Lab Meeting: Kay Tye
Lab Meeting: Kay Tye
“I guess I feel like I'm on a mission.”
Rare is the scientist who scales the ivory tower, and lays bare the bruises, scrapes and falls endured. Rarer still are those at the top, who hammer in pegs and throw down ropes to help trainees climb. Dr. Kay Tye is a mother, surfer, famous neuroscientist, TED talker, former yoga instructor, and passionate thrower of “ropes” to colleagues and mentees in need.
“Going through academia, even with all the privileges that I've had, I still spent the entire time having impostor syndrome,” remembers Tye, now a Professor of Neurobiology and the Wylie Vale Chair at the Salk Institute.
Daughter of a molecular biologist who cloned key components of DNA replication machinery, and a string theorist who first proposed cosmic inflation, Tye was exposed to rigorous science at an early age (Q#2). Yet her path through academia was turbulent, and almost cut short. As an undergraduate researcher, she was sexually harassed by a post-doc and discredited by co-workers (Q#4). Disillusioned, it was unclear whether she would continue on in science. Her mother’s “old school” encouragement convinced Tye to apply to neuroscience PhD programs, and eventually find a home in Patricia Janak’s lab at UCSF: “I had a great graduate training experience, and an amazing PhD mentor… but it was still a rocky road” (Q#4). Sexist comments from classmates and conference organizers aside, Tye flourished scientifically in the Janak lab—making a name for herself studying how neurons in the amygdala influence reward seeking behaviors and assign emotional significance to environmental cues. Her post-doctoral work with Karl Deisseroth, helped untangle how amygdala circuitry contributes to anxiety, depression and addiction. In 2012 Tye joined the faculty in the Picower Institute at MIT. Her lab’s work has centered on understanding the neurobiology of reward-seeking, emotional valence and social homeostasis often asking how these insights can be translated to better understand psychiatric disease.
Current work in the Tye Lab (now at the Salk) is focused on some of the biggest unanswered questions in neuroscience: how do we perceive and respond to complicated group dynamics? How does our brain establish a set point for social interaction, and which neural circuits drive corrective (effector) responses? How do we sense our status in society, and how does this social “rank” alter pleasure-seeking or aversive behaviors?
Tye has been recognized with the NIH Director’s New Innovator Award, Technology Review’s Top 35 Innovators under 35, and has been named a Whitehall, Klingenstein and Sloan Foundation Fellow. In 2019 she became a Professor in the Systems Neurobiology Laboratory and Wylie Vale Chair at the Salk Institute. In 2021, Tye was recognized as a Howard Hughes Medical Institute Investigator (HHMI).
Tye is passionate about giving academia a reality check: “there are a lot of things wrong with the culture of academia. Our system is broken” (Q#1). Our discussion centers on her path through academia, current challenges for trainees, and how toxic mindsets can threaten the “air supply” of basic science. Plus, a book in the works (Q#5)! A neuroscientist at the height of her powers, and armed with a Taoist personal philosophy, Tye is well positioned to effect change: “I’ve been thinking a lot about what a new model for academic research could look like” (Q#6).
Below is an interview with Dr. Kay Tye from October 2022:
1. You get lots of requests for interviews focusing on your background and work. What made you want to come on Biomarker?
I was interested in meeting with you [and Biomarker] because you are student.
I often ask: what's our purpose in life? What are we meant to do? Maybe there is no purpose, and it's all random. That's possible. But I feel like I've been given a lot of privileges in my life—for example having parents that are both scientists. I’ve certainly faced some hardships too, but generally consider myself very privileged. If I am here at this position, this point in my life, what's next? Going through academia, even with all the privileges that I've had, I still spent the entire time having “impostor syndrome.” I think this feeling is very common—but it really shouldn't be.
