On the International Day of Women and Girls in Science 2026, we rightly talk about representation, pathways, and opportunity. All of that matters. But underneath it all is something more fragile — and more powerful….the question.
I still remember the moment I learned to stop asking questions. Not because anyone told me to. No one said, Don’t be curious. No one shut me down outright. It was quieter than that.
A look. A pause that lingered too long. A sense that I was slowing things down.
So, I did what many women learn to do early in life. I adapted. I softened the question. I waited until later. Eventually, I learned to answer things for myself — not because I didn’t want to ask, but because asking no longer felt welcome.
That lesson stays with you.
When I sit across from women writers now I hear the echo of it all the time.
“I should probably already know this.”
“This might be a silly question.”
“I’ll figure it out first and come back.”
These are intelligent, capable women. Curious women. Women who care deeply about doing good work.
What they’ve learned isn’t a lack of curiosity. It’s restraint.
We like to talk about confidence as though it appears fully formed. As though one day you simply wake up and decide you belong in the room. But confidence is often built — or eroded — much earlier than that.
Girls are praised for being good. For being neat. For finishing what they’re given. For arriving at the correct answer.
Curiosity doesn’t always behave that way. It is inefficient. It asks “why?” again, after the explanation has already been given. It wanders sideways when everyone else is moving forward. So many girls learn, gently and repeatedly, that curiosity is something to manage rather than trust.
Science, of course, runs on curiosity. So does writing, business and any form of leadership that isn’t simply maintenance. Nothing meaningful I’ve ever built came from certainty. It came from not knowing — and being willing to sit with that discomfort long enough to explore.
But here’s the problem: by adulthood, many women have learned that not knowing feels dangerous.
It looks unprofessional.
It feels exposed.
It carries the risk of being judged.
So they wait until they’re certain before they speak. And often, they wait far too long.
One of the many reasons Scribbly exists at all is because I kept meeting women who were quietly apologising for learning.
“I don’t want to waste your time.”
“I know you’re busy.”
“I just have a quick question.”
Curiosity doesn’t disappear when it’s discouraged. It just learns to whisper. And whispered curiosity rarely changes systems.
On the International Day of Women and Girls in Science 2026, we rightly talk about representation, pathways, and opportunity. All of that matters. But underneath it all is something more fragile — and more powerful.
The question.
The moment a girl wonders how something works. The courage it takes to ask it out loud. The response she receives in return.
Because curiosity grows where uncertainty is allowed. Where “I don’t know yet” isn’t a flaw.
Where exploration is valued more than polish. Where questions aren’t treated as interruptions.
If you’re raising, teaching, mentoring, or simply being around girls, this matters. How you answer questions. How patient you are with repetition. How you respond when curiosity slows things down.
And if you’re a woman reading this, feeling that familiar tightening — that hesitation before asking — I want you to hear this clearly:
You are not behind.
You are not wasting anyone’s time.
You are not meant to arrive fully formed.
Curiosity is not something you outgrow. It’s something you reclaim.
Science needs it.
Writing depends on it.
The world moves forward because someone keeps asking why — even when it would be easier not to.
Curiosity is a skill. And it’s one we should be protecting in girls — and gently restoring in women — every chance we get.