How unique backgrounds in graduate student and postdoctoral researchers fuel innovation in science.
As a child, my world was bound by curiosity, but also by barriers. As a first-generation, low-income Latinx student, I often felt like a fish trapped in a plastic bag—watching the ocean of opportunities just beyond my reach, the thin walls of doubt and barriers keeping me confined. Science became my escape hatch—a path that promised not only discovery but a way to help others leave their bags behind and venture into the uncharted depths of their own potential.
This sentiment resonates across the stories of graduate students and postdocs at UC Berkeley. Growing up in a small countryside town in Korea, one future scientist found joy in the simplest of activities—exploring fields and collecting insects with friends. Years later, they’re leveraging this curiosity to develop innovative bio-preservation protocols aimed at revolutionizing organ transplantation.
Another researcher, raised in the bustling border of Long Island and Queens, discovered her passion for science while experimenting with food coloring and plants in her mother’s garden. Today, she’s pursuing advanced drug delivery systems, blending creativity and technical expertise to address medical challenges.
These stories—and countless others—illustrate UC Berkeley’s research community. Each journey is different, yet all paths converge on the same pursuit: the desire to use science to explore, innovate, and make a difference.
Real engineering solutions to solve clinical problems
In Berkeley’s labs, science comes to life in extraordinary ways, blending diverse disciplines and perspectives to address some of the world’s most pressing challenges. Each researcher brings not only their expertise but also their personal passion, creating a vibrant ecosystem of innovation.
One postdoc is pushing the boundaries of organ transplantation, developing microvascular systems to optimize bio-preservation protocols.
“It’s about finding real engineering solutions to solve clinical problems,” he explained, blending bioelectronics, mechanical engineering, and biophysics to extend the viability of organs. He collaborates with another postdoc whose focus is on the physical aspects of biopreservation, working to develop the device used for the organ preservation.
While one researcher is pushing the boundaries of organ preservation, another is designing precision drug delivery systems that promise to revolutionize how diseases are treated. Leveraging nanotechnology and biochemical tools, they aim to optimize how treatments are delivered at the cellular level in cardiac microtissue.
“We’re finding ways to make therapeutics more efficient and less invasive,” they explained, bridging creativity and technical expertise to address medical challenges.
Another researcher focuses on hydrogels for muscle regeneration. These biomaterials are engineered to mimic the body’s natural environment, potentially transforming how we heal severe injuries by reducing scarring and accelerating muscle regeneration.
“We’re exploring how chemical, biological, and mechanical properties influence cell fate to address fibrosis and promote functional recovery,” she said, reflecting on the potential for these materials to transform recovery for trauma victims.
As for me, my work focuses on understanding the fundamental effects of isochoric supercooling, a novel method developed in Boris Rubinsky’s lab, integrated with a cardiac microphysiological system unique to Kevin Healy’s lab.
This approach aims to preserve cardiac microtissues at subfreezing temperatures without ice formation for days rather than hours, leveraging an interdisciplinary approach in biochemistry, biology, and biophysics. By advancing this technique, we hope to revolutionize organ storage and transport, providing new possibilities for patients awaiting transplants.
These projects, spanning fields as diverse as tissue engineering, organ preservation, drug delivery, and material science, share a common thread: the pursuit of solutions that bridge science with human impact. Each breakthrough represents not just progress in the lab but a step toward addressing real-world problems, driven by the unique perspectives and passions of Berkeley’s scientists.
Origins as diverse as the researchers themselves
The journey to science often begins long before the first experiment. It’s sparked by moments of curiosity, shaped by early influences, and nurtured by resilience in the face of adversity. For scientists at UC Berkeley, these origins are as diverse as the researchers themselves, each rooted in unique experiences that continue to inspire their work today.
Like many others, my passion for science began in childhood, fueled by curiosity and shaped by my family’s sacrifices. I remember asking endless questions—how things worked, why they were made a certain way—and finding joy in the pursuit of answers. My father, who never completed elementary school, taught me to transform curiosity into action, using what little we had to find answers. His ingenuity shaped my resilience, and his sacrifices instilled a drive to turn limitations into opportunities.
