Hidden Figures

Hidden Figures Plot Summary

Introduction

In the shadow of World War II, as America mobilized its scientific resources to win the conflict, an unexpected revolution was taking place at the Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory in Virginia. While the nation's attention focused on battlefronts across the globe, a group of African American women mathematicians were breaking barriers in the segregated South, using their exceptional skills to solve complex aeronautical problems that would eventually help America reach the stars. Their story represents a remarkable intersection of racial progress, scientific advancement, and human perseverance that remained largely untold for decades. This historical narrative reveals how talent can emerge and thrive even in the most restrictive circumstances, challenging our understanding of who makes history and how progress occurs. Through the lives of these "human computers," we gain insight into how America's technological triumphs depended on contributions from those who were systematically marginalized, how institutional change happens through both external pressures and individual determination, and how the space race served as both a scientific endeavor and a catalyst for social transformation. Anyone interested in the hidden dimensions of American scientific achievement, the civil rights movement, or the complex interplay between social progress and technological innovation will find in these pages a story that fundamentally alters our understanding of how America reached for the stars.

Chapter 1: Wartime Opportunity: The Birth of West Computing (1943-1945)

As World War II intensified in 1943, the Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory in Hampton, Virginia faced an unprecedented challenge. With male engineers leaving for military service, the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA) desperately needed skilled workers to maintain the critical flow of aeronautical research. This staffing crisis coincided with pressure from civil rights leader A. Philip Randolph, whose threatened march on Washington had compelled President Roosevelt to sign Executive Order 8802 prohibiting racial discrimination in the defense industry. The convergence of these factors created a rare opportunity: the recruitment of African American women mathematicians to serve as "computers" - professionals who performed complex calculations by hand. Dorothy Vaughan exemplified the women who answered this call. A mathematics teacher from Farmville, Virginia, Vaughan left her secure teaching position in late 1943 for what she initially considered temporary war work. The position at Langley offered more than twice her teaching salary, a powerful incentive during the economic uncertainties of wartime. Upon arrival, she was assigned to the segregated "West Computing" pool, housed in a former warehouse separate from the white female computers in East Computing. Despite the segregated facilities - including bathrooms marked "Colored Girls" and a cafeteria table designated by a sign reading "COLORED COMPUTERS" - these women recognized the unprecedented professional opportunity before them. The West Computers quickly proved themselves indispensable to the war effort. They processed data from wind tunnel tests and flight experiments, calculating everything from air pressure distributions to stability coefficients for aircraft designs. Their work directly contributed to improving the performance of fighter planes like the P-51 Mustang and bombers such as the B-29 Superfortress. The women mastered slide rules, mechanical calculators, and specialized mathematical techniques, often learning the complex language of aeronautics on the job. Their calculations helped engineers refine designs that would give American pilots crucial advantages in aerial combat. For these pioneering women, their work represented both personal advancement and racial progress. They embodied what the Black press called the "Double V" campaign - victory over fascism abroad and racism at home. They maintained impeccable professional standards, knowing their performance would affect opportunities for those who followed. They formed supportive bonds, carpooling together from segregated housing developments and helping each other navigate both technical challenges and social barriers. When Miriam Mann repeatedly removed the "Colored Computers" sign from their cafeteria table, tucking it into her purse despite warnings about risking her job, she exemplified their quiet resistance to indignities. By 1945, as the war drew to a close, the West Computers had established themselves as a vital part of Langley's research infrastructure. What began as a wartime expedient had evolved into something more permanent. Dorothy Vaughan received a civil service appointment, defying predictions that women would be sent home when peace returned. The door that had opened through necessity would never fully close again, though the path forward remained uncertain. As victory celebrations erupted across Hampton Roads in August 1945, these women stood at the threshold of a new era - one where their mathematical talents would prove crucial to America's next great technological challenge: the conquest of space.

