Defunded, But Not Defeated

One of my lab's research grants has been canceled. Another may soon follow.

Apr 14, 2025

[Image description: An oncoming train on rail tracks at night, with overlaid words “Terminated. My lab’s funding has been hit.”]

Have you ever had a dream where you're trapped on a train track, the locomotive bearing down on you at full speed? Its headlights sear through the darkness, blinding your eyes. The horn blares, louder with each passing second. Sweat beads on your brow. Your heart pounds frantically, as if it could fly out of your chest. And yet—you remain frozen, paralyzed, unable to move from its path.

This has been my recurring nightmare for weeks. Every night, I’d wake just before impact. But today, in the harsh clarity of daylight, the train struck.

The blow came not from steel and fire, but from an email—clinical and cold—confirming that, through no fault of our own, the government was rescinding funds we had fought hard to earn through talent, diligence, and scientific merit.

All because of one word: diversity.

We are certainly not the first lab to be hit—and we won’t be the last. Many more will follow. What’s at stake is nothing less than the future of the United States as a global leader in biomedical research and innovation.

Those who’ve read my memoir, The Plant Hunter, know the grit, courage, and relentless persistence it takes to survive in science. In the book, I called science what it truly is: a bloodsport. Research labs live and die by our ability to secure funding. Every aspect of our work—supplies, staff salaries, even our own paycheck as principal investigators—is dependent on external support. The competition is brutal. Rejection is constant. Only a narrow slice of applicants ever receive the lifeline that keeps discovery alive.

Now imagine the feeling—that sharp, sinking sense of injustice, of loss, of rage—when something hard-won and rightfully earned is ripped away, not by failure or fault, but by the shifting tides of politics.

What was terminated?

We lost funding that supported the research of one of the most talented and valuable scientists on my team. Though he only recently completed his PhD in 2023, he has already published 11 scientific papers and 1 patent. In science, we measure the mark of how important someone’s work is by how often other scientists refer to that work in their papers. In this case, other scientists have already cited his work in their papers more than 740 times. He has contributed to multiple groundbreaking studies in my lab, including discoveries that may some day lead to new treatments for multidrug resistant infections such as those caused by MRSA and the super-fungus Candida auris (which kills up to 60% of patients who catch it)!

Somehow, in the political banter of this year—among soundbites from politicians, headlines, and podcast pundits—diversity has been twisted into a synonym for laziness, ineptitude, or “cheating” the system. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Character is not inherited; it is made.

I am considered a diverse scientist because of my physical disability as an amputee with congenital skeletal defects. Early in my career, it was funding specifically intended to support a diverse scientific workforce that helped me get to where I am today. Sometimes, simply by being myself—by showing others who weren’t born with an able body that someone like us can succeed in science—I can offer a spark of inspiration.

My postdoctoral fellow came from a community where opportunity was scarce and role models were nonexistent. He is considered diverse because of his racial heritage and being a first generation graduate. He fought against the odds. He was a high school dropout who started over at a community college, then transferred to a university, and eventually earned a place in one of the top doctoral programs in the country.

That is not laziness. That is not “cheating the system.” His story is one of extraordinary courage, talent, resilience, and work ethic—something that should be celebrated and rewarded, not punished or ridiculed. His funding was from a special mechanism by the National Institutes of Health aimed at diversifying the workforce, of ensuring that there are exceptionally talented people from all corners of the American fabric working to improve the health of all Americans.

These policies targeting diversity are derailing the careers of the very people whose scientific research could one day save your life—or the life of someone you love.

Why do sudden terminations cause so much harm?

It can take over a year from the moment you conceive and write a grant proposal to the point of award—if it makes it through peer review on the first try. More often, it takes multiple submissions, revisions, and resubmissions before funding is secured. The suddenness of these cuts leaves us with no wiggle room, no runway to continue down the path we’ve worked so hard to build.

There we were—steadily advancing critical, complex work to discover new molecules from nature to treat some of the world’s most challenging infections—when the train hit.

What are our next steps?

The train wiped out his salary and research supplies—more than $60,000—gone in an instant, consumed in its flames. We’ve already begun the process of writing new grants and will pursue funding with relentless determination. But the truth is, this detour will inevitably slow the critical progress we’ve already begun to make.

And I’ll be honest—I’m not too proud to ask for help as we navigate this chasm without a bridge. We need your support.

How can you help?

There are 23,188 of you who have subscribed to this newsletter. Imagine the power of the collective if we all pitch in.

Build a Funding Bridge

Help us build a bridge—to keep his research going until we can secure new funding through the grant system. He is talented and our science is top notch. I am confident that given even a modest runway, we can be successful.

I know the economy is tough right now, and I wouldn’t ask if this weren’t truly urgent. Whether you can give the equivalent of a cup of coffee or a larger gift, every contribution truly makes a difference.

Donations are tax-deductible and go directly into a dedicated account for my lab. Unlike platforms like GoFundMe, 100% of your gift goes straight to supporting our work—no fees, no deductions.

Your support helps ensure that vital, life-saving science doesn’t come to a halt. Donations can be made at this secure giving link on the Emory Giving page.

Give Online

If you prefer to send a physical check, you can print off this form and mail it in. Important: add this to the form in the “PLEASE CREDIT MY GIFT TO: If other, please specify” section: “W6CCQ; Cassandra Quave Research”

Mail Your Gift

Advocate for Science

Call or write your Congressional representatives—no matter your political affiliation. Science and health affect all of us; they don’t fall along party lines.

If you’re unsure of what to say, here’s a short message you can use or adapt:

I’m writing to express deep concern about the administration’s decision to terminate research funding aimed at building a diverse biomedical workforce. A strong healthcare system must serve all Americans, and this policy threatens the future of biomedical innovation by derailing the careers of young scientists whose work contributes to life-saving discoveries. I urge you to stand up for equity in science and protect the integrity of our research enterprise.

Please share this story with your friends. Ours is just one lab—one of many that have been, or soon will be, impacted by these sweeping changes. But these stories matter. We must speak out. We must make our voices heard.

The Takeaway

I am angry. I am heartbroken. But I still hold on to hope.

I will fight for the work we do—because I know in my bones how vital it is to your health and mine. And I will fight for my team, who work tirelessly every day to advance science for the good of us all.

Yours in health, Dr. Quave