Day 235: Invisible, But Still Necessary
Day 235: Invisible, But Still Necessary
The Tenet of Purpose – Aligning with Meaningful Action
Scene & Symbol
When people recall Apollo 11, most remember the grainy black-and-white footage: Neil Armstrong descending the ladder, Buzz Aldrin’s boots pressing into lunar dust, a small American flag fluttering stiffly in the vacuum. The words “one giant leap for mankind” are etched into cultural memory.
But before those steps could be taken, before the cameras captured their broadcast to half a billion viewers, the entire mission rested on equations scribbled in pencil by Katherine Johnson.
She was not in Houston’s mission control on that day. She was not standing in front of cameras. She was not introduced to the press as part of the historic team. She was, instead, in a small office in Virginia, quietly running through the numbers again and again, making sure the spacecraft’s trajectory aligned precisely with gravitational pull, velocity, and re-entry angles.
For Katherine, the work was never about applause. It was about alignment; alignment between her unique gift for mathematics and a larger purpose: ensuring astronauts returned home safely. That was her compass.
Born in 1918 in West Virginia, Katherine’s brilliance with numbers showed early. By 13 she was attending high school; by 18 she was in college. She joined NACA, NASA’s predecessor, in 1953, in the segregated “colored computers” unit. Every day she entered a separate building, used a separate bathroom, and yet carried an unshakeable sense of belonging to the work itself. The equations were universal. Gravity did not discriminate.
When John Glenn prepared for his orbital flight in 1962, he famously said, “Get the girl to check the numbers.” Glenn trusted Katherine more than the IBM computer. For him, her invisible labor wasn’t invisible at all; it was essential.
By the time of Apollo 11, Katherine’s calculations had become the scaffolding for one of humanity’s boldest endeavors. Her name was not in the headlines. She didn’t sign autographs or receive ticker-tape parades. Yet she was at the heart of it all.
Her story is a symbol: purpose is not performance. Purpose is devotion, even in obscurity. Katherine Johnson’s alignment between gift and mission proves that what is unseen can still shape history.
The Cultural Spell
We live under a powerful spell: only visible work counts as valuable.
Our culture prizes the one on stage, the one whose name is printed, the one in the photograph. Visibility feels like proof of worth. The louder the applause, the greater the supposed impact.
This spell is reinforced daily. Social media trains us to equate likes with significance. Workplaces reward those who present, pitch, or lead visibly, while those who sustain operations quietly often fade into the background.
But this spell is a distortion. Apollo 11 offers the counterexample: while Armstrong became the face of the mission, it was Katherine Johnson’s quiet hand that gave the mission its chance.
The spell whispers: “If no one sees it, maybe it doesn’t matter.” But purpose breaks that illusion. Purpose tells us: “Even if no one sees, it still matters — if it is aligned with truth, service, and need.”
Katherine’s story shatters the myth that value equals visibility. Her life tells us that purpose flourishes even in shadows.
Truth Science
Invisible Labor: The term “invisible labor” was coined by sociologist Arlene Kaplan Daniels to capture the unpaid, unnoticed work that sustains households, organizations, and communities. Invisible labor is the glue of society, from caregiving and household chores to clerical duties and emotional support in offices.
Decades later, the research has only grown. A 2020 McKinsey report on workplace equity confirmed that women and people of color disproportionately carry this labor, both at home and in professional settings. It is vital, but undervalued.
Recognition Gaps: In organizations, this shows up as what Harvard Business Review calls “office housework”, the note-taking, event planning, and mentoring that keeps everything functioning but rarely leads to promotion. Studies have shown that employees who take on high volumes of invisible labor report higher burnout and lower advancement.
Meanwhile, highly visible roles such as presenters, closers, and charismatic leaders, receive outsized recognition. Visibility becomes a proxy for value, even when contribution is equal or greater behind the scenes.
The Psychology of Recognition: Neuroscience backs this up. Recognition activates the brain’s dopaminergic pathways, creating feelings of motivation and reward. Lack of recognition, by contrast, is linked to disengagement and attrition. This is why people in invisible roles often leave organizations, even though their work is indispensable.
Yet here is the paradox: while recognition helps sustain morale, purpose can sustain devotion even in its absence. Katherine Johnson’s career exemplifies this paradox. For decades, her work received little acknowledgment. Yet she kept going, because she was anchored in something deeper.
