Inspire the Next Generation of Women in STEM

Dr. Julie Qualter is a trailblazing British scientist, author, and global advocate for women in STEM and female empowerment. From humble beginnings on a council estate in Greater Manchester to earning a PhD in clinical spectroscopy, her story is one of extraordinary resilience and transformation. Now a leader in a global blue-chip corporation, she guides biopharmaceutical companies through complex digital transitions in manufacturing and quality operations.

As Regional Director of Global Woman Club Manchester and a sought-after international speaker, Dr. Qualter is a powerful voice for inclusive leadership. Her acclaimed book, REMOTE CONTROL: The Traditional Model of Leadership is Being Redefined, equips readers to lead with influence beyond titles and hierarchies. Her latest book, “It’s Time to Rise,” offers a raw and practical blueprint for personal transformation, drawing from her journey from council estate to corporate boardroom to provide seven actionable steps for breaking free from limiting beliefs and rewriting your life story.

Through every role she embraces, Dr. Qualter continues to uplift others—proving that true leadership is forged through authenticity, perseverance, and purpose. Whether executives or mentoring young women entering STEM fields, she demonstrates that extraordinary transformation is possible for anyone willing to challenge the narratives that keep them small and step boldly into their potential.

Your journey from leaving school without qualifications to earning a PhD is incredibly inspiring. What motivated you to return to education at 25, and what challenges did you overcome along the way?

At 25, I reached a crossroads that would define the rest of my life. I was trapped in a destructive cycle—surrounded by people who were heading nowhere fast, living for the next party, the next thrill. But I could see where this path led: prison or worse. I wasn’t willing to become another cautionary tale.

What drove me back to education wasn’t just fear—it was fierce determination to become financially independent. I refused to rely on anyone else for my security or future. The problem was, without qualifications or experience, my options felt impossibly narrow.

College became my salvation and my battlefield. Suddenly, I had structure—early mornings replaced late nights, assignments took priority over parties, and most importantly, I found myself surrounded by people who dreamed bigger. These weren’t just classmates; they were dreamers and doers who understood that success requires sacrifice.

The transformation wasn’t just academic—it was personal. For the first time, I had a vision of who I could become. Education didn’t just give me knowledge; it gave me hope, purpose, and proof that I could rewrite my story entirely. That realisation became my driving force through every challenge that followed, all the way to earning my PhD.

Sometimes the most powerful motivation comes from knowing exactly what you’re running from—and having the courage to run toward something infinitely better.

How has your upbringing on a council estate in Greater Manchester shaped your values and influenced your approach to leadership and advocacy?

Growing up on a council estate in Greater Manchester didn’t just shape my values—it forged them in fire. I learned early that your postcode doesn’t determine your potential, but I also witnessed how easily people can become prisoners of their circumstances. For years, I watched neighbours, friends, and even myself fall into the trap of believing that our situation was permanent—that change only happened through luck or government intervention, never through our own power.

That mindset nearly destroyed me. I spent years waiting for someone else to rescue me, for circumstances to magically improve. But council estate life teaches you brutal honesty, and eventually I had to face the truth: no one was coming to save me. The lottery ticket wasn’t going to hit, and government assistance wasn’t going to transform my life. If I wanted change, I had to create it myself.

What people don’t tell you about transformation is that it requires you to commit social suicide. You have to kill off the old version of yourself—your habits, your comfort zones, sometimes even your relationships. The people around you often become your biggest obstacles, not because they’re malicious, but because your growth threatens their excuses. When you start reaching for something better, you hold up a mirror that shows others what they could achieve if they stopped settling.

My council estate upbringing taught me that circumstances are temporary, but the strength you develop overcoming them is permanent. That strength becomes your responsibility—to use it, to share it, and to light the way for others ready to rewrite their stories.

You support biopharmaceutical companies in navigating complex digital transformations. What are the biggest shifts you’re seeing in manufacturing and quality operations today?

The biopharmaceutical industry is experiencing a perfect storm of transformation that’s fundamentally reshaping how we think about manufacturing and quality operations. I’m seeing two seismic shifts that are converging to create both unprecedented opportunities and complex challenges.

First, the technology integration wave is moving beyond simple digitisation to true digital intelligence. We’re witnessing companies abandon decades-old paper-based batch records for fully integrated digital ecosystems where AI and machine learning don’t just collect data—they predict quality issues before they occur. Real-time analytics are replacing the reactive “test and release” mentality with proactive quality assurance. 

Simultaneously, regulatory evolution is accelerating at breakneck speed. Agencies like the FDA and EMA aren’t just accepting digital submissions—they’re demanding them. We’re seeing a fundamental shift toward continuous manufacturing models that require entirely new validation paradigms. The traditional “submit and wait” approach is giving way to dynamic, data-rich, release by exception model. Companies that master digital compliance aren’t just meeting requirements—they’re gaining competitive advantages through faster approvals and reduced time-to-market..

