Delivering

Five years into my PhD and I still wasn’t done. To be fair, I hadn’t exactly had an easy ride, starting just weeks before COVID lockdowns were announced, becoming a mother in my second year, and trying to build a new model system from scratch (Pipefish and their male pregnancy are adorable, but they don’t always make life easy). My work was trial and error, and it took me more than a year just to find a story worth telling. But eventually, the words came together. I had a draft for my first chapter. It was written! Only… was it enough? Basic research with no direct application, no flashy headline — just curiosity-driven science. Many of us know that creeping voice: does this even matter?

So, instead of calling it finished, I dove into one more dataset. In a rush of determination, I moved back into my old childhood bedroom at my parents’ house, spending days and nights analysing, writing, rewriting. By mid-November I had a plan: “Done by Christmas.”

Of course, life had other ideas. A hand surgery in between (note to future PhDs: don’t do that with a deadline). But somehow, even with one hand and one finger sticking out of a cast, I wrote. Introduction. Synthesis. Outlook. Acknowledgements.

By Christmas I wasn’t done, but close. My mother stepped in to take care of my daughter while I revised paragraph after paragraph under the Christmas tree. And then, in early January 2025, the moment came: university reopened, I submitted my dissertation, and it was gone. Done. Crazy. For two days, I let myself breathe and celebrate. Then reality hit: only six weeks until my defence.

Defending

Days passed and my defence presentation kept growing. Twenty slides, then thirty, then sixty. Every time I thought it was enough, I added more — extra data, backup information. Not because I wanted to show it all, but because I wanted to be ready for those tough questions. At the same time, I knew this wasn’t just about surviving the defence. I wanted to celebrate it. I booked a big conference room, reserved a restaurant table, and sent out invitations. And suddenly it felt real: my family travelling in from far away, a friend making the trip from abroad, old classmates and colleagues all saying yes. That was overwhelming in the best way. Practising my talk became part of my daily routine. Alone in my office and in front of colleagues or friends. I have to admit: I’ve always liked presenting more than drowning in raw data, so this part was actually… fun.

The morning of the defence, I woke up to an email that made my heart stop: Water pipe leakage at university. All buildings evacuated. No exams allowed. Seriously? After weeks of preparing, was it all about to fall apart? What I hadn’t expected was the incredible support around me. Within minutes, my PI had secured a new venue. Huge shout-out to the Marine Science Campus for stepping in and hosting me! And somehow, despite the last-minute chaos, everyone showed up. 

During the defence itself, my brain switched to autopilot. Over forty pairs of eyes were on me, waiting for me to present and defend five years of work. The questions that followed were tough and sometimes tricky, but also sparked real conversations. Ninety minutes passed in a blur. Then it was done. I was done. A doctor of natural sciences – me? Hell yeah. The rest of the day was exactly what I had dreamed of: celebrating, telling stories, reliving the journey with the people who had been part of it. Finally enjoying this thing, I had worked toward for over five years. Relief and happiness like I had never felt before. And, as the cherry on top, I got the nicest doctoral hat that I could have imagined – with a glowing giant microbe and two crocheted guinea pigs perched proudly on top.

Drifting

The night of my defence, I went to bed expecting to wake up reborn – full of joy, energy, freedom. Instead, I woke up tired. Deeply tired. And strangely quiet inside. There was still paperwork to finish before I could officially call myself a doctor, and manuscripts waiting for submission. But the constant pressure, the expectations, the dependence on PIs, the weight of proving myself worthy of a title that even shows up in your passport, was suddenly gone. In its place came exhaustion, but also a growing sense of lightness. I gave myself a week to move slowly: sleeping, recharging, joining a retreat with my colleagues. Bit by bit, relief started to settle in. I really made it.

And the moment it truly sank in wasn’t the defence or the party, but a few weeks later. Walking out of the administration building at Kiel University with my PhD certificate in hand – that was the moment it felt real. 

Kim

Drifting in the Post-PhD Current

It’s one of the best weeks of the year: Shark Week. As our finned friends get a lot of extra attention this week, I am reflecting on my love of sharks and the threats they’re facing. In fact, before I was an ocean plastics guy, I was a shark guy. And sadly, on a perfect sunny day in the tropics while searching for sharks, I also found plastics.

Two decades ago, I was researching these magnificent animals in the crystal-clear waters of the Turks and Caicos Islands (TCI) at the School for Field Studies. Each day, we’d take our research boats out in hopes of tagging juvenile lemon sharks to better understand their movements, site fidelity and nursing habitats in the shallow waters surrounding South Caicos. Every interaction with these animals was exhilarating, and quite often we’d get the bonus of spotting or tagging other species like bonnethead sharks, Caribbean reef sharks and even the awe-inspiring tiger shark—my personal favorite!

