Two Eyes, Many Strands: ‘Inclusive science’ in a changing climate
In Minnesota, February 11 is the deep heart of winter, a time when we are all scanning the horizon for the first signs of a seasonal shift. But as we look for the thaw, we also mark the International Day of Women and Girls in Science. This day serves as its own kind of indicator: a global pulse-check on whether we are moving toward the “spring” of a genuinely inclusive scientific ecosystem.
Since its designation by the United Nations in 2015, this day has celebrated women’s remarkable contributions in science while raising awareness that scientific progress and gender equality should advance hand in hand to address our greatest global challenges.
In 2026, the focus is on showcasing practical solutions and building inclusive STEM ecosystems. For me, a social (learning) scientist whose research sits at the intersection of community participation, climate education, and planetary health, this naturally directs attention to the pivotal role of women in climate science and to pressing pedagogical concerns, specifically the frameworks we’re using to train the next generation of researchers.
We know the climate crisis is not gender-neutral. Women comprise 80% of those displaced by climate change, making them its primary stakeholders. Yet our global “crisis-response system” is currently operating with more than half its talent sidelined, as women still represent only one-third of the world’s researchers, according to a 2021 UNESCO report.
Women are also significantly underrepresented in ‘future-proofing’ fields like engineering, where they comprise less than 28% of the workforce, and in artificial intelligence, where representation drops to 22% (World Economic Forum, 2023). This underrepresentation is even more acute for Indigenous women, whose scientific contributions are often marginalised by traditional Western metrics despite their role as primary knowledge-keepers (IPCC, 2022).
This gender gap comes with a cost. Consider AI-driven disaster response algorithms: If the training data and the design team do not account for the specific displacement patterns and household responsibilities undertaken by women in some context, the resulting “solution” will overlook the most at-risk populations. This is a critical failure of scientific accuracy. In these instances, exclusion leads to a lack of rigor, and inclusion is a form of risk mitigation.
So what can we do?
In my own research, I study the epistemology of practice – in other words, how we know what we know, and the ways community knowledge co-creates solutions (Schön, 1983). From this research, I see that the gender gap in science is often misattributed to a lack of interest, when data suggest it actually – and frequently – stems from methodological misalignment.
Research, including work on congruity theory by Amanda Diekman and colleagues (2010), shows that many women and girls opt out of STEM not because they lack ability, but because traditional STEM education often emphasizes a reductionist approach, breaking systems into isolated parts to be controlled.
This traditional, reductionist framing of science clashes with the communal and relational values many women bring to science. If a student sees the world as a web of relationships, but their education insists on viewing it as a collection of separate objects, they may feel that “science” is not for them.
In other words: When STEM environments prioritize isolated, reductionist approaches over collaborative, impact-driven inquiry, they send powerful cultural signals that filter out individuals whose epistemological strengths are rooted in relationality (Cheryan et al., 2017). This “belonging gap” in scientific culture doesn’t just exclude women; it excludes the very collaborative methodologies required to solve complex, systemic problems.
This means, in fact, our challenge is not ability, interest, or talent; it is in the way we define what counts as “rigorous” science. Changing will require championing the diverse methodologies women and girls bring to the bench – and centering the expertise of women and Indigenous scientists across both the Global South and North. Because inclusive science is not just about changing the faces in the room, it requires a world where many ways of knowing can coexist.
How might we do that? In my dissertation research, I am working with a pedagogical stance called “epistemic weaving.” A teacher’s stance is the set of beliefs, goals, and attitudes that shape their teaching style and interactions with students. Epistemic weaving reimagines teaching as the process of interlacing scientific, ancestral, ecological, and communal knowledges, so that learning “holds” together under real-world constraints, withstanding tension without tearing.
The inspiration for this stance is rooted in scholarship that integrates grounding Indigenous knowledge with sustainability sciences, in resonance with two-eyed seeing (Etuaptmumk), as articulated by Albert Marshall, a Mi’kmaw elder and leading environmental voice. Two-eyed seeing guides us to draw on two complementary strengths: one eye focused on the analytical, experimental methods of Western science, and the other on the holistic, relational knowledge systems such as those of Indigenous ways of knowing.
As Elder Marshall emphasises, two-eyed seeing is not merely additive but integrative. It teaches us to use both eyes together for the benefit of all. And when we engage both eyes, we can cultivate a more resilient form of science, one that is both rigorously empirical and deeply relational. It moves us from a science of controlling isolated elements to one in which the “validity” of a finding is measured not only by its reproducibility in a lab but also by its resonance within the living systems it affects (Marshall, 2012).
As a social (learning) scientist, I view the move toward a genuinely inclusive scientific ecosystem as the shift from a season of exclusion to the “spring” of systemic renewal. For me, this work is about more than just opening doors; it is about championing pedagogical systems that no longer push women and girls out. Instead, we must advocate for systems that pull them in by recognizing their diverse ways of knowing.
Sunga Kufeyani is a community-centered design practitioner and scholar with expertise in human-centered, design-based, and community-driven approaches. A Ph.D. candidate in the College of Education and Human Development at the University of Minnesota and a graduate research assistant at the Institute on the Environment (IonE), her academic research focuses on the co-design of teacher education in Malawi.
Sunga’s dissertation work explores how Indigenous knowledge and Land-based learning can inform climate justice education within rural Chewa communities. Through the development of Umunthu Eco-Pedagogy, she prioritizes relationality and resists Western-centric curricula by theorizing ‘epistemic weaving’, a process that examines how teachers interlace community-rooted wisdom with scientific lenses. A learning scientist in training and an aspiring farmer, Sunga is dedicated to cultivating educational practices that honor Indigenous sovereignty and address the unique needs of agropastoral communities facing the climate crisis.