Literal XX Xplainer: How we can live with two X chromosomes

This cat also haz those two chromosomes 
to blame for that splotch on its face.

By Emily Willingham, DXS managing editor

We are "Double X Science" because we target evidence-based information to women, most of whom carry two X chromosomes, although exceptions exist. Some women carry a single X chromosome, and some people can be XY and develop and/or identify as female. That's one reason we mention "the woman in you" here at Double X Science.

But today, I'm writing about those of us who have at least two X chromosomes. You may know that usually, carrying around a complete extra chromosome can lead to developmental differences, health problems, or even fetal or infant death. How is it that women can walk around with two X chromosomes in each body cell--and the X is a huge chromosome--yet men get by just fine with only one? What are we dealing with here: a half a dose of X (for men) or a double dose of X (for women)?

X chromosome
(Source)

The answer? Women are typically the ones engaging in what's known as "dosage compensation." To manage our double dose of X, each of our cells shuts down one of the two X chromosomes it carries. The result is that we express the genes on only one of our X chromosomes in a given cell. This random expression of one X chromosome in each cell makes each woman a lovely mosaic of genetic expression (although not true genetic mosaicism), varying from cell to cell in whether we use genes from X chromosome 1 or from X chromosome 2.

Because these gene forms can differ between the two X chromosomes, we are simply less uniform in what our X chromosome genes do than are men. An exception is men who are XXY, who also shut down one of those X chromosomes in each body cell; women who are XXX shut down two X chromosomes in each cell. The body is deadly serious about this dosage compensation thing and will tolerate no Xtra dissent.

If we kept the entire X chromosome active, that would be a lot of Xtra gene dosage. The X chromosome contains about 1100 genes, and in humans, about 300 diseases and disorders are linked to genes on this chromosome, including hemophilia and Duchenne muscular dystrophy. Because males get only one chromosome, these X-linked diseases are more frequent among males--if the X chromosome they get has a gene form that confers disease, males have no backup X chromosome to make up for the deficit. Women do and far more rarely have X-linked diseases like hemophilia or X-linked differences like color blindness, although they may be subtly symptomatic depending on how frequently a "bad" version of the gene is silenced relative to the "good" version.

The most common example of the results of the random-ish gene silencing XX mammals do is the calico or tortoiseshell cat. You may have heard that if a cat's calico, it's female. That's because the cat owes its splotchy coloring to having two X chromosome genes for coat color, which come in a couple of versions. One version of the gene results in brown coloring while the other produces orange. If a cat carries both forms, one on each X, wherever the cells shut down the brown X, the cat is orange. Wherever cells shut down the orange X, the cat is brown. The result? The cat can haz calico. 

Mary Lyon (Source)

Cells "shut down" the X by slathering it with a kind of chemical tag that makes its gene sequences inaccessible. This version of genetic Liquid Paper means that the cellular machinery responsible for using the gene sequences can't detect them. The inactivated chromosome even has a special name: It's called a Barr body. The XXer who developed a hypothesis to explain how XX/XY mammals compensate for gene dosage is Mary Lyon, and the process of silencing an X by condensing it is fittingly called lyonization. Her hypothesis, based on observations of coat color in mice, became a law--the Lyon Law--in 2011.

Barr bodies (arrows).
(Source)

Yet the silencing of that single chromosome in each XX cell isn't total. As it turns out, women don't shut down the second X chromosome entirely. The molecular Liquid Paper leaves clusters of sequences available, as many as 300 genes in some women. That means that women are walking around with full double doses of some X chromosome genes. In addition, no two women silence or express precisely the same sequences on the "silenced" X chromosome. 

What's equally fascinating is that many of the genes that go unsilenced on a Barr body are very like some genes on the Y chromosome, and the X and Y chromosomes share a common chromosomal ancestor. Thus, the availability of these genes on an otherwise silenced X chromosome may ensure that men and women have the same Y chromosome-related gene dosage, with men getting theirs from an X and a Y and women from having two X chromosomes with Y-like genes.  

Not all genes expressed on the (mostly) silenced X are Y chromosome cross-dressers, however. The fact is, women are more complex than men, genomically speaking. Every individual woman may express a suite of X-related genes that differs from that of the woman next to her and that differs even more from that of the man across the room. Just one more thing to add to that sense of mystery and complexity that makes us so very, very double X-ey.


[ETA: Some phrases in this post may have appeared previously in similar form in Biology Digest, but copyright for all material belongs to EJW.]

Of Mint, Mollusks, and Mojitos

I finished assembling the requested cheddar cheese and cracker sandwiches and made sure to follow the precise directions for filling the sippy cups: half apple juice, half water, one ice cube, and a slice of lemon (don’t ask, my kids are high maintenance).  Saturday afternoon was upon us and it was clear that we all needed a little downtime.  So I set the girls up for a picnic on the family room floor, engaged Netflix, and laid out their snack.  After a few minutes of getting comfy, calmness decided to pay us a visit.  This was my carpe diem moment.

The perennial mint plant, known in my family as
"El Jardin de Mojito."

The weather could not have been more pleasant, and with the girls under the dear care of my best pal Pingu, I stepped out, barefooted, onto the deck.  The sun caressed my cheeks. The wind whispered into my ear. The garden’s cologne was a reminder of my desire.  Summer was seducing me and I did not could not resist.

I scanned the world before me, seamlessly moving my gaze from tree to tree, bush to bush, bird to bird, letting each thought morph into the next.  I noticed the fluffy marshmallow clouds floating overhead and the sounds of a lawn mower humming in the distance.  Then, at eleven o’clock, I caught a glimpse of the mint garden.  The free flowing thoughts came to a screeching halt and my mind could focus on one thing and one thing only: Mojitos.    

