Stephanie Bailey, Ph.D. is a physicist, microsimulation scientist, and educator whose work connects science, policy, and educational reform. After earning her PhD in nuclear physics from William & Mary, she helped to develop breast cancer microsimulation models at Stanford that informed national screening guidelines and later built policy-focused projects on global health and child welfare. Pursuing her own research agenda, she applied this modeling approach to sex trafficking, leading to a publication in the Journal of Human Trafficking. As an AAAS Science & Technology Policy Fellow, she advanced human rights and inclusion initiatives at USAID and the U.S. Embassy in Nicaragua. In academia, she taught as a lecturer at UC Santa Cruz and a professor at Chapman University, creating arts-based and community-centered approaches to physics that emphasize creativity, empathy, and real-world connection. Her book series, Teaching Physics with Student-Made Art, grew from this work. As a disabled person suffering from a chronic disease, she advocates for accessibility in STEM, and her experiences are archived by the Science History Institute. She continues to write on equity in academia, science policy, and higher education, including a commentary in Physics Today on protecting faculty from student harassment.

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers

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CW/TW: sexual assault

Note from Karen: For more background on sexual harassment in academia, please study the 3000 entries in my Sexual Harassment in Academia: Anonymous Crowdsource Survey from 2017 and 2021. While closed to new entries, it represents the massive scale of harassment — from criminal assaults to pervasive innuendo – across all fields and contexts of the academic career.

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Trust is the foundation of mentorship. In the lab, it is the invisible scaffold that supports every experiment, every hypothesis, every risk a young scientist dares to take. Trust allows curiosity to flourish; it is what enables students to admit what they do not yet know, to make mistakes openly, and to learn from them without fear. It enables honesty, openness, and intellectual growth. Yet trust is also fragile. When it is broken, the damage can persist long after the moment has passed—affecting individuals, institutions, and the integrity of science itself.

I learned this lesson nearly twenty-five years ago. At the time, I was twenty-one, an undergraduate physics intern at a lab, eager to prove that I belonged in a world that often felt just beyond my reach. My mentor, a man decades my senior, seemed to take an interest in my growth. When he invited me to his home to celebrate my birthday with a cocktail and a movie, I assumed it was a gesture of mentorship and goodwill.

But the evening unfolded differently than I had imagined. As Basic Instinct played on the TV, he slid his hand up my thigh and attempted to climb on top of me. In that moment, my body froze and he pressed forward as if my silence were consent. Suddenly, instinct took over and I bolted, down the stairs, out the door, and along the street, my heart pounding in tandem with every step. I ran until the sound of my own footsteps drowned out everything else.

I told no one. Not my friends, not my professors, not my family. Shame wrapped itself around me like a second skin. My silence was driven by shame, self-blame, and the belief that speaking up might destroy his career or mine. I convinced myself that it was a misunderstanding, that I could manage it quietly, that confronting him would cause more harm than good. I rehearsed excuses for his behavior and rationalizations for my silence. But when he introduced me to the next student who would take my place, something inside me shifted. I saw in her face the same eagerness, the same desire to be taken seriously, and I felt the heavy weight of complicity settle on my shoulders. My silence had given him permission to act again.

This story is not unique. It reflects a broader, systemic problem in academic culture—one that, despite progress, still persists. Academia has long relied on mentorship structures that are deeply hierarchical and often insulated from oversight. When trust is exploited within these structures, the consequences extend beyond the immediate harm to individuals: they undermine confidence in institutions, erode the credibility of research, and deter talented people, especially women and underrepresented minorities, from pursuing scientific careers.

Today, labs now implement sexual harassment policies [1], appoint harassment officers, and advertise confidential reporting lines. For example, the U.S. National Science Foundation requires that organizations submitting proposals to conduct research off-campus or off-site must complete a certification that the organization has a plan in place?for this proposal?regarding safe and inclusive working environments These developments are essential, but they remain insufficient. Policies create frameworks; they do not create safety. Rules cannot replace responsibility. Paperwork cannot substitute for compassion. True prevention requires continuous vigilance, transparent accountability, and a shared understanding that ethical mentorship is as critical to research excellence as experimental rigor or publication integrity.

Years after my experience, as a graduate student, I learned that my former advisor remained in a position of authority over students and postdoctoral researchers. When a fellow student mentioned she had accepted a postdoctoral position in his lab, I felt a familiar wave of dread. I wanted to warn her, but how could I? I had no proof, no record, only my memory and the silence that had allowed him to continue. That moment crystallized a truth I had long avoided: I realized that silence even when born of fear can perpetuate harm. The structures that should have protected students had failed to act, in part because no one had demanded they do so.

Now, as an educator myself, I strive to be the kind of mentor I once needed. I check in regularly with students about their safety, well-being, boundaries, and belonging. I partner with administrators when confidentiality is necessary and advocate for systemic change when it is not. Yet I know that prevention cannot depend on the goodwill of individual mentors. The responsibility for creating safe and equitable research environments must be shared across the academic ecosystem. Departments and institutions must prioritize mentorship training, implement routine climate assessments, and develop systems for transparent follow-up on misconduct reports. Senior faculty must model ethical leadership and confront violations of trust directly, not quietly or privately. Professional societies and funding agencies must reinforce that mentorship misconduct is a breach of research integrity, not merely a personal failing. Faculty, administrators, staff, peers, and students all share responsibility for shaping the moral climate of our research spaces. It is not enough to produce excellent science; we must also cultivate environments that are humane. Every policy, every meeting, every mentorship relationship is an opportunity to reinforce or erode that trust. When we fail to act, when we choose comfort over confrontation, we quietly perpetuate the conditions that allow harm to fester.

Sharing my story is not a confession. It is an act of reclamation and a call to action. Silence is complicity. Sexual misconduct is not merely a personal transgression; it is an ethical and professional failure that corrodes the very foundation of science itself. Discovery thrives only where people feel safe to think boldly, question openly, and make mistakes without fear of exploitation. Students deserve that safety. They deserve mentors who honor their trust and institutions that defend it.

Every member of the scientific community has a role to play. Students must be empowered to speak without fear of retaliation. Faculty must be trained and evaluated not only on research productivity but also on their ability to foster respectful, inclusive environments. Administrators must treat safety and equity as core components of research excellence.

Trust, once lost, is difficult to rebuild. But we have a collective obligation to try. Science depends on the free exchange of ideas, and that exchange can only occur in spaces grounded in respect, safety, and accountability. Mentorship is not just about transmitting knowledge—it is about modeling integrity. Trust must be earned, protected, and enforced as a professional standard. Change will not come from policy alone. It will come from a shared commitment to transparency, courage, and care—one lab, one department, one institution at a time.

[1] Safe and Harassment-free Fieldwork (SAHF) Plans, https://www.nsf.gov/funding/safe-fieldwork