As the classroom door creaks open, a girl steps inside, her eyes sparkling with ambition and curiosity. With dreams of crafting rockets that will soar through the cosmos, she envisions a future where she maps the stars and unlocks the secrets of the universe. Her aspirations extend beyond mere exploration; she yearns to split atoms and ignite a legacy so profound that the world will be compelled to remember her name for generations to come.
But by the time she arrives, the doors to that future are already closing.
Is the STEM club for girls still active? Gone.
Is the advanced physics elective still available? Cut due to “budget constraints.”
Is the robotics competition still in progress? Canceled—no funding.
Are the books about women in science still available? Removed.
What happened to the spaces that once fostered belonging, courage, and curiosity? Systematically erased.
And this isn’t just happening in schools. The elimination of STEM starts early—but its effects last for life.
What happens when STEM disappears from schools?
They say it’s about “prioritizing the basics,” but the truth is simpler: science is dangerous to control freaks. They don’t want students questioning, experimenting, or thinking critically.
So first, they cut funding. Lab equipment gets outdated. Schools drop coding classes because they “can’t afford” them. The AI and robotics programs disappear.
Then, they erase science from the curriculum. The number of hands-on experiments decreases. Standardized tests replace critical thinking with memorization. Evolution becomes “just a theory.” Climate science is “too political.” AI education is “too risky.”
Then, they go after the teachers. Salaries stay low. Workloads grow. Qualified STEM educators burn out. Some districts lower teaching standards so much that students no longer learn from experts—just from whoever’s left.
And then? STEM disappears from the workplace, too.
What happens when STEM disappears from the workforce?
Right now, in federal STEM jobs, the same erasure is happening. DEI programs—initiatives designed to ensure that qualified women and minorities have access to STEM careers—are being shut down.
Women and marginalized groups in STEM already face systemic barriers—lower wages, slower advancement, and fewer opportunities. A 2023 USDA Forest Service study found that even when nonwhite women in STEM entered at higher grades, they advanced more slowly. Nonwhite men were more likely to be terminated.
And now, as diversity and inclusion efforts are being eliminated in the federal workforce, women and minorities in STEM are left with even fewer opportunities to thrive.
One federal biologist said that early in her career, she took part in a paid federal internship for underrepresented groups—an opportunity that led to her full-time position. Without programs like these, STEM careers will become even more inaccessible for those who don’t have the financial privilege to take unpaid internships or the connections to break into elite circles.
These programs don’t give unqualified people jobs. They give underrepresented people a chance to compete. But now, those opportunities are disappearing.
And this is how they win.
First, they take down the posters. Then, they shut the clubs. Then, they pull the books. Then, they decide that teaching whole histories—and whole sciences—is “too political.”
And suddenly, girls stop raising their hands. Queer kids stop speaking. No one asks why the curriculum looks a little whiter, a little straighter, a little more sanitized.
And they win.
This isn’t just about funding. It’s about control.
If education were really the priority, why are Defense Department schools—where these erasures are happening—outperforming public schools nationwide? If the U.S. is falling behind in science and technology, why are we cutting STEM programs? Why are we stripping teachers of the opportunity to train the next generation in critical thinking and innovation?
If STEM disappears from schools, it disappears from the workforce. When that occurs, the future becomes the exclusive domain of those who gained entry.
But here’s what they don’t know: We don’t disappear.
History has proven one thing—women, queer kids, and people who refuse to be erased are very, very bad at staying small.
My daughter and her friends didn’t wait around for someone else to fix the problem—they took action. When the school cut funding for the STEM program, they started a parent funding group that now covers 100% of the costs. This is what real advocacy looks like—parents stepping up when the system fails. More schools need this kind of commitment.
So now, I’m asking you:
Where has this happened to you? Where have you made yourself smaller just to fit in? Where have you watched something that mattered get erased—your safe space, your voice, your history?
This isn’t just happening in schools under the Defense Department. It’s happening everywhere.
So let’s talk about it. Let’s get loud. If we fail to raise our voices, they will prevail.