The Human Computer Who Calculated Our Path to the Moon
August 26, 1918 – February 24, 2020
🇺🇸 United StatesKatherine Coleman was born on August 26, 1918, in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, at a time when opportunities for African American women were severely constrained by both racial segregation and gender discrimination. Yet from her earliest years, Katherine displayed a mathematical genius that would eventually help humanity reach the moon and safely return.
Her father, Joshua Coleman, was a farmer and handyman, while her mother, Joylette, was a former teacher. Both parents recognized Katherine's extraordinary intellect immediately. By age four, Katherine was already reading and demonstrating an intuitive understanding of numbers that far exceeded her peers. She counted everything—steps to church, dishes washed, stars in the sky. Mathematics wasn't just a subject for Katherine; it was the language through which she understood the universe.
Growing up in segregated West Virginia presented significant challenges. Greenbrier County provided public schooling for African American students only through eighth grade, forcing Katherine's parents to make a difficult decision. Her father moved the family 120 miles to Institute, West Virginia, each year so Katherine and her three siblings could attend high school at the historically Black West Virginia State College's laboratory school. This sacrifice demonstrated the family's commitment to education despite the enormous personal and financial cost.
Katherine's brilliance became undeniable in high school. She completed the curriculum with such speed that she graduated at just 14 years old in 1932, having exhausted every mathematics course the school offered. She immediately enrolled at West Virginia State College, where she again distinguished herself. The college's president, Dr. John W. Davis, and mathematics professor W.W. Schieffelin Claytor—the third African American to earn a PhD in mathematics—recognized her exceptional talent and created advanced mathematics courses specifically for her, including analytic geometry and advanced calculus.
Professor Claytor became Katherine's mentor, preparing her for a career in mathematics research at a time when such opportunities for Black women were virtually nonexistent. He told her, "You'd make a good research mathematician and I'm going to see that you're prepared." True to his word, he personally tutored her and designed coursework that would prepare her for graduate study. Katherine graduated summa cum laude in 1937 at age 18 with degrees in mathematics and French.
After graduation, Katherine faced the harsh reality that research positions in mathematics were closed to African American women. She became a teacher at a Black public school in Marion, Virginia, a common path for educated Black women at the time. She married James Goble in 1939 and started a family, having three daughters: Joylette, Katherine, and Constance. Yet her mathematical mind remained active, constantly seeking challenges beyond the elementary curriculum she taught.
In 1938, the Supreme Court decision Missouri ex rel. Gaines v. Canada began to crack open graduate education for African Americans. West Virginia State selected Katherine as one of three Black students—and the only woman—to integrate West Virginia University's graduate school in 1939. This was a monumental achievement, making her the first African American woman to attend the university's graduate mathematics program.
However, Katherine left the program after one semester when she became pregnant with her first child. She returned to teaching, but the experience proved that she could compete at the highest academic levels. For the next decade, she taught while raising her daughters, always hoping for an opportunity to use her mathematical gifts more fully.
That opportunity came in 1952 when a relative mentioned that the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA, NASA's predecessor) was hiring mathematicians at the Langley Research Center in Hampton, Virginia. At the time, NACA employed African American women as "human computers"—mathematicians who performed complex calculations by hand for aircraft and aerospace research. In 1953, at age 34, Katherine applied and was hired, joining the segregated West Area Computing unit supervised by Dorothy Vaughan.
Katherine Johnson's arrival at Langley coincided with the dawn of the Space Age. While she initially worked in the segregated computing pool, her exceptional abilities quickly caught the attention of the male engineers. She was reassigned to the Flight Research Division, where she performed trajectory analysis for the 1961 mission of Alan Shepard, the first American in space.
The launch of Sputnik by the Soviet Union in 1957 intensified the Space Race, and NACA transformed into NASA in 1958 with an urgent mission to catch up. Katherine found herself at the center of America's space efforts, calculating launch windows, trajectories, and emergency return paths for missions that were pushing the boundaries of human exploration.
Her work required not just mathematical skill but also innovative problem-solving. She had to account for Earth's rotation, the orbital mechanics of spacecraft, gravitational forces, and countless other variables. Using only mechanical calculators, pencil, and paper, Katherine computed complex equations that determined whether astronauts would successfully reach orbit—and whether they could return safely home.
In her words: "I loved going to work every single day. The people I worked with were all very interesting. I never had a day when I didn't want to go to work. Everything was so new, and the challenge was so great. We were doing something that nobody had done before."
Katherine Johnson's most famous moment came in 1962 when astronaut John Glenn prepared to become the first American to orbit Earth. NASA had begun using IBM electronic computers to calculate orbital trajectories—a significant technological advancement but one that made many people, including astronauts, nervous. The computers were new and untested for such critical calculations.
Glenn, knowing his life depended on the accuracy of the trajectory calculations, made a specific request: he wanted Katherine Johnson to personally verify the computer's numbers by hand. As Glenn later recalled: "Call her. And if she says the computer is right, I'll take it." He told NASA officials to "get the girl"—referring to Katherine—to check the numbers.
Katherine worked for a day and a half, performing the complex orbital calculations by hand and verifying that the computer's outputs were correct. Only after she confirmed the numbers did Glenn agree to launch. On February 20, 1962, he successfully completed three orbits of Earth, a triumph that restored American confidence in the Space Race. Glenn's trust in Katherine's calculations over electronic computers demonstrated the respect she had earned from the astronauts and engineers who knew her work.
