For scientists, giving back isn’t always simple. Volunteering requires a balance of time, access, and intention.
I moved to Maryland from my home state of Wisconsin in October 2020, at the height of the pandemic. Like many others who relocated to the Capital Region for its density of scientific opportunity, I arrived knowing I was surrounded by world-class researchers but was largely disconnected from the community itself due to the strict social distancing rules both inside and outside the lab. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t embedded in a built-in network of scientific peers, collaborators that connected me to other institutions, or fellow volunteers with mutual passions.
So I did what many scientists do best: I searched for a solution. A quick Google search led me to a Women In Bio (WIB) Capital Region coffee chat. That single event opened the door to a community I didn’t know I needed: a group of women who blend professional development, genuine connection, and something that had always been central to my life: volunteering.
Giving back was never a question for me growing up. It was simply what you did and something everyone enjoyed. From food banks to cultural dance organizations to campus initiatives, I spent years contributing to community-based efforts without overthinking the “why.” Volunteering was part of my identity long before it was part of my CV.
In my new environment, that instinct quickly translated into deeper involvement. I joined WIB Capital Region’s Sponsorship Committee and worked my way into my current role as Chapter Vice Chair. I also became involved with organizations centered around my chemistry field; the Practical Applications of NMR in Industry Conference (PANIC) and the Chemical Society of Washington (CSW). Professionally, these experiences were and still are transformative as they offer leadership opportunities, visibility, and a broader understanding of the life sciences ecosystem beyond the lab.
But alongside that growth came a perspective shift I hadn’t anticipated. For the first time, I heard peers push back on the idea of volunteering altogether: “I’m not working off the clock.” “If they want me, they can pay me.” “No more unpaid labor.”
At first, I was surprised. Then I started to understand. The Capital Region is a uniquely competitive environment, with a constant influx of early-career scientists, job seekers, and professionals working to establish themselves. In that context, volunteering can take on multiple, sometimes conflicting roles.
The first point to ponder is WHEN volunteering happens: on the clock vs on your own time
In academia, service is often embedded into the job itself, particularly for those working toward tenure. In some industry settings, companies formally allocate hours for community engagement, recognizing it as part of professional development and public impact. In contrast, many smaller organizations, startups, and government roles operate with tighter constraints, where volunteering must exist outside of formal work hours due to funding structures, mission boundaries, or policy limitations.
Neither model is inherently better, but they are not experienced in the same way. On-the-clock volunteering can increase access and participation. Off-the-clock volunteering preserves personal choice but requires individuals to donate their own limited time and energy. For scientists already balancing demanding workloads, that distinction matters.
The second point to ponder is WHY people volunteer in the first place
For some, it is a requirement. Academic service, committee work, and outreach are often necessary components of career progression. For others, volunteering is a strategic way to build networks, gain leadership experience, or re-enter the workforce. And for many, it is still what it was for me growing up: a genuine desire to give back to a community they care about.
These motivations are not mutually exclusive, but they can create tension. What feels like a passion project for one person may feel like a professional obligation or even a survival strategy for another.
I have personally experienced the benefits of leaning into volunteer opportunities. They have opened doors to leadership and expanded my professional network. While at the National Center for Advancing Translational Sciences (NCATS) at the National Institutes of Health (NIH), two of my early-career colleagues and I created and expanded the Community Outreach Initiative within the NIH Women Scientists Advisors (WSA) group, entirely in our free time. Our efforts eventually led to the Initiative becoming a formal federal detail, allowing future leaders to contribute on the clock. That work was recognized with an NIH Director’s Award in 2024.
At the same time, I recognize that this outcome is not universal. Many scientists, particularly women, are aware of the risk of being funneled into coordination and support roles that are essential but not always equally valued. The ongoing conversation around “unpaid labor” reflects this reality. Skills like organization, communication, and community-building are critical to the success of any initiative, yet they are not always rewarded in proportion to their impact.
So how do we navigate the balance between when and why?
It starts with intentionality. Understanding whether an opportunity aligns with your goals (career advancement, skill-building, or personal fulfillment) can help determine how and when you engage. It also requires acknowledging constraints: not everyone has the same capacity to give time freely, and that does not reflect a lack of commitment to community.
In today’s job market, it is common to see professionals engaging in volunteer work as a way to build connections or re-establish themselves. What might look like a passion project can also function as a lifeline. This dynamic can introduce a competitive edge into spaces that are meant to be collaborative, but it also reflects the reality of a shifting workforce.
Is that inherently a bad thing? Not necessarily. The work still gets done. Communities still benefit. Individuals are making strategic choices in response to a challenging professional landscape. But it does raise important questions about intention, sustainability, and equity.
When should volunteering happen, on the clock or off the clock?
Who has the privilege of donating their time, and who does not?
How do we ensure that opportunities to “give back” do not disproportionately benefit those who can afford to work for free?
There are definitely no universal answers, but there is certainly value in being intentional.
For me, volunteering remains a source of energy and connection. It has shaped my career, expanded my perspective, and grounded me in a community that extends far beyond my day-to-day work. At the same time, because I am in the position where all of my volunteering must be done in my personal capacity, I have become more aware of where my time goes, how my contributions are valued, and what I hope to gain in return, whether that is impact, growth, or simply a sense of belonging.
In a region as dynamic and demanding as this one, perhaps the most important shift is reframing volunteering not as an expectation, but as a choice. A choice to engage, to contribute, and to connect on your own terms. At the end of the day, giving back is most meaningful and sustainable when it is done with intention