Chapter 2: Segregation and Persistence at Langley (1946-1953)

The post-war period brought significant transitions to Langley and its computing workforce. As military urgency faded, the laboratory refocused on long-term aeronautical research, pushing into supersonic flight regimes that presented new mathematical challenges. For the women of West Computing, this period tested their resilience as they navigated the contradictions of professional opportunity within a rigidly segregated environment. Dorothy Vaughan, who had initially planned to return to teaching, made the pivotal decision to remain at Langley permanently, recognizing that despite persistent discrimination, the laboratory offered unprecedented career prospects for a Black woman mathematician. Daily life for the West Computers reflected the pervasive segregation of 1940s Virginia. They worked in separate facilities, used designated "colored" bathrooms, and ate at segregated tables in the cafeteria. Housing options remained strictly divided by race, with many living in Newsome Park, a development originally built for Black defense workers. Transportation required careful coordination, as public buses were segregated and many women relied on carpools. Yet within these constraints, they built a remarkable community. They joined churches, sororities, and civic organizations, creating networks of mutual support that sustained them through professional and personal challenges. A significant milestone came in 1949 when Dorothy Vaughan was appointed acting head of West Computing following the departure of her white supervisor. Though it would take nearly two years for her to receive the official title and corresponding pay, this promotion made her the first Black woman to supervise staff at the NACA. Her leadership style balanced advocacy for her employees with strategic navigation of institutional politics. She recognized promising talent, mentoring newcomers while maintaining the high standards that had become the hallmark of West Computing. Under her guidance, the section continued to grow, eventually numbering more than 25 women. The early 1950s brought new faces who would later make extraordinary contributions. Katherine Johnson arrived in 1953, a mathematical prodigy who had graduated college at 18. Her exceptional abilities quickly led to her assignment to the Flight Research Division, a rare crossover from the segregated computing pool to working directly with white engineers. Mary Jackson joined in 1951, initially as a computer but soon demonstrating aptitude that would eventually lead her toward engineering. These women represented a new generation building upon the foundation established during wartime, pushing boundaries even further. Technological changes were also reshaping the computing landscape. Early electronic computers like the IBM 604 and IBM 650 arrived at Langley during this period, though they remained expensive, temperamental, and limited to one job at a time. Far from rendering human computers obsolete, these machines created new opportunities for those willing to adapt. Dorothy Vaughan recognized this shift early, teaching herself programming and encouraging her staff to develop these emerging skills. "Integration is going to come," she told them, referring both to racial integration and the integration of electronic computers into their work. Throughout this period, the women of West Computing demonstrated extraordinary persistence. They maintained professional excellence while navigating daily indignities, focusing on the work rather than the barriers. They supported each other through challenges, celebrated achievements, and gradually expanded what was possible for Black women in scientific fields. Their approach was rarely confrontational - instead, they relied on undeniable competence and strategic patience, gradually transforming the institution from within. By 1953, as Cold War tensions intensified and a new era of aerospace research beckoned, they had established themselves as an essential part of Langley's scientific community, positioned to contribute to America's next great technological leap.

