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Welcome to SIS Voices, an ongoing series in which SIS alumni from historically underrepresented backgrounds share their experiences working in international affairs and offer some advice to current and future students who may also find themselves in the minority in their classes and professional spaces. These alumni work in varied fields, and they share a belief that the surest way to realize the SIS vision of “waging peace” is to include all voices in the discussion.

In this edition, we spoke with Wendy C. Atieno, SIS/MA ’19, who is currently working at the International Union for Conservation of Nature as a Senior Program Officer, Ecosystem-based Adaptation, Climate Change Team. She utilized the Global Environmental Policy Program to bring together her scientific interests with her love of working with people centered on the need for better environmental practices and policies. Wendy has let curiosity help pave her career path and offers important advice for our current and future students.

What sparked your interest in international affairs?

What sparked my interest in international affairs was, in a way, coming to the States from my home country, Kenya, and realizing I was an international student. All the topics I wanted to study and my career interests were considered international. So, in some sense, it happened by default—at least during undergrad. I found myself in an international space, identified as an international student, and started working hard to carve out a space to study what I was passionate about. As I continued through that process, I realized how much I enjoyed it, which solidified my interest.

Interestingly, my journey began with a completely different plan. I loved my high school chemistry classes, and in undergrad, I enjoyed water quality tests (my senior capstone was on pollution remediation), so I initially thought I’d go into analytical chemistry, perhaps even pharmaceuticals. At one point, a classmate landed a job at Revlon, which seemed like the dream—to combine chemistry with beauty products!

That changed during my junior year, when I took an internship in Nairobi at a Coca-Cola bottling facility. At first, it felt like I was exactly where I wanted to be—working in industry. However, I found lab work to be monotonous—a common experience, I have come to learn. I tested water samples three times a day at different points of the plant. The most exciting part was the unlimited soda from the manufacturing line. Meanwhile, I’d commute home and was suddenly hyperaware that tap water wasn’t clean enough (municipal water at the plant was further filtered for use and for production). That disconnect struck me. My work at the plant felt removed from my personal life, yet the issue of water quality connected them. That’s when I started thinking about environmental issues, particularly water and sanitation.

Through trial, error, and exploration, I found myself in the environmental sector. A pivotal experience was a two-year Princeton in Asia fellowship in Laos, where I worked with IUCN’s water and wetlands program. I collaborated with communities to integrate their perspectives into national water resources management policies. This experience filled the gap I felt in the lab. I loved engaging with people, something I missed during my internship at Coca-Cola. Back then, I’d written in my journal about how isolating lab work felt and how I envied the marketing team and my quality assurance colleagues, who visited vendors of Coca Cola products weekly.

The fellowship brought together all these experiences, showing me that while I loved science, I also loved working with people. After the fellowship (2013–2015), I stayed in Laos for another year to teach English while preparing grad school applications. Teaching was another experience I genuinely enjoyed; every term I had four classes of some of the most delightful students. In addition, that period gave me time to save money and become more competitive for grad programs.

I got into the Global Environmental Policy Program at SIS in DC and started in January 2017, graduating in May 2019. SIS was a culmination of the experiences I had cultivated since I moved to the US as an undergrad. The program is global in focus and multidisciplinary, and it enabled me to combine my interests in environmental policy, society, and my international experience.

What are some challenges and opportunities you have found as a Black woman and as a Kenyan in the field of international affairs?

As a Black woman and Kenyan in international affairs, funding was one of the biggest challenges I faced. Of course, this is a big issue in the US across all identities. But coming from Kenya, without a domestic guarantor, most US loan programs were out of reach. Scholarships were also limited for international students, and despite my efforts, I often fell just short of qualification. It took immense perseverance—applying to grad school three times—and support from my community to make it possible. Ultimately, a close friend’s generosity, my mum digging into her retirement, savings from my time teaching, on-campus jobs and paid internships, and my SIS scholarship bridged the gap, allowing me to pursue my studies.

That said, this journey taught me resilience and clarity in what I wanted academically and professionally. Each application refined my understanding of my interests and the right program for me. I initially applied, but then got my fellowship in Laos; the second time I applied to the Natural Resources and Sustainable Development Program (which includes a year in Costa Rica) dual degree program; and the third time—when I actually began— I applied to the Global Environmental Policy Program (GEP). By the third attempt, SIS stood out—not just for its reputation, but because I felt seen and valued as an individual. Faculty engagement, like Dr. Judy Shapiro’s thoughtful advice and other professors taking an interest in my goals, made me feel part of a genuine community.

SIS wasn’t just an academic experience—it was a transformative one. The support from SIS faculty, staff and my classmates extended beyond the classroom, helping me make connections, hone in on my interests and skills, secure internships, and discover opportunities like joining the Journal of International Service. These experiences added immense value and confirmed that I’d made the right choice.

The privilege of studying at SIS has also unlocked doors I hadn’t imagined and continues to be rewarding even now so many years after graduating.

