The GD T cell conference experience

First, and before I forget to tell you - give yourself the greatest gift of science and try to attend at least one Gamma Delta T cell conference before you give up on science. The amount of joy this cell type and the interactions with people working on these cells/ this field has brought me -is simply indescribable.

The biennial International Gamma Delta (γδ) T Cell Conference brings together scientists from around the world to share cutting-edge discoveries about γδ T cells—a unique and versatile group of immune cells involved in infection control, cancer surveillance, and inflammation regulation. This meeting fosters collaboration and innovation, advancing both fundamental knowledge and translational strategies to improve human health.

Held every two years, the conference traditionally alternates between Europe and the Americas, with occasional meetings in Asia. The most recent event—the 11th International γδ T Cell Conference—took place in Toronto from May 20–23, 2025, drawing approximately 350 attendees from academia and industry. While most participants came from the U.S., Canada, and Germany, there was strong representation from across the U.K., Europe, Asia, and the Pacific. Organized by JC Zuniga-Pflucker, with support from Michele Anderson, Maria Ciofani, and a dedicated local organizing team (myself included), the Toronto meeting was one of the most memorable to date.

This marked my fourth time attending a γδ T cell conference (three in-person, one virtual), with the 2014 meeting in Chicago being my first. I vividly remember being surrounded by 300 people who worked on these fascinating cells—who were genuinely excited about posters and eager to talk science with trainees. I’ll never forget nervously approaching Karine Serre and Julie Ribot (then in Bruno’s lab) to rave about their work, and how patient and generous they were in response. Of all the meetings so far, the 2016 London conference had the deepest impact on me: I gave a short talk in the first session after Adrian’s opening seminar and, although my talk was only okay, the experience made me feel seen and connected to the community. I made many new science friends there—connections I still cherish today.

But Toronto? Toronto wins by a landslide. For so many reasons. First, I had massive FOMO from missing the Portugal 2023 meeting—something I may never fully recover from—so I arrived in Toronto with two years’ worth of bottled-up enthusiasm. Second, this was my first time contributing as a local organizer—helping with abstract reviews, judging assignments, and more—which gave me the chance to "sit at the grown-up table" and feel a deeper sense of belonging in the community.

Silly as it may sound, I often think of myself as having two brains: the γδ brain and the macrophage brain. This compartmentalization has been my secret to multitasking, and it's helped shape who I am as a scientist. During my postdoc, my γδ brain has been the “vacation brain”—a place I return to for energy, inspiration and joy. While the most shocking thing about my co-running of the GDTCellclub has been that I don’t “actually work on GDT cells” - in truth, I never fully left the field. Considering that my final GDT cell PhD paper came out in 2022, and I started the launch of the #GDTcellclub in 2021 - it has been a continuous stream of consciousness for me. And, what an incredible joy it has been to have founded the #GDTcellclub for it has helped me stay connected to the latest literature and gave me a platform to uplift both emerging and established voices. It’s kept me engaged, curious, and balanced for a long time. It has been and will always be my academic homeostasis.

Being at the Toronto meeting felt like coming home for summer break—reuniting with the scientists I looked up to as a grad student and seeing their excitement for the next generation. There’s something deeply joyful about watching scientists in their element, rooting for their trainees, and celebrating the success of colleagues—even friendly competitors. It’s one of the most beautiful aspects of academia: learning how to be fiercely proud of others’ growth.

One thing we learned about the γδ T cell field in Toronto is that… there is no unifying theory. But perhaps the unifying force is that we’re all here, giving it everything we’ve got, trying to make a difference. Erin Adams delivered a remarkable keynote on ligand recognition, revealing that around 20% of γδ T cells may rely on MHC presentation—a major conceptual leap. Bruno Silva-Santos gave a masterful summary of 30 years of research, spanning development, infection, cancer, and therapy, and he showed just how much frontier remains to be explored. On the final day, as I looked around the packed lecture hall, I sensed a collective, quiet determination—everyone holding on tightly to a feeling of hope, knowing that after we all dispersed, we’d have to find our own ways to motivate ourselves. To nurture that inner science child, the one who still thrills at discovering something new. Again and again.