Belonging to the Lamiaceae family along with other aromatic herbs such as basil, oregano, and sage, mint has a tendency to spread rapidly and without care for the plants around it.  But for us, this wasn’t an issue.  Despite the vast culinary applications for this bountiful botanical, it is the quintessential ingredient for our favorite summer beverage, and so we’ve aligned ourselves with “the more the merrier” philosophy.  After all, Greek mythology has dubbed mint as the “herb of hospitality” and what says “welcome to mi casa” more than the delicate sweetness of a cold mojito?

I didn’t bother to grab the scissors and made sure I followed the most direct route toward the mint patch.  As I went to grab a large stalk, I noticed a little critter hanging out on one of the leaves.  I lessened my grasp and began to examine the mint garden a bit more closely.  It appeared to be a micro-ecosystem, bustling with tiny life forms.

Not wanting to miss a photographic opportunity, I ran back in, peeked in at the girls to make sure they were still there, and grabbed my camera (the good one).  The snails were everywhere!  My first reaction was “you best not be messing with the mojito garden!”  But, upon closer inspection, these slow-moving, shelled cylinders of slime might be something more interesting, at least from a biological perspective.

Birds eye view of the European Amber Land Snail.

I knew that snails were mollusks, similar to clams and oysters, and that they could be further classified as gastropods, or “stomach foot” (to us, it looks like they are crawling on their bellies).  But, I was having a hard time identifying the species to which these snails belonged, and that was probably because I was limiting my search to native species in NY State. 

Frustrated, I turned to Ken Hotopp, conservation biologist and director of the environmental consulting company, Appalachian Conservation Biology.  Ken informed me that these snails were amber land snails of the Succinea putris variety, which are native to eastern European countries and Great Britain, and further classified them as an invasive species.

Fred and Ethel, roaming the mint garden.  Take a look at the "belly foot."

When a species is classified as “invasive,” it typically means that they have high reproductive rates, can easily spread, and can quickly adapt to their new environment (a phenomenon called phenotypic plasticity).  If these criteria are met, the invasive species can outcompete many of the indigenous species for resources and cause issues for the native habitat. 

These snails probably made their way to the new world by hitching a ride on humans and despite the negative connotation associated with being an “invasive species,” it really isn’t their fault.  They are just doing what they are biologically programmed to do: survive and pass on their gene pool to the next generation.

Regardless of origin, these snails looked beautiful to me.  I love spiraling pattern at the rear of their calcium carbonate shells, and the way their tentacles, with eyes at the tip, scan their environment.  It is really cool to watch the rhythmic motions of the foot, which can probably be plotted as a sine wave function in super slow motion. 

Close up! Notice the patterns on the calcium carbonate shell,
and the black eyes at the tip of the tentacles.

Realizing that time was of the essence (Pingu is effective for only so long), I zoomed out and started looking around for the best leaves to pluck.  I said hello to the grasshopper that was probably banking on its green camouflage to keep it safe from predators, and took at look at the brilliant yellow flowers living atop the mint garden canopy.  With the prize in hand, I ran into the kitchen, grabbed the simple syrup from the fridge (we always have some on hand), and began to make my mojito.  

My prize.

Within a few minutes, the finished product was in hand.  But, alas, it would have to wait for I was being beckoned by the girls with the golden locks.  I suppose one more episode of Pingu wouldn’t hurt.

Hey Science, "How YOU doin'?"

(Guest post by Summer Ash, astrophysicist, writer, and Close Personal Friend of Neil DeGrasse Tyson. Follow her on Twitter: @Summer_Ash .)

There have been and will be much more eloquent (and rage filled) responses to this video, but for now I just want to add my voice to the dumbfounded chorus of scientists who woke up to this insanity this morning:

It's like the only way to correct the stereotype of science being done by old guys in white lab coats with bad hair is to yank the pendulum so far in the other direction and imply that science can also be done by preteens dressed like streetwalkers. Nay, not only can, but is! 

Now while I have an admittedly large obsession with fashion, and shoes in particular, it's not representative of how most women dress for work. So why the hell is it being presented as how all women scientists should dress?

The real shame is that this flashy (and hideous) video is now the public face for what seems to be a worthwhile, and even well-produced in places, campaign by the European Union to encourage more girls to go into science. There are currently twelve profiles of real women scientists at various stages in their career that are worth watching with any clever young girls you know. Just hit the stop button before the catch phrase/website address gets written in lipstick across the screen at the end of each one.

For me the most important take away is that there exists a spectrum of not only women, but people, in science. There is no mold. It's not a "guy thing", but it's not a "girl thing" either. Anyone with the passion, motivation, and dedication can become a scientist. I called my (neglected as of late) blog "Newtonianism for the Ladies" not because science needs to be dumbed down or spoon fed to women, but after a book by the same title written in 1737 by Francesco Algarotti. Algarotti wrote the book to help spread Newton's ideas on the nature of light and optics to women of the upper class who were only beginning to be educated. The book was also one of the main channels through which Newtonianism reached the general public in continental Europe.

And yet in the intervening centuries, we've gone from 'science for all' to 'science: it's a girl thing'. And instead of science trying to attract girls, we've got girls trying to attract science like it's some kind of horny john. The defense that this video is just a teaser for the "real" campaign on the subsequent pages of the website (some of which aren't even up yet) is laughable. Based on the logo alone, it's clear that they are digging in their 4" heels on this approach. Which is just so damn frustrating when good intentions and good materials are likely to get lost in the backlash. 

Now excuse me while I go channel my rage into some astrophysics.

(Ed: after the huge outcry from scientists, the offending video has been removed from the EU site.)

These views are the opinion of the author and do not necessarily either reflect or disagree with those of the DXS editorial team.

To Everything (Turn Turn Turn) There is a Season

Today – June 20 – is the northern Summer Solstice, sometimes known as the Northern Solstice, “first day of summer”, or Midsummer's Day, depending on where you live. It's the longest day and shortest night of the year in the northern hemisphere (where I live), though exactly how long or short depends on how far north you live. And of course in the southern hemisphere, today is is the shortest day and longest night, since the seasons are reversed.