What skills/tools/knowledge did you gain from SIS that have proven especially important in your career?

The interdisciplinary nature of SIS and its global perspective have been invaluable to me. Working in international development, I often reflect on how faculty at SIS emphasized the interconnectedness of global and local issues. For instance, in an urban political ecology class, Dr. Ranganathan highlighted how colonial legacies affect not only the Global South but also manifest in the US. She showed us a striking photograph of Black Â鶹´«Ă˝s living in poverty at the turn of the century, juxtaposed against the Capitol Building. That visual, and the conversation around it, deeply impacted me—challenging my assumptions as an international student and broadening my understanding of systemic inequality.

Climate change was another key topic where I saw the importance of the systems thinking emphasized in SIS. Environmental issues transcend borders, requiring a global and inclusive approach. This has informed my work in addressing climate-related challenges across diverse contexts.

For my first couple of years at my job, I regularly referred to class notes and coursework for my professional work. But to choose one particularly impactful experience—I took a one-credit fundraising skills institute—initially, to fulfill a requirement. What I learned there— specifically the importance of understanding and aligning with stakeholder priorities (in this case, donors)—has been instrumental to my work applying for grant funding and also in designing a grant mechanism that I now manage. The simple but profound lesson of asking, “What does the donor want, and how am I equipped to respond?” has stayed with me. Through the grant mechanism, I’ve reviewed thousands of applications, and I often see how many fail to address this fundamental question. As an environmental and broadly international development community, we often miss the mark because we fail to align our objectives with the priorities of our key stakeholders – whether donors, governments, or communities. That class taught me first to understand what resonates with stakeholders’ needs and then align my objectives in response. This requires us to truly listen.

If Professor Beth Korman is still teaching that course, I can’t recommend it highly enough. It turned out to be one of the most practical and relevant classes I took.

What advice would you give current students from historically underrepresented communities about what they have to offer as a vital voice?

My biggest piece of advice is to embrace and follow your curiosity. While people often talk about pursuing your passion, I’ve found that curiosity has been the more powerful driver in my own journey. The questions you have—those things you wonder about—are valid and important. Don’t shy away from asking them.

In my experience, a lot of early-career professionals hesitate to ask questions, fearing they might not be “valid” or worrying it might make them look uninformed. But the truth is, the act of asking often reveals gaps in understanding or communication that need to be addressed, whether it’s something your team should explain better or a broader issue that requires exploration. Your curiosity isn’t just valid—it’s necessary.

Curiosity has shaped my own career. For example, I didn’t initially have a clear plan for how I wanted to combine my love for science and my desire to work with people. But I followed my questions: What does environmental policy look like in practice? What would it mean to work in a global context? That curiosity led me to experiences, like working in Laos, that I couldn’t have anticipated but turned out to be exactly what I needed.

One of the best pieces of advice I ever received was from my grandfather, who told me: If you knew everything, you wouldn’t need to be in school. That wisdom has stayed with me. It’s okay to not have all the answers—it’s your questions that will guide you to find them.

For students from historically underrepresented communities, remember that your unique perspective and curiosity are strengths. They allow you to see things differently, ask questions others might not think to ask, and contribute insights that are vital to shaping a more inclusive and innovative future. Keep asking, keep exploring, and trust that your voice matters.

Who are your professional mentors (formal or informal) and how did they come to be your mentors?

Mentorship has played a pivotal, though often informal, role in shaping my career. While I haven’t always sought out traditional mentor-mentee relationships, I’ve been fortunate to find myself in situations where others have guided and supported me in meaningful ways. Raphael stands out as a great example. While I don’t know how he’d feel about being referred to as my mentor, he has certainly taken on that role in many ways. From hiring me for my fellowship to being a constant cheerleader throughout my career, he’s been instrumental in helping me navigate and grow. Now, we occasionally work together, and his example continues to inspire me in the type of work I want to pursue.

My current boss, Ali, has also been an incredible mentor, particularly in challenging me to step outside my comfort zone. He excels at creating opportunities and encouraging people to stretch themselves. During the pandemic, he encouraged me to step into new situations—presenting our work at international meetings, for example. Ali’s great at stepping aside, letting you figure things out, and grow from those experiences. That “figure it out” approach has been empowering and transformative for my personal and professional development.

Back in undergrad, my advisors, Julie and Jeff, served as informal mentors, especially as I was navigating how to combine my interests in science and policy. Jeff affirmed that I could find a space for myself and my interests in science and writing. Julie’s guidance sparked my curiosity in environmental policy.

These relationships have taught me that mentorship doesn’t have to be formal or intentional to be impactful. I’ve learned so much simply by observing, asking questions, and embracing the opportunities that mentors have provided. It’s also about constant learning—whether through structured advice or by being challenged to grow in unexpected ways.

For those navigating their own mentorship journeys, I’d say to remain open to these relationships, even if they don’t fit the traditional mold. Sometimes, the best mentors are the ones you stumble upon, who inspire and challenge you in ways you might not have anticipated.