My most favorite thing about the meeting was to see friends. Old friends, new friends, and those who will likely become my life long friends. I learned that everyone is slightly panicked.. slightly hopeful and somewhat unclear about what the future (next 2 years until next meeting) will look like. Whether it was a graduate student or a postdoc fellow beginning their journey.. or those who were finishing up. Whether it was someone who had transitioned into industry or had been there for far too long. This feeling of uncertainty was global and constant. It is comforting, in it’s own way, to think that if enough intellectuals choose to feel panicked about something - they will figure out a way to get us out of this mess as well.

So, I left Toronto being inspired, energized and jolted with so much hope. Not just my future but for the future of science as a whole. Even if the paths look flinty at times. Even if those paths repeatedly lead us to a bar with Estonian musicians who dazzle us with hour long songs. Even if we never can find a place to go dancing or karaoke in the rainy Toronto. Even if it means that you have to hunt 10 different coffee places to find the best cup of cap. And, especially if it means that we have to watch our European friends suffer through “not so great” North American beers.. night after night… just to hang out to share life, science and everything that threads them together. Even still.. we forge ahead!

So, until Poland 2027.. we will dance with the ghosts of these incredible memories from Toronto. Perhaps with a bruised soul at times.. maybe even w/ blistered feet at other times. But, dance, we will!

...the end of 2023

…we’ve come to an end of 2023, and what a year it has been!

One of my favorite things to do at the end of each year, especially in the week between Christmas and New Years is to look through the January pages of my lab notebook from that year.

I’ve been doing this subconsciously for years and while I’ve told myself the reasons were different each year. It is mostly to access the feeling of excitement, hope and “new beginnings” felt at the top of each year. One good thing about this exercise is that it relieves you from measuring yourself against traditional metrics of academic success.. such as published papers, acquired funding from grants and fellowships, citations, conference talks/presentations, invited talks, etc. Instead, it gives you a way to time-travel and access your unique creative process and measure the level of maturity of intellect that you nurture through the year from curiosity to bench.


One of the things I am most grateful for is the privilege to be an immunologist. I am not sure exactly when it all started for me, but this 18+ year journey of being an immunologist happened so organically and was never quite formalized. I remember the early days of being a technician at Sloan and just wondering what flow cytometry was all about. The ability to visualize specific markers on a cell seemed crazy and cool. Looking at cancer cells under the scope and seeing how they changed shape from a circular cell to a dendritic adhered cell on a tissue culture flask plastic.. it felt like magic. As I wrap up a couple of manuscripts for my postdoc and get ready to submit, I know it will be the end of the “training" phase of my academic career.


This week, I look back to all the late evenings of 2023, when I spend hours just staring at a piece of recent data on my second monitor. With the music in the background, view of east river outside my window.. sometimes the sanguine sunset, and sometimes the incandescent moon to join the party. Sometimes a cup of coffee and a piece of dark chocolate. But, almost ALWAYS, a version of..


“could it be?”
”shouldn’t it be?”
”Maybe it means…”
”that makes no sense! does it?”
”what was different this time?”
”I gotta repeat this!”
…and my personal favorite,

”THIS is f’ing awesome! I knew it!!!”

all of these little likely-nothings have made for some incredible and fundamental discoveries that I have (personally) made about basic lung immunology this year. As I give finishing touches to my manuscripts, I'm energized by these memories. Whether or not it will be published sooner or later will not change the level of satisfaction of figuring out some gaps. I know that it seems infantile to even articulate this, as most of us weather the highs and lows of bench science on a daily basis. But, no matter how many rejections and failures of academia we endure.. the half-life of those handful of successes in our career carry us through the decades and feed to our myopia.

So, as I wrap-up this annual reflection.. I raise my glass to all the incredible failures that are coming my way in 2024, with a promise to teach me ways to do a better, important and the most fantastic science.


