Christopher: Most people think a tough childhood breaks you. Today, we're talking about a woman whose brutal upbringing in Depression-era New York—facing poverty, street gangs, and hunger—was the very thing that forged her into one of the most important scientists of the 21st century. Lucas: That's a bold claim. Usually, we hear the opposite, that trauma creates barriers. The idea that it could be a source of fuel is fascinating. Christopher: It's the incredible story at the heart of Carbon Queen: The Remarkable Life of Nanoscience Pioneer Mildred Dresselhaus by Maia Weinstock. Lucas: And the author, Weinstock, is the deputy editorial director at MIT News and a huge advocate for women in STEM. She even created a 'Women of NASA' LEGO set. You can feel that passion for telling these overlooked stories throughout the book. Christopher: Absolutely. It's been widely acclaimed for that reason, and it was even shortlisted for a major history of women in science prize. The book situates Dresselhaus not just as a brilliant mind, but as a product of her environment. And it starts in a place you would never expect a world-changing scientist to come from: the rough streets of the Bronx during the Great Depression. Lucas: A world away from the pristine labs at MIT where she would eventually make her name.

Christopher: A world away is an understatement. Millie herself said, "My greatest challenge was surviving as a child. That was the hardest thing I ever did." Her parents were poor immigrants from Poland. The family lived in a tenement in the South Bronx, a neighborhood so dangerous her parents were afraid to let her play outside. Lucas: I read that she was attacked by gangs of kids multiple times, sometimes coming home a "bloody mess." That's just harrowing to imagine for a child. Christopher: It was. And the poverty was extreme. She recalled that when things were really bad, the family survived on potato soup, because potatoes were cheap and you could boil them in a big kettle of water to make a lot of fluid. On top of that, her public schools were completely dysfunctional. Teachers were more like crowd-control officers than educators. Lucas: And this is the environment that's supposed to produce a scientific genius? It seems impossible. Christopher: It does. And the discouragement was explicit. When she was in junior high, she learned about Hunter College High School, an elite, tuition-free school for girls that was her only real ticket out of poverty. She resolved to get in. But when she told her teacher, the response was blunt. Lucas: What did the teacher say? Christopher: "Oh, you have no chance." Lucas: Wow. That's just brutal. To have that door slammed in your face by an authority figure. How do you even come back from that? Christopher: For Millie, it was fuel. She said, "I didn’t have any other option. I knew that to get to the next step, I would have to be a superstar." So she prepared for the entrance exam entirely by herself, in secret. She got old exams and used the public library to teach herself concepts that she said were like "another world." And she didn't just pass. She aced it. Lucas: That is pure, unadulterated grit. But it wasn't just about academics, right? There was another lifeline for her during this time. Christopher: Yes, and it’s a beautiful part of her story. Her older brother was a violin prodigy, and through his scholarship, Millie also got a scholarship to the Greenwich House Music School in Manhattan. It became her sanctuary. It was a place where she could escape the chaos of the Bronx and be exposed to culture, art, and ideas. Lucas: So music wasn't just a hobby; it was her escape hatch, her window into a different world. Christopher: Exactly. She even got to play for First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, who visited the school. Seeing a powerful, independent woman who cared about disadvantaged children left a huge impression on her. It showed her a different kind of life was possible. She later said, "Without music school, I never would be where I am today—not in any way." Lucas: It’s this combination then. The harshness of the streets built her resilience, while the music school nurtured her intellect and her spirit. She was being forged from two completely different fires. Christopher: That's a perfect way to put it. She developed what she called an advantage: "If you can survive hard times, you have a level of maturity that other people don’t have, to overcome adversity." And that determination to ace the Hunter exam is the exact same energy she brought to her scientific career. But what's fascinating is that her path to becoming the 'Queen of Carbon' was anything but direct.