The secret to the solstice and to Earth's seasons in general involves the tilt of Earth's axis. Our planet orbits the Sun in an elliptical path, which you can draw on a flat piece of paper: it doesn't move “up” or “down”, but stays in a single plane known as the ecliptic. (The name “ecliptic”, as you might guess, is related to the word “eclipse”, since ancient astronomers determined eclipses of the Moon and Sun could only occur at certain places in the sky.) Earth's axis is tilted compared to the ecliptic, and the axis points more or less in the same direction, wherever the planet is in its orbit. The axis points almost directly at Polaris, the North Star, which is why that star is a good navigational guide for those in the northern hemisphere: no matter what time of year, it's always in the same spot in the sky. Other stars rise and set as Earth rotates, but not Polaris. (Unfortunately, there isn't a South Star.)

As you can see from the diagram above, during about half the year, the North Pole points more toward the Sun, while it points more away for the rest of the year. Where I live, the Sun will never be directly overhead, even at noon. The farthest north that will ever happen is a special latitude known as the Tropic of Cancer – and the northern Summer Solstice is the day that occurs. On the northern Winter Solstice, which happens on December 21 or 22, the Sun is directly overhead at noon at the latitude of the Tropic of Capricorn.

Now we can see why summers are hot! In summer, the Sun rises earlier, sets later, and reaches a higher point in the sky. Those things combined mean extra sunlight, heating up the air and the ground longer. We can also see why I put “first day of summer” in quotes: the Solstice is the apex of the process, but the increase in daylight and temperatures begins long before June 20 (at least every place I've lived). The Midsummer's Day festival, celebrated throughout northern Europe, acknowledges that; Shakespeare's play A Midsummer Night's Dream may have been written for the English version of the festival (though from what I can tell, the historical evidence is scant).

Similarly, during winter the Sun's light comes in at a steeper angle and days are shorter, so the time for the ground to warm is greatly reduced. The northern Winter Solstice (also known as the Southern Solstice, “first day of winter”, Midwinter's Day, or Yule) is the shortest day and longest night of the year in the northern hemisphere. On that day, the North Pole points as far away from the Sun as it ever does. We also have the reason the tropics are warm all year around: they receive about the same amount of sunlight during both summer and winter.

Approximately halfway between the solstices, the Sun appears directly overhead at noon at the Equator. On those days, everywhere on Earth gets about 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of night. These days are the equinoxes, meaning “equal night”. (The spell to extinguish light in the Harry Potter books is “nox”, for what it's worth. Yes, I remember such things. I'm still waiting for my “accio!” summoning spell, though.) The two days are known as the Vernal (or spring) and the Autumnal (or autumn) Equinox, again based on the seasons in the northern hemisphere. From an astronomical point of view, Earth's “solar year” is marked between successive vernal equinoxes. (A second measurement of the year, known as the sidereal year, is measured with respect to the stars. These two year measurements are almost, but not quite, the same length!)

Now let's put all of this together in a movie! (For some reason, the Sun – which was a gently glowing lamp in my original simulation – came out looking flat and boring in the final movie. I guess I still have more to learn about creating three-dimensional animations.) For best results, please view this full-screen.

On this Father's Day, let's remember the allofathers, too

A big brother, practicing the art of allofathering.

By Emily Willingham, DXS managing editor

On Mother's Day, scientist and blogger Kate Clancy wrote an excellent post at Scientific American about allomothers, the people in your circle of friends and family who support mothers in their mothering. In thanking the allomothers in her life, Clancy included in that list her husband because men can be allomothers, too. Although this site is called Double X because we want to bring evidence-based science--and yes, some snark--to women, tomorrow is Father's Day. So today, we're shifting into XY gear and talking about allofathers. 

We all have or had fathers. Some for better, some for worse, some we may never have even seen. Many of us also have had other men in our lives who participated in a father role or who supported our fathers in the same way that Clancy writes about supporting mothers. The funny thing is, a Google search on "allofathers" confuses Google so badly that it actually declines to do that search and instead offers a search on "allomothers." When you force it to search "allofather," you get only three pages of scanty hits, some of which reference a more general "alloparenting."

Why no love for the allofathers, Google? Fathers these days need allo support as much as mothers, or at least, the fathers I know do. As Paul Raeburn writes in this Father's Day piece:

The grindingly slow recovery of the economy is making it hard for fathers to earn enough to help support their families. Those who do have jobs are working more hours, taking time away from checkers and family dinners. In many families, both parents are working, leaving less time for fathers and partners to work on their relationships with each other.

He notes that fathers these days thrive in a habitat that allows the time with family, time to do things other than make a living wage, although that remains an important feature of fatherhood and a key goal of every father I know. In fact, that emphasis means that my spouse--who is also the father of my children--is at work right now, on Saturday, after already putting in overtime through the week. Indeed, he may have to work tomorrow, on Father's Day, and is looking at a midnight deadline Monday night. There will be no games of chess with Dad this weekend. 

The work is difficult enough and in a trying environment. And pushing against this need to work hard and keep a job is also a desire to have the kind of family time those of us in the United States have come to expect on weekends, particularly when we work salaried weekday jobs that ostensibly promise weekends off. That means that on top of the anxiety associated with stacking 20 or 30 extra hours onto a 40-hour work week to meet a tough deadline, my husband and my children's father also feels angst about this inability to be a part of our family time. These are first-world problems, I realize, but that doesn't make them any less real for us and our children.

So I'm allofathering for him. Yes, I'm the mother, but I'm also supporting my husband's fathering role, in part by doing things that assure him that we're all OK, and in part by doing things with our sons that people might think of as stereotypically "dad" activities: fishing, baseball, football, soccer, hiking. But I also have taken on the things he usually does around the house, like emptying the dishwasher Every Single Time, vacuuming, and doing the laundry. Bless the man, he usually does all the laundry. But I do miss the other allofathers in our lives.