Chapter 3: Katherine Johnson: Calculating America's Path to Orbit

Katherine Johnson's extraordinary mathematical journey began in 1953 when she joined the West Computing pool at Langley. Born in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, Johnson had demonstrated remarkable mathematical ability from childhood, counting everything from stars to stair steps. After graduating from college at just 18, she briefly taught school before the opportunity at NACA opened a path to apply her talents to cutting-edge research. Within two weeks of her arrival, Johnson's exceptional abilities caught the attention of engineers in the Flight Research Division, who "borrowed" her from West Computing for what was supposed to be a temporary assignment but would evolve into a decades-long career. Johnson's approach to mathematics set her apart from the beginning. While many computers simply executed calculations as directed, she persistently questioned the underlying principles. "Why does the spacecraft come down where it does?" she would ask. "Why is this orbital trajectory shaped this way?" This curiosity led her to master the fundamentals of aerospace research rather than just performing isolated calculations. When excluded from editorial meetings where research reports were discussed, she repeatedly asked why women couldn't attend until her male colleagues relented. Her quiet persistence gradually eroded barriers that had seemed immovable, as her mathematical insights became too valuable to ignore. The 1957 launch of Sputnik by the Soviet Union transformed Johnson's work dramatically. As America scrambled to catch up in the space race, her expertise in analytical geometry made her perfectly suited to calculating orbital trajectories - a field so new that she often had to develop the equations herself. In 1960, she co-authored a groundbreaking research paper titled "Determination of Azimuth Angle at Burnout for Placing a Satellite Over a Selected Earth Position," becoming the first woman in her division to receive credit as an author. This paper established fundamental equations for orbital spaceflight that would prove crucial to America's space program. Johnson's most historic contribution came during John Glenn's 1962 mission to become the first American to orbit Earth. NASA had begun using electronic computers to calculate flight trajectories, but Glenn, wary of the new technology, specifically requested that Johnson verify the computer's calculations by hand. "Get the girl to check the numbers," he insisted. "If she says they're good, then I'm ready to go." For a day and a half, Johnson meticulously worked through the complex equations, confirming the computer's results and giving Glenn the confidence to proceed with his historic flight. This episode highlighted not just her mathematical precision but the extraordinary level of trust she had earned. Throughout this period, Johnson navigated the complex racial landscape with characteristic directness. When confronted with segregated bathrooms, she simply ignored the restrictions, using whichever facilities were convenient. "I didn't have time for that," she later explained. "My dad taught us 'you are no better than anyone else, and no one is better than you.'" During discussions about the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision, she spoke frankly with white colleagues rather than avoiding the topic. Her approach reflected both personal dignity and practical focus on the work at hand. By the early 1960s, as NASA prepared for increasingly ambitious missions, Katherine Johnson had established herself as an indispensable contributor to America's space program. Her calculations would help guide astronauts to the Moon and back, her equations forming the mathematical foundation for Apollo's success. Her journey from the segregated West Computing pool to mission-critical space trajectory analysis demonstrated how exceptional talent could occasionally transcend the barriers of the era, though those barriers remained firmly in place for many others. As Johnson herself often said, "I loved going to work every day" - a simple statement that belied the extraordinary nature of her achievements in a time when both women and African Americans were routinely excluded from scientific advancement.

Chapter 4: Mary Jackson: Engineering Against the Odds

Mary Jackson's path to becoming NASA's first Black female engineer began in 1951 when she joined Langley as a computer in the segregated West Area Computing section. With degrees in mathematics and physical science from Hampton Institute, Jackson brought strong academic credentials to her role. Her breakthrough came in 1953 after a humiliating incident when she had asked white colleagues for directions to the "colored" bathroom and was met with giggles. Returning to West Computing upset, she encountered engineer Kazimierz Czarnecki, who surprised her by offering a position in his research group at the Four-foot Supersonic Pressure Tunnel. This chance meeting would transform her career trajectory. Working with Czarnecki, Jackson quickly demonstrated aptitude for experimental research beyond mathematical computation. She conducted tests examining airflow patterns around models in the wind tunnel, helping engineers understand how aircraft would perform at supersonic speeds. Czarnecki recognized her potential and encouraged her to pursue engineering training - an unprecedented suggestion for a Black woman in 1950s Virginia. The path forward required overcoming significant barriers: the necessary courses were offered only at the all-white Hampton High School, requiring special permission from the City of Hampton for Jackson to attend. Between 1956 and 1958, Jackson navigated this educational challenge with characteristic determination. When granted permission to attend the segregated school, she discovered something ironic - the white school building was dilapidated and far less impressive than she had imagined. The irony wasn't lost on her: segregationists had fought to deny Black students access to facilities that were often inferior to those in Black schools. Nevertheless, she completed the required courses while continuing her full-time work, becoming an engineer in 1958 - the same year NASA was formed from the NACA. As an engineer, Jackson specialized in studying airflow patterns around aircraft, particularly the effects of thrust on various configurations. Her research contributed directly to improving the design of America's supersonic aircraft program during a critical period of the Cold War. She conducted experiments in the Supersonic Pressure Tunnel, analyzing how different factors affected drag and wind flow around vehicles traveling faster than sound. During her career, she authored or co-authored nearly a dozen research papers, establishing herself as a respected technical voice in a field where Black women had previously been entirely absent. Beyond her technical contributions, Jackson devoted herself to expanding opportunities for others. She mentored young women at Langley, particularly those from minority backgrounds, and organized a chapter of the National Technical Association, a professional organization for Black scientists and engineers. In her community, she led a Girl Scout troop, teaching young girls about science and engineering through hands-on projects. When her son Levi entered a soap box derby competition in 1960, she applied her engineering knowledge to help him build his car, guiding him to victory as the first African American to win the peninsula's derby - a triumph that received widespread coverage in the Black press. Jackson's career embodied both remarkable achievement and persistent limitations. Despite her accomplishments, she faced the same promotion ceiling that affected many women and minorities at NASA. By the late 1970s, recognizing she had reached as far as possible in engineering, she made a strategic decision to become Langley's Federal Women's Program Manager in 1979. This career shift allowed her to directly influence hiring and promotion practices, working to ensure other women wouldn't face the same barriers she had encountered. Her journey from computer to engineer to advocate illustrated how individual determination could overcome significant obstacles, while also revealing the systemic barriers that continued to limit even the most talented professionals of her generation.

