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This quarter, I’m taking two science classes. They’re not necessarily difficult – but they’re science classes. And, to put it mildly, science has never been my forte. Harvard President Lawrence H. Summers remarked last week that “innate differences” between men and women may render some females less qualified for the scientific and engineering worlds.

I wanted to know if Summers was a pure sexist, a misunderstood speaker or a man with a valid point. Why, above all, is science so difficult for me?

The past week has proved quite a ride for Summers and his staff. It seems that journalists, academics and politicians deride or defend him left and right. Summers issued an official apology stating, “I was wrong to have spoken in a way that has resulted in an unintended signal of discouragement to talented girls and women.”

And letters have flooded papers, such as the New York Times, offering brazen, bold, even accusatory opinions. “As the president of Harvard,” wrote David Ballantyne of North Carolina to The Times, “Summers should be media-savvy enough to realize that according to currently fashionable double standards, it is not advisable to make public statements claiming that men might be innately better at anything.”

Summers has received an unprecedented level of attention. Some see his comments as unapologetically sexist. Others, like Ballantyne, see him as a victim of double standards. Personally, I don’t think his speech was a very big deal – it was small fries.

But I do understand the implications and issues raised by his speech. Overall, Summers offered a less-than-politically correct remark and was harshly berated for doing so. But he didn’t intend to offend anybody, and he didn’t wish to spark national controversy.

At the very least, his speech directed attention toward some very important issues, namely, women in the science and technology sector.

I believe that women today still face real barriers in these worlds. As a young girl, I noticed these problems myself, in spite of the fact that I attended a single-sex school from kindergarten to eighth grade. At this school, I learned a lot about what was expected of me.

The majority of the students I studied with preferred history and English – not chemistry. Our only exception to the rule was, perhaps, sexual education. Essentially, the humanities seemed sympathetic and flexible. Science, on the other hand, remained logical, impersonal and dependent upon awkward tools. These were all things we tried to avoid as young women. So, at the end of the day, science was unavoidably masculine.

But of course it wasn’t that simple. Many of my all-female classmates enjoyed our science classes. And many scored very high marks in them. But all too commonly, these students downplayed their scientific abilities, explaining that they were only decent students – nothing exceptional.

There was a general feeling of discomfort in science class. It seemed that science was interesting and fun but just wasn’t expected of us. So we gave very little back in return, only waiting for our photography and sewing electives later into the day.

Nobody told us we were unfit for science. But there was an unwritten understanding that it wasn’t best for us.

This brings me back to my original question: Were we actually unqualified? In one sense, some may claim that we were. As the Harvard president hinted, men and women may have different brains.

According to the Canadian Press, “Women’s brains are more densely packed than men’s in the ‘executive’ portion of the brain, the area responsible for reason, judgment, memory and some emotion.” Women also traditionally have a more-dominant left brain, which has been shown to process information linearly and sequentially.

Meanwhile, men typically employ the right brain, and “test better on spatial tasks, target direct motor skills, spotting shapes embedded in complex diagrams, and mathematical reasoning,” according to the Encyclopedia of Educational Technology. For example, men have been found to be more skilled in rotating an object in their head.

However, these innate differences just aren’t enough. Women are making major strides in science, regardless of which brain hemisphere they supposedly employ, and they are forces to be reckoned with.

In 2003, I started my first year at UCLA. Happily, I found that while some departments, such as engineering, seemed predominantly male, others seemed refreshingly equal. I was pleased to see a plethora of female science and pre-med students.

And as a North Campus loyal, it was great news to hear success stories from my South Campus counterparts, male and female.

Sometimes I wonder what Summers would have to say about them. How “innate” are their inabilities? Usually, I just like to think that they’re all great scientists, regardless of their gender.

So here I am, taking two science classes, and, admittedly, I’m a bit nervous. Sure, I’m a North Campus kid. I wasn’t even a great science student in high school. But the more I think about my worries, the more I understand their socialized roots and meanings.

The truth is I was never encouraged (or discouraged) with respect to science. I was just lightly led to believe that maybe it wasn’t the best for me. I think it’s high time I changed my ways. There’s no reason not to.

Fried is a second-year history student. E-mail her at ifried@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments to viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.