I think a lot of people feel this way because there are a lot of things wrong with the culture of academia. Our system is broken. You can see the signs of this everywhere—currently there's a mass exodus of trainees. The “watercooler talk” of PIs right now is about how hard it is to recruit postdocs compared to previous years. I think that this mass exodus is partly due to the way academia treats its trainees. Maybe if we didn't pay and treat them poorly, more folks would want to keep being in academia. I think science would be better off and more diverse if this issue was fixed. Ultimately everyone would benefit from a healthier attitude, and it would just be more fun to be a scientist. So, I guess I feel like I'm on a mission to change the culture of academia.
[On the current culture of academia]
We don't need 200 labs studying the exact same paradigm with the exact same protocols. There are benefits of stereotypy, but there's just so much territory that remains unexplored. Sometimes we [in science] are just so densely populated under a few “lampposts,” while there's all this open space.
I think this issue adds to the problems for trainees in academia: it’s a cultural problem. There's pressure to be a certain way, or do a certain thing [experimentally] that you're good at. As a result, you are filled with fear and just do “safe” or incremental experiments. We are not striking out boldly and feeling dauntless. We are just swimming in our lanes.
There is nothing wrong with swimming in our lanes per se, unless of course the lanes don’t cover every aspect of what is yet unknown. But this is the reality, when people swim in lanes, we are all trapped in the safety and rigidity our pools and… there is a big, wild ocean of discoveries waiting to be made.
I think this incremental mentality is not efficient in terms of exploring the existing parameter space—if the goal is to know all the truths that nature has to offer we are going about it all wrong. We need to create a culture that emphasizes that there are infinite ways to make a contribution, and there are so many important contributions to make.
2. Your parents are both accomplished scientists. How did they feel about academia, and what did you learn from them about science as a career?
[As immigrants that met on the boat coming to America to pursue a higher education] my parents [Bik Kwoon Yeung Tye and Henry Tye] did what they could to find a good place where they could both get jobs. Ithaca [Cornell] is not a metropolis, and my parents didn't go to all the meetings. They really just did their own thing. But they did great science. To be honest, I’ve only recently realized how impactful my mom’s work was. She identified (from cloning to crystal structure!) the genes comprising complexes fundamental to DNA replication: the minichromosome maintenance (MCM) and origin recognition complex (ORC). All these other scientists, won Nobel Prizes for discovering other parts of DNA replication. But then her work, establishing the origins and maintenance of DNA replication, is really one of the most important parts.
But you know, my mother didn't play “the game”: she didn't do the “flag planting” and campaigning for credit. Neither did my Dad. But they are both very happy. They didn't win awards for having the “highest H-index,” but they really enjoyed their lives. They loved their jobs the whole time, did what they felt like, contributed what they could, and ultimately made super important discoveries. Looking back, I think my parents approached academia and research in exactly the right way. They were just curious and excited about their work, and didn’t get caught up in the cut throat competition and just had fun discovering the natural world that we live in.
I think what I took away [from my parents] as a child was: here are people who love their jobs, they can do whatever they want, they can travel if they want, they can choose what they want to study and move to what is interesting. Running a lab, you have maximum freedom and autonomy. You can make your own schedule, which is great. Obviously, there are a lot of pressures in academia as well. However, if I were a third-grade teacher, I wouldn’t be allowed bring my own kids to class. If I'm a doctor, I can’t bring my kids to the operating room. But [running a lab] if I need to bring my kids to my lab, or even a conference, I totally can! This freedom and flexibility are benefits of academia and we should celebrate them as such.
3. What are some of the positive things about academia compared to other career paths—perhaps even comparing it with those in other fields?
There was a long period at the beginning of my career [in science], where there was this huge discrepancy in compensation between how much money I made and my friends who went into finance or tech. Still there is this difference—obviously if you work for a bank, you will make more money than I do. But this is especially brutal when you are a trainee. However, once you complete the training phase, compensation becomes solid and adequate. But I just feel like I love my job so much more than anyone else I know. If I was independently wealthy, I would do it for free. Plus, at this point in my career, there are not very many things I do daily that I don’t enjoy. If I don’t want to check an email, I’m not going to use email that day. Poring over spreadsheets or financial forecasts—I don't like it, so I don’t do it. I can now hire folks to help me patch my deficits, and team work makes the dream work.
