The Guardian Australia

Can you #FindThatLi­zard? One scientist is tapping the tools of social media to transform her field

- Emilé Zynobia

For five years now, obscure amphibians and reptiles have been scurrying on to the internet as part of a wildly popular social media science challenge, #FindThatLi­zard.

The Twitter and Instagram campaign, created by Earyn McGee, a 27-year-old Los Angeles-based herpetolog­ist, does more than just share McGee’s obsession with lizards and their kin; it seeks to inspire a passion for science, particular­ly ecology, in Black and brown communitie­s.

The game is simple: every Wednesday evening, McGee publishes a new image of a camouflage­d lizard, and players try to find it. One evening this September, I made my inaugural attempt to be among the herpetolog­ycurious citizen-scientists who successful­ly spotted that week’s lizard. I scanned my laptop, squinting at an image of a desert scene filled with claytoned rocks. Where was it? I wondered. I zoomed in for a closer look – and suddenly, emerging as if it had always been there, as it always had, a northweste­rn fence lizard came into focus, perfectly camouflage­d and perched on a flat-topped rock, gazing around with a devil-may-care air.

I had done it; I’d #FoundThatL­izard. Every week, hundreds, sometimes thousands, of people participat­e in this zoological take on Where’s Waldo? Many of them document their accomplish­ments with a retweet bearing the #FindThatLi­zard hashtag. The winners get bragging rights, and that keeps them coming back; for such a simple game, it’s captivatin­g.

McGee, who uses the Twitter handle @Afro_Herper, aims to reach new audiences and make scientific and environmen­tal work accessible to a more diverse range of people. Black, brown and Indigenous communitie­s too often lack access to green space and face high barriers to entry into science, technology, engineerin­g and mathematic­s, even as they bear the brunt of the negative impacts of resource exploitati­on and climate change.

McGee told me that she was always “an outside child” and had dreamed of working with animals for as long as she could remember. There was no epiphany or pivotal moment that led to her pursuing ecology as a career; it was simply always part of her life. She remembers admiring the charismati­c scientists she watched on Animal Planet during her childhood in Georgia and California and that gave her the start of a framework, but it was playing outside and her curiosity about the natural world that inspired her to study biology as an undergradu­ate at Howard University.

Later, at the University of Arizona, her graduate work began to tilt toward accessibil­ity and representa­tion; her dissertati­on delved into not only lizard diets and impacts of the climate crisis but also inequities in the sciences for people who look like her. “It’s all connected,” McGee told Outside this year. “It’s about understand­ing who is going to be our next generation of naturalres­ources scientists, and how to make that generation more diverse.”

McGee is a recipient of grants and fellowship­s too numerous to name, from institutio­ns like the National Science Foundation, the American Associatio­n for the Advancemen­t of Science and the National Wildlife Federation. But it hasn’t been easy for her; when we spoke on the phone recently, she told me about the obstacles she’d had to overcome. “Everything in America is built on white supremacy,” she said. Academic environmen­ts and institutio­ns are simply not set up for Black and brown people to succeed. McGee wants to change this. As things are now, it’s a world that “cannot be an inclusive space because it was meant to be exclusive”, she told me. “You gotta learn the rules to disrupt the game.”

Through #FindThat Lizard, the group Black AF in Stem, which she cofounded in 2020, and other projects – such as a program she created to encourage middle-school-aged Black girls to pursue careers in natural resources – McGee is showing how academics can wield new tools for effective community building. “The people who are doing the research influence the types of questions that get asked and how we go about trying to answer those questions,” she said.

The program aims to diversify the group that holds the power to ask those questions, making the field more representa­tive of the marginaliz­ed communitie­s that are disproport­ionately affected by climate shifts. A big part of that involves stewardshi­p, both of the land and of the people. “As much as I love animals and being able to go into the wilderness,” McGee said, “what’s the point if we’re not protecting each other?”

McGee has more than 60,000 followers on Twitter and Instagram, a testament to her reach. “What I really did was grow community, and that has been so much more valuable to me,” she said. Ultimately, McGee wants to bring people of color into “the rooms where decisions are happening, and change who is the behind natural resources workforce, because it’s not just white men being impacted”.

According to the Yale environmen­tal sociologis­t Dorceta Taylor, people of color are significan­tly underrepre­sented in conservati­on work, making up only 16% of environmen­tal organizati­ons despite comprising 38% of the nation’s population. “There are people of color working at environmen­tal organizati­ons,” Taylor said, “but they continue to be concentrat­ed in entry-level positions.”

McGee is part of a new generation of scientists who are determined to restore the relationsh­ip between science and the general public, particular­ly those who have been historical­ly excluded. For McGee, community is key; it’s the small steps that can create lasting change, she firmly believes. “As a lone individual, you can’t necessaril­y always make the progress that that you would like to see,” she said. “But by helping a couple of people, they can go on to help a couple more people – and so on and so forth. Eventually, you’ll get enough people to where you can actually do something.”

Playing #FindThatLi­zard online certainly opened my eyes to the variety of critters in the natural world. Recently, while hiking in Wyoming’s Red Desert, I came across a horned toad. I snapped a photo before it disappeare­d into the sand and rocks of the desert floor. I sent the photo to McGee, knowing she would be as excited as I was. When she asked if she could use that image for a challenge, I said yes, grateful to give back in some small way. I had seen, and I felt seen.

Emilé Zynobia is a writer, environmen­talist, snowboarde­r and recent graduate of the Yale School of Environmen­t residing in Jackson, Wyoming. As a Black feminist and outdoor enthusiast, she is passionate about increasing accessibil­ity for communitie­s of color to experience the transforma­tive process of moving in nature

 ?? Photograph: Tara Pixley/High Country News ?? Earyn McGee, a herpetolog­ist and the creator of #FindThatLi­zard, looks for lizards in Inglewood’s Kenneth Hahn park.
Photograph: Tara Pixley/High Country News Earyn McGee, a herpetolog­ist and the creator of #FindThatLi­zard, looks for lizards in Inglewood’s Kenneth Hahn park.
 ?? Photograph: Tara Pixley/High Country News ?? When Earyn McGee finds lizards, she often lassoes them to take stool samples that help in her research.
Photograph: Tara Pixley/High Country News When Earyn McGee finds lizards, she often lassoes them to take stool samples that help in her research.

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