordination, communication, information-sharing, and keeping people connected across disciplinary boundaries.

Belonging, for Cher, depends strongly on whether academic teams recognise the value of professional services. In the sustainability work she supports, she feels included because colleagues copy her into early planning conversations, allowing her to understand the project rather than only receiving tasks after decisions have been made. Thismatters:being 鈥渒ept in the loop鈥� helps her feel part of the community.

Her message to others is grounded in self-trust. 鈥淒on鈥檛 limit yourself,鈥� she says. 鈥淭rust your feelings.鈥� If something no longer works, it is legitimate to move. For students and early-career professionals, Cher鈥檚 journey shows that environmental work is not only done by scientists in labs or academics in departments. It is also made possible by people who connect systems, support collaboration, and help interdisciplinary ideas become real.

Connor鈥檚 environmental journey began with childhood visits to the Oxford Natural History Museum and the zoo. But his career did not unfold in a straight line. It has zigzagged between ecology, education, consultancy, research, botanic gardens, freelance work, creative practice, and queer ecology.

A pivotal moment came during his undergraduate degree in zoology, when he volunteered at a natural history museum. On his first day, he was given a drawer of pinned stag beetles and asked to digitise their labels. Looking closely at insects 鈥� without fear, without them flying at him, noticing their detail and beauty 鈥� changed how he saw them. 鈥淚 was just completely hooked on insects since that moment,鈥� he says.

After university, Connor moved to Singapore and Malaysia to work in environmental education, taking students into rainforests and coral reefs. He later shifted into ecological consultancy, then reached out to a UK professor whose research interested him. That cold email led to lunch, encouragement, and eventually a PhD opportunity. Yet COVID disrupted the project. With fieldwork in Malaysia impossible, Connor withdrew from the PhD.

He does not frame this as failure. Instead, it became another pivot. He returned to education through the Royal Parks鈥� Mission Invertebrate project, then worked at Chelsea Physic Garden before becoming freelance. Today, his work brings together insect surveys, education, volunteering, art, graphic design, and community engagement. 鈥淚f I hadn鈥檛 done that big zigzag,鈥� he reflects, he would not have had the combination of experiences he now uses.

Connor鈥檚 identity also shapes his science. As a queer ecologist, he challenges the idea that nature is simple, fixed, or heteronormative. Through queer nature walks and queer ecology work, he creates spaces where people can see both science and themselves differently.

His advice is direct: 鈥淔ollow your interest and don鈥檛 be afraid to zigzag.鈥� For Connor, detours build unusual and valuable skills. His story shows that belonging is not always something you find ready-made. Sometimes you build it yourself 鈥� with insects, community, creativity, and courage.