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..the last harvest of 2022

It is almost the end of 2022, and I am officially done with all the bench work for the year. It has been an excruciatingly (well, seemingly) long year filled with gut-wrenching trials and trepidations in science. And as I look back to remember what I have accomplished, there have been many highs and some lows. The one thing that has been consistent throughout the year, is not taking science for granted. I have always leaned very heavily on science to find comfort and excitement, not always joy :). Looking back, I have endured a lot more physical and mental pain this year than any other. Here’s a summary of what it’s been like.

first, the highs..

memory, and protecting

Everything about memory (both immune and otherwise) is fascinating for me. The complexity with which it is procured, nurtured or coerced, enlisted and arsenalized (yep, I just made that word up) over and over ..throughout our life is truly unbelievable. I think about this concept constantly, seamlessly, tirelessly and joyously. And, I don’t just mean ..when thinking about work.. especially, off work..when I am talking to my loved ones, friends, colleagues, while watching tv, etc. So, that’s my thing. Memory. And, this year, I’ve had the privilege to think more freely about it.. than ever before. I was able to systematically gather (experimental) evidence on something I feel absolutely and intoxicatedly passionate about.. immune memory. This work has been a long time coming and will soon be available for the world to see.

Working w/ my team.

I’ve had the unbelievable honor and pleasure to work on some of the most complex aspects of science with my colleagues and mentor this year. Esp formative experience, was working on grants with my mentor. But, the process of articulating hypotheses and caveats to them, as rewarding and exciting, has instilled the realization that.. as scientists, we stand on some heavy shoulders (predecessors of discoveries) and no creative process occurs in vacuum, that thinking and writing are muscles that we develop all through our life and need to be exercised continuously.

collaborations

I part-took in a fantastic long-term highly collaborative project led by some incredible minds at NYU, Rutgers, Princeton and NIH..and it has been a formative experience for me as an immunologist. This has been exciting and grueling all the same. But, it has also made me a much better scientist and prepared me to think broadly about translational work, moving forward.

the obvious rewards

I’ve been incredibly lucky to have received a few significant research awards (ongoing F32, followed by Vilcek) that have felt like that protein bar and a glass of water..at the end of a 10mile run. There are too many reasons why this was no surprise, but many of how it just as well couldn’t have.

the γδ T cell club webinar series

I have no idea how we pulled it off, but we were able to materialize a 10-y long fantasy of finding a place to hang out with the greatest immunology minds across the globe, that specialize in the research of γδ T cells. This has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my career.

The lows..

disbelief can no longer be suspended

There are so many incredible things about science and academia. The open-ness, the permission to be wrong (rather rewarding the failures), the flexibility of being meticulous and haphazard in the same vein.. the blurring of hierarchy to work on something bigger. But, then there are the problems. The inability to adequately reward the intellectual and physical work in a monetary way. The fact that it takes so long to formalize a simple biological query into a testable hypothesis, nurture it with evidence that contextualizes the very fabric of that hypothesis and the uphill battle of getting the world to see it published. And, we’ve lost sight of the fact that.. ultimately, the bigger reason is for the world to learn from it and apply it to their own niches and continue the cycle forward.

so that’s really it for lows.. the cumbersome aspects of being a postdoc and the fact that this shall continue into the future of a faculty position, not so cheery.

Each year, this week, I kick myself for having set up an experiment that requires me to do serious bench work when I am losing steam and in dire need of a reset before the new year. I know this, because while looking through my phone .. I noticed that I have pictures of a semi-huge harvest (DM me if you do not know what this means) obvious from pictures of pathology, calculations, etc of this week, each year. It seems that I have always had experiment between Christmas and New years.. at least as far back as last 10 years, and likely even before.

And, as I wrap up the remnants of my last harvest of the year, I am filled with joy and exhaustion from the incredible year I’ve had and all the amazing things that will follow in 2023. All the incredible connections I’ve made ..both over Twitter/LinkedIN and IRL. All the wonderful conversations I’ve had about the fundamental/paradigms of immunology and so on and so forth. So, really, it isn’t “the last harvest”, but it is one more harvest, to instill the infantile joy of being an immunologist and having the privilege to challenge the paradigms and be granted failures and rise, over and over again.

/end of rant.