Credit: John Houlihan

David Smith, a chemist at the University of York, UK, spent his early career avoiding personal discussions with colleagues because he did not want to reveal that he is gay. In January, he gave the plenary talk at the first LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) STEMinar, a conference devoted to networking.

How did the LGBT STEMinar come about?

A postdoc at the University of Sheffield, UK, Beth Hellen, decided that she wanted to get a bunch of LGBT scientists she knew through Twitter together for networking. She thought 20 people would attend, but about 80 showed up. It was, as far as I know, the first ever meeting in the United Kingdom to specifically target LGBT scientists across all disciplines. It was a really nice meeting, with genuine networking. Similar things have gone on in the United States, especially at the big conferences, like the American Chemical Society meetings. But this has never been a feature of UK–European science.

Do you think it will continue?

Yes. One of the most heartening things about the meeting was that it got support from high-level societies such as the Royal Society of Chemistry and the Institute of Physics. It's a time of big change in science. Fifteen years after the culture broadly changed, we are now talking about our personal lives and acknowledging who we are. There are plans for another LGBT STEMinar at Sheffield next year.

How did you find the diversity as a student?

It was not great. I think when I was at the University of Oxford, UK, where I got my PhD, there were about 1,000 chemists in total. At least 75% of them were white men. I have no idea how many of the chemists were LGBT, but I do know that they were silent. Occasionally, there were rumours or gossip about individuals, but it was always negative. It was a hostile environment in the early 1990s. That started to change when former prime minister Tony Blair introduced civil partnerships in 2004.

So 'don't ask, don't tell' was the de facto policy?

Yes. I wasn't 'out' when I started at the University of York. As a result, I engaged in a lot of self-censorship. When chatting about the weekend with colleagues, I'd neutralize the gender of my partner or just not talk about my personal life at all. But I'd end up in difficult situations — half lying, half telling the truth and trying to remember what I had told individual people to be consistent in conversations.

What prompted you to come out?

I was in a long-term relationship and it got more ridiculous not to talk about it. I had been in my job for 4 or 5 years when another gay colleague arrived in the department. It gave me a bit of confidence. I came out in 2002, and I received an overall positive response. Some people were surprised but the uncomfortable period didn't last long. York has one of the most diversity-friendly chemistry departments.

You've been very open since then. Do junior colleagues contact you to discuss LGBT issues?

Yes, I get tens of e-mails from people globally, often people in junior positions, such as postdocs who are unsure about what impact coming out could have on their career. The apprenticeship model leaves junior researchers dependent on their supervisor's recommendation. People worry that even unconscious bias could bleed into a reference letter for a job application. There's no easy answer. Every supervisor is different. The last thing I want to do is say 'come out', and have supervisors write horrible letters.

You make fun YouTube videos, and encourage your students to do so, too. Why?

My videos — notably the chemistry of mephedrone or the science behind the television show Breaking Bad — got general traction beyond students. I decided to encourage my students to make videos as a way to empower them with a voice. I wanted them to realize that they don't have to just absorb knowledge, they can be a source of it. It also became a way for me to discuss diversity issues and use it as an education tool.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.