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Claudia Henrion is a professor of mathematics at Middlebury College in Middlebury, VT. In the nineteenth century, there was a common belief that ``as the brain develops the ovaries shrivel,'' implying that women's participation in the life of the mind would impair their ability as mothers [1]. This was part of a long tradition of identifying intellectual pursuits, particularly math and science, with men, and domestic responsibilities with women. Inevitably, these two spheres were hierarchically ordered: the life of the mind was considered far more important than life of the home. As Plato said in the Symposium, ``Those whose creative instinct is physical have recourse to women, and show their love in this way, believing that by begetting children they can secure for themselves an immortal and blessed memory hereafter for ever; but there are some whose creative desire is of the soul, and who long to beget spiritually, not physically, the progeny [of?] which it is the nature of the soul to create and bring to birth'' [2]. The dichotomy is clear: one pursues a life of the mind, or one has a family, but one cannot do both. The hierarchy is equally clear: ``everyone would prefer children such as these [from the soul] to children after the flesh'' [3]. Plato does not consider the possibility of a woman leading a life of the mind. Kant continued in this tradition, defining math as the realm of men, saying that ``women should not worry their pretty heads about geometry--that they might as well have beards'' [4]. The image that ``as the brain develops the ovaries shrivel'' was one that feminists had to combat in establishing formal education for women at the college level in nineteenth century America. They argued that women's access to higher education would make them better mothers for their sons, the future leaders of the country [5]. Although this strategy was successful in opening the doors to a life of the mind, it did not question the deep-seated dichotomy between the intellectual sphere and the domestic sphere. Indeed, those women who worked in American women's colleges in the 19th and early twentieth centuries were forced to choose between a professional life (as teachers) and a personal life (if they chose to marry), for the two were not compatible. As Rossiter reminds us: ``It went without saying that according to the mores of the time, all candidates [for professorship] had to be of good Christian character and not only single but in no danger of marrying. Married women were not even considered for employment at the early women's colleges, even, it seems, when they were clearly the best candidate available ... Male faculty at the women's colleges, on the other hand, were expected to be married'' [6]. Those seem like ancient times, and we breathe a sigh of relief that things are different now. Women have access to all kinds of formal education, they are able to secure good jobs even in such traditionally male fields as math and science, and they can choose to marry without sacrificing their jobs. Not only do women have access to formal institutions, but their numbers at these places are beginning to represent their proportion in the population. For example, nearly 50% of the math majors in this country are now women [7] (though this trend is sometimes hidden because many of the students who take lower level math courses are from engineering, physics, and computer science, fields that are still predominantly male). But in the upper ranks, the percentage of women in mathematics declines dramatically. Women make up only 20% of those receiving doctorates [8], and less than 6% of tenured professors in mathematics [9]. Do these declining percentages simply reflect problems of the past? Is it just a matter of time before women come through the ranks and assume equal representation in the mathematics community? Or do these data indicate persistent problems that create unnecessary obstacles to women's full participation in mathematics--subtle barriers that make it less likely that women will pursue mathematics in graduate school and beyond? These less visible barriers are what I am interested in examining, to see why many women who have ``succeeded'' in mathematics often do not feel like equal and central participants in the mathematics community. What contributes to this sense of being an ``outsider,'' experienced by many contemporary women in mathematics? To what extent is there still a tension between their lives as mathematicians and their lives as women? [10] The very concept of a woman mathematician begins to break down the sharp dichotomy between the professional/public/intellectual sphere and the private/personal/domestic sphere--a dichotomy that was solidified in the 19th century, and that still influences much of our society today. As women ``cross-over'' into the world of the mind, and science in particular, tensions arise, both internal tensions that women experience as they try to balance their personal and professional lives, and external tensions as the mathematics community continually shifts and adjusts to a new population of inhabitants. One response to these tensions for women in mathematics is to say that women must learn to adjust to this new environment, that conflicts arise because they have not entirely broken ties with their traditional responsibilities. Once they learn to do so, their lives as mathematicians will be easier. But this response assumes that it is possible and desirable to create and maintain a split between personal and professional life. I will argue that such a separation is increasingly unrealistic for both men and women. An alternative response to these tensions is to try to break down the barriers between the two spheres, acknowledging the interconnection and inseparability of personal and professional life. This article draws on my research on contemporary women mathematicians involving intensive interviews with ten prominent women in mathematics. Their lives help make visible what has previously been invisible: the traditional reliance on a support structure that allows us to maintain the myth that it is possible to separate our personal and professional worlds. At the same time, their lives suggest ways of striking a balance between the two. I approach this subject with caution for two reasons. First, the only thing that can be said with certainty about all women in math is that they are all different. Any attempt to generalize leaves out specific women and specific details. Nonetheless, there are themes that emerge often enough in interviews with women mathematicians that they warrant attention. The second reason for caution is that, in any discussion of the difficulties for women in mathematics, there is a temptation to conclude that women should not go into mathematics--either because math is not a hospitable place for women (so they would inevitably be miserable), or because women are not cut out for mathematics. I reject both of these overly simplistic conclusions. The problems discussed in this article are not inherent in mathematics or in women. They are problems that can be remedied, and to do so would benefit the entire mathematics community. The first step towards change is to articulate the problems and make them visible.
Copyright ©1991
American Mathematical Society. Reprinted with
permission. |