The organisations that master this convergence won’t just survive the transformation—they’ll define the future of pharmaceutical manufacturing.

With your background in science, how do you bring scientific thinking into corporate strategy and decision-making?

Science taught me that uncertainty isn’t the enemy—it’s the birthplace of breakthrough innovation. In the lab, you’re constantly venturing into uncharted territory where failure isn’t just possible, it’s inevitable. That’s where I think corporate strategies get it wrong: they treat failure as a liability instead of intelligence.

My scientific background fundamentally rewired how I approach business decisions. In the lab, you’re analysing the unknown—you don’t have the luxury of certainty before you act. You form hypotheses, test rapidly, and pivot based on data, not ego. This translates directly to corporate strategy: instead of endless planning committees trying to predict the unpredictable, I push people to run controlled experiments and let the results guide our next move.

The risk tolerance I developed in research is my secret weapon in boardrooms. While others are paralysed by the possibility of failure, I’m energised by it. Every failed experiment in the lab taught me something valuable—a pathway that doesn’t work is just as valuable as finding one that does. In business, this means I’m comfortable making bold strategic bets while others are still debating hypotheticals.

Here’s what most executives miss: the people who change industries aren’t the ones who get everything right the first time—they’re the ones who fail fast, learn faster, and iterate their way to breakthrough solutions. Some of the most transformative leaders I know have spectacular failure stories that directly led to their greatest successes.

In a world where businesses are drowning in data but starving for insight, thinking like a scientist isn’t just an advantage—it’s essential for survival.

Your book REMOTE CONTROL explores leading without formal authority. What are the most important skills needed to lead in today’s digital, decentralized world?

Leading in today’s digital, decentralised world requires a complete reimagining of what leadership actually means. The command-and-control playbook that worked in traditional office environments doesn’t just fail in remote settings—it actively destroys trust and performance.

Authenticity becomes your cornerstone because digital communication strips away many of the subtle cues we rely on in person. When you’re leading through screens, people can sense inauthenticity immediately. There’s nowhere to hide behind office politics or physical presence. Your character, consistency, and genuine care for your team become the foundation of your influence. People follow authentic leaders not because they have to, but because they want to.

Emotional and cultural intelligence aren’t just nice-to-have skills anymore—they’re survival tools. In a globalised, matrix-structured world, you’re often leading people across time zones, cultures, and reporting lines. Understanding how different cultures communicate, make decisions, and build trust is critical. You need to read between the lines of written communication, recognise when someone is struggling without explicitly saying so, and adapt your leadership style to what each individual needs to succeed.

How can leaders maintain authenticity and influence in remote or hybrid environments where traditional hierarchies are shifting?

The collapse of traditional hierarchies in remote and hybrid environments has created both a crisis and an unprecedented opportunity for leaders. Those clinging to positional power are discovering that their influence evaporates the moment people log off, while leaders who understand the new dynamics are building deeper, more sustainable influence than ever before.

Authenticity in digital spaces requires radical transparency about your own struggles and uncertainties. When you’re leading through a screen, pretending to have all the answers feels performative and hollow. The leaders thriving in this environment are the ones brave enough to say “I don’t know” in team meetings, to admit when they’re overwhelmed, and to show their human side. This vulnerability doesn’t undermine authority—it builds trust at a fundamental level because people know they’re working with a real person, not a corporate persona.

But authenticity without competence is just likability. You must combine genuine human connection with demonstrable value. This means becoming obsessed with removing obstacles for your team, amplifying their successes, and making their jobs easier rather than harder. Your influence grows when people realise that working with you makes them more successful, more visible, and more fulfilled.

As a champion for women in STEM, what key barriers still exist, and what can organisations do to create truly inclusive pathways for women?

The barriers facing women in STEM today are more sophisticated and insidious than the overt discrimination of previous generations. We’ve moved beyond the days when women were explicitly told they don’t belong in science, but we’ve replaced obvious barriers with subtle systemic ones that are arguably more damaging because they’re harder to identify and address.

The most persistent barrier I encounter is what I call ‘competence taxation’—women having to prove their expertise repeatedly in ways their male colleagues never experience. A woman with a PhD in biochemistry still finds herself explaining basic concepts to male peers who assume she’s less knowledgeable. This constant need to validate competence is exhausting and diverts energy from actual innovation and leadership.

Then there’s the penalty women face for advocating for themselves or others. When women negotiate for resources, challenge ideas, or push for change, they’re often labelled as difficult or aggressive—behaviours that would be praised as leadership in men. This creates an impossible double bind: stay quiet and remain invisible, or speak up and face backlash.