We no longer live a stone's throw or a short-ish drive from our extended family, but when we did and still when we visit, the allofathers are abundant. My children have uncles who take them fishing, monitor group infighting among nine cousins, catch snakes with them, play football and soccer with them, and take them on hikes and (fruitless) dove hunting. My husband does his share of allofathering for their children, reading books and playing with the youngest, making dinners, and serving as an ever-necessary playground monitor. And my children have a grandfather who builds things in his shop for them, closely monitors their BB gun target practice, wanders for hours with them in nearby woods to find animal bones, and patiently acknowledges every single mystifying LEGO construction and rambling imaginary story surrounding it.   

All of these alloparents expand the parenting and support and safety net for my children. They are the village raising my sons, and my children trust them implicitly. These allofathers summon up reserves of energy they probably didn't know they had and in spending this time with their nephews or grandchildren, they add layers of complexity and different insights from father figures that my children wouldn't otherwise have. They also model for children like my sons the many roles a man can have through life.

As humans, we fit several features of species that engage in this extra-parental parenting, including typically having a single offspring at a time, a relatively small number of offspring over a lifetime, and an extended period of parental investment, and being part of a highly social species with tight family bonds. It may be that as our culture evolves so that the father role expands into what was previously considered maternal territory, we need to more closely consider allofathers as well as allomothers. These factors that characterize us as an alloparenting species can add up to benefits and greater success for mothers and fathers and children alike. At any rate, I know that's been the case in our family.

When I was growing up, I had four grandmothers and four grandfathers. Half of them were "step" grandparents, obviously, but I loved the fact that I had all of these grandparents, blissfully unaware in my childhood of the fractures and angst that had led to their presence in my life. Among these step-grandparents was the man who married my mother's mother. They met over square-dancing, he a handsome architect, she a tiny, fiery single mother who could sew some kick-ass square-dancing outfits.

Through various unanticipated turns in Life's do-se-do, after marrying my grandmother, this man one day became father to two of my cousins. From their early childhoods, he has been their father, even though for the rest of us cousins, he was our step-grandfather. Along with my grandmother, he committed himself to rearing them and being their parent, and today, in part thanks to his steady, calm presence, they are successful, happily married parents themselves. Without his stabilizing influence, their paths might have been much less straightforward. 

While what my step-grandfather did crossed over from alloparenting to being an actual father, my own children have a step-grandfather of their own who, I think, epitomizes allofathering. When we visit, he has a ready store of caps available for all the cap guns he buys them by the dozen (if you think there are a lot of guns in this post, there are; it's Texas). He actually builds--builds--go carts and other motorized vehicles to take them buzzing around the large property where he and my mother live and maintains a fleet of bicycles for them to ride. He will drop anything to run a quick errand just because one of the youngest generation expresses a wish for a certain treat or toy. Ask him to make you an ax from a stick and a rock, and he'll do it masterfully. He attends every volleyball, baseball, or basketball game my niece and nephew have and has simply been a steady and much-loved allofather figure in the lives of all of the youngest generation in our family.

When I think of men like these who enter into lives already structured around complex family interactions and who take on without comment or resentment the care and loving of the children in that family, I wonder if I could be as kind or selfless. Of course, I hope that I could. These little people are, after all, children, and they need love and support and classic grandparental spoiling and an understanding that parenting and parental love come in different forms and different ways of expression. To all the allofathers in my life, I--and my children--are extremely grateful. To all the fathers and allofathers out there, happy Father's Day. And may I say, I think you all warrant more Google hits. 


***Special thanks to Kate Clancy for her post on allomothers and to Paul Raeburn for his post about the role of fathers today, which certainly drove my thinking about this topic.***

These views are the opinion of the author and do not necessarily either reflect or disagree with those of the DXS editorial team. 

DoubleXplainer: What is a vagina?

Development of the female (right) and male (left)
sex anatomy (now unreversed; thanks Peter Edmonds!). (Source)

By Emily Willingham, DXS managing editor

What is a vagina?

First, let's just practice saying the word. Vagina. Vuh-ji-nuh. VAGINA!

OK. Why are we practicing this? So that we can avoid suffering from the fluttery sensibilities of one Rep. Mike Callton of Michigan who, upon hearing colleague Rep. Lisa Brown use the word vagina during a speech on the Michigan House floor, commented:

What she said was offensive. It was so offensive, I don't even want to say it in front of women. I would not say that in mixed company.

So here we have a fellow who is so squeamish about female anatomy that he won't even use the appropriate terminology for that anatomy in front of the people who have the body part. So beflustered are his tender feelings about the word vagina that he and the Republican leadership of the Michigan house of representatives refused to allow Rep. Brown speak again when discussing a bill about retirement of school employees. I assume they were concerned that somehow, she'd drag in the dreaded V-word again while talking about pensions.

All for the transgression of saying the word "vagina." Vagina.

You know what? It's not a mellifluous word. It has that giraffey g in it, an ugly "vuh" sound. It would probably be more palatable in general if we had decided to term this particular part of female anatomy something else, perhaps "hibiscus." Unfortunately, as with so much in anatomy, we had to rely on Latin instead of flowers, and in Latin, vagina means "sheath" or "scabbard." In other words, a place to put a sword... or a penis. Or, as I like to call them, "sperm delivery systems." 

The offensive body part is indicated. (Source)

People tend to have a misunderstanding about the vagina. They think that what they're seeing on the outside of the woman is the vagina. Unless their viewpoint is very up close and personal, it isn't. Those are the labia majora and labia minora, sometimes referred to crassly as "the lips," and making up part of the vulva (actual vulva pic, fair warning). There's a big pair (the majora) and a little pair (the minora). In men, the two sides of the big pair zip early in development to encase the testes (see top image). The little pair forms the shaft of the penis. In women, both pairs stay apart. No zipping (ETA: see good interactive explanation here). But that's not the vagina. 

