Every Wednesday I wear pink, a nod to the line from the movie “Mean Girls,” where a clique uses pink to symbolize social dominance. I, however, don't see myself as a queen bee of my high school, but rather as a blend of the quirky Jessica Day and a nerdy version of Elle Woods - if she was a bespectacled brunette. Today pink is seen as a superficial, “girly” color. Pink is bright, easily visible, and does not blend in well. Last August, as I scanned the class list of my small, rural high school’s AP “Intro to Computer Science Principles” course, I suddenly felt obtrusively pink. Besides myself, the class was comprised entirely of guys. After six years in robotics, I was accustomed to being one of the only girls in the room, but the collaborative nature of our team eclipsed any ruminations on the social dynamics of gender. On day one of junior year, as I entered room 82, my cheeks flooded with the rosé color of my favorite Wednesday staple - a pleated mini-skirt. “Who has taken a programming class before?” my teacher inquired. Six hands up. Mine remained down. Pink again. Self-doubt reigned. At first, I shrunk under my classmates’ furtive glances assuming that they were associating my gender with my intelligence. This thought was reinforced when, despite my front-row seat, my teacher spent the first month referring to me as “she” compared to the proper nouns that my masculine classmates were awarded. Still pink. This feeling was exacerbated when my teacher turned to me, shocked, asking “Even YOU know binary?” Despite my initial urge to change classes - change clothes - change galaxies - I wanted to stay, both for the content and with a newfound conviction to follow in the footsteps of my favorite historical trailblazer, Hedy Lamaar, the part-time actress and inventor, and put an end to this misogyny. So THIS is what I kept hearing about the barriers to women in STEM! Then, in October, “You got a great score on the pre-test, Audrey.” Wait. Mr. J. knows my name? This small acknowledgment immediately pierced through my mental firewall. Seeing my wide eyes, my teacher apologized, “I’m terrible at names.” In the weeks that followed, my jumble of thoughts and emotions about Room 82 began to decrypt themselves. Had I been wrong? As my name continued to be called upon, my discomfort faded. I found myself engaging in class discussions ranging from AI ethics to linguistics. Room 82 began to take on a “Breakfast Club” vibe, with a JROTC football player, a figure skater, an amateur hacker, and, of course, me - playing Molly Ringwald’s role of “the pink princess.” Through these conversations, I realized that my male classmates were not as misogynistic as I had previously thought. Rather, our barriers had been constructed from the awkwardness brought on by ignorance and isolation, likely because they had never interacted with pink in technology spaces before. When communication breaks down or is never built, there is room for assumption and misinterpretation. This is the true barrier to women entering and persisting in STEM fields. Inclusive conversations are the essential tool to deconstruct systemic barriers to diversity, as they allow personal expression and individuality to flourish. Without this communication, the prejudices that I held, and those that were held against me, would have prevailed. I would have sacrificed my pink to blend into my preconception of my class’s social sphere, giving merit to the genuine biases associated with femininity in STEM. Room 82 showed me how open communication facilitates personal expression of all colors.

I’ve always been intrigued by the power of one. How a single voice can create a domestic or global paradigm shift. When it comes to expressing unpopular opinions, choosing to use one’s voice can itself be a society-changing action. Speaking out against hegemonies takes immense courage, which is why I have found the stories of whistleblowers, journalists, and activists around the world to be so empowering. From Vladimir Bukovsky’s files on the USSR’s political abuse of psychiatry to the more popular stories of Erin Brockovich and Edward Snowden, the actions of whistleblowers illuminate the often overlooked flaws in institutions. Unfortunately, these stories are often impaired by unsecure methods of broadcasting the truth, which endangers the lives of these activists. In my career, I want to combine my love of computer science and political advocacy to uplift globally marginalized voices. I want to design forms of cryptography that better protect these vulnerable groups: whistleblowers and activists under oppressive regimes. My goal is to create systems that ensure the protection of activists by emphasizing anonymity and secure information networks. Corruption beware: Audrey Stankunas and her team of cryptographers unveiled a new system of quantum-resistant encryption designed to benefit journalists and activists Opposed to the most common method of data encryption, RSA, which has traits that leave it vulnerable to decryption and “code-breaking” since the rise of quantum computing, this new system would be a form of multivariate cryptography. The intention? To weaponize massive amounts of equations and variables to hinder the “brute force” code-breaking of quantum computers. This end-to-end encryption would ensure the protection of activists by emphasizing anonymity and secure information networks. The system would be built into a platform that cooperates with free press organizations, such as Reporters Without Borders and the Freedom of the Press Foundation, to prevent the influence of global institutions that may have motives to silence whistleblowers. The United Nations Human Rights Council has stressed the importance of encryption and anonymity in the digital age, however, governments and companies often utilize backdoor forms of decryption to collect data and monitor suspicious, potentially illegal, activity. Though institutions often state that these backdoors are in the name of national security, they are largely privacy violations that can exacerbate the silencing of dissidents and the exclusion of the marginalized. An independent and secure platform for whistleblowers would allow for the protection of underrepresented voices domestically and abroad. The perspectives of often overlooked groups, such as activists under authoritarian regimes, are crucial in creating positive change. When there is no existing infrastructure for underrepresented people to advocate for themselves on the global stage, a route must be built. Many current institutions were constructed on biased systems that are inherently exclusionary since one dominating group created these systems. As a marginalized voice myself from my experiences growing up in rural Ohio and as the only female in many of my STEM experiences, I’ve found that echo chambers, which are created both systematically and individually, are the biggest barriers to inclusive conversations that will bring about change.