The thing I like about academia is that you can create your own adventure. I can find a team of people, where we get jobs done as a group. And you know, we all enjoy it. If I had a lab of 20 people exactly like me, we would crash and burn, and stuff would not run. I don't want 20 clones of me, I want a really diverse group. Having a diverse group is a big investment, because there is a higher demand for communication, empathy and acceptance. If you invest in assembling a diverse group, it's amazing. Suddenly anything becomes possible—there is always somebody willing do the important experiments or there will always be someone to have the critical insight. I think this diversity of thought and interests makes every day interesting and creates a sense of belonging and openness that just isn’t possible in a monoculture.
4. As a trainee, did you feel like the places you were in had these diverse groups? What was your initial foray like into research and academia?
Initially when I was a freshman at MIT, I had some low commitment, undergrad experiences that were fine. But really, I was just clocking in for my 10-15 hours a week. But then I found one [lab] that I was really interested in, studying neuromodulation. Once I joined that lab, I became super committed. I went in every single day at 8am, including Saturdays and Sundays. Then I got sexually harassed by the postdoc I was working with, and it became a whole mess. I reported it to the PI [lab head], and the PI didn't believe me. So, after two years, going in every single day and doing all these experiments, I was not included on the paper. I did not even have recommendation letter. As a result, I had nothing to show for my applications to grad school for my research experience. I got totally robbed, I felt that life wasn’t fair and became totally disillusioned. Following graduation, I took a year off to be a yoga instructor and just do other things—not anything you could really call a career in the traditional sense.
But I talked to my mom about it and she had the more “old school” mentality: this is a reality you are going to have to deal with, it doesn’t matter what career you choose you will find the same types of problems [discrimination and sexual harassment]. Now looking back, I think this is not actually true. These problems are perhaps more pervasive in academia than other industries; but fundamentally present in many places where there are hierarchies. This includes medicine, law or finance. For me, this experience as an undergraduate was a huge roadblock, and almost prevented me from going to grad school. What I did agree with in my Mom’s advice was that we can’t control what other people do, but we can control what we do, and she suggested that I stop feeling sorry for myself and focus on my work. Tough love at the time, but I took her advice and, I’m glad I did because, eventually, I fell in love with my work.
I had a great graduate training experience, and an amazing PhD mentor [Patricia Janak]. When choosing labs, I wanted to pick the kindest, most nurturing mentor with the fewest complaints from her students. In many ways, the science was of secondary importance and the cultural and mentoring environment was my top priority. My PhD helped me find myself, but it was still a rocky road at some points. I remember some of my peers saying stuff that would make me feel like I didn't belong. A specific classmate of mine said, in front of everyone while we were on bus: “You know admissions is random, because Kay got in.” Super awkward bus ride.
So, the “imposter syndrome” was very real for me. The first meeting I went to, I was a junior graduate student, and it was an amazing opportunity. But also, a weird experience. There were 50 speakers, only six of them women—three of whom were trainees. I was one of a handful of women speaking, just a second-year graduate student, and giving a talk to a bunch of pale, male and frail PIs. Many of the older, more established women scientists, were not invited to speak. I saw then how very biased academic conferences can be. So, the Gordon Amygdala Conference became one of my first battlegrounds.
The meeting I attended [as a grad student] was the inaugural amygdala meeting, and in many ways, it was great for my career. I got discovered, people noticed my work and were like: “Oh, wow, you're doing cool stuff blah, blah.” But at the subsequent meeting I ran to be a chair, and one of the “old school” professors came up to me to and said: “maybe you should focus on being a mother instead of running for Gordon conference chair.” So, interactions like these have been present all the way through [my path in academia]. As an assistant professor, I thought I had “made it.” But I discovered that if you want to change something, which would threaten the power of others, then there is lot of pushback. So, when did stop having impostor syndrome? Maybe when I turned 40? Maybe I still have a little?