Behold the clitoris. (Source) 

For those who are unfamiliar, you can usually find the entrance to the vagina if you peek between the labia minora. If you've never poked around knowledgeably in the female anatomy, let's orient ourselves a little. Up at the very top, tucked away under the labia majora, is the clitoral hood. Look under the hood--this is highly recommended on specific occasions--and you'll find the clitoris. This fabulous body part has far more to it than first appearances might suggest. What you see there under the hood is a small fraction of what a woman gets (recommended reading!), and we have this clitoris to thank for a woman's superior orgasmic capacities. Yes, I said "superior." The male echo of the clitoris is the glans penis (actual penis pic, fair warning), and the two anatomical features share some commonalities, including the ability to become erect. Of course, if you have a clitoris, no one notices if you become aroused in algebra class. Clitoris FTW!

Just below all of those interesting bits is the urethral opening. Men have this opening at the tip of the penis, where it serves a double duty, releasing semen and urine, preferably not simultaneously. In women, this opening is dedicated to elimination only. Follow that sucker up a few inches, and you hit the bladder. Don't go in there. That's an "exit only" kind of orifice, like your nostrils.

Move down just a tad more and... that's it! There between the labia minora, that's the vaginal opening. That's where the actual vagina is. The part of the female anatomy that got a female legislator blocked from speaking just for saying it.

There it is, the vagina, bridging the outside
and inside worlds and freaking out Michigan
legislators since time began. (Source)

The vagina is an amazing structure. Nothing else in human anatomy has the flexibility of this thing. It starts there at the opening and extends several inches into the body, leading to the cervix. Cervix means "neck" (think of cervical collars), and it is indeed the neck of the uterus. If you've given birth vaginally, you know that the baby exits the uterus through this neck, travels very quickly through the vagina, and enters the world through the vaginal opening. If you've seen the cervical or the vaginal opening, you will be astonished that an entire baby can fit through either. But the uterus, the most powerful muscle in the body, handles the cervical part, contracting and pulling and contracting and pulling until the cervix is juuuuuust wide enough for an infant human head to fit through... sort of. The vagina deals with the rest.

And once that infant--someone like you, Mike Callton--leaves the cervix, it is in the vagina. If you didn't arrive here via C-section, you got here by making your first extended trip--through a vagina. The vagina is so accommodating and flexible that it can stretch to many times its usual diameter to allow an entire human infant to exit a woman's body and enter the world. If you've never put a finger in a vagina, try it if you can find a willing partner or if you have a vagina of your own. Then imagine that cozy-feeling vagina stretching fairly effortlessly to accommodate an entire infant.

That flexibility isn't relevant only to childbirth. When a woman becomes aroused during sex, the vagina elongates to facilitate the process of sperm delivery and penis accommodation. It also self lubricates and has a ton of nerves near the opening, all part of making sex that super fun thing that people with vaginas or penises tend to think it is. But it wouldn't be so fun--or pragmatically useful--without the vagina. There. I said it. Thirty times in this single blog post. And you should, too.

These views are the opinion of the author and do not necessarily either reflect or disagree with those of the DXS editorial team. 


See also our Pregnancy 101 series, by Jeanne Garbarino, biology editor

Survival is Gendered, According to Scholastic

[Editor's note: We were going to write this as a she said/he said sort of thing with Emily Willingham and Matthew Francis, but then Francis got all serious and did an analysis and stuff. So his smart analysis appears first, and Willingham's (not quite) equally sober chapter-by-chapter evaluation of the "girls" book follows.]

Last week Ryan North, purveyor of the excellent webcomic Dinosaur Comics, stumbled across a pair of books published by Scholastic. The books are titled For Boys Only: How to Survive Anything and For Girls Only: How to Survive Anything, which already should be a tip-off, but the tables of contents really hammer home a message. As North says, "Maybe - MAYBE - How To Pick Perfect Sunglasses is actually in the same class as Surviving When Your Parachute Fails." However, it's obvious that boys and girls are not expected to want to survive the same things, and that the very idea of survival is gendered in these books.

Thanks to the outcry, Scholastic has already announced they will discontinue the titles, which is great. However, I wonder why they approved them in the first place, and their announcement shows that they don't really understand what the big deal is. My friend JeNel, who is a children's librarian, points out that Scholastic's displays are always gendered, with a lovely regressive social agenda. So, shall we break it down for Scholastic?

First, anytime you name two books "For Boys Only" and "For Girls Only", put an alligator on the cover of one and a pink cell phone on the cover of the other, you're telling your audience of impressionable children that these books aren't going to be equivalent. It's almost inevitable that the "boy" book is going to be full of adventure and the "girl" book is going to be full of social stuff, and that's the case here. "Survival" for boys includes broken legs, tornadoes, and earthquakes (since boys are obviously the only ones who will ever experience those), while "survival" for girls includes frenemies, brothers, and teaching your cat how to sit. (I suppose treating cat scratches and bites is kind of a survival skill.) In other words, "survival" for girls is a set of potentially useful social skills - which I guess boys don't need to know. I split the contents into five categories, and assigned each chapter to one of the categories. 

Here's the breakdown:

1. True survival skills, where the knowledge could save your life or at least help you cope with injuries (forest fires, flash floods, snakebites, etc.). Not all of these are likely to be experienced (such as polar bear attack), but at least they could happen. The score: "boys" 22, "girls" 0.
2. Survival skills for science fiction or fantasy scenarios, which are fun, but will never happen in real life (ghost attack, vampire attack, dinosaur attack, etc.). The score: "boys"  4, "girls" 3.
3. Useful skills and advice for daily life or unusual situations (dealing with annoying people, getting over rejection, etc.). Not all of these are of equal um...significance, unless you think picking the right sunglasses is equivalent to coping with bullies, but I didn't want to break the categories up too much. The score: "boys" 0, "girls" 23.
4. Skills and advice for sudden stardom or suddenly becoming rich, which are fun to dream about, I suppose. The score: "boys" 0, "girls" 3.
5. Teaching your cat how to sit. The score: "boys" 0, "girls" 1.

