Fieldwork is a cornerstone of scientific research, offering hands-on experience in collecting data from nature. But for many early-career scientists, particularly those from underrepresented backgrounds, it also exposes them to unsafe, unsupported, and emotionally draining environments.
One undergraduate researcher recalls an alarming incident during a bird observation trip. After a long day in the forest, she discovered a hidden camera in the bathroom of the fieldhouse. Though she reported the incident immediately, she had to continue working near the alleged perpetrator until law enforcement intervened.
Years later, she faced verbal harassment from an older male colleague at another remote campsite. Isolated and with no cell signal, she walked to the nearest diner to access Wi-Fi and report the situation to her lead investigator. That night, she locked her tent zippers for safety.
These experiences are not unique. Many field researchers face similar challenges, often without proper support or validation. Despite the importance of fieldwork in science—from bird tracking to soil sampling—remote environments can amplify power imbalances and heighten risks of sexual harassment and emotional distress.
“Fieldwork is often seen as a test you must pass to be accepted,” said Alix Contosta, a research associate professor at the University of New Hampshire. Anna Le, a fisheries biologist and founder of Grayling Education, once believed these struggles were a rite of passage. Now, she sees that view as harmful. “It excuses systemic problems,” she said.
In her current role as community relations specialist at the Hubbard Brook Research Foundation, the researcher stresses the need for a supportive and safe field environment. While fieldwork can be transformative, negative or traumatic experiences often push promising scientists out of the field entirely.
Jerika Loren Heinze, a field safety consultant and founder of the Fieldwork Initiative, points out that fieldwork was historically designed for elite, cisgender White men. Underfunding and discomfort were seen as a test of toughness—an approach that still lingers today. This culture, she said, echoes hazing practices.
Marginalized scientists often face extra stress. “Being a woman of color in very rural places, I felt constant hypervigilance,” said Le. She recounted being forced to access remote sites where signs warned trespassers they would be shot.
On top of safety concerns, mental health issues in fieldwork often go unnoticed. With scientific funding cuts, access to resources like counseling and training is shrinking. Contosta emphasized the difference between healthy challenge and being pushed beyond mental and physical limits.
Molly Phillips, mentoring coordinator for the Long Term Ecological Research Network, noted that teams that openly discuss mental health tend to perform better. Recognizing this, the National Science Foundation has introduced guidelines requiring field leaders to address hostile behavior, foster inclusion, and improve communication. However, experts agree that policies alone aren’t enough—real accountability and follow-through are critical.
Improving mental health support in the field is not just about safety. It’s a step toward rejecting toxic work cultures that prize endurance over well-being. Offering proper support allows scientists to focus on their work with passion and purpose, rather than fear and fatigue.
Creating a culture where field researchers are safe and valued helps science thrive. With the right resources, training, and leadership, the field can become a space where all scientists—not just the most resilient—can succeed.
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