Lucas: Right, because she started out wanting to be a teacher, didn't she? Given her background, that seems like a very practical, stable choice. What changed? Christopher: One person changed everything. At Hunter College, she took a nuclear physics class taught by a brilliant, headstrong physicist named Rosalyn Yalow, who would later win the Nobel Prize. Yalow saw Millie’s potential and, in Millie’s words, "just gave orders." Lucas: What kind of orders? Christopher: Yalow told her she had to pursue a research career in science. She warned her it would be difficult for a woman, but that she shouldn't be deterred. Millie said Yalow was "quite a domineering person," but she did what she was told. That mentorship completely redirected her life's trajectory. Lucas: I love that. Sometimes you need someone to see the potential you can't see in yourself and just give you a hard push. But even with that push, it wasn't easy, right? I read about her time at Harvard... Christopher: Not at all. Her time at Harvard and Radcliffe for her master's was a "rude awakening." Women had to take their exams in a separate room because their presence was considered "too distracting" for the male students. Lucas: You have to be kidding me. Distracting? Christopher: That was the official reason. Then, during her PhD at the University of Chicago, she was assigned an adviser, Andrew Lawson, who flat-out told her that women shouldn't be in science. He said any fellowship she received was a "waste of resources" that could have gone to a man. Lucas: That is infuriating. How did she even complete her PhD with an adviser who refused to advise her? Christopher: She did it almost entirely on her own. But this is where her husband, Gene Dresselhaus, becomes so important. He was a brilliant physicist in his own right, and he became her greatest champion. Lucas: He seems like the unsung hero of this story. Christopher: Absolutely. After her PhD, they were at Cornell, but anti-nepotism rules meant Millie couldn't get a job, not even as an unpaid volunteer. Her career was about to be extinguished. But Gene, who had a coveted faculty position, was willing to give it all up to find a place where they could both work. He recognized her "unique genius." Lucas: That's a true partnership. So they left Cornell? Christopher: They did. They created a "score sheet" and evaluated offers from places like IBM and MIT's Lincoln Laboratory. They chose Lincoln Lab, which gave them the freedom to pursue basic research together. This is where Millie, after being told to stay away from her old specialty, superconductivity, made a strategic pivot. Lucas: Is this where the 'carbon' part of 'Carbon Queen' begins? Christopher: This is the moment. Gene suggested she look into carbon. Her bosses were skeptical; they thought it was too complex and a dead end. But Millie saw it as a "good challenge." And, strategically, she also knew it was a less competitive field, which was a bonus while she was raising four young children. Lucas: That's so smart. She found a niche where she could do deep, foundational work without the intense pressure of a crowded field. Christopher: And that's exactly what she did. She started studying something called graphite intercalation compounds, or GICs, which is basically slipping other atoms between the layers of graphite—like a club sandwich at the atomic level. This work was her entry into the "nanoworld" and laid the groundwork for everything that came next: carbon nanotubes and graphene. A physicist at IBM later said that Millie's early work on graphite "contained most of what is now rediscovered in the case of graphene." She was decades ahead of her time.

Christopher: And that really brings us to the core of her legacy. She didn't just make groundbreaking discoveries, like being part of the team that first predicted the electronic properties of carbon nanotubes, which are now in everything from our electronics to aerospace components... Lucas: ...she also built a human legacy. The stories of her mentorship are just as powerful. Like when she created a whole extra recitation class, at 8 a.m., just to help one struggling student, Marcie Black, catch up in advanced physics. Millie was often the only other person in the room. Christopher: Exactly. Or how she championed Shirley Ann Jackson, who faced immense racism and sexism, and went on to become the first African American woman to earn a PhD from MIT. Millie saw her students as her "extended family." She hosted Thanksgiving every year for anyone in her lab who couldn't go home. Lucas: That's incredible. It’s one thing to be a brilliant scientist, but it’s another to build that kind of community. Christopher: Her impact is staggering. She published nearly 1,700 scientific papers. One of her former students calculated her academic "family tree" of collaborators and mentees and found it had almost 5,000 branches, spanning the entire globe. Lucas: And the world eventually recognized her for it. She received the Presidential Medal of Freedom, and President Obama said her influence is "all around us." But what's most inspiring is that she never sought the spotlight. She even disliked the "Queen of Carbon" nickname at first. Christopher: She really did. Her granddaughter said Millie "didn’t want to be treated like royalty. She always wanted to just enjoy the science." She only embraced the title when she realized it could help her inspire the next generation of women. She just wanted the science to advance. Lucas: Which is why she was so happy when others won the Nobel Prize for graphene, a field she helped build. She was invited as an honored guest to the ceremony. Her assistant said Millie's primary motivation was always "seeing research advance," not personal recognition. Christopher: Which brings us to a great question for our listeners to reflect on: What's more impactful—the world-changing discoveries we make, or the people we empower along the way? For Millie Dresselhaus, it seems the answer was 'both'. Lucas: A perfect balance. Her story is just a powerful reminder of what's possible. We'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Join the conversation on our social channels. What part of Millie's story resonates most with you? Christopher: This is Aibrary, signing off.