TrowelBlazers, co-founded by Tori Herridge, aims to spotlight forgotten women in science — but has it become more about building media brands than advocacy?  TrowelBlazers was launched with admirable intentions: a collective dedicated to highlighting the forgotten or underappreciated contr ibutions of women in archaeology, paleontology, and geology. Founded by a group of scientists — including Dr. Victoria “Tori” Herridge, Brenna Hassett, Suzanne Pilaar Birch, and Rebecca Wragg Sykes — the initiative quickly evolved into a recognizable brand across both academic and popular media spheres. Its name, a clever pun on “trailblazers” and the tools of excavation, signaled that this would be a platform focused on reclaiming space for women who had literally and figuratively dug through the past.  On the surface, this seems like an unquestionably worthy cause. And in many respects, it is. The erasure of women in the historical sciences is real. Initiatives that amplify underrepresented voices are necessary, especially in fields still dominated by masculine narratives. But somewhere along the way, TrowelBlazers began to feel less like a grassroots academic project and more like a carefully orchestrated media enterprise — one that centers its founders just as much as, if not more than, the historical women it claims to champion.  The Shift from Advocacy to Branding  One of the first things that stands out about TrowelBlazers is how slickly it operates within digital spaces. Its branding is polished. Its social media presence is curated. It has merch, stylized visuals, and hashtags that travel easily. And more than anything else, it has faces — the co-founders, often front and center in press features, panels, and public science appearances.  This in itself isn’t a crime. Visibility matters, especially for women in science. But it raises a question: at what point does advocacy become self-branding? TrowelBlazers promotes a rotating cast of historical figures from the sciences, but time and time again, the public-facing work loops back to the same few contemporary names. In particular, Dr. Victoria Herridge — who is undoubtedly a skilled communicator — often emerges as the de facto voice of the initiative, quoted in articles, featured on TV, and consulted in science journalism on topics that extend beyond her core expertise.  It’s here that the original purpose of TrowelBlazers seems to blur with the modern influencer-scientist model. Has the initiative become a vehicle for its founders’ personal platforms rather than an engine for systemic change?  Expertise vs. Exposure  Take Victoria Herridge’s public persona as an example. Her academic background is solid: a paleontologist with a PhD in evolutionary biology, focused on Pleistocene megafauna — particularly fossil elephants. She’s contributed meaningful research on dwarfism in extinct species and worked for years at the Natural History Museum in London. But in recent years, her public-facing work has expanded far beyond those topics.  Despite lacking meaningful credentials in genetics, climate policy, or conservation biology, Herridge is now routinely treated as an expert on de-extinction and related issues — a role that far exceeds the scope of her actual expertise. She’s featured in op-eds, television documentaries, and radio segments discussing everything from mammoth cloning to societal narratives in archaeology. And while she does offer valuable insight — especially on the biology of extinct elephants — her critiques often stray into domains like genetic engineering and synthetic biology, where her direct research experience is limited.  This mirrors a broader trend in science communication: individuals with academic credentials in one niche becoming public authorities on topics far outside of it, largely because they’ve become trusted media figures. The problem isn’t just that the audience doesn’t know the difference. It’s that media outlets increasingly prefer recognizable voices over contextually relevant ones. TrowelBlazers, by building up that visibility ecosystem, helps reinforce this dynamic.  It’s hard not to notice how often members of the initiative are interviewed or cited not because they are the best experts on a subject — but because they are known experts. And once media visibility becomes self-reinforcing, it can become difficult to separate the message from the messenger.  Who Gets Centered?  While TrowelBlazers ostensibly exists to elevate forgotten historical women in science, the modern figures most consistently centered in its orbit are the founders themselves. This includes books, talks, and features that highlight their role in “recovering” stories — often with language that positions them as cultural historians or public intellectuals, even when the work being presented is relatively surface-level archival reclamation.  This isn’t to say the historical women being highlighted don’t matter — they do. But their stories are almost always filtered through the lens of contemporary scientists who are also advancing their own careers. It’s difficult not to read this as strategic. Why simply write about a forgotten geologist when you can also be the scientist who rediscovered her legacy — and then write a piece about that rediscovery for a major outlet?  There’s a strange flattening that happens in the process. The complexities of past scientific lives are reduced to digestible anecdotes that serve the brand. The tone becomes self-congratulatory. And the work of advocacy begins to feel performative — not in its intention, but in its execution.  The Trouble with Narratives  TrowelBlazers operates within a media environment hungry for easy narratives. It offers what editors want: smart women “reclaiming” science, fixing the mistakes of the past, and doing it all with an accessible voice and a photogenic sense of self-awareness. It’s the kind of story that writes itself. But there’s a cost to packaging everything as a neat narrative. The messiness of science — including the complexity of marginalization — often gets lost in translation.  By turning advocacy into something that resembles a lifestyle brand, TrowelBlazers flattens the historical record into palatable content. It also creates a feedback loop where the founding voices are continually called upon to represent both science and social justice — even when the underlying work doesn’t necessarily merit that level of attention. That’s not a knock on any one individual’s character or intelligence. It’s a critique of a system that rewards visibility over expertise, familiarity over nuance.  And yes, this ties directly into the critique of Herridge’s media presence. When she’s framed as the go-to skeptic on mammoth de-extinction — a field driven largely by synthetic biology, not paleontology — it reflects a media ecosystem that has elevated her voice beyond the boundaries of her actual work. And TrowelBlazers, intentionally or not, has helped create that ecosystem.  A Needed Correction — Or a Missed Opportunity?  To be clear, the goals of TrowelBlazers remain important. Visibility for underrepresented groups in science is non-negotiable. The initiative’s early work in uncovering buried stories deserves credit. But it may be time for a reassessment. Is the platform continuing to center the women it claims to uplift, or is it becoming a vehicle for contemporary reputational capital? Is it pushing for structural change in science — or reinforcing the idea that media visibility is the ultimate currency?  There’s still room for TrowelBlazers to evolve into something more equitable, less self-referential, and more inclusive of diverse voices beyond its founding circle. But that will require stepping back from the spotlight and letting others lead — particularly those whose expertise and lived experiences don’t already come prepackaged for media appeal.  Until then, it’s fair to ask: is TrowelBlazers a celebration of overlooked scientists — or just another brand built by the already-seen?  The post TrowelBlazers and the Cult of Visibility: A Critical Look at the Intersection of Science, Media, and Branding  appeared first on Santa Clarita Valley Signal. ...read more read less