When my department asked me to invite a faculty speaker during the third year of my PhD, I felt uneasy. It wasn’t because I didn’t know whom to invite—several names came to mind immediately. They were all scientists I admired deeply, whose names often appeared in the papers I read. However, instead of feeling excited, I felt intimidated by the idea of sending a cold email to these senior researchers who had no idea who I was. What if I got ghosted? Or worse, rejected? Despite having these thoughts, I sent out an e-vite anyway. To my great surprise, it led to an unexpected and valuable lesson.
An “Invisible” Barrier
Many early-career researchers hesitate to reach out to more senior colleagues. It is usually not because of a lack of interest, but rather, the perception of an invisible barrier; a fear of sounding unqualified, asking something “silly,” or taking up someone’s valuable time. Academia’s hierarchical structure can feel rigid, especially when crossing institutional, disciplinary, or even cultural boundaries.
Even in the age of social media, where PIs post lab updates and engage with trainees publicly, the hesitation lingers. That sense of distance can be deeply ingrained; impostor syndrome kicks in and “puts the brakes on” everything. But more often than not, this barrier is only in our minds.
Little to Lose, Much to Gain
When I started drafting my email, the discouraging thoughts resurfaced. This time, I decided to tackle them head-on. I pulled out a piece of paper and began listing pros and cons. While I quickly filled the “pros” column, I found myself scratching my head for any real “cons.” Suddenly, everything felt less intimidating.
Reaching out might feel risky, but it really isn’t. The worst-case scenario? No response, and that’s perfectly fine! The best-case scenario? An accepted invitation, insightful advice, words of encouragement, or the beginning of a mentorship or collaboration that shapes your career.
It might take only a few minutes to write an email or introduce yourself at a poster session. It doesn’t need to be eloquent or overly flattering. Being clear and sincere about why you’re reaching out often leads to the most meaningful interactions: What part of their research are you interested in? What do you want to know about them? What kind of advice (scientific, career, or personal) are you seeking from them? In science, where mentorship can matter just as much as technical skills, these small steps can have a lasting impact.
They Were Once in Our Positions, Too
To my great excitement, the guest speaker I had contacted quickly accepted my invitation. Soon, he flew to our campus for his visit. Over coffee, we talked about grad school and research. I was surprised by how many mutual experiences we shared, even though we had never met before. “You do know that I was just like you twenty years ago, right?” he said with a smile. We both laughed.
It’s easy to forget that senior scientists weren’t always senior. They were once undergrads nervously sending emails for research opportunities, grad students prepping for their first seminar talks, and postdocs unsure about their next steps. Their careers likely weren’t as linear or confident as they now appear.
Many have stories of mentors who shaped their journeys through timely advice or small acts of kindness. Today, they’re often eager to pay it forward. They remember what it was like to be at the start of a scientific career and understand just how much difference a little support can make.
Mentorship Beyond Conventions
During my guest speaker’s visit, my lab mates also had the chance to speak with him. Though many of those conversations were brief, some turned out to be surprisingly productive—he suggested useful experiments we hadn’t considered. After a quick follow-up email, we received the reagents we needed from his lab. A new research direction began to take shape.
Mentorship exists in many forms. It doesn’t have to be formal, long-term, or tied to institutional roles. Some of the most valuable guidance can come from unexpected places: a hallway chat after a seminar, a spontaneous email exchange, or a conversation over coffee at a conference.
If we limit ourselves to the mentorship of our direct advisors, we may miss out on the diverse insights available within the broader scientific community. Building a “mentorship mosaic”—a network of supportive voices from different backgrounds—can provide a stronger, more adaptable foundation for navigating research life.
“Thank You for Reaching Out!”
One of the most affirming moments came at the end of the visit. As we wrapped up, the speaker told me, “I always appreciate it more when a trainee reaches out to me, because I feel like I’m fulfilling a part of my purpose as a scientist. Thank you for reaching out.”
That moment stuck with me. I realized how misguided I had been in projecting formal, intimidating images onto senior scientists. In truth, many are kind, generous, and committed to mentoring the next generation.
Reaching out isn’t an imposition—it’s often a welcome gesture. For senior scientists, it can be a reminder that their journeys and insights continue to matter. For trainees, it can be a gateway to growth, encouragement, and sometimes, opportunity.
No reply? Bad interactions?
Of course, not every message will lead to a connection. Sometimes, you won’t hear back. Other times, the response may be brief or lukewarm. These moments can be disappointing, especially when you’ve worked up the courage to reach out. But they’re also not personal.
Senior scientists juggle many responsibilities, and emails often slip through the cracks. A lack of response—or even an awkward interaction—doesn’t mean you should stop trying. Try someone else. Try again later. Each attempt is a step toward building confidence and finding the right connections.
More often than not, the positive experiences will outweigh the forgettable ones. Celebrate the good ones, learn from the quiet ones, and move forward.
Final Thoughts
So if you’re hesitating to introduce yourself after a talk, message someone whose work inspired you, or email a PI with a question—just do it. That small act may not change everything, but it could open a door, spark a conversation, or remind someone that their journey matters.
Reaching out isn’t just a step worth taking—it can shape careers, build community, and make science more human.
Image generated using Gemma3 from the prompt of “Two silhouetted hikers ascending a steep mountain path towards a glowing summit. One hiker is facing downhill, extending a hand to help the other over a rocky obstacle so both can climb up. Dramatic lighting, atmospheric perspective, warm color palette, digital painting”