Chapter 5: From Sputnik to Mercury: The Space Race Accelerates

On October 4, 1957, the Soviet Union launched Sputnik, the world's first artificial satellite, triggering a seismic shift in American scientific priorities. The small beeping sphere orbiting overhead represented more than a scientific achievement - it was perceived as a direct challenge to American technological supremacy and national security. The shock of Sputnik reverberated through American society, prompting soul-searching about education, scientific capability, and Cold War readiness. For the mathematicians and engineers at Langley, this moment would transform their work from aviation research to the urgent new frontier of spaceflight. The organizational response was swift and dramatic. In 1958, the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA) was transformed into the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), with an expanded mission focused on space exploration. This transition coincided with another significant change at Langley: the official dissolution of the segregated West Computing section. On May 5, 1958, assistant director Floyd Thompson issued a brief memo: "Effective this date, the West Area Computers Unit is dissolved." After fifteen years, the computers were integrated into research divisions throughout the center based on their specialties. This administrative change reflected both civil rights progress and NASA's pragmatic need to utilize all available talent in the competition with the Soviet Union. Project Mercury, America's first human spaceflight program, presented unprecedented mathematical challenges. Calculating the trajectory for a capsule to orbit Earth and return safely required extreme precision - errors of even fractions of a degree could result in catastrophic failure. Katherine Johnson emerged as a key figure in developing the mathematics for orbital flight. Her work on "go/no-go" decisions - determining whether conditions were suitable for launch - became critical to mission planning. Meanwhile, many former West Computers found new roles supporting various aspects of the space program, from analyzing wind tunnel data on capsule designs to calculating heat shield requirements for reentry. The technological leap required for spaceflight accelerated the transition from human computers to electronic machines. IBM computers were installed to handle the massive calculations required, but human mathematicians remained essential for programming these machines and verifying their results. Dorothy Vaughan, recognizing this shift early, had taught herself FORTRAN programming language and helped other computers develop these new skills. Rather than being replaced by technology, the most adaptable computers evolved with it, becoming programmers and analysts who could bridge the gap between human understanding and machine calculation. The space race also created opportunities for exceptional Black mathematicians and engineers to take on increasingly significant roles. As the urgency of beating the Soviets intensified, talent increasingly trumped racial considerations. Mary Jackson's engineering work on supersonic airflow contributed to understanding how spacecraft would behave during reentry. Christine Darden, who joined NASA in 1967, would eventually become an internationally recognized expert on sonic boom minimization. Though discrimination certainly persisted, the space race created cracks in the system through which determined individuals could advance. By 1962, when John Glenn became the first American to orbit Earth, the groundwork had been laid for more ambitious missions. His historic flight highlighted the unique relationship between human and machine calculation that characterized this era. Glenn's famous request that Katherine Johnson personally verify the computer's trajectory calculations demonstrated how human expertise remained essential even as technology advanced. The success of the Mercury program established America as a serious competitor in space, setting the stage for the even more ambitious Gemini and Apollo programs that would follow. Throughout this critical period, the mathematical foundation for America's space achievements rested significantly on the work of individuals who had begun their careers in segregated computing pools, demonstrating how talent could transcend the artificial barriers society had imposed.

