Samantha Yammine, also known as 'Science Sam,' at MC Muay Thai Academy & Conditioning in Toronto's east end.Laura Proctor/The Globe and Mail
Each month, generations reporter Ann Hui takes readers along to hang out with fascinating Canadians – regular people and celebrities, teens to seniors – joining them in their favourite pastime for up-close and candid conversations.
Down a flight of stairs and through a long hallway at the end of a gym, Samantha Yammine is throwing punches. Even before you see her, you can hear her. The thwap of a punch landing. The smack of a glove hitting the centre of a pad. The hissing sound of her long exhale.
Outside of these walls – far from the punching bags and stationary bikes, the weighted balls and floor mats – you might know her as “Science Sam.” As host of the Curiosity Weekly podcast on the Discovery Channel, and frequent science expert on TV.
Later this day, she’ll have research papers to dig through. A TV segment to prepare for. But for now, she’s at MC Muay Thai, a gym in Toronto’s East End, working on her jab.
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This is where Ms. Yammine asked to meet for our interview. On days where she feels especially stressed, she comes here to work out her frustrations. As one of just a small handful of scientists with a public profile – and even fewer female science advocates – her inbox is filled regularly with messages from skeptics and ugly DMs, as she calls them. She’s on the frontlines, day in and day out, of the war on science. And she’s a fighter.
On this afternoon, Ms. Yammine’s coach, Betty Teshale, is leading us through a round of mid-body kicks.
One. THWAP. Two. THWAP. Three. THWAP. Four.
“Almost there,” Ms. Teshale called out. It seemed encouraging, except for the fact that she kept adding extra kicks with each rep.
“Nothing anyone says to me online can be worse than doing these kicks in a row,” said Ms. Yammine, only slightly breathless. She let out a long exhale – hissssss – between kicks.
“Can’t be bullied like I’m bullied at the gym.”
Ms. Yammine demonstrates a swing kick with her Muay Thai coach, Betty Teshale.Laura Proctor/The Globe and Mail
Born and raised in Mississauga by Lebanese immigrant parents, the 35-year-old Ms. Yammine was curious from a young age. “I asked a lot of questions, and was ruthless in finding out the answers.”
She’d conduct “science experiments” at home – mixing homemade “perfumes,” and leaving cooked eggs outside, just to see what happened.
She finished her undergraduate, then graduate degree at the University of Toronto, and completed her PhD research on how stem cells build the brain.
Ms. Yammine follows her coach, Ms. Teshale, at the gym where she comes to let off steam.Laura Proctor/The Globe and Mail
Her original plan was to pursue a career in research. But partway through her PhD, she began posting to social media. It started with Twitter, then Instagram. She used the platforms to explain her research, and to advocate for science funding.
The popularity of her posts quickly helped her understand that this – explaining science to non-scientists – was a valuable skill, too. That she was good at it, and that it was important.
“I understand why people don’t trust the institution of science,” she said. “Science has the tone of elitism. It’s not been, historically, the most welcoming space. I get why someone who has been dismissed by their doctor – whether due to sexism or racism – wants to seek out other options.”
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Not long after making the decision to switch her career to science communicator, the pandemic began.
Suddenly, her feeds were devoted entirely to explaining the virus. On Instagram, her skills were on full display, as she helped followers interpret the latest research and understand the various risks. Each day, strangers wrote to tell her they felt anxious or afraid. Each day, she did her best to direct her followers to the latest research, to the best available science.
Early in her career, she said, “I had some scientists who were like, ‘Oh, you’re on social media, you’re a narcissist.’” she said. “After the pandemic, nobody questioned it anymore.”
Then – as is the case now – we saw how science was politicized. Saw how the outcomes of science could be used for political purposes. That’s why her work matters.
“Science itself and the pursuit of science – people need to know that that’s for everyone,” she said. “And I see my job as helping people to access it.”
Ms. Yammine speaks with Globe and Mail reporter Ann Hui.Laura Proctor/The Globe and Mail
About midway through the workout, we paused for a breather. One of us needed it more than the other. Ms. Yammine crouched on the floor, barely breaking a sweat, and adjusted her hand wraps.
She started Muay Thai about a decade ago, and has been training seriously here with Ms. Teshale – about four times a week – for about two years. She loves the physicality of the sport, but also the strategy. Thinking on her feet. Solving problems in real time.
“You have to be in the moment. See what happens, figure it out,” she said. “It’s like a chess match.”
It’s good for her anxiety, too, to remember how capable she is. “I get to just come here and remind myself that, ‘Okay, I got this.’”
This place – her safe place – isn’t immune from anti-science types either, she said. During the pandemic, there were prominent figures in the Muay Thai world, and in the larger martial arts world, who were vocally anti-vax.
“There’s a lot of anti-science stuff everywhere,” she said. “For me, it’s more about understanding the root of it. Why are people getting entrenched?”
And then the break was over. Ms. Teshale told us to get back to our practice. Back to our kicks.
Every time she thinks she’s got something figured out, Ms. Yammine said, she learns something new. It’s true with Muay Thai, with science – with life.
And isn’t that, she said, the point of it all? To be humbled?
“Certainty is tempting,” she said. “But there’s a lot of awe and wonder in realizing what we don’t yet know.”
Laura Proctor/The Globe and Mail