While out on shark patrol one Sunday afternoon along the eastern reef of South Caicos, I first encountered plastic pollution on a magnitude I had never previously seen. Due to the steep cliffs that backed the beach and the shallow reefs that protected it seaward, piles of plastics and debris that drifted over the reef and onto the sand remained stranded. And with little to no human access to these beaches in the early 2000s, the accumulations grew with each passing day.

Sharks are increasingly threatened by plastic pollution, primarily through entanglement and ingestion. At least 34 species have been reported entangled in plastic debris, although actual numbers are likely much higher due to underreporting. The most common item causing entanglement is abandoned, lost or discarded fishing gear (also known as “ghost gear”), though plastic strapping bands also pose a major risk. Looped plastics like strapping bands can constrict sharks, interfering with feeding and breathing.

Sharks are at risk from eating plastics, too. Plastic bags, plastic packets and even a boot have been found inside shark stomachs. And scientists believe microplastics may pose a particular risk to filter-feeding species like whale sharks, although hundreds to thousands of microplastics have been documented inside individual tiger and hammerhead sharks as well. There is still much more to learn and understand about the interactions and effects of plastics on sharks, but what is known raises concerns about the long-term impacts of plastic ingestion on shark health and ocean health more broadly.

It was on that same reef in South Caicos in 2006, during a break from shark patrol and long before joining Ocean Conservancy where I first participated in the International Coastal Cleanup® (ICC). And like the millions of ICC volunteers around the world who participate each year, I too collected data on every item I picked up. And with each item, I was more and more curious, asking the questions: “Where did these plastics come from? “How the heck did they end up here?” and “This can’t be good for ocean animals, can it?”

I would later learn that the piles of debris that littered that stretch of coast came from all over the Caribbean. This was also my first glimpse of how the brands and languages on plastics provide valuable information to trace where trash comes from, an approach I still use to this day in fieldwork around the world. Further, it showcased the interconnectedness of the waters and people throughout the Caribbean Sea and North Atlantic Ocean.

These early, formative encounters with ocean plastics have stuck with me over the past 20 years, as have the sights of sharks effortlessly navigating their natural environments in those TCI waters. It is something that is forever lodged in my memory, something I never forget or tire of. Sharks have existed in our ocean for more than 400 million years, and over this time, they have perfected every aspect of their design. However, sharks were never meant to contend with the plastic pollution that now overwhelms every dimension of their marine environment.

Today, the most harrowing fact this Shark Week is that the plight of sharks has never been greater. And the scariest thing in the ocean isn’t a shark, it’s plastic pollution. Join Ocean Conservancy for Plastic Free July and beyond and call on your elected leaders to phase out wasteful, harmful single-use plastics.

The post How are Sharks Affected by Plastic Pollution? appeared first on Ocean Conservancy.

How are Sharks Affected by Plastic Pollution?

Nayyir Ransome builds relationships between the government and the people it serves to support the ocean. As Senior Analyst with Ocean Conservancy, Nayyir sees the power of small, incremental steps that lead to big impacts for people and waterways.

“I want to encourage people to start where they are. Start with your friends, your church group, your classroom”, Nayyir shared.

Nayyir started advocacy work when they were young, joining the Campfire Youth Legislature as a seventh-grade student in Broadmoor Middle School in East Baton Rouge Parish School System, a school that was closed in 2019. “I was one of the youngest people in the room. The bill that I proposed didn’t even make it out of committee. So, when it was time to come together on the floor and vote on all the bills that came out of committee, I decided that I was going to speak on every single bill that hit the floor, literally, all of them. I ended up winning Outstanding Legislator that year. This honor is given only to one legislator out of almost 500 young people from across the state. I still have the medal. I keep it on my desk lamp with all my other conference tags and medals. It reminds me how much impact a person simply speaking up can have. Whether or not the vote goes your way at that moment, someone is still listening.”

Nayyir got involved in Youth Legislature at a time in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, when many students were feeling unheard, anxious and facing physical displacement after Hurricane Katrina.

Remembering the day Hurricane Katrina landed

On August 29th, 2005, Hurricane Katrina made landfall in New Orleans. At least 1,900 people were killed in the storm and, due to medical and infrastructure complications, post-storm. The devastation of one of the deadliest hurricane seasons in United States history forced 650,000 survivors from their homes—some were never able to return.

“We were out of school for two weeks. Compared to New Orleans where many schools closed for months and others shut their doors permanently, this felt like a privilege. When we went back to school, there were 200 more students in the building. Many families from New Orleans were forced to move to temporary housing in Baton Rouge. Our school was one of many that saw a large influx of students from New Orleans where many schools were unable to reopen due to Katrina. There wasn’t enough space, services or support to handle that, and it became a tense environment for all of us.”