Chapter 6: The Lunar Equations: Mathematics Behind Apollo

President Kennedy's 1961 declaration that America would land a man on the Moon "before this decade is out" transformed NASA's mission from competing with Soviet achievements to pursuing an unprecedented goal. This lunar ambition created mathematical challenges of extraordinary complexity, particularly regarding the precise calculations needed for a spacecraft to travel to the Moon, land safely, and return to Earth. The Apollo program would require not just incremental improvements to Mercury's orbital equations, but fundamentally new mathematical approaches to navigate the quarter-million-mile journey through space. Katherine Johnson played a crucial role in developing the mathematics for lunar missions. She co-authored critical research papers establishing the mathematical foundation for lunar rendezvous - the technique whereby a command module would orbit the Moon while a smaller lunar module descended to the surface. This approach, ultimately selected over competing proposals, required extraordinarily precise calculations of orbital mechanics involving multiple spacecraft. The equations had to account for the gravitational influences of both Earth and Moon, the rotation of both bodies, and the changing positions of all elements in this complex system. Even tiny errors could result in astronauts missing their rendezvous point and becoming stranded in space. As electronic computers took on more computational work, the human computers' roles evolved toward programming and verification. Dorothy Vaughan, who had taught herself and others programming languages, now worked in the Analysis and Computation Division, helping develop software for the IBM machines. This transition represented not the replacement of human computers but their evolution into a new technical specialty. The most successful, like Vaughan, adapted their mathematical knowledge to the emerging field of computer programming, extending their careers into the electronic age. The Apollo program also created opportunities for newer generations of mathematicians and engineers. Christine Darden, who joined NASA in 1967 as a data analyst, would eventually transfer to engineering work and earn her doctorate, becoming an internationally recognized expert on supersonic flight. Though initially assigned to computing work similar to what the West Computers had done decades earlier, she advocated for herself by directly questioning why women were relegated to computing pools while men became engineers. This bold approach earned her a transfer to engineering work, demonstrating how the pathways opened by earlier pioneers could be further widened through persistence. When Apollo 11 launched in July 1969, its trajectory to the Moon relied on equations that Johnson and her colleagues had helped develop. The successful lunar landing and return demonstrated the accuracy of these calculations. Later, during the Apollo 13 crisis in 1970, when an oxygen tank explosion crippled the spacecraft, backup procedures and calculations that Johnson had helped create became crucial to bringing the astronauts home safely. These emergency protocols highlighted the value of having multiple mathematical approaches to solving critical problems - a philosophy Johnson had always advocated. By the time Neil Armstrong took his "giant leap for mankind" in July 1969, the mathematical foundation that made this achievement possible represented the culmination of decades of work by hundreds of people, including the pioneering Black women who had started as segregated computers. Their journey from calculating airflow over wings to plotting paths to the Moon mirrored America's technological evolution - and demonstrated how talent, when finally given opportunity, could help accomplish the seemingly impossible. The lunar landing represented not just a triumph of engineering and mathematics, but a vindication of the principle that progress depends on utilizing all available human potential, regardless of race or gender.