Most importantly, inclusion requires uncomfortable conversations about unconscious bias and systemic advantages. It means acknowledging that ‘meritocracy’ isn’t neutral when the playing field isn’t level. True inclusion happens when organisations actively work to level that field, not just open the gates and hope for the best.

The goal isn’t just getting more women into STEM—it’s creating environments where their unique perspectives and approaches are valued, where they can lead authentically, and where the next generation of girls sees science as a place where they truly belong.

What impact has mentorship—both giving and receiving—had on your journey, and why is it essential for women in male-dominated industries?

In male-dominated industries, mentorship becomes a survival tool for women because we face unique challenges that others may not recognise or understand. We need guidance on navigating the subtle biases, the confidence gaps imposed by socialisation, and the isolation that comes from being perpetually ‘the only one in the room.’ We need mentors who can help us translate our authentic selves into professional success without losing our identity.

The most transformative mentorship I received wasn’t about technical skills—it was about permission. Permission to take up space, to ask questions, to disagree with established thinking. One mentor told me something that changed everything: ‘Your different perspective isn’t a deficit to overcome—it’s an advantage to leverage.’ That single conversation shifted how I saw my background from a source of shame to a source of strength.

But receiving mentorship also revealed something crucial: how much knowledge is transferred through informal networks that women, particularly women from non-traditional backgrounds, are often excluded from. I learned that career advancement happens in conversations over coffee, in hallway discussions, in the casual exchanges that build real relationships. My mentors didn’t just share their expertise—they opened doors to networks I never would have accessed alone.

Now, as a mentor myself, I’ve discovered that giving mentorship is equally transformative. Every woman I mentor teaches me something new about resilience, innovation, and perspective. They challenge my assumptions, bring fresh approaches to complex problems, and remind me why diversity of thought isn’t just morally right—it’s strategically essential.

But here’s what’s often overlooked: women need multiple types of mentors. We need the senior leader who opens doors, the peer who understands current challenges, and the junior person who brings fresh energy and reminds us why we’re fighting for change. The most successful women I know have built mentorship ecosystems, not just single mentor relationships.

In your role as Regional Director of Global Woman Club Manchester, how are you helping women connect, grow, and lead on a global scale?

When I accepted the role of Regional Director for Global Woman Club Manchester, I knew I wasn’t just organising networking events—I was creating a launching pad for women’s global ambitions. Manchester has an incredible concentration of talented, driven women, but too many are operating in isolation, unaware of the international opportunities within their reach.

My approach centers on transforming local connections into global influence. Rather than traditional networking that focuses on exchanging business cards, I’m building a community where women actively invest in each other’s success. We’re creating a ‘strategic sisterhood’—relationships built on mutual advancement, shared opportunities, and collective problem-solving across industries and continents.

We’re also addressing the confidence gap that often holds women back from thinking globally. Through our ‘How to Build a Global Brand’ masterclasses, we help women recognise that their Manchester-based expertise has international relevance. Whether it’s a service, a product, or personal branding, we’re showing women how to position their local achievements as global competitive advantages.

The impact is already visible: Manchester women in our network are securing new client and contracts, launching new products and services, and becoming the go-to experts in their fields worldwide. But our real success isn’t measured in individual achievements—it’s in the ecosystem we’re creating where women’s success becomes self-reinforcing and globally scalable.

We’re not just connecting women—we’re building the infrastructure for the next generation of global female leaders, with Manchester as their launching point to the world.

In your new book – Time to Rise: 7 Steps to Breaking Barriers & Transforming Your Life, you write candidly about growing up in an environment where limitation was the norm and possibility felt out of reach. What was the moment—or series of moments—that sparked your decision to reject that narrative and start rewriting your story?

There wasn’t one dramatic lightning-bolt moment, it was more like a series of sparks that eventually ignited into an unstoppable fire. But if I had to pinpoint the turning point, it was standing outside Tameside College at 25, terrified and completely out of options.

I’d hit absolute rock bottom. I was broke, surrounded by dangerous people, and had the sickening realisation that I was on a one-way path to an early grave. In that moment of pure desperation, I had two choices: walk away and accept the life everyone expected me to have, or walk through those college doors and bet everything on the possibility that I could become someone different.

What made me choose the door wasn’t courage, it was fear. I was more terrified of staying the same than I was of failing at something new. When I said “I want to be a nurse” to the woman at reception, I was essentially declaring war on every limiting belief I’d ever absorbed about what was possible for “people like me.”