This moment encapsulated both the extraordinary faith placed in Katherine's abilities and the persistent marginalization she faced. She was essential enough that an astronaut would not fly without her verification, yet she remained "the girl" rather than being recognized by name. She worked in excellence while navigating both racial segregation and gender discrimination, facing barriers that would have deterred anyone less determined.
Katherine Johnson's greatest contribution to space exploration came with the Apollo program. Beginning in 1961, NASA embarked on President Kennedy's challenge to land a man on the moon before the decade's end. Katherine was assigned to the team calculating the trajectory for Apollo 11, the mission that would achieve that goal.
The calculations were staggeringly complex. The spacecraft would need to escape Earth's gravity, travel 240,000 miles through space, enter lunar orbit, descend to the moon's surface, launch again from the moon, and return to Earth—all while accounting for the gravitational pull of both celestial bodies, the rotation of Earth, and the orbital mechanics of the moon. Every calculation had to be perfect; a small error could mean the astronauts would miss the moon entirely or be unable to return home.
Katherine worked on the orbital equations that determined when to launch, how to get to the moon, and critically, how to bring the astronauts back safely. She also calculated backup procedures for various emergency scenarios. Her work on the rendezvous maneuvers—the complex ballet of having the lunar module rejoin the command module in lunar orbit—was particularly crucial.
On July 20, 1969, when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin stepped onto the lunar surface while Michael Collins orbited above, they did so following trajectories that Katherine Johnson had helped calculate. Her mathematics made possible humanity's greatest exploratory achievement. As she later said with characteristic humility: "We always worked as a team. It's never just one person. It took all of us."
Katherine Johnson continued working at NASA until her retirement in 1986, contributing to the Space Shuttle program and Earth resources satellites. Over 33 years, she authored or co-authored 26 research reports, becoming an authority on orbital mechanics and space navigation. Yet for decades, her contributions remained largely unknown outside NASA's walls.
The publication of Margot Lee Shetterly's book "Hidden Figures" in 2016 and the subsequent Oscar-nominated film brought Katherine Johnson's story to the world. Suddenly, millions learned about the African American women mathematicians whose brilliance had been essential to America's space triumphs but who had worked in segregated conditions and received little public recognition.
Katherine lived to see her achievements celebrated globally. In 2015, President Barack Obama awarded her the Presidential Medal of Freedom, America's highest civilian honor. In 2016, NASA dedicated the Katherine G. Johnson Computational Research Facility in her honor. In 2019, she received the Congressional Gold Medal. She became a symbol of both the heights that genius can reach and the injustice of the barriers that had been placed in her way.
Katherine Johnson passed away on February 24, 2020, at the age of 101, having lived to see her contributions recognized and her story inspire millions. Her life demonstrated that excellence cannot be denied, even when systems of oppression try to limit it. She showed young people—especially girls and people of color—that they belong in science and mathematics, that their contributions are valuable, and that the stars are within reach if you can calculate the path to get there.
Katherine Johnson's calculations made the moon landing possible and paved the way for space exploration. Her story inspired millions and proved that genius transcends all barriers.
Katherine Johnson's legacy extends far beyond the moon landing. She represents the countless brilliant minds whose contributions were hidden by discrimination, and her recognition came at a time when the world was finally ready to acknowledge that genius has no race or gender. Her work proved that America's greatest achievements were built on the contributions of people from all backgrounds, including those who had been systematically excluded and marginalized.
The impact of "Hidden Figures" cannot be overstated. The book and film introduced millions worldwide to Katherine Johnson's story and to the broader history of African American women in the space program. Young girls of all races now see themselves reflected in Katherine's achievement, understanding that mathematics and science are fields where they belong. Students of color see proof that their ancestors made essential contributions to humanity's greatest accomplishments, even when those contributions went unrecognized for decades.
NASA's decision to name a computational research facility in her honor while she was still alive allowed Katherine to see her legacy secured. The building stands as a daily reminder to NASA employees and visitors that the agency's success has always depended on diverse perspectives and that talent exists everywhere, regardless of race or gender. It challenges institutions to ask themselves: how many brilliant people are we overlooking today because of our biases and assumptions?
Katherine Johnson lived with remarkable grace through an era of profound injustice. She faced segregation, was denied opportunities because of her race and gender, and worked in excellence while using separate bathrooms and being referred to as "the girl" despite being a mathematical genius. Yet she never expressed bitterness. Instead, she focused on the work, on the joy of problem-solving, on the privilege of contributing to humanity's exploration of space. Her attitude demonstrated both extraordinary strength and a strategic understanding that excellence was her most powerful argument against discrimination.
When she received the Presidential Medal of Freedom at age 97, President Obama said she "helped our nation enlarge the frontiers of space even as she made huge strides that also expanded the frontiers of opportunity for all Americans." This perfectly captured her dual legacy: advancing human knowledge while simultaneously proving that everyone deserves the opportunity to contribute their gifts. Every student who pursues mathematics because of her example, every barrier broken by someone who saw her persevere, every young person who looks at the stars and thinks "I could calculate how to get there"—these are Katherine Johnson's true legacy, multiplying her impact across generations.