Chapter 7: Legacy: From Hidden Figures to Recognized Pioneers

As the Apollo program concluded in the early 1970s, NASA entered a period of transition. Budget cuts following the Moon landing success led to workforce reductions, while remaining resources were redirected toward projects like Skylab and eventually the Space Shuttle. For the women who had contributed so much to spaceflight success, this period presented both challenges and opportunities to secure their professional legacy in a changing landscape. Dorothy Vaughan retired in 1971 after 28 years of service, having successfully navigated the transition from human computing to electronic programming. Katherine Johnson continued working at NASA until 1986, contributing to early Space Shuttle programs and satellite projects. Mary Jackson made a significant career shift in 1979, leaving engineering to become Langley's Federal Women's Program Manager, where she could directly influence hiring and promotion practices. The impact of these pioneers extended far beyond their individual careers. They had established precedents and pathways that made it possible for subsequent generations of women and minorities to pursue careers in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. Christine Darden, who joined NASA in 1967, built upon their foundation to become an internationally recognized expert on sonic boom minimization, eventually rising to the Senior Executive Service - the highest rank in federal civil service. By the 1980s, women were increasingly represented in technical and leadership positions throughout NASA, though progress remained uneven and barriers persisted. The seeds planted during the era of segregated computing had grown into a more diverse scientific workforce, though full equality remained an unfinished journey. For decades, the contributions of these women remained largely unknown to the public. Their stories were absent from most historical accounts of the space program, which typically focused on astronauts and male engineers. This began to change in the late 1990s and early 2000s, as historians and journalists started documenting their achievements. Katherine Johnson received the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2015, bringing national attention to her contributions. The 2016 publication of Margot Lee Shetterly's book "Hidden Figures" and the subsequent film adaptation finally brought widespread recognition to these pioneering mathematicians, introducing their stories to millions of people worldwide. This belated recognition highlighted how the intersecting barriers of race and gender had rendered these women's accomplishments nearly invisible in standard historical accounts. It also revealed the incompleteness of conventional narratives about scientific and technological progress - narratives that often overlooked the diverse teams that made innovation possible. As Johnson herself noted when receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom: "I was just doing my job. They needed information and I had it, and it didn't matter that I was Black or a woman." This straightforward assessment belied the extraordinary circumstances under which she and her colleagues had performed their work. Today, these women's stories serve as powerful inspiration for young people entering STEM fields, particularly those from underrepresented groups. NASA has named facilities after them - including the Katherine G. Johnson Computational Research Facility at Langley and the Mary W. Jackson NASA Headquarters in Washington, DC. Educational programs and scholarships bear their names, ensuring their legacy continues through future generations of scientists and engineers. Perhaps most importantly, their experiences demonstrate that innovation thrives when artificial barriers to talent are removed, offering a model for how excellence can overcome prejudice when given the opportunity to prove itself.

Summary

Throughout the space race era, a remarkable pattern emerges: at each critical juncture when America's technological future hung in the balance, the mathematical brilliance of women who had been systematically marginalized proved decisive. From Katherine Johnson's orbital calculations that gave John Glenn confidence to circle the Earth, to the lunar trajectory equations that guided Apollo astronauts safely to the Moon and back, these "hidden figures" transformed scientific possibilities into mathematical certainties. Their journey from segregated computing pools to mission-critical space calculations reveals how America's greatest technological achievements depended on talent that the nation had long undervalued and overlooked. The story demonstrates how national imperatives - first World War II, then the Cold War and Space Race - created cracks in discriminatory systems through which determined individuals could advance, ultimately benefiting both their own careers and the nation's capabilities. The legacy of these pioneering mathematicians offers profound lessons for contemporary society. First, it illustrates the tremendous cost of discrimination - how many other brilliant minds never had the opportunity to contribute because barriers remained too high? Second, it demonstrates how institutional change often occurs through a combination of external pressure (like war or competition) and internal advocates willing to challenge established norms. Finally, it reminds us that progress requires both individual excellence and structural opportunity - talent alone is insufficient without pathways for advancement, while opportunity without preparation cannot yield results. As we face today's complex challenges, from climate change to public health crises, we would do well to remember that breakthrough solutions may come from unexpected sources if we create environments where all forms of talent can flourish. The greatest tribute to these mathematical pioneers is not just to celebrate their past achievements, but to ensure that future generations of diverse thinkers have the opportunity to make their own contributions to human knowledge and exploration.

About Author

Loading...

Margot Lee Shetterly

Read more