Nayyir’s family moved to Baton Rouge just one year before the storm. Coming from Philadelphia, one of the largest metropolitan cities in the country, Nayyir experienced an intense culture shock when adjusting to life in open-air, sea-centric Southern Louisiana. Nayyir reflected on the contrast of towering buildings and lightning-fast train transport to kids catching mudbugs from the crawfish mounds in the drainage ditches, designed to channel storm water, along roads without sidewalks.

“When I started participating in Camp Fire USA’s Youth Legislature program, I felt intimidated. It was a strange experience, grappling with my own sense of displacement while watching other kids being displaced on such a large scale due to Hurricane Katrina. I wasn’t from the area, but I was there, and I did understand how it felt to be pushed out, to feel discarded.”

New Orleans has a culture unlike any other place in the world, and this rich weaving of languages, ethnicities and histories creates an unshakable strength that still stands today. Yet, the crippling impacts of Hurricane Katrina can be traced through the yet-to-be-rebuilt homes in the Lower Ninth Ward and the reality of long-term health consequences and economic instability for many residents, even now, 20 years after the storm.

Hurricane detection is better than ever, thanks to NOAA

In 2005, the best hurricane detection science provided around a 48-hour warning. The people of New Orleans had less than 24 hours from the time the mandatory evacuation order was issued to when water began to spill over one of the levees.

When Hurricane Katrina developed into a Category 3 storm, receded and then reformed as a Category 5 storm, scientists, local officials and communities scrambled to keep up and spread information quickly.

“We didn’t know what was happening in New Orleans for three days. People with friends and family there were starting to panic.”

Now, thanks to the steady, decades-long efforts of organizations like the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), current predictive technologies can provide up to five days warning of extreme weather—enough time potentially to prevent storms from having the same catastrophic impact as Katrina. Yet, the question remains, ”Will we continue funding the hurricane forecasting systems we know are protecting our communities?”

Tell Congress to Protect NOAA Today

Take action to ensure Congress stands up for NOAA, demanding the agency be fully funded and fully staffed.

Act Now

Understanding NOAA’s vital role during storm season

It might not be clear what NOAA does during hurricane season because much of their work is behind the scenes. The National Weather Service sits under NOAA, and NOAA scientists and professionals are key players in many of the long-term conservation measures, research and technology that prevent the most dire consequences of extreme weather. Their work includes projects that we may not think of as disaster preparedness and resilience, such as coastal restoration initiatives.

NOAA uses a variety of scientific instruments on crafts such as planes, saildrones and gliders to gather data from inside hurricanes. Long term ocean observations contribute to hurricane and weather models. This hurricane season we have an opportunity to speak up about the proposed cuts to NOAA and the vital resources we would lose if these budget changes are approved by Congress. Continuing to fund NOAA is one way to ensure ongoing improvements to weather forecasting, honor those lost to Hurricane Katrina and, in the aftermath, support the people of New Orleans today, as they rebuild and heal.

We can all speak up for life-saving hurricane detection and research

As storm seasons intensify, we need faster, more accurate weather prediction and storm detection more than ever. NOAA is America’s first line of defense against the deadliest impacts of natural disasters on our communities. Yet, NOAA’s funding is facing major cuts that, if enacted, will result in lives lost. We need to keep moving forward keeping in mind and heart the nearly 2,000 people who lost their lives during Katrina, the thousands more New Orleanians who lost their land and legacies, and the hundreds of thousands of people who are impacted by deadly storms in the United States each year.

Looking back, Nayyir can see how these experiences growing up in post-Katrina Louisiana shaped their advocacy and approach to community organizing.

“My time in Southeast Louisiana taught me a lot about people-centered advocacy. Even if we haven’t experienced something at its most extreme, we can find a way to understand the root of it by looking at our lives and the places we live. Ocean Conservancy has helped me to grow in how and why we must work across government agencies and lines to protect our ocean and the people who rely on it.”

Ocean Conservancy works alongside NOAA as a science-led advocacy organization mobilizing federal, state and local action for our ocean. Every investment in NOAA translates into vital seconds, hours and days of response time for communities when hurricane season strikes. The more data we can collect and use to predict the behavior and patterns of storms, the better we can respond and prevent tragedies.

Each year, storm season is intensifying from climate change—and not just on our coasts. Communities throughout the U.S. are affected by hurricanes and floods that threaten lives and livelihoods. We all rely on NOAA’s vital research and tools for weather prediction and extreme weather warnings. These services are a lifeline we cannot afford to lose.

Call on your Congress members today and insist they support full funding and operation of NOAA.

The post Honoring New Orleans 20 Years After Hurricane Katrina Means Protecting NOAA appeared first on Ocean Conservancy.

Honoring New Orleans 20 Years After Hurricane Katrina Means Protecting NOAA