Physicists across the globe are on a quest for a particle that makes up nearly 85 percent of all matter in the universe, yet no one has ever directly detected it. Jessica Fry, a fifth-year physics PhD candidate in the Laboratory for Nuclear Science (LNS), is one such hunter.
Fry grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, not far from the SLAC National Accelerator Laboratory. She began dancing at age 3 and by elementary school was competing nationally. On her office desk sits a photograph of her on stage from one of those early recitals, dressed in a ham costume, arms flung wide open — a reminder, she says, that she doesn’t “half-ass” anything.
That includes her fascination with the sciences: when her high school physics teacher handed her a pair of defunct detectors from SLAC and told her to do something with them, she scrounged up a paper from the 1960s using similar equipment, replicated the experiment, and wrote up the project.
“I was hooked,” she says. “I could answer philosophical questions about how time and space interact with something I could physically touch. That just blew my mind.”
Parallel pursuits
Fry went on to study at Stanford University, where she double majored in physics and theater and performance studies, committed to both.
During her sophomore year, a talent agent she had met through the dance competition circuit called: A Broadway production of David Henry Hwang’s “M. Butterfly” was casting. But for Fry, it was midterm season. She flew cross-country to New York for the audition and immediately returned home in time for exams. Then, a month of deafening silence. Fry, assuming she’d been rejected, secured a summer research position in Switzerland at CERN, the European Laboratory for Particle Physics. Then she got the call: She had been selected for the Broadway show. After finishing her summer research in Geneva, she flew directly to New York to begin rehearsals.
Fry took two years away from Stanford to perform, training vigorously in ballet, contemporary, and jazz dance. She also learned traditional Māori dance, Peking opera-style movement, and stage combat. She says, “All of those skills go toward the central theme of: How do I tell a story in the best possible way?”
But slowly, she noticed something in herself and the people around her. Every couple of months there was another round of auditions, another round of external judgment from strangers with the power to control her future. One “occupational hazard of theater,” Fry explains, “is beginning to trust someone else’s opinion of you more than your own.” She struggled to reconcile her love for dance as an art with what dance as a career was doing to her confidence and sense of self.
“It was turning me into someone I didn’t want to be,” she says. “It took a lot of reflection to recognize that.”
Having hit a crossroads with her dance career, she made the aching decision to return to Stanford to finish her degrees. Shortly after, she applied to graduate programs — MIT among them.
“MIT’s Laboratory for Nuclear Science alone is the size of most other institutions’ entire physics departments,” she notes. “Similar to how, at CERN, there’s just this buzz, this scientific energy. I felt that when I visited MIT.”
Searching for a signal in the dark
Now Fry channels that scientific energy into tackling an enduring phenomenon that has long confounded astrophysicists: dark matter. For nearly a century, scientists have observed that the universe contains far more matter than we can see — that the way galaxies move and form cannot be explained by visible matter alone. Dark matter emits no light and interacts with next to nothing, yet exerts a gravitational pull on almost everything. Fry is searching for what she believes is the field’s best theoretical candidate: the axion.
The axion, should it exist, is ultralight and many orders of magnitude smaller than an electron. At that scale, it behaves less like a discrete particle and more like a coherent wave that permeates the galaxy and clusters gravitationally around matter.
Fry is working on two experiments to detect axions. The first, already operating at MIT, is called ABRACADABRA: A Broadband/Resonant Approach to Cosmic Axion Detection with a Bayesian B-Ring Apparatus. “I had to practice saying that many times my first year,” she grins. The second, which she is currently helping to build at Stanford, her alma mater, is called DMRadio, short for Dark Matter Radio. Both operate on the same principle: In the presence of a strong magnetic field, axions should produce a faint, oscillating electric current.
“Think about two waves in the ocean — when they collide, they create a rip current. We are looking for that rip current,” she says.
The current is amplified through resonance using circuit components and quantum amplifiers. Different axion masses correspond to different frequencies, so the detector is tuned systematically across the full range, much like tuning a car radio. The problem is that even the amplified signal is buried in noise; thermal fluctuations, environmental interference, and other electrical activity all cloud it. Thanks to theorists in the field, Fry knows the shape of what she is looking for, but the axion’s mass and interaction strength remain unknown.
“It’s a hard problem. But it’s a tractable one because the shape of the axion signal is so distinctive. There’s basically nothing else that looks like it,” she says. “It is a fun hunt.”
Tuning in
Fry works with professor of physics Lindley Winslow, who leads the Neutrino and Dark Matter Group within MIT’s LNS. Winslow sees in her advisee a quality she recognizes from her own life.
“We share in our history a turning point, a choice between two great passions and a difference in the direction our lives could have taken,” she says. “Those lives-not-lived continue to shape how we approach our physics . … I see this in her work: a drive to always do it better, a demand for feedback, and then when the curtain rises, the fearlessness to deliver.”
The Neutrino and Dark Matter Group consists of four principal investigators whose collaborative structure Fry describes as one of the best features of the department, one that has pushed her well beyond her own subfield. Outside the lab, in a studio in an old church near Harvard, she still dances. “At the end of a long day of using my brain,” she says, “I love just being in my body.”
Still in the final stretch of her program, Fry has already earned a spot on the Forbes 30 Under 30 Science 2026 list. For now, she is focused on completing the data analysis for DMRadio and seeing the detector to the finish line. What comes next — postdoctoral positions, her own lab group, possibly her own detector — she considers with a clarity she attributes, in part, to having already made a harder decision once before.
“I realized that doing physics is going to make me happy and allow me to make the impact I want to,” she says. “I keep checking in on that. I don’t want to just chase prestige and go to the end of the road because I can. I want to make sure it’s what I want to do.”
She is convinced dark matter will be discovered within her lifetime. She says “when,” not “if.” The detection approach she has spent five years refining is, she thinks, among the most promising ones in the field. “We just need to keep tuning.”
