During the month of March, the Surge Institute celebrates Women’s History Month, which honors the contributions of women who are leading sustainability efforts across environmental, economic, educational, and social justice movements. This week, we lift up Amaris Evans (CHI23, Angels ‘24).

Imagine a time in the not-too-distant future where you can walk into the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C. and find an exhibit called “Math in Everything.” Everywhere you look, there are photographs of Black girls living, being, and doing math. As young as toddlers and Kindergartners, and on up through grade school and high school, math is embedded in their activities to the same extent as doing their hair and makeup, dancing, singing, creating artwork, caring for one another, playing sports, and all the joyful things of girlhood.

Now imagine being a young Black girl experiencing this exhibit for the first time. You look around the gallery and literally see math in everything. And you not only see yourself represented in this space, but you see that you can do anything you put your mind to doing.

This is the vision Amaris Evans (CHI23, Angels ‘24) paints for a sustainable future. And while a formal exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery remains in dream sequence, math immersion is now an experienced reality for young girls in Chicago. Amaris is the Founder of Black Girls Do Math Too (BGDMT), an organization that empowers Black girls to conquer math by creating engaging content by and for themselves. Programming for BGDMT includes tutoring, mentorship, fellowship, content development, and career-exposure partnerships for girls in grades 7–12. To date, the initiative has served 60 girls directly and hundreds more through mentoring connections.

Amaris’s experiences with math as a student inform her pedagogy as an educator. In high school, math was a refuge. She excelled in the subject and found community and camaraderie in study groups. But that changed in college, particularly in an environment where instructors and students were predominantly white men.

“I'm in this space where, at one point in time, I loved math, and everyone who looked like me also loved math,” Amaris says. “And now I'm in a space where people don't look like me. The language has shifted. The access doesn't seem as easy, and it doesn't seem like I'm being taught. It seems like I'm being instructed.”

Anxiety, isolation, and feelings of intrusion crept in, and Amaris struggled to pass her initial course requirements. Eventually, she found her footing, and she credits these experiences with making empathy, community, and clear communication core components in her classroom.

“There are students that come into the classroom with deficits for any number of reasons; some of them because of how their parents view math, and how the people around them view math,” she says. “And they don’t see themselves as mathematicians. They believe limited thoughts, and it becomes a self-affirming thing to say, ‘I can’t do it.’ ”

“The way that I assess students pushes against what is typical. How I seat them, how I mentor them, and how I advocate for them are always about revisiting. And if I had not passed that class in college, I don't think that I would be able to understand how difficult it can be to sit with your misconceptions.”

Amaris beams when thinking about the profound effect storytelling and encouragement have on shaping a brighter future. Mentees she first met as seventh- and eighth-graders who were struggling in math will soon graduate from HBCUs and Ivy League schools with double majors in subjects like mathematics and chemical engineering.

"I see every Black girl as a mathematician. I view them as the architects of their own futures—the strategic problem solvers, visionary organizers, and definitive leaders of our industries. Whether they are future CEOs, nonprofit founders, or clinical experts, they are applying mathematical concepts as a lifelong engine for logic and strategy. For these girls, math is more than a classroom requirement; it is a toolkit of absolute access and a tool for liberation that supports them forever, wherever they choose to go. They possess the analytical rigor and the unshakable confidence to walk into any field and become the trusted, go-to source. These Black girls who "Do the Math" are the thought leaders of tomorrow who will soon define our world."

As Amaris reflects on Women’s History Month, she is grateful for the growing spotlight on leaders in mathematics. Today, films like Hidden Figures have made Katherine Johnson a household name for her students, but Amaris remembers a different reality. As a student, she didn’t have those stories. Instead, she remembers looking around academic spaces and feeling the weight of not seeing herself reflected in the portraits on the walls or the names on the buildings. It led to a heavy, recurring question: "Is there actually space for me here?"

That questioning of value can either be a weight or a spark. For Amaris, it became the latter. She realized that if a mathematical space doesn't recognize your worth, you don't just wait for an invitation; you activate. She turned those moments of doubt into a blueprint for action, shifting from questioning her place to building a network and a community that ensures no one else has to ask.

The narrative has changed. Black girls have always done the math, and they are no longer staying in the shadows. Through relentless advocacy and intentional community building, Amaris is ensuring their presence and their brilliance define the new calculus for generations to come.