Things are improving. Take the Amygdala Gordon Research Conference, for example. When I finally did chair it in 2019, the gender ratio was about 50:50. So I mean, it just takes making it [gender parity] an agenda. Change takes energy, which is a burden on those who are already underprivileged. But I think it's less of a burden if we all share it.
5. Somewhat recently you tweeted out that you're going to potentially write a new, Advice for Young Investigators.
I have some updates on that. I've always wanted to be a writer since I was little. Throughout the years, I’ve had ideas to write about lots of different things.
Over the summer, I tweeted kind of spontaneously. I just had this burst of inspiration, which led to an impulsive tweet. I didn't really expect anything to come of it. But the post got lots of retweets, and several publishers and literary agents reached out saying: “we would like to help you with this book.” I met with a publisher and she just totally got it and understood my vision and my mission so I signed a book deal with Princeton University Press. So it's real, and it's going to happen. I'm working on it in my nights and weekends. It's hard. I'm a single mom of two kids, so it might not be the ideal moment for my life, but… it does feel like the right moment for academia. But I just feel like I need to get this book out. It’s the book I wish I had when I was a trainee, and I wonder if I had grown up reading a more inclusive book if I could have saved myself 20 years of imposter syndrome. I feel like our field needs to hear it, and that I may be one of the right people to say it.
I think there are a lot of attitudes that are broken in science. And I think this book, Advice for a Young Investigator [by Santiago Ramon y Cajal], did a lot of damage. It validated these masochistic mindsets, and those felt that [the views put forth by the book] this was the correct way to do science. I think the book also invalidated some people who felt differently, like myself, causing us to wonder if we belonged in science and academia. Ramon y Cajal was basically saying: “you should be a workaholic and find a wife who doesn't complain.” He also advocated that one should be afraid of being wrong and protect reputation all costs. I think these views are pretty toxic. I want to replace this with the idea that you can have a personal life, and be the best whole person that you can be. We should welcome diverse contributions and care about everybody in the ecosystem. There are a couple of things he [Cajal] got right, such as making space for yourself to have creative discoveries. I agree with that one, and I don't reject every single thing he said. But there is a lot which I find harmful. It would be beneficial to have another option for trainees, one on the other end of the spectrum.
I'm not going to say that my opinion is the “right one” because that also flies in the face of my own philosophy. I think we need to create a space or environment where people are free to reveal them all. My book will not be a practical guidebook. It's not going to give advice on like how to write grants. Rather it will be more philosophical book. You could say it’s inspired by the Tao Te Ching, in suggesting to follow the path of least resistance, not try to force things, and just do what feels natural and has the right energy.
[On how academia misses this point]
I believe that if you follow your intuitions, and just keep doing things that feel right, you will end up in a great place—rather than having a very rigid goal for yourself to achieve “x, y or z.” In our current culture we have this idea that we are going make [trainees and junior investigators] suffer now and delay the gratification of important things: feeling respected in your social status or having resources to make yourself comfortable. The promise of prestige and fear of failure are presented as motivating factors. I just feel like this is such an empty cycle.
It's time for professors and administrators to start thinking about: what does academia have to offer everyone else? What value are we bringing [to society]?
There is this other part of the broken culture [of academia] where you might be viewed as a “sellout” if you write a popular science book, or give a TED talk or do things that help convey your work to lay audiences. Some will say: “you are not a serious scientist.”
I think the bottom line is, if academia has that mentality, then scientists will never effectively communicate with people who make decisions about science funding and resource allocation. Disincentivizing science communication is slowly suffocating academia. Communication with these people is crucial ensure that “academic science” continues to exist. If we don’t communicate with the rest of the ecosystem, make our values clear, and generate interest in research we are cutting off our own “air supply.” So, I think there is a fundamental shift in attitudes that needs to happen.
6. If I was a grad student in your lab, what would you tell me to keep me in science, and outline what academia has to offer?
