Math is Ugly : Why Girls Like Me Are Driven from Maths and Sciences                                                                                                Lucy Merriman

 

Everyone knows there aren’t enough girls in math and science careers; there are whole campaigns constructed on getting girls to get involved, primarily by convincing them that math and science can be pink and used in cosmetics. I’m not sure exactly why this is a crisis; would the world really break down from a sudden lack of mathematicians with vaginas? Well, maybe. After all, where would NASA be without Katherine Johnson? And how much less would we understand the complexities of universal algebra without Evelyn Nelson’s elegant theories? Still, the crisis stands; there are not enough women in math and science.

Perhaps this elegance is key. Math is a beautiful, complex structure, ordering the universe into shapes and patterns even as it’s falling apart. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved exploring it, especially for its own sake. To discover its richness, how apparent intricacies give way to simplicities and parallels, I would poke and prod around inside equations and logic problems until I could fit them in.

For instance, last year I was hanging out at Steak n’ Shake with a bunch of friends, and the subject turned, as 2 AM conversations often do, to a contest of daring and wits. After downing jalapenos and shot-sized gulps of Sriracha, a Physics major guy in a bowler hat claimed he could solve any math question brought before him. There were the typical brain-teasers and word-problems-disguised-as-penis-jokes, (although, strangely, not the other way around), until I asked something I’d always wanted to know:

“Why does x^0 = 1? Like, I know it does, but why?”

The answer was interesting. And, because I’m a terrible tease, I’m not telling you what it is yet.

Believe it or not, I’d asked this question before of more than one high school math teacher, and their answers were always dismissive. It was not, I suspect, a conscious act of sexism on their parts; on the contrary, many of my math teachers were women. Instead, I’d guess that I myself, being a woman, have been socialized to think in terms of systems.

Being of the “fairer sex,” empathy and an interest in the beauty of things were reinforced by plenty of people in my life; for instance, I would be complemented for cuteness, for having dimples and treating people kindly, and criticized by my peers if I dismissed aesthetics, as was the case during my five-year love affair with a pair of oversized overalls. Weirdly, this prettiness pressure led to a desire to find beauty in anything I could, from giant front pockets (best part of overalls!), to the artwork of Storm Thorgeson as it meshed with the chaotic sounds of The Mars Volta, to any cohesive understanding of how things fit together. I became particularly enamored with surrealism and strangeness, how odd, conflicting images fused together in elegant, dreamlike paintings and music. I wanted to understand the weirdness. Understanding, after all, begets beauty.

It is also a facet of empathy, something more encouraged in girls than boys at that age. You can see it when girls are given dolls, and boys are given basketballs. One is to nurture, one is to compete with. Ostensibly, at any rate. I mean, most of my dolls fought Transformers and raced the Barbie jeep over cliffs, so it’s hard to say how ingrained the socialization is.

The socialization, of course, still sinks in, especially when it came to how I approached my education. However, this type of systemic understanding, a sort of wanting to explore math in a way that felt intuitive, was discouraged in the classroom. Instead, the emphasis was on the rote memorization of formulas and principles, something that, while doable, drove the fun and beauty out of the experience for me. It was bland, rigid and sharp, rather than a natural, organic experience.

At the same time, I realized that there were subjects where that sort of thinking was valued. English classes became my zone, a place where understanding a novel holistically and then breaking down each part was the main way of doing things. Appreciating the beauty of a text was not only encouraged, but celebrated.

Sociology, too, embraced an empathic worldview, one that fights against bias, as much as it embraces the scientific method. Which is why, if we’re not being snooty about the sciences, we’ll see that women are doing just fine in sciences like Sociology and Psychology, seeing as how they’re getting 70% of all degrees in the areas [1]. But, eh, maybe those don’t count; they’re girly sciences anyway.

But, math, oh math! Why can’t you be beautiful too, like I always hoped?

Well, it turns out, you are.

Which brings us back to my initial question of Bowler Hat Guy.

You see, math is the language we have assigned ordered facets of the universe. As we discover more about the universe’s order, the more terms we create for it, and it must fit with the other parts. In the same way we didn’t create blue, we didn’t create mathematical concepts. But, in the way we named the colors, so we’ve named the mathematical constructs.

So x^0 = 1 because it’s a necessary function. Seen as a thing of itself, it makes no sense: if there are no groups of x, there can’t be 1 anything. However, look at the system like this (I’m replacing the variable “x” with an actual number so we can see it in action better):

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3^-2 = 1/9 ;  3^-1 = 1/3 ; 3^0 = 1 ; 3^1 = 3 ; 3^2 = 9

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Each answer increases by the power of 3. Were it x, each answer in sequence would increase by the power of x. All other elements of the sequence fit both this pattern and the definition of “power” that is typically understood--that is, x to a given power is x multiplied by itself that many times. Just because the number in the sequence x^0 = 1 doesn’t fit that definition doesn’t mean it doesn’t fit that sequence. As we are not creating the universe’s order, merely defining it, it is apparent that it’s our definition that needs work. The very fact that x^0 = 1 according to the pattern of increasing each integer outcome by that power works every time, regardless of what x is, means that 1 is in fact the universe’s true, mathematical definition of x^0.

That is understanding that variable’s place in a system, or particular pattern, and that’s how I typically best understand math. There are, of course, other ways of understanding such systems, most of which were debated and hounded about and lost in a haze of 2 AM milkshakes. Despite that, this nugget of algebraic truth stuck with me. Maybe, in the long years after college and grad school and “getting a real life,” long after I’ve forgotten the quadratic formula and how to divide matrices, I’ll still remember this piece of why.

Unfortunately, in a sense, it’s too little too late. I’m no Evelyn Nelson; I never even took calculus. So while it’s not becoming to rail against the education system or blame society for my math problems, I will say this: it needs to be fixed. If a genius teenager at Steak’n’Shake can explain math concepts to me better than four years of high school teaches, there’s a problem.

Fortunately for us, there’s a solution as simple and elegant as the powers of x: answer questions with one eye on the universe. If you’re a teacher, take a cue from Evelyn Nelson and the ladies of math: remember that understanding begets beauty. It begets engagement. You don’t need jazz hands to spice up your lecture; math is already far more spectacular. If you’re afraid that it’ll take too long, that it’ll lower test scores, don’t be. It’s worth it, and it won’t.



WORKS CITED

[1] U.S. Department of Education, National Center for Education Statistics (NCES), Integrated Post-secondary Education Data System (IPEDS) Completions, 1996-2010 (Washington, DC: NCES, 2011)