Let's ignore the hyperbolic titles, since obviously neither book is intended to actually teach you to survive everything. However, the implications are clear: Boys need to know how to survive broken legs and earthquakes, but girls evidently will never experience that sort of thing. (Or perhaps Scholastic is assuming the girls will always have a knowledgeable boy around to help out. That sentence caused me psychological pain to even type.) Similarly, boys won't ever need help dealing with bullies, frenemies, or learning how to camp. Either that, or (as Greg Gbur suggests) girls already know how to deal with the hard survival stuff, so they don't need the book.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------

So, like, talking on a cell phone held in
one hand while engaged in this activity is so
totally NOT a survival technique. 

GIRLS ONLY: How to Survive Anything!  
Table of Contents

• How to survive a BFF Fight (Boys don’t have friends and fight with them? What is that thing they're doing when they're rolling around all over the floor trying to kill each other?)
• How to Survive Soccer Tryouts (assuming very male David Beckham once had to do this)
• How to Survive a Breakout (like this?)
• How to Show You’re Sorry (because being a boy means never having to show you’re sorry)
• How to Have the Best Sleepover Ever (My sons have sleepovers; just discreetly double-checked their gonads)
• How to Take the Perfect School Photo (like this guy did?)
• How to Survive Brothers (My sons have brothers, two each; they could really use some tips on this)
• Scary Survival Dos and Don’ts (if it's scary, don't do it)
• How to Handle Becoming Rich (Nooo! Not RICH!)
• How to Keep Stuff Secret (It’s like, so hard, to like, keep your mouth shut, you know?)
• How to Survive Tests (At first I thought this said “testes,” and I was confused. That said, apparently females do have more test anxiety than males. It’s because we’re too stressed about that perfect school photo).
• How to Survive Shyness (Have you met my husband? No? That’s because he’s shy)
• How to Handle Sudden Stardom (Boys and men never suddenly become stars. Ever)
• More Stardom Survival Tips (because one chapter on stardom just isn’t enough)
• How to Survive a Camping Trip (Boys never go camping. Or they automatically know how because they have testes. Or something like that)
• How to Survive a Fashion Disaster (You see, fashion is an equal-opportunity threat, people)
• How to Teach Your Cat to Sit (a critical skill, no doubt, but one boys need to know, too)
• How to Turn a No Into a Yes (I just …  no)
• Top Tips for Speechmaking (because we’ve never, ever seen a boy give a bad speech)
• How to Survive Embarrassment (gentlemen, clearly no concern of yours, sudden erections during algebra notwithstanding)
• How to Be a Mind Reader (I see what you’re thinking here. No. Just no)
• How to Survive a Crush (So for boys, is the corollary “How to Survive a Lust?”, or what?)
• Seaside Survival (More than half of the US population lives in a coastal county. I guess all the males in that portion are expendable)
• How to Soothe Sunburn (like this fellow did)
• How to Pick Perfect Sunglasses (living proof that boys could use some help with this, too)
• Surviving a Zombie Attack (two of these people are male)
• How to Spot a Frenemy (Paul, meet John. Mick, meet Keith. Simon, meet Garfunkel. Freud, meet Jung. See? Boys have frenemies, too!)
• Brilliant Boredom Busters (Am copying these now for my three sons, for whom a houseful of toys, books, art supplies, games, videos, and movies simply isn’t enough)
• How to Survive Truth or Dare (see “No., Just no” above)
• How to Beat Bullies (Is this a recommended approach? ‘Cause I need to do some time traveling, if so)
• How to be an Amazing Babysitter (You can start by not taking a gendered approach to every single facet of existence of the child you’re babysitting)

Double Xpression: Liz Neeley, Science Communicator Extraordinaire

Liz Neeley: Science communicator extraordinaire
and lover of fine fashion... and bread.

Liz Neeley is the assistant director at COMPASS where she helps develop and lead the communications trainings for scientists, and specializes in the social media and multimedia components of their workshops and outreach efforts. Before joining COMPASS, Liz studied the evolution and visual systems of tropical reef fishes at Boston University. After grad school, she helped communities and researchers in Fiji and Papua New Guinea connect their knowledge of local coral reefs ecosystems to the media. She also dabbled in international science policy while working on trade in deep-sea corals. Liz is currently based in Seattle, at the University of Washington.  You can find Liz on Twitter (@LizNeeley) and on Google+.  Also check our her passion projects, ScienceOnline Seattle and her SciLingual hangout series.  

DXS: First, can you give us a quick overview of what your scientific background is and your current connection to science?

I was one of those kids who knew from a really young age what they wanted to be, and that was a fish biologist.  Sea turtles, dolphins - no way - I wanted to study fish. My mom actually found an old picture I drew when I was in third grade about what I wanted to be when I grew up: it was me in a lab coat, holding a clipboard, and tanks of aquaria behind me. 

You combine this with the fact that I am also a really stubborn person, and I just wanted to do science straight through all my schooling.  Not just the coursework either - I did an NSF young scholars program in high school, was the captain of the engineering team, and, of course, was a mathlete. 

I did my undergraduate work in marine biology at the University of Maryland.  I did three years of research there on oyster reef restoration, and then went straight into my PhD at Boston University, where I studied the evolution of color patterns and visual systems in wrasses and parrotfish.