For another researcher, the seeds of discovery were planted in vivid childhood imagination. “Every day before homework, I’d pretend everything on my desk was part of a theater set and create a show,” they shared.
Another, who grew up in Pittsburgh, found joy in the teamwork and strategy of baseball—a passion that now guides his research in cryopreservation, where collaboration and careful planning are essential.
These early sparks of curiosity, whether ignited by family, art, or sports, reflect the diverse ways scientists find their way to the ocean of discovery. The path to science isn’t always straightforward. It’s shaped by creativity, and the courage to ask questions—even when the answers aren’t immediately clear.
There’s got to be more to this
Each journey has a defining moment. For me, it came in a computational biochemistry lab as an undergrad, where I modeled proteins in 3D to explore how lysine acetylation influenced enzyme activity.
It was my first independent project, and though I’d never taken a computational course, I dove in headfirst. That lab was my escape hatch, the moment I realized I wasn’t just observing science—I was part of it. For many scientists, their first lab experience, the first “ah-ha” moment, was the turning point that ignited their passion for research and inspired them to pursue higher education.
Deciding to pursue graduate school often stems from a combination of curiosity, ambition, and serendipity. One student’s decision was clear, inspired by her father who used to be a professor at a university. Another citing the end of his undergrad and just knowing “there’s got to be more to this.”
While for others, the turning point came later. One colleague, initially an architecture student at MIT, realized she was more intrigued by the materials that make buildings than their designs. “I wanted to understand how buildings were made, not just how they looked,” she explained. This shift led her to pursue material science and eventually a PhD.
Another peer’s turning point came during a trip to Boston. Coming from a non-traditional academic background, he was the only undergraduate amongst graduate students visiting MIT and Harvard.
“Meeting those grad students made me realize they were just regular people,” he says. “It dispelled the myths and validated that I belonged in these spaces.”
He’s now developing wearable diagnostic systems for neurodegenerative diseases through the MEGAN protocol, and working on cryopreservation of neurons, embodying the blend of engineering and biology.
These moments of clarity highlight the various paths that lead to higher education. While some scientists have lifelong aspirations of research, others arrive at the decision through pivotal life events or moments of mentorship.
My existence in these spaces should be undeniable
The journey to grad school is rarely without hurdles. As a first-generation student, I often felt disconnected, unsure of what was possible or how to navigate the system. Even with every resource available, without proper guidance it’s easy to fall through the cracks.
One student shared a candid account of his non-traditional journey to grad school, starting with earning a GED and attending community college.
“I told myself I wasn’t qualified for graduate school, operating under the belief my existence in these spaces should be undeniable,” he said, reflecting on his struggle with imposter syndrome before ultimately being accepted into a PhD program.
For some, cultural and linguistic challenges made transitioning to graduate school especially daunting. “The limited network and language barriers were tough,” one admitted.
“You never know what the expectations are,” a student recollected his distress trying to navigate expectations in the U.S. compared to China, “it’s almost like everything is backwards.” Yet, these hurdles didn’t deter them; they became steppingstones toward their greater goal of integrating multidisciplinary techniques to solve clinical problems.
For others, the obstacles were different but no less significant. One researcher vividly recounted the words of an advisor who doubted her ability to be accepted into any program: “He said if I didn’t have a 3.9 minimum, I wouldn’t be an ideal candidate.”
She has now found success in Temperature-Controlled-Cryoprinting (TCC), an innovative 3D bioprinting technology that enables the fabrication and cryopreservation of complex, large cell-laden scaffolds, advancing 3D cell culture and tissue engineering.
Another student candidly shared her struggles, expressing deep fears when she was rejected by seven out of eight schools she applied to.
“By the time I heard back from Berkeley, I’d almost given up. It was my dream school, but after so many rejections, I thought, ‘Why would they choose me?’” she shared. Despite her doubts, she was admitted and now works on cutting-edge biomaterials for muscle regeneration.