But the real transformation began earlier, in smaller moments of rebellion. Like walking past those big houses on my way to school as a child, refusing to accept that they weren’t for me. Or the day my teacher told me I’d never study science at university, the shame I felt was so intense that it planted a seed of defiance. Every time someone said “not for people like us” or “don’t get ideas above your station,” part of me whispered back: “Watch me.”

The truth is, I’d been collecting evidence against their narrative my entire life. I just needed to reach the point where believing in myself became less frightening than accepting their limitations. That moment outside the college was when the scales finally tipped,when my desperation to live became stronger than my fear of failing.

Time to Rise, outlines seven actionable steps for transformation, but before the steps, you offer something rare—permission. Why do you think so many people need to be ‘given’ permission to rise, and how can they begin to give that permission to themselves?

Permission is everything, and it’s the invisible barrier that keeps more people trapped than lack of money, education, or opportunity ever could. Growing up, I absorbed thousands of subtle and not-so-subtle messages about my place in the world. “People like you don’t go to university.” “You’re getting too big for your boots.” These weren’t just casual comments, they were programming that installed mental governors on what I was allowed to dream, attempt, or become.

Most people are walking around with similar programming, often from the people who were supposed to love and support them most. Parents, teachers, peers, and entire communities can unconsciously become agents of limitation, keeping others small to make themselves feel better about their own unrealised potential. When someone from your background starts rising, it forces uncomfortable questions: “If she can do it, why haven’t I? What does her success say about my choices?”

I think people need permission because they’ve been conditioned to believe that transformation is somehow selfish or disloyal, that by outgrowing their circumstances, they’re betraying their roots or abandoning their people. I certainly felt this. Every step forward felt like a step away from where I belonged, even though where I “belonged” was slowly killing me.

The permission I’m offering in this book is simple but radical: You are allowed to want more. You are allowed to become more. You are allowed to reject the limitations others have placed on you, even if those people love you. You are allowed to disappoint people in service of your own growth.

To begin giving themselves permission, people need to start small and build evidence. Choose one limiting belief and act against it, just once. Apply for that course you think you’re not smart enough for. Have that difficult conversation you’ve been avoiding. Set a boundary with someone who drains your energy. Each small act of defiance against limitation builds the muscle of self-permission.

Most importantly, they need to understand that waiting for others to validate their dreams is like waiting for someone else to give you permission to breathe. Your life is happening now. Your potential is real now. You don’t need anyone’s signature on your permission slip to rise, you just need the courage to stop asking for it.

What legacy do you hope to leave behind through your work in science, leadership, and women’s empowerment?

I don’t want to be remembered as the exception—I want to be remembered as the person who made exceptions the norm.

When I look at my journey from a council estate to earning a PhD, from surviving destructive cycles to leading global transformations, I see more than personal triumph. I see proof that the barriers we accept as permanent are actually just poorly designed systems waiting to be dismantled. My legacy isn’t about what I achieved despite my circumstances—it’s about how I used those circumstances to build pathways that didn’t exist before.

In science, I want to leave behind a fundamental shift in how we think about expertise and innovation. For too long, scientific discovery has been dominated by voices from similar backgrounds, similar educations, similar perspectives. My work in bioprocessing and digital transformation proves that breakthrough thinking often comes from the margins—from people who see problems differently because they’ve lived different realities. I want to embed this understanding so deeply in scientific culture that diversity becomes synonymous with excellence, not just fairness.

But my real legacy lies in the women who will never have to fight the battles I fought. Every time I mentor a young woman who takes her place in a boardroom without questioning whether she belongs there, every time a girl from a disadvantaged background sees science as a natural career path, every time a woman leads authentically without apologising for her style—that’s my legacy multiplying exponentially.

Through Global Woman Club and my leadership work, I’m building systemic mentorship structures that will continue empowering women long after I’m gone. It’s not enough to open doors for individual women; I want to redesign the buildings, so the doors stay open. I want to create networks so robust that no woman ever has to navigate male-dominated industries alone again.

Most importantly, I want to leave behind a new narrative about what’s possible. I want my story to be one of thousands that prove talent isn’t distributed according to privilege, that breakthrough thinking comes from unexpected places, and that the most powerful change happens when we invest in people others have written off.

Twenty years from now, I want a young woman from a council estate to read about my journey and think not ‘That’s inspiring’ but ‘That’s normal.’ I want her to see a path where her background is an asset, where her different perspective is valued, where her success is expected rather than exceptional.

That’s the legacy I’m building—a world where extraordinary achievements by women from all backgrounds become beautifully ordinary, where the pipeline isn’t just full but overflowing, and where the next generation stands on the infrastructure we built rather than the barriers we had to break.

Because the real revolution isn’t about individual success—it’s about making success accessible, sustainable, and inevitable for every woman who has the audacity to dream beyond her circumstances.