Vickie Rozell

Director/Dramaturg, Author, Editor

Mathematicians have many ways of characterizing their quest to decipher mathematical patterns. They are archaeologists on a dig, mountaineers scaling the tallest mountains, and cowboys surveying the last frontier. However, to many non-mathematicians, the popular image of a mathematician is one of a lone, eccentric nerd, with glasses and calculator, scribbling numbers on a chalkboard. The gender of this mathematician is often assumed to be male, even by members of the math community, and with good reason. There is a history of male dominance of mathematical sciences, with women not only not being encouraged beyond a perfunctory level, but being actively discouraged.

Until the 20 century, the annals of mathematics were populated almost entirely by men. Women were expected to care for home and family and many believed women were incapable of doing serious mathematics. Universities reinforced these negative attitudes by denying women access to formal education.

Despite these impediments there were a few female success stories. In the 18 century, French mathematician Sophie Germain contributed greatly to the field of number theory and the study of elasticity. As a child, however, her parents took away her nightclothes, candles and fire to dissuade her from studying in the middle of the night. Undeterred, Sophie studied, wrapped in her quilt, calculating by the light of stolen candles. Her parents eventually relented and allowed her to study, but she was never allowed into the university lecture hall and submitted her papers under a male pseudonym.

Fortunately, many barriers have disappeared from contemporary mathematics. More women are active in math today than ever before, and studies show that women are graduating with undergraduate degrees at the same rate as men. Subtle negative attitudes still persist, however, in the form of ingrained stereotypes. As children, girls may be told it is not in their “nature” to pursue math, even if they shine. At the college level, women may be told that there is no room in one’s life for both math and a family.

Women who pursue math at the graduate level and beyond continue to encounter roadblocks. In her book, Women in Mathematics: The Addition of Difference, Claudia Henrion notes that many women mathematicians talk about feeling “guilty until proven innocent,” meaning they are judged first as women and then as mathematicians, in spite of their accomplishments. Henrion continues, saying, “Faculty members may resist working with women graduate students, assuming they will have babies and drop out; some have difficulty seeing them as anything other than high school teachers; and still others have difficulty seeing them as anything other than sexual beings.” As a result, women mathematicians often feel alone in the professional world, having few true peers and fewer role models.

Despite the difficulties women face, their numbers are rising, underlying assumptions are being confronted, and women are contributing their own metaphors to the mathematical lexicon. Judy Roitman compares her work to that of a deep-sea diver, “diving into an endless sea, and being constantly delighted by the beautiful discoveries that lie below the surface.”

Perhaps, ultimately, math is inherently a metaphorical journey, owned by neither gender but wondrous to both. “It’s like entering a darkened mansion,” says Andrew Wiles, solver of Fermat’s Last Theorem, describing the mathematical process. “You enter a room, and you stumble months, even years, bumping into the furniture. Slowly you learn where all the pieces of furniture are, and you’re looking for the light switch. You get to know where all the furniture is, and finally you find the light switch. You turn it on, and the whole room is illuminated.”

© Vickie Rozell, All Rights Reserved

Reproduction only with permission