Faculty member profile featured in the spring 2025 issue of the department’s equity, diversity, and inclusion newsletter.

Tell us about yourself including your nationality, ethnicity, and culture.

I was born and raised in California, so my nationality is American. My family’s ethnic background is mostly German and Scottish, though those cultures were not a big part of my upbringing. My parents were reformed hippies – still liberal, but sober by the time they had my sister and me. My mom stayed at home when we were young, and my dad worked as a carpenter. In the 70s and 80s, that was a union job with benefits, so I was born in the Kaiser hospital in San Francisco. I mostly grew up in Sonoma County, about an hour north of San Francisco, at a time when that area was still a little rural and not so expensive. After my parents divorced, my mom married my stepdad, a professor at Pitzer College, and we moved to Southern California. He’s been a huge part of my life ever since. 

Probably some folks reading this have noticed that I have a Spanish last name. That came from my ex-husband, who I met in college. He was finishing a computer science degree when we met, which is a story in itself, and also a testament to the power of public policy and public education. His father came to the US from Mexico through the Bracero program, a guest worker program that ran from the 40’s through the 60’s. Largely forgotten now, it allowed the man who would have been my father-in-law to come to California with a fifth grade education and an insanely strong work ethic, find a job, and eventually bring his wife to join him and raise a family. 

That last bit might seem like a bit of a detour for a question that asked about me, but that family shaped my life as much as my own. My then-boyfriend’s parents both died when I was finishing college. So we moved his 12-year-old brother in with us, bought a townhouse, and got married, in that order. Before that all happened, I’d been researching graduate programs in soil science, but there was no way we could move while dealing with the deaths. My boyfriend was also the executor of his mother’s will, which left one house to 13 kids with no explanation. So I put grad school applications on hold to become a stepmom; figure out how to navigate after school care on a tight budget (I will forever love the Santa Cruz Boys and Girls Club); speak Spanish; explain who I was at back-to-school night; help my child write to his incarcerated brothers; support my husband through a two year probate after the city red-flagged the house his parents had left them; and experience the joys of taking my child to visit relatives in Jalisco and Mexico City. As part of my decision to stay in Santa Cruz, a relatively small town, I also launched my first career. 

That career was in science journalism. I’d always been a writer, and worked on high school and college newspapers, but the first time I was paid to write was when one of my professors hired me as a contributor to a textbook he was developing. I wrote descriptions of real-life projects that connected to the content of the chapters: the “shaded box” examples. After college, I did some corporate editing, and eventually built an interesting, though not very lucrative, career as a freelance science journalist. Probably my most intense project was a documentary for CNN that covered cases where problematic forensic science work had helped send innocent people to prison. That came out in 2005. In 2009, the National Academy of Sciences produced a report that highlighted many of the issues (and more) that we’d addressed in the documentary.  There’s been a great deal of change in forensic science since then, and more underway.  

How did you come to be associated with the Department of Biostatistics?

I loved journalism, but freelancing involves running a small business, and that’s not a natural strength for me. And as I got older, I wanted to stick with a problem for an extended period; in journalism, you finish a project and are off onto something else. My sister is an accomplished epidemiologist, and I’d always been fascinated by her career. Also, I’d covered a lot of health research as a journalist, as well as human rights research that relied on public health methods, like sample surveys. So, I applied to a few MPH programs to see if I’d get in, and in 2010, I started an MPH at Berkeley, the oldest student in my cohort by a decade. 

I thought statistics was something I’d need to learn in order to do the work I wanted to do. But I discovered that statistics was a fascinating field, and I kept taking more classes, including coursework generally reserved for MS and PhD Biostat students. My first core theory course was actually taught by Marco Carone. He was a postdoc at the time and had been asked to develop a course called something like Advanced Methods for Biostatistics. He thought he’d be getting advanced students, but instead he got a class of first-years and non-majors, and had to adapt his course on the fly in response to our many, many questions. He was a terrific instructor, but, even so, the class was hard. But also fun; that was where I decided I could actually do this. Eventually I completed a PhD in biostatistics with Nick Jewell. 

My first academic job was in statistics at Carnegie Mellon University, which was a great place. However, as I think was the case with many people, the pandemic prompted some reflection. I realized I wanted to return to public health and I wanted to focus on teaching. I’d planned to look for jobs in California, where I’m from, but then Marco alerted me to the position here. This is such an amazing department—how could I not apply?  And then the interview hooked me. I loved the sense of collegiality that was immediately apparent. And, as I expected, I loved being back in a place with an underlying mission to improve health. I mean, isn’t it just so cool that all these smart, interesting people focus their energy on statistics for health problems? Also, there were many signals that the department had a serious commitment to teaching excellence, and the school had created what appeared to be a very solid teaching track, things that were really exciting to me. And Tom Fleming asked terrific questions during my teaching demo. 

Tell us something we’d be surprised to know about?  Hidden talent? Superpower?

I don’t have any superpowers, but during a decade in journalism, I did hone my writing skills.  A profile I wrote for Wired was optioned for TV development twice. In the end, it didn’t get made, but the optioning process was fun. 

What motivates you?

Historically, I’d say I’ve been motivated by justice, or rather by the desire to defeat injustice.  Over time, that’s softened a bit. I still care about justice—and goodness knows, there’s still plenty of injustice in the world. But I’ve grown to appreciate the public health concept of harm reduction. There are technical definitions for that concept, but I like to think about it broadly—about focusing on what can be done to improve a situation. 

Now, I realize that “justice” and “harm reduction” are big picture concepts, but the ideas show up in my professional choices. Both journalism and research generate information and sometimes evidence. So, if you pursue interesting questions in either realm, you can contribute to positive change. And in my teaching, I’m training the next generation of researchers or public health professionals. It’s deeply motivating to think that I’m helping students develop the skills that will enable them to conduct research or assess evidence and use it in the practice of public health. 

Who or what has inspired you the most and why?

I’m inspired by so many people. Heck, I’m still inspired by my ex-husband, who remains an important part of my life. Professionally, Nicholas Lemann inspired me to try journalism, primarily through his work, but he was also kind enough to hang out after a book signing and give advice when 26-year-old me was thinking about making that leap. And it’s been inspiring to watch the cohort of journalists I came up with, who have done so many great things. When I went back to school in public health, I was again lucky to have a great cohort, and to connect with Nick Jewell. Steve Fienberg and Jay Aronson both played important roles in my academic journey early on and then recruited me to CMU—I wrote an obituary for Steve that ran in Nature. And Megan Price of the Human Rights Data Analysis Group has been a friend and also mentor for years, despite the fact that I'm about a decade older than her. We’re working on a book together now, which has drawn on my writing experience, and it’s been fun to feel like I have something to give back. I’m also inspired by nature, so Seattle is a good place for me. 

What three words would you use to describe yourself?

Ack! I’m terrible at this kind of thing. I’ve been told I’m intense—I don’t necessarily see it—but many of my friends do, so maybe they’re onto something. For myself, I’d say I try to be engaged, supportive, and fun. Others can decide to what degree I succeed.