Desperately Trapped, Painfully Misunderstood
I am writing this while designing a preclinical experiment that will use 240 mice. I already tried to minimize the number as much as possible, partly because I want to be rigorous and professional, but also because I do not want my colleagues to see me as biased due to being vegan. Veganism is one of the values I am most proud of, yet at the same time I have never felt more hypocritical than I do in the work I currently perform.
I am a Research Scientist at a cancer center, where most of my work involves different mouse models of cancer. On my first day of work, after leaving Mexico behind, resigning from my previous job, and saying goodbye to my family, my supervisor told me that I would be working primarily in preclinical animal research because of my technical skills.
During my interview, I had clearly stated that I wanted to move away from animal work and focus more on clinical research. At the time, however, I did not feel capable of refusing. I had uprooted my entire life for this opportunity, so I swallowed my discomfort and complied.
The work itself has been emotionally devastating. I implant cancer cells into mice, including in their lungs and under their skin, monitor tumor growth, administer experimental therapies, and kill them once the tumors become too large. The animal facility describes this work as humane, but to me, I know, is deeply inhumane. I understand the scientific arguments in favor of preclinical models, and for years I repeated them to myself: that this work serves science, that it contributes to future therapies, that there are no viable alternatives. Those ideas helped me cope, sugarcoating what I do for a living.
But the more I learned about translational research, the harder it became to reconcile those justifications with my ethical beliefs. Many animal studies fail to translate successfully to humans, and I can no longer ignore the suffering involved in the process. Every time I enter the animal facility, I feel a profound emotional burden.
art by hannah ward
Manipulating the mice, monitoring their tumors, and injecting therapies into frightened animals takes a serious toll on my mental health.
What used to help me cope did not last for long. Now I realize I was just me trying to make myself feel better about what I do. The “sugar coating” disappeared, and what I do on a daily basis now feels extremely bitter. After that, I tried to disconnect emotionally from my body while working with the animals, but that did not work very well either. I am desperate.
The hardest part is that I feel trapped. I am the main provider for my family, and financially I cannot simply resign. So instead, I am trying to build a path out. I am pursuing professional advancement so I can eventually avoid direct animal work, studying lifestyle medicine, and preparing for a Master of Public Health in hopes of transitioning into a career that does not involve animal experimentation.
What makes the experience even more isolating is how misunderstood it feels.
Some colleagues joke casually about the work without realizing how painful it is for me. Sometimes I have to excuse myself to the bathroom just to cry in private. Non-vegan friends often see me as overly emotional or dramatic, while some vegan friends look at me with judgment because of what I do professionally. I often feel caught between worlds, fully accepted by neither.
After gaining confidence within the lab, I became more vocal about both my veganism and my discomfort with animal experimentation. Over time, my supervisors tried to reduce my exposure to the work whenever possible, and colleagues sometimes assist me during procedures. Recently, however, during a lab restructuring, another employee refused to participate in mouse work despite having those responsibilities listed in her job description and prior experience. I found myself feeling angry and jealous. She felt secure enough to say no. When I arrived, I did not.
I recognize that resentment toward her is not entirely fair, but it forced me to confront how powerless I have often felt in my own situation.
I am doing everything I can to cope: personal therapy, marriage counseling, meditation, journaling, exercise, weightlifting, careful sleep habits, and maintaining a healthy whole-food plant-based lifestyle without alcohol or smoking. These things help me continue functioning, but they do not erase the moral distress I experience every working day.
With tears in my eyes I want to say that what keeps me going is my wife’s support, my son, and the hope that eventually I will find a way to align my profession with my values. Until then, I take it one day at a time.
Artist Statement
hannah ward
Throughout reading this lab worker’s story, the sense of helplessness was palpable. The helplessness of these mice on such a grand scale and the helplessness of the individual in this complex, heart-breaking situation. This is a sensation I explore a great deal in my own artwork, so the account felt particularly poignant to interpret.
I wanted to acknowledge the anguish of this lab worker with a gesture that depicted both their power and utter powerlessness. I also felt the destruction and decay that is found within the growth and expansion of the tumors also spoke to the very nature of testing on other species. These mice have suffered on an incomprehensible scale, yet just as they fade into the white of the paper in this image, their pain is widely forgotten, viewed as inconsequential.
My heart goes out to this lab worker, who sees this clearly. Honoring their story with a drawing was a challenge to be honest. I hope that this image speaks to many, and I desperately hope for a better world for mice and humans alike.
The more I spend time with this piece, the more I see myself in it. What an honor to have been the channel for this story. The mice seem unaware of what is happening around them and almost too trusting, while the arms and hands carry a deep sense of anguish—exactly how the experience feels to me.
AUTHOR OF desperately trapped, painfully misunderstood