In a country where the word ‘scientist’ often conjures images of distant laboratories in faraway lands, Naznin Sultana is quietly rewriting the narrative from right here in Bangladesh.
As Chief Scientific Officer at Globe Biotech Limited, she has spent over a decade peering through microscopes and into genomes, not just searching for answers, but for solutions that can heal real people.
Her workspace is a world of petri dishes and DNA sequences, a stark contrast to the bustling streets of Dhaka outside. But inside this quiet, controlled environment, Naznin is part of a revolution.
Like all great scientists, Naznin’s journey began not with an answer, but with a question. “I was a very curious child,” she recalls, her voice gentle but precise, as if she’s still carefully weighing each word. “I questioned almost everything around me, and science felt like the place where answers lived.”
But her curiosity had a compass. It pointed toward suffering, toward the mysteries of illness that touched families around her. She wanted to understand diseases: why they happen, how they travel silently through generations, and whether knowledge could somehow stop them.
“That curiosity slowly became purpose,” she says. “I realised that research is not just about discovery. It is about solving real problems that affect real lives.”
At Chittagong University, where she studied Chemistry, the lecture halls told an encouraging story. A significant number of her classmates were women. Science, at the academic level, belonged to everyone. But then came the vanishing.
“We do not see the same numbers reflected in the workplace later on,” Naznin observes quietly. It is not a complaint, merely an observation rooted in decades of watching talented women disappear from the scientific landscape.
The culprit, she explains, is not discrimination in the traditional sense. It is something more subtle and pervasive: the sheer, unyielding demand of time. “Research is a time-hungry profession. It demands long hours, sustained focus and immense dedication. Balancing family responsibilities with such demands often limits many from reaching their full professional potential.”
She speaks from experience, but without bitterness. Her voice carries the weight of someone who has navigated these very waters and found a way to keep swimming.
Has she ever felt underestimated? The question makes her pause, not because she lacks an answer, but because she wants to frame it honestly. “Yes, I have. But not because I am a woman. Often, it happens because scientific ideas need to be presented to stakeholders who may have limited technical knowledge or limited resources. Any research that is intended for public use must go through government approval. Our healthcare system is highly bureaucratic, and that process can be slow. While these checks are necessary, delays can hinder innovation,” she said.
When asked about Bangladesh’s potential in biotechnology, Naznin reaches for a metaphor rooted in her own field. In genome sequencing, she explains, there is a theory that any genetic modification takes three generations to stabilise.
“I often think of Bangladesh’s biotechnology journey in a similar way,” she says. “The country will expand its horizons, but it will take time. Perhaps three generations.”
It is a scientist’s answer: honest, patient, devoid of empty optimism. Scientific ecosystems, she reminds us, are not built overnight. They are constructed gradually, brick by brick, through education, research culture, and policy support. The first generation lays the foundation. The second builds upon it. The third reaps the rewards.
The most influential woman in her life never held a microscope or published a paper. It is her mother who was a schoolteacher. “Watching her balance her professional responsibilities with caring for our family helped me understand the strength and sacrifice of working mothers from a very young age. It instilled in me deep respect for women who manage both worlds every single day,” she recalls.
In that respect, Naznin has become her mother’s daughter, balancing the meticulous, unforgiving world of scientific research with the demands of life, while quietly building something that will outlast her.
To the young girls of Bangladesh who dream of white coats and laboratories, who see themselves peering into microscopes and making discoveries that change the world, Naznin offers not just encouragement, but wisdom.
“Do it,” she says simply. “But before choosing this path, understand what you are signing up for. Patience is not optional in this field; it is essential. Research takes time, and results do not always come quickly.”
She urges young women to pursue science not for the glory or the financial rewards, but for the love of the work itself. “If you truly care about discovery and impact, then success and financial rewards will follow naturally.”