I actually did not finish my PhD.  Life sort of knocked me sideways, and instead of finishing my PhD, I ended up taking a masters, and then going into the non-profit world.  At first, I mostly worked on coral conservation in Fiji and Papua New Guinea, and I did a big project on deep sea corals. 

After I left grad school, I started a 20-hour per week internship at an NGO called SeaWeb.  Vikki Spruill, who was the founder and president, has killer instincts and a passion for women’s high fashion that I share. She had noticed coral jewelry coming down the runway in Milan, Paris, and NY. People just didn’t have any idea that these pieces of jewelry were actually animals, much less that they were deep sea corals. 

So we launched a campaign called “Too Precious to Wear,” which partnered with high-end fashion and luxury designer to create alternatives to these deep sea corals – celebrating coral but not actually using it.  The Tiffany & Co. Foundation was our major partner, and we got to throw a breakfast at Tiffany’s that brought in fashion editors from Mademoiselle and Vogue.  

Everyone always dismisses women’s fashions as shallow and meaningless, but this ended up being this huge lever that got a lot of attention for deep sea coral conservation, and my piece was the science that pinned it all together. I got a taste of the international policy component of that as well, and headed to the Netherlands for CITES (the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species) as part of the work.  I knew the science, but certainly helped that I knew how to pronounce the names of the designers too – opportunities like that to bridge cultures that seem foreign to each other are tremendously powerful. 

I currently work at COMPASS, which is an organization that works at the intersection of science, policy, and communication/media.  Our tagline is “helping scientists find their voices and bringing science into the conversation.” For my part, this means, I teach science communications trainings around the country, helping researchers understand how social media works, how reporters find their stories, and how to overcome some of the obstacles that scientists often put in their own way when they talk about their work. 

What I love about this work so much is that it keeps me in the science community – around people who are pursuing tough questions. That is how my brain works, it is how my soul works, and I want to be a part of it.  The power of this for me is to be able to take in all of this knowledge that is generated by these scientists and help connect it to the broader world.  I feel like this is the best contribution I can make.     

DXS: What ways do you express yourself creatively that may not have a single thing to do with science?

I am a pretty artistic person – or at least I think of myself as a pretty artistic person!  My creative outlets usually involve some kind of graphic design.  I am always giving presentations for my work, and I constantly ask “what do my slides look like, and am I telling a good story?” I so lucky that I get to spend a lot of time thinking about imagery, visual storytelling, and how people react to art or data visualization. 

I also paint and draw (though I wouldn’t really share those) and I cook.  I am actually doing a bread baking experiment this year where I am trying out a different type of bread recipe every weekend. 

It can be really funny because sometimes, if it has been a really stressful week, I will look for a recipe that really needs to be punched down or kneaded for a long time. It’s a good workout too! And then we have this amazing bread every weekend.  It is all about the aesthetics for me – I host dinner parties, bake, have a great garden – all of that is sort of my own creative outlet.

Some experimental results from Liz's bread project.  

DXS: What is your favorite bread?

The delicious baguette

LN: Oh, the baguette. I made my own for the first time last weekend and it was really fantastic! I realize that baking is one of these things that, if you want to do it properly, you have to be very precise. You should weigh the ingredients. But I’m precise in the rest of my life. When it is the weekend and I am having fun, I kind of love it when the flour is just flying everywhere.  As a result, my loaves are a little bit mutated, or just not quite right, but they are delicious!  Some of my other favorites also includes a great focaccia (the recipe for it is below!).

DXS: Do you find that your scientific background informs your creativity, even though what you do may not specifically be scientific?

Yes, absolutely.  It’s funny because when you asked the question about my creative outlets that have nothing to do with science, it was not entirely easy to answer.  You know, science is who I am – it permeates everything I do.  When I am baking the bread, I am thinking about the yeast and fermentation.  When I am painting, I am thinking about color theory and visual perception – after all that would have been what my PhD was in! 

Speaking of color theory, Joanne Manaster recently shared a “how good is your color vision?” quiz. I took that test immediately to see how I would do. That lead me on this interesting exploration around the literature, and I read one theory that Van Gogh might have had a certain type of color blindness.  I love this question of how our brains interact with the world. In animal behavior the concept is called “umwelt” - each species has a unique sensory experience of the environment. I like to think about how that applies to individual people to a smaller degree.

I think about this all the time – science, creativity, art, aesthetics – it is all one beautiful and amazing thing to me.

DXS: Have you encountered situations in which your expression of yourself outside the bounds of science has led to people viewing you differently--either more positively or more negatively?

I accept the fact that, especially when it comes to strangers, we make up stories based on what we see – clothes, hair, etc.  I know that this happens to me as well.  When we talk about femininity, it’s no secret that I am a girly girl.  I wear makeup and heels. That’s how I feel most like myself, how I feel best. I know that this doesn’t sit well with everybody, but that’s ok. I like to think that I hold my own. Give me enough time to speak my piece and I can back it up. I’ve got an interesting career, I am a geek, and it is not hard for me to connect with people once we start talking.

In science we say that we don’t have a dress code, but the reality is that we do. Maybe it’s unspoken, and sure it is not the same as you see in the business world, but when you look different from how everyone else looks, people do want comment on it. I don’t feel like it is particularly negative in my case, and I feel that it doesn’t impede me. What is most exciting is that it often opens up conversation – mostly with other women who say “oh I really like your dress, I’ve been wearing more dresses lately!” 

When I was an undergrad, I was kind of oblivious to the whole dress code thing.  One day, when I was in the lab, I was wearing this pink, strappy sundress, tied up the back, and these stupid platform sandals that were really tall (clearly not appropriate lab gear).  I was scrubbing out this 100-gallon oyster tank and my advisor happened to walk by and he sees me doing this. I remember freezing – all of the sudden I was afraid he was going to mock me or lecture me, but he just said, “Oh, Liz… Keep on.”

