But I hope we can find ways to treasure both wonder and knowledge, poetry and science, whose union is a focus of the book I’m currently working on. We live at a time that divides the fields, but according to a great book (with what I consider an unfortunate title) I just read, this has not always been so. In Maria Mitchell and the Sexing of Science: An Astronomer Among the American Romantics , Renee Bergland traces ways that separating science from the arts parallels the way society has split the roles of women and men. Maria Mitchell, who would be the first American woman to discover a comet and the first professor of astronomy at Vassar College, noted that she always had a mathematical mind. This bent was encouraged by her father who was glad to have a companion in his passion for astronomy, and on the rooftop, it was necessary to have one person look through a telescope while the other took notes. Maria’s work mapping sky and land and fixing chronometers wasn’t considered all that unusual in Nantucket in the first half of the 1800’s, for with many men away whaling, women often took over work that was traditionally done by men.
But according to Renee Bergland, Maria Mitchell wasn’t just lucky to have a sympathetic father and town. Rather, she states that such devotion to science was common enough for girls and women back when science was seen as a way to understand an orderly universe and could often be managed from home, perhaps with some fairly inexpensive field guides, nets, star charts, magnifying glasses, collecting jars, and notebooks. Many women were close to the natural world, tending sheep or goats, then spinning, weaving, and dying cloth to sew warm clothing, caring for gardens, looking through meadows for plants to be used for healing or household cleaners. They needed to know more about what was around them.
The mid 1800s were a time in which Emily Dickinson attended Mount Holyoke College, a women’s college that called itself “a castle of science,” and Dickinson later wrote many poems referencing astronomy, botany, and geology. Scientists, then called natural philosophers, most often based their work on observation, so the field was closer to art, and similarly not recognized of having great practical use. Men tended to be trained in politics, history, philosophy, and religion, with colleges funneling them to work in churches, law firms, or the government, which were seen as the places of power.
Only when science became more linked with technology, and offered ways to make money, did it become a field more associated with men, as it remains today. At the end of Maria Mitchell and the Sexing of Science, the author notes how women now make up a small percentage of scientists, with those taking advance degrees in the hard sciences numbering in the single digits, with biologists and behavioral scientists hovering just a few digits above. Her hopeful conclusion is that if things were different before, the field of science can change again.
I’m only the very most amateur of naturalists and happy to focus on literature, but I can remember being a kid holding other’s hands while whipping around in the sort of game now banned on most playgrounds, before suddenly letting go and drifting or tumbling off. There are always things we must let go of, but I hope those who detach themselves from science do it for bigger reasons than feeling they must align ourselves with expectations of girl or boy, or lovely nerd or not. And it’s a shame that when students let go of much of science, they often leave in the midst of being asked to memorize basics, so never get to glimpse what those who move ahead find: a swirl of new questions, the beauty some see not just in the glow of stars, but in equations that reveal randomness or patterns.
Out of breath, with stinging hands, we can forget the way we started out together.