When there's an explosion in the chemistry lab, graduate student Chanté Summers springs into action.

Chanté Summers is a research chemist at Pfizer Inc where she supports the development of conjugate vaccines. Chanté first became interested in science during high school. Pursuing that dream, she completed a MS in Chemistry from SIUe where her thesis focused on the synthesis of potential biologically active compounds. Outside of the lab, Chanté is proud to engage the community through volunteer work, promote diversity within the sciences, and inspiring local youth to explore STEM fields. With all that extra time, Chanté enjoys traveling, being outdoors, and unwinding with her dog.

This story originally aired on September 6, 2019 in an episode titled “Proving Myself.”

Story Transcript

“You're thinking with your amygdala too much.  To do well in this class, you need to be logical and use your frontal cortex, not the amygdala.” 

My professor told me this as I sat in his office expecting to discuss my upcoming physics exam.  For those who might not know, the amygdala is the part of the brain that processes emotions.  So my male physics professor had just told me I was being too emotional in such a pseudo-intellectual and confusing way that I almost forgot I was pissed.  Almost. 

A year later, I’m sitting in a different office talking to a different professor about my interest in the chemistry graduate program.  He told me, “It would be really challenging for you.  It’s a difficult program and it takes a lot to juggle all of the moving pieces.  And I've had women sit in my office crying, emotional, generally, just overwhelmed and they end up dropping out.  I wouldn’t want to see you go through that.” 

As you can imagine, this set up an expected love-hate relationship I had with my department.  I loved the research and the work that I did, but the people that I worked with, I grew to ignore a lot of them. 

When I was accepted into my graduate program, I wanted to make a difference, a lasting impact.  I wanted to challenge the department that had longstanding stereotypes against women to show competency in my lab research and to show that I can maintain composure and professionalism while juggling the responsibilities of completing my coursework, research and to teach labs with a bunch of undergrads who have no idea what they're doing in a room full of potentially dangerous chemicals. 

So when I participated in the required training for grad students the week before the semester started, I was focused and driven.  I met with the local fire department, professors, I reviewed labs and I got a lecture from the department’s lab manager, Ben.  Ben gave a general overview of safety practices and evacuation and showed this really crummy video that hasn’t been updated since the 1990s, with terrible acting that included scenes of somebody spilling chemicals and accidentally tripping and falling. 

The whole thing kind of felt like a joke, but chemistry wasn’t a joke to me.  I strived to teach my students good lab practices and I challenged them to do more than the bare minimum. 

Inadvertently, my confidence in teaching and apparent tone I use with colleagues and students was seen as aggression.  I developed a hard-ass take-shit-from-no-one reputation so much so that I was shocked when a fellow TA asked me if I paid my significant other to be with me.  The TAs own discomfort with my assertiveness and confidence was off-putting and made me undesirable in his eyes, I guess, because, you know, women’s only goal in life is to shape their behavior so that men find them desirable. 

However, this reputation did lead Ben to choose me as the department’s lab manager assistant.  Ben was over-managing labs.  He was finishing up student teaching so that he could complete his education degree and find another job.  He was going to be gone a lot and needed somebody to hold down the fort.  It turns out that was me. 

Part of this job included rounds of visiting entry-level labs to give a general overview of safety practices and instructions, like how to evacuate from the third floor.  You know, Ben’s job. 

Finishing with one of these morning rounds, I’m sitting in my office listening to some music to unwind.  It’s through that music that I hear it.  Boom!  And I can feel it in my chest. 

Just as I remove my ear buds, the door opens to my left and a lab mate simply just says, “Explosion,” grabs her purse and runs for the stairs. 

I run in the opposite direction towards the explosion to find blood outside the door of a research lab.  Peeking through the window, the room is just a haze.  And I really don’t want to be the adult here so I look for Ben in his office and my undergrad workers remind me he's not here today. 

It now makes me nervous.  I don't want the responsibility of this but my job is lab safety and time is wasting.  I guess I am the adult. 

Running back, I find the source of the blood, a fellow grad student who I know but I rarely spoke to.  And he's incoherent but I am able to manage that something went wrong and that a distillation had gone wrong in his hands. 

I tell a nearby lab mate to call 911 and I look for the first aid kit located inside every lab, the first aid kit that I had just pointed out to six labs full of undergrads not thinking we or I would ever have to use one.  And I’m distracted by the scene inside.  A soot-covered hood, more blood, a fire extinguisher, sparks, sparks from an electrical outlet, sparks caused by water pouring into the electrical outlet onto the floor, mixing with the blood.  First aid kit, right. 

I discover that it’s completely useless.  There's nothing but some Tylenol and burn gel.  But I need gauze or wraps, anything but these pathetic finger bandages to stop the bleeding. 

Improvising, I grab a lab coat and I turn it inside out making a tourniquet around the student’s mangled hands.  Now, all up in his personal space, I can see small details, like his blue collared shirt and the dust in his hair and on his face, and small bits of glass, but mostly just blood.  And as I apply pressure, I can see the pain on his face.  I could hear it in his voice as I try to understand what the hell went wrong. 

My mind is drawn to the lab, though.  What was he doing and how did it go wrong?  And is that outlet still sparking?  Where is the water running to? 

I’m pulled from my thoughts by Ben, who should still be gone, strolling down the hallway, Classic Ben, nose in his phone.  Annoyingly, he takes in the scene with the calmness that doesn’t really match the urgency of the situation.  And as I relay the story, we agree that we need to pull the alarm and evacuate. 

But to all of those students doing first-day lab work, this must have seemed like a drill from that bossy woman, me.  I then had to manually enter each lab to ensure that the alarm is taken seriously and everyone clears the building. 

Once outside, the fire department shuts the entire building down for about three hours until it’s safe again.  This leaves all the time in the world for me to relay the story way more than I'd like.  Everyone wants to hear it: the department chair, my advisor, local law enforcement, students.  It’s draining.  So when we’re finally allowed back inside, I retrieve my stuff, ignore everyone around me and I head to the gym. 

Working out was something I did daily and I needed normalcy on this day.  Standing in the locker room, I begin to change my clothes.  I notice there's not a single drop of blood on me.  How is it that there's no trace of what happened today, that there's no proof that I did something?  Did this actually happen? 

And when I get home, everything is just as I'd left it.  But as the adrenaline fades, so does the composure I had to maintain.  I break down.  Curling up in my bed, I cry.  It was the second day of my new job, a job that was supposed to be smooth.  And the student, he was just doing research, what I have been doing every day, what I will be doing everyday for the next year.  What would my year look like and what would my future career look like?

Morning arrived and it’s a day that involved everything that should have happened yesterday, calling roll, showing a video, reading safety procedures without incident.  As I begin to process what occurred yesterday, I realize I never questioned myself.  I never wondered are my peers taking me seriously, or if I was capable enough to respond to an explosion. 

Instead, I remembered all the times I've previously gotten pushed back, I remembered all the times that I faced obstacles, and will face obstacles as a woman of color in this field, that there are people who won’t advocate for me, they won’t help me succeed.  Instead, they question if I would make it.  They question my ambition because I won’t be more than a technician in the end, right? 

But let me spoil the ending for you.  My ambition led me to graduation and my confidence pushed me to accept challenges that other people wouldn’t.  My ambition brought me to a career that impacts patients every day.  I fucking made it.