Fereshteh Bunk

A newly teenaged me in Surf City USA, Huntington Beach, California.

In “Narnia,” Southern California, at age 9.

As a teenager, I thought our planet was doomed. Hurricanes were becoming more frequent. The polar ice caps were melting, causing sea levels to rise. Whole ecosystems were dying. We were driving our gas-powered cars through urban sprawl, without any hope of survival, oblivious to the destruction all around us, caring only about our next paycheck.

I was raised Catholic, attending a Franciscan school and parish. The Franciscan sect follows the teachings of St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals, who taught us the importance of stewarding our planet and protecting the living beings with whom we share it. One of our parish priests used to go surfing before Mass and would bless the waves every Sunday morning. 

Starting my Cal Poly physics career.

I grew up in Surf City USA, Huntington Beach, California. I loved roaming the wetlands and estuaries, pretending I was in the mystical lands of Narnia. Our community had regular beach clean-ups, and my mother and I would always recycle. I knew I wanted to help our planet but I had no idea how. I became interested in astrophysics. Maybe, just maybe, colonizing space would offer humanity one last chance to survive.

At Cal Poly SLO, my introductory electricity and magnetism professor was the first person to tell me that physicists could work in the clean energy sector. I was ecstatic. With my physics degree, I could do something to help our planet NOW. 

An elective course in the physics of energy introduced me to the scientific principles behind energy production, the energy infrastructure in California, and the carbon emissions from fossil fuels. The professor taught us about “marginal electricity,” or the electricity generated in order to meet an increase in demand. Ideally, we rely only on baseload electricity; however, when demand is too high, baseload electricity is not enough, and the grid draws on marginal electricity. California’s baseload is a mix of solar and nuclear, while its marginal electricity is natural gas. This means that charging your Tesla at peak grid pull will likely draw on natural gas instead of solar and nuclear.

One of the pro-nuclear arguments that resonated with me the most was the contrast between the death toll of nuclear energy and the death toll of coal. The difference in scale was shocking. From 1999 to 2020 alone, coal power plants in the US were responsible for roughly half a million deaths. Nuclear remains one of the safest forms of power production we have. 

12-volt battery made from recycled laptop batteries.

For my summer research project, I joined a team recycling lithium ion batteries. With the transition to renewables and the growth of electric vehicle development, lithium battery production continues to boom. Yet the mining practices for the raw materials necessary to produce lithium batteries are horrific—they rely on child and slave labor and deplete precious metal resources at an unsustainable rate. In the US, there was only one company attempting to recycle lithium batteries on a large scale. 

I minored in Indigenous studies of natural resources and the environment and took elective courses in environmental law, climate and humanity, and California plant ecology in order to better understand how burning fossil fuels impacts our environment. The professor of my environmental management class gave one of the most positive and detailed lectures I had on nuclear power. 

I also had a class on ethnicity and the land with a professor who was a member of the local Yak Titʸu Titʸu Yak Tiłhini Northern Chumash Tribe whose ancestral lands host the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant (DCNPP). Their Tribal Chair, Mona Olivas Tucker, and the Vice President of the YTT Northern Chumash Nonprofit, Wendy Lucas, visited our class to tell us about their land back efforts. When I asked them what they thought of DCNPP being on their ancestral lands, I was surprised and impressed to learn that they saw it as a moot point. DCNPP does a wonderful job stewarding the land around the plant. The power plant isn’t the problem—tribal land should simply belong to the tribe whenever possible.

My term paper focused on the complex relationship between US energy development and Indigenous peoples. The history is terrible, fraught with abuse, exploitation, and betrayal. The Rural Electrification Act of 1936 actively excluded Native peoples and lands, resulting in lasting inequities. However, there are examples of successful energy projects involving Indigenous peoples, such as community solar in New Orleans. Success seems more possible when underserved communities are involved, prioritized their needs. 

With graduation approaching, I applied for jobs with the US Department of Energy. I interviewed with an engineering company that had contracted with Diablo. I picked up informational flyers about working as a nuclear operator, a pretty well-paying hourly position. California’s only operational nuclear power plant, providing 15% of our clean electricity, was 20 minutes from my house. I wanted to be a part of this.

Then my mom’s health deteriorated. I delayed my graduation and job search to make biweekly trips to southern California to visit my mother in the hospital and help pay her bills. 

Doctor Jennifer Klay and me at graduation.

Later, as I finished my final papers, my faculty advisor, Doctor Jennifer Klay (also the chair of the physics department), approached me with an incredible opportunity. She had just joined the board of Mothers for Nuclear. Mothers For Nuclear was working on a US Department of Energy grant with the Tribal Consent-Based Coalition and the nuclear engineering department at North Carolina State University. The grant was for collaboration-based siting, which was re-centering community engagement and decision-making in the used nuclear fuel conversation. Mothers for Nuclear were looking for a part-time hire, and Doctor Klay thought that my unique perspective might make me a good fit.

I met Heather Hoff, co-founder of Mothers for Nuclear, at a meeting to start a NICE (Nuclear is Clean Energy) Club on the Cal Poly campus. I loved how Mothers for Nuclear brought such a compassionate voice to nuclear energy advocacy.

Showing off my Women In Physics Inclusion Award for fostering a welcoming environment in the physics department.

Identifying the invasive ice plant as a new graduate.

In the spring of 2024, I graduated and walked—with my mother well enough to attend. I began the job search once again and was hired by Mothers for Nuclear later that year. 

From everything I’ve learned so far, nuclear seems to be the best way to transition away from fossil fuels and the pollution they cause. As our world develops around us, we need to support existing nuclear power plants and build new ones. 

I have always wanted to make a difference in this world. With Mothers for Nuclear, I can. I look forward to what we will accomplish.

“My Nuclear Romance”": Mothers for Nuclear Paint and Sip.

My final artwork, later displayed at Beautiful Nuclear at SXSW.