Even students who seemed destined for success faced moments of doubt. One first-generation student from John Hopkins reflected, “I had no one to guide me. I did everything myself—applications, essays, even figuring out what grad school really meant. It was overwhelming, and I doubted myself.”
Her perseverance paid off, and today, she’s leading innovative work in drug delivery systems.
As for me, balancing three jobs while pursuing my undergraduate studies was a test of endurance. The financial strain and lack of representation in STEM fields often made me question my place. I remember sitting in a crowded library, balancing jobs, homework, and self-doubt, wondering if I’d ever belong in science.
However, the sacrifices of my parents—who left everything behind to give me a chance—and the resilience ingrained in me by my immigrant family propelled me forward. Every obstacle became a pivotal moment in a larger story of perseverance. For many first-generation students, the path to science isn’t just about discovery—it’s about redefining what’s possible.
The joy of creating something meaningful
What keeps us going? For many, it’s the wonder of discovery—the feeling of seeing something for the first time and knowing it could change everything.
What drew us to science was not just a love of discovery but the joy of creating something meaningful. My love for science is rooted in its ability to connect disciplines, blending chemistry, biology, and engineering to solve real-world problems. One researcher expressed being drawn to science through art.
“I loved ceramics—I was fascinated by how the materials transformed through heat and time. But I wanted to go deeper, to understand the chemistry behind it—how materials behave and why. That curiosity, sparked by a book called Stuff Matters, which was gifted to me by my father, fueled my passion for research.”
Others were inspired by early educational experiences. “In high school, we had this project where we had to simulate evolution,” one student shared. “I thought it was so fun, imagining how life adapts to its environment. It made me realize that science was not just facts but creativity and discovery.”
While for some, science was always part of their identity. “I used to do mini experiments with food coloring,” another explained. “Even as a kid, I loved the mix of creativity and technical elements that science offered.”
One scientist found her passion reignited during the COVID-19 pandemic. Isolated but eager, she enrolled in a seminar on the biology of tissue repair.
“It was the first time I heard someone talk about the body in terms of materials,” she said with excitement. This led her to pursue biomaterials, where she now contributes to advancements in tissue engineering through cryogels.
For many, finding their scientific calling was a journey of self-discovery, filled with twists and turns. Some spoke of multiple degree changes, navigating uncertainty, and ultimately letting instinct guide their path. “It just seemed like the right fit,” one researcher reflected, capturing the serendipitous nature of their journey.
These stories illustrate that science is not just a discipline but a way of seeing the world. It’s about asking questions, seeking answers, and embracing the creativity and curiosity that drive understanding. Together, these perspectives show that science is as much about the journey as it is about the destination—a pursuit of meaning, fueled by passion and purpose.
Not just experiments, but stories
Our stories—each distinct in origin and trajectory—intertwine at UC Berkeley, creating diversity and innovation. We are scientists forged by our experiences, driven by curiosity, and united by a common goal: to push the boundaries of what’s possible. These scientists are not just advancing knowledge; they are proof that diversity fuels innovation, ensuring a brighter and more inclusive future for all.
As I look around the lab, I see not just experiments but stories—each one a testament to resilience, creativity, and the belief that science can change lives. These stories are what inspire me to keep going and to help others write their own.
As we share our stories, we hope to inspire others to break barriers, dive into their own journeys, and redefine what’s possible. Science is not just about answers—it’s about the courage to ask questions and the belief that those questions matter. By mentoring, teaching, and sharing our stories, we can ensure the next generation of scientists sees the ocean of possibilities—and dives in without fear.
Jazmin Isabel Velazquez is a PhD-Candidate in the Bioengineering program in Kevin Healy and Boris Rubinsky’s lab. She is a recipient of the IMSD Fellowship, and NSF GRFP with a BS in Biochemistry and a BS in Cell and Molecular Biology from San Francisco State University.