Mathematics as a Spiritual Home
by Allison Henrich, Professor of Mathematics
"The dynamic of flourishing is not a solo act. We flourish only in communities where we are loved and where we love." — Cornel West
In 1886, twenty-four years after the first mathematics PhD was awarded in the United States, a woman finally earned one. Last year, we celebrated the centennial of Elbert Frank Cox earning a PhD, the first Black man in the world to do so. Euphemia Lofton Haynes reached the same milestone in 1943, becoming the first Black woman to do so. While progress has been made since the era of formal segregation—and women now outnumber men in overall higher education attendance—statistics reveal persistent imbalances that cannot be explained by access alone. According to the most recently reported American Mathematical Society Annual Survey data, women earn approximately 29% of mathematics PhDs in the United States, and underrepresented minorities, who make up roughly 35% of the U.S. population, receive only about 8%.
Faced with these numbers, you might wonder: why do the imbalances exist? There is likely a cocktail of reasons for this phenomenon, but one particularly stands out: lack of a sense of belonging. There are still many spaces where women, people of color, and countless others are made to feel that they aren’t valued members of the math community. It can be tempting to treat these imbalances as harmless—as though the field is simply sorting itself—yet mathematics is not merely a credential but a potential source of deep human flourishing. The math community's failure to welcome all kinds of learners closes doors for many people who might otherwise find joy and purpose in engaging with the subject.
A Pervasive Problem of Exclusion
In the recent book Living Proof: Stories of Resilience Along the Mathematical Journey, 41 incredible people shared their stories of becoming mathematicians. While each person eventually found their path to a successful mathematical career, it is heartbreaking to read about the myriad ways people were made to feel unworthy along the way.
Highly accomplished number theorist Alice Silverberg wrote, “I joke that all of my higher education was at single-sex universities… but unfortunately for a sex of which I’m not a member. The disparities between the way men and women were treated at those universities ranged from serious to laughable” (p. 65). As one of the few women who were allowed into elite spaces of learning, Dr. Silverberg saw up close how gender discrimination pervaded these institutions.
It will come as no surprise that being a person of color in mathematical spaces hasn’t been easy either. Candice Price—one of the most impactful Black mathematicians of our time—wrote about her graduate school experience, “The struggle of navigating a space where you are visible (size and race) and also invisible (one of the black students) when all you want is to prepare yourself for a career you never even knew you could possibly have is debilitating” (p. 63). Fellow Black mathematician Robin Wilson—one of the most beautiful souls I am fortunate to know—shared this: “Now, as a full professor with little left to prove, I still find myself wondering from time to time what it would be like to experience a bit more entitlement around mathematics. I am still unsure of where I belong in relation to many of my peers” (p. 46).
Despite these depressing accounts, those who wrote for Living Proof found a way to persist. How many others did not?
Why is Belonging Important?
Why is it important that unwelcoming cultures evolve to better nurture everyone’s sense of belonging in mathematical spaces? Because mathematics isn’t just about doing your taxes or making a budget—or even plotting a shuttle’s trajectory to the moon. Engaging with mathematics can be a deeply satisfying, spiritual endeavor. In his groundbreaking book, Mathematics for Human Flourishing, Francis Su writes, “...the proper practice of mathematics cultivates virtues that help people flourish. These virtues serve you well no matter what profession you choose or where life takes you. And the movement toward virtue is aroused by basic human desires—the universal longings that we all have—which fundamentally motivate everything we do” (p. 10). Dr. Su’s book elucidates how math connects with human virtues such as love, beauty, truth, justice, play, freedom, and more. Two virtues that particularly resonate with me are justice and beauty.
There’s no shortage of connections between justice and math. Ida B. Wells, an early leader in the civil rights movement, wrote, “The way to right wrongs is to turn the light of truth upon them.” Mathematical sciences, including statistics and data science, are powerful tools for elucidating inequities. For instance, statistical methods can uncover biases, such as how a judge’s professional background is associated with pretrial detention decisions or how the race of a victim is likely to influence criminal sentencing. Moreover, mathematics can be used to engage in and improve democratic processes, such as voting and congressional districting.
Another value I hold dear is beauty. As someone who is captivated by mathematical art and illustration, I see math as a creative playground that can produce breathtaking visual masterpieces. I experience such joy when I get to touch one of Shiying Dong’s beautiful crocheted topological surfaces—or when I watch one of John Edmark’s Blooms, animated sculptures that appear to change as a strobe light draws your eye to different manifestations of the Golden angle. Many math appreciators see beauty in ideas themselves. I love how Ingrid Daubechies describes this: “Think about what it means to find something beautiful. For me, I recognize in myself a feeling of joy, awe, and reverence. It gladdens the heart and lights up the eye. Mathematics is beautiful as it elicits the same emotions in us.”
Is mathematics necessary for understanding beauty? And must everyone access the beauty of mathematics in order to flourish? No—but that's not really the point. Sunsets and the Mona Lisa can be enjoyed without any reference to equations, and many people live deeply satisfying lives beyond their last formal mathematical encounter. But when mathematical spaces turn people away, they close off one more path towards meaningful connections with something joyful and bigger than themselves.
Notice, too, what justice and beauty have in common: both are relational. To illuminate an inequity through statistics is to insist that unseen people matter. To find something beautiful, as Ingrid Daubechies describes, is to feel joy, awe, and reverence—and those same feelings draw us into community with others who share our wonder. This is what the stories from Living Proof were telling. Robin Wilson's unease about "where I belong in relation to many of my peers" is not a side effect of mathematics, it is a barrier standing in the way of everything mathematics has to offer. When we build spaces where everyone belongs, justice and beauty stop being rewards for the few who survive the gauntlet and become invitations extended to all.
The Path Forward
I have hope for a future where educational systems and institutions can transform themselves to become more welcoming spaces. I have seen firsthand what these spaces look like. They accept people for who they are and meet them where they are. They are collaborative and encourage learning from mistakes. They are playful and acknowledge different ways of understanding. They recognize that there is room for thinking and feeling, for applying logic and being moved by intuition. Most of all, they are loving spaces. And in those rooms, more people might discover what too few are allowed to know—that mathematics, too, can be a place where the soul flourishes.