That's a great question. Academia is not for everyone. However, I think it could be for a lot of people who don’t have the exposure, opportunities, or support that they need. Academia will never be the most “lucrative” career path, so we just have to offer other incentives. What else can we offer? There are the classic promises of autonomy and freedom—nobody's going to tell you what to do. You can do whatever you want and [academia] is a relatively secure job. Even as a trainee, you have a guaranteed job for five years or so. In industry, they could suddenly reorganize the whole company, and lay off everyone who works on neuroscience overnight. So, there is job security in academia, even though it doesn't feel like that. There is an imbalance of available jobs and trainees, so the security that we actually experience [as faculty] is compromised—because many never get to this position. I think that fear of failure [desiring one of these scarce jobs] also compromises the freedom that we have to study what we want. In academia you can, in theory, literally think of any wild idea, and just start studying it. That’s kind of how I roll. It was challenging, as an assistant professor. Senior colleagues told me: “this is stuff you should do after tenure” but all of my best ideas were an “after tenure project.” This was stressful. And it would have been better if older faculty didn't say that to me, because I just ignored it anyway and felt unnecessarily stressed. I wish they had told me to trust my intuitions and follow them wherever they led me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what a new model could look like. In “Kay's utopian academia,” the world of the future, the number one change is that everybody gets paid more. That may mean there are going to be fewer trainees, fewer labs, and smaller labs. But the trainees that go into this path can expect jobs and realize that promise of job security and intellectual freedom. Let's have fewer trainees, invest more into each of them…and if academia is not the right fit, help them to move on to find their instead path instead of trapping them.
Everybody should just go where they want to go: people who really want to be in academia can be here, we will invest more in you, and you will have a better chance of “making it.” This may also entail reducing the size of labs—so that twenty trainees aren’t competing for one or two PI spots. Earlier in my career as well, I didn't think about reform because I didn't believe that change was actually possible, or that I could be responsible for [bringing about] change. I just felt like, “this is the way it is,” and coped the best I could.
But relatively recently, I decided that I do belong here. And if there is a place for me, there could be a place for anyone.
7. What was a scientific high point that motivated you to stay in academia?
I definitely remember one moment early in grad school, when nothing seemed to be working. The first cohort of my experimental rats died. Second cohort got an infection. I was just trying to train a rat to learn a task, and that an auditory cue predicts a reward. Nothing was working.
But then there's this one trial where the queue goes off. I'm listening to the recording from one neuron on an audio monitor, suddenly going: “pop, pop, pop, pop, pop.” This is old school. And I'm watching the animal in real time on video. I could see that they finally “got it”. The animal hears the tone and they get it [that there will be a reward]! The “light bulb goes off,” so to speak, like that rat had an “aha” moment. And I heard that “aha moment” happen on a cellular level with the firing of a neuron. So that was really exciting for me, and a big turning point—in part because I was by myself. At the time I felt like: “I can actually do this!” I did the surgery with my own hands, I hooked up and recorded the animal with nobody helping me, and I'm now sitting in the dark alone, hearing the magic.
8. What gets you most excited about your current research?
I first started out in neuroscience studying valence: how do we know if something's good or bad. And a lot of the things that are good or bad for us in our daily lives, are social. And I became really interested in how social information can be processed in a very dynamic way, and set out on this mission to understand “social homeostasis.” That was pretty crazy idea at the time, because we don't have any tools: quantitative tools for measuring behavior, quantitative tools for recording from multiple animals at the same time—all that methodology hadn't been developed yet. So it was a big leap of faith for me to switch fields, and establish a lot of the enabling technology. A lot of people told me it was “career suicide,” but it ended up being the best decision I could have made. I'm really excited about understanding how we construct our “social immune systems”: how do we detect inputs and evaluate another individual's internal state? How do we create a theory of mind? How do we know our relative rank in society? How do we have an expectation for what is the optimal amount, quality or quantity of social contact? And how do we adapt when things are changing around us? How do many brains have collective intelligence? Creating predictive dynamical models for how individuals interact within a group and how the whole group maintains its structure in the face of changing conditions, is of great interest. One project I'm super interested in studying is social hierarchies and what makes them more despotic or egalitarian. If anyone who reads your blog wants to come to my lab, I don't have anyone working on this specific project yet!