My graduate advisor was the same way – he acknowledged who I am and didn’t bother about how I dress. We didn’t avoid the topic.  It just wasn’t an issue. I hope that other women can have that same experience. It doesn’t matter if you are a tomboy or a girly-girl.  I don’t care - I am not judging you. You don’t have to look like me because I am in a dress.   

This is why I love this #IAmScience meme, and the whole “be yourself” mentality. And that is what I am going to do. I’ve decided to be myself. I accept the fact that not everyone will like the look of me.  But, I think that we will eventually get to the point where we understand that science can be presented in lots of different ways.

DXS: Have you found that your non-science expression of creativity/activity/etc. has in any way informed your understanding of science or how you may talk about it or present it to others?

For me, my job with COMPASS really is sitting at this nexus of asking how we share science with people who aren’t intrinsically fascinated by it or connected to it.  This is very much a ripe field for thinking about creative expression.  Mostly, we come at it in terms of verbal presentations, storytelling and written materials, but then I specialize in the social media and multimedia components.  I am always thinking about everything I am reading and seeing – news, art, music, fiction - and how we can apply what resonates with others in these non-science realms.  It is very much a two-way thing; my science informs my creativity and my creativity informs my science.  That makes it really fulfilling and exciting for me.

I see this in terms of the ability to make connections.  When I am standing up in front of a group of researchers doing a social media training, I am making pop-culture references, alluding to literary works, quoting song lyrics.  When you get it right, you can see someone’s eyes light up.  It’s just another way to connect - people sit up and pay attention if you can make a meaningful reference to the artist they love or the book they just read.

One of the questions we always use in our trainings is “so what?” So you are telling me about your science, but why should I care?  Miles Davis has a famous song “So What?” and we play that in the background. It makes people smile. It makes it memorable. I love that. I really like this idea that we should be using the fullness of who we are and our creative selves, including all of the sensory modalities, to talk about the very abstract and difficult scientific topics we care about so much.

(DXS editor's side note: A portion of the previous paragraph was delivered to me in song. What's not to smile about?!?!)

DXS: How comfortable are you expressing your femininity and in what ways? How does this expression influence people’s perception of you in, say, a scientifically oriented context?

I feel very comfortable in my own skin, and who I am and where I come from does tend to be a classically feminine look (at least in terms of clothing choices and how I wear my hair).  I am never quite certain the exact definition of “femininity”, but I don’t think how I look so much influences people’s perception of me as much as it opens up opportunities for us to discuss gender and personality and science. 

 

Part of what I do for my work is to help scientists understand that in journalism, we need characters.  So, I have the obligation to walk my talk – we are all the main characters in our own lives and we have to live with that and be true to that.

It brings up interesting questions of personality and privacy. I feel pretty comfortable talking about my clothes and my art and my dogs and my bread baking – but I also know that a lot of people don’t want that type of stuff out there. I like the challenge of helping them tell their own science stories and shine through as interesting people in a way that is authentic and represents who they are in a way that works for them. 

DXS: Do you think that the combination of your non-science creativity and scientific-related activity shifts people’s perspectives or ideas about what a scientist or science communicator is? If you’re aware of such an influence, in what way, if any, do you use it to (for example) reach a different corner of your audience or present science in a different sort of way?

Sure, I think that I sometimes surprise people.  For example, in the world of communications and journalism, we are seeing more and more that coding and programming has great value. To just look at me, you might not believe that I geek out over altmetrics and that I miss using MatLab.

It suprises people when they find this out, and I sort of like that. I know what it feels like to walk into a room and to be dismissed. I relish these opportunities because I consider them a challenge. Instead of feeling offended (though it can get tiring), my approach is thinking, “Guess what! I have something interesting to say, and you and I are actually going to connect, even though you don’t see it yet.” 

I think that this sort of willingness to interact is something I try to help the scientists that I work with to understand.  Maybe you think that you are going to be met with great opposition toward some subject like climate change, but if you have the willingness to approach it without assuming the worst, it opens new opportunties. I’m no Pollyanna, but I think relentless optimism and a commitment to finding common ground with others is very effective.    

When I introduce social media to scientists, it has changed a lot over the last three years, but there is still a lot of skepticism and some outright scorn for “all those people online.” I like to encourage taking a step back from that in order to reveal all of the awesome things going on online and the ways you might engage.  I truly enjoy the process of turning skeptics into something other than skeptics – I might not change them into believers, but they will at least be surprised and interested onlookers. 

Liz Neeley's Favorite Focaccia

INGREDIENTS:

Scant 4 cups white bread flour

1 tablespoon salt

Scant 1/2 cup olive oil

1 packet of active dry yeast

1 1/4 cups warm water

Favorite olives, roughly chopped if you prefer

Handful of fresh basil

TIME:

Start this mid-afternoon (between 3 and 4 hours before you want to eat it, depending on how fast you are in the kitchen)

RECIPE:

1.      In a large bowl, combine the flour and salt with 1Ž4 cup of the olive oil, the yeast & the water. Mix with your hands for about 3 minutes.

2.     Lightly dust your countertop with flour and knead your dough for 6 minutes. Enjoy your arm workout and stress relief exercise! 

3.     The dough will be pretty sticky. Put it back in the bowl, cover it with a damp cloth, and let stand at room temperature for 2 hours.

4.     Mix 1Ž2 or more of your olives and all the basil into the dough, and try to get them evenly distributed. It won't be perfect, but it will be delicious.

5.     Dump the dough onto a lined baking sheet. Flatten it with your hands until it's a big rectangle about 1"/2.5cm thick. Slather with olive oil. Let rise for 1 hour.

6.     Preheat your oven to 425°F/220°C

7.     Sprinkle with flaky sea salt and drizzle with more olive oil if you want. Bake for 25 minutes or until golden.

8.     Make your neighbors jealous with the amazing smell of baked bread wafting from your house.

9.     Enjoy!