One of the problems in the biotech world is the lack of women in

Host: The city was wrapped in a veil of early winter fog, its buildings standing like giants fading into mist. Inside a glass conference room on the thirtieth floor, the world felt both silent and electric. Rows of screens glowed, a digital heartbeat pulsing through the cold architecture.

Jeeny stood by the window, her arms crossed, her dark hair pulled into a simple knot, her eyes steady but heavy with thought. Jack sat opposite her, sleeves rolled, a cup of black coffee untouched beside a stack of reports — the kind filled with numbers, charts, and hollow justifications.

The air between them was thick with both ambition and fatigue — the two currencies of modern innovation.

Jeeny: “Jennifer Doudna once said, ‘One of the problems in the biotech world is the lack of women in leadership roles, and I’d like to see that change by walking the walk.’”
She turned from the window, her voice clear, her gaze sharp. “It’s not just a quote, Jack. It’s a challenge. To all of us.”

Jack: (leaning back) “And yet the world doesn’t change because of quotes, Jeeny. It changes because of systems. And systems don’t care about fairness — they care about results.”

Host: A plane passed overhead, its sound dull through the glass, a faint reminder that somewhere above all this, the sky still belonged to no one.

Jeeny: “You always say that — ‘results.’ But who defines them? You talk like metrics are laws of nature. They’re not. They’re written by people — mostly men — who decide what ‘results’ matter.”

Jack: “And maybe they’re written that way because men built the field. You can’t rewrite the foundation overnight.”

Jeeny: (quietly) “Then maybe it’s time someone builds a new one.”

Host: The room light flickered as if reacting to her words, and for a moment, Jack’s eyes softened — but only for a heartbeat.

Jack: “You think leadership is denied, Jeeny? It’s earned. People climb the ladder by proving themselves, not by demanding inclusion.”

Jeeny: “Proving themselves? You mean outworking, outperforming, and still being overlooked? You know how many women graduate with biotech degrees, Jack? More than men. And yet, look around this building. Not one woman on the board. Not one female CEO in the top twenty firms. You call that meritocracy?”

Jack: “It’s not ideal. But neither is pretending that diversity alone guarantees competence. You can’t fill positions like quotas and expect innovation.”

Jeeny: (her tone tightening) “You think we’re asking for charity? We’re asking for a fair stage. For visibility. For the chance to walk the walk — like Doudna said. You remember her, right? The woman who co-invented CRISPR? She literally rewrote the code of life, Jack. And yet, even she had to fight to be heard in her own lab.”

Host: Jack’s fingers drummed against the table, slow and thoughtful now. The room’s silence wasn’t empty; it crackled with unspoken realizations.

Jack: “I respect Doudna. She’s brilliant. But she’s an exception — not the rule. Most people, man or woman, don’t reach that level.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. And why should she be the exception? That’s the problem. We celebrate the few women who break through as if that’s proof the system works. But it’s proof that it’s rigged — that you have to be extraordinary just to be seen as equal.”

Jack: (his voice rising slightly) “But someone has to keep the bar high. You lower it, you dilute excellence.”

Jeeny: “And someone has to realize the bar wasn’t built for everyone to reach. You think fairness means sameness. It doesn’t. It means equity — different supports for different obstacles.”

Host: The sound of a printer started in the corner, filling the room with a rhythmic hum, like a mechanical sigh. Outside, the fog began to lift, revealing the shimmering lights of biotech headquarters across the street — symbols of progress built on invisible exclusions.

Jack: “You talk about walking the walk. But what does that even look like, Jeeny? Another round of panels? Inspirational quotes on company walls?”

Jeeny: (stepping closer) “It looks like this — me standing here, challenging you. It looks like hiring women not because of optics, but because their voices expand the science. It looks like mentorship, transparency, accountability. It looks like changing who’s at the table when the next breakthrough is decided.”

Jack: (pausing) “You think the problem is just men sitting at the table?”

Jeeny: “No. The problem is who the table was built for.”

Host: Her words landed like glass breaking — sharp, inevitable, cleansing. Jack looked down, his jaw tight, as if weighing his next sentence against the gravity of her conviction.

Jack: “You know, I’ve worked in labs my whole life. I’ve seen brilliant women — but I’ve also seen some walk away. You think the world forced them out. Maybe some just didn’t want it enough.”

Jeeny: “And maybe they got tired of fighting twice as hard for half as much. You ever think of that?”

Host: The rain began to fall, soft but relentless, tracing long lines down the window. Jeeny’s reflection shimmered beside his — two figures, divided by belief but bound by the same vision of progress.

Jack: “So you want to rebuild the system. Fine. But what if it fails? What if you make all these changes, and the results don’t come?”

Jeeny: “Then at least we failed while doing what’s right. And maybe that’s the first real success this field has ever seen.”

Host: A long silence followed. The kind that only happens when two truths stand staring at each other, refusing to move. Jack ran his hand through his hair, his expression softening, the sharpness in him fading into something like humility.

Jack: “You really believe one person can shift all this?”

Jeeny: “No. But I believe one person can start walking — and others will follow. That’s what ‘walking the walk’ means. Change doesn’t begin with a crowd. It begins with courage.”

Jack: (after a pause) “You sound like Doudna.”

Jeeny: “I hope so.”

Host: The fog cleared completely now, and the skyline appeared — silver towers catching the light of the setting sun. The clouds split, and the city seemed to breathe, as if the world itself was exhaling.

Jack: “Maybe you’re right. Maybe leadership isn’t just about being at the top. Maybe it’s about who you bring up with you.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Power isn’t proof — it’s responsibility.”

Host: Jack stood, pushing his chair back slowly. He looked out the window, at the rows of buildings — each one filled with brilliant minds, invisible hierarchies, and endless potential.

Jack: “You know… I think I’ve been confusing equality with competition.”

Jeeny: “They’re not the same. Competition divides; equality multiplies.”

Host: The lights in the building across the street began to turn on, one by one — tiny windows of illumination spreading like thought, like realization.

Jack turned to Jeeny, a faint smile breaking through the usual armor of cynicism.

Jack: “Then maybe it’s time I stop just running the system — and start questioning who it serves.”

Jeeny: “That’s the walk, Jack. That’s how it begins.”

Host: Outside, the rain stopped. The sunlight found its way through the last veil of clouds, spilling across the room in a warm, golden light. It glowed on Jeeny’s face, then on Jack’s — two reflections standing equal in the glass, side by side.

And for that brief, perfect moment, the future didn’t look male or female — it looked brilliant, awake, and possible.