Purpose and Intrinsic Motivation: Psychologists Edward Deci and Richard Ryan’s Self-Determination Theory identifies purpose, autonomy, and mastery as key drivers of intrinsic motivation. Katherine Johnson embodied all three. She pursued mastery in mathematics, maintained autonomy by insisting on being in high-level meetings, and most importantly, anchored her labor in purpose ensuring space missions succeeded.
Purpose, then, is the hidden fuel that allows invisible labor to persist and matter, even when applause is absent. Purpose tells us: your contribution is not measured by the crowd’s reaction, but by the alignment of your gift with the world’s need.
What the Critic Says
Criticism: “If no one sees it, maybe it doesn’t matter.”
This is one of the most pervasive and corrosive criticisms in modern culture. It comes in subtle forms: Why put in effort if it won’t be recognized? Why bother with work no one applauds? At its core, it reduces value to visibility.
Why: The reason this criticism sticks is because culture reinforces it constantly. Recognition is the public marker of value. Awards, promotions, likes, followers, applause — these are the signals we are taught to chase. Even children learn it early: the one who speaks in class is praised, while the one who quietly helps clean up is overlooked.
Social media has amplified this conditioning. Visibility has become the new currency. A post that receives 1,000 likes feels more valuable than one that receives ten, regardless of content. A person with a million followers is assumed to be more influential, regardless of depth. The algorithmic logic of our time equates seen with significant, unseen with irrelevant.
This mindset bleeds into workplaces and communities. Employees who spend time on background tasks — preparing agendas, correcting errors, mentoring new hires — often hear the inner echo of the critic: “If no one sees this, maybe it doesn’t matter.” Leaders who carry emotional burdens or behind-the-scenes planning may feel invisible and undervalued. Parents, caregivers, and volunteers often experience the same erosion of worth when their contributions are overlooked.
But history tells a different story.
Reframe: Katherine Johnson’s life stands as a profound rebuttal. For decades, her contributions were almost entirely invisible outside of NASA. She was not interviewed, photographed, or credited publicly. And yet, when John Glenn was preparing to orbit the Earth, he trusted her invisible work with his life. He didn’t say, “Call the computer company.” He said, “Get the girl to check the numbers.”
Her purpose was not diminished by invisibility. In fact, its power lay in its devotion. She showed up every day to align her gift with a higher mission. The astronauts walked on the moon because her unseen equations made it possible.
This reveals the flaw in the critic’s logic: just because the crowd doesn’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter. In fact, many of the most vital contributions in history have been invisible at the time. Farmers who sustained entire societies rarely made headlines. Midwives who ensured survival of generations remained unnamed. Coders whose debugging prevents catastrophic crashes rarely get awards. Purpose has never required a stage.
The critic’s voice is tempting because it plays to ego: be seen, be applauded, prove your worth. But purpose speaks in another register: be aligned, be devoted, serve what matters, whether or not anyone sees.
Katherine Johnson embodied that deeper truth. She did not let invisibility erode her sense of worth. Instead, she carried a quiet conviction: if her calculations were right, lives would be saved. That was enough.
So the next time the critic whispers, “If no one sees it, maybe it doesn’t matter,” answer with Katherine Johnson’s legacy: The world doesn’t have to see it for it to matter. Purpose makes even the invisible luminous.
Practice
Today, honor invisible labor. First, notice it. Pause and look around: Who is tidying the space? Who is smoothing conflict? Who is quietly carrying responsibilities no one thanks them for?
Second, name it. Say: “I see what you do, and it matters.”
Finally, reflect inward. What invisible work do you yourself carry; emotional care, background preparation, unseen support? Instead of dismissing it, recognize it as part of your purpose. Even if the world doesn’t applaud, your devotion is not wasted.
This practice shifts culture one acknowledgment at a time. Gratitude makes the invisible visible.
Closing Echo
Katherine Johnson’s pencil never touched the moon, but her purpose carried humanity there. Her devotion was invisible to the public eye, but it was the most necessary thread in the tapestry. She proves that purpose doesn’t need a spotlight. Purpose is alignment between what you can do and what the world most needs.
We live in a culture of applause, but applause fades. Purpose endures. So the next time you wonder if your unseen work matters, remember Katherine Johnson: the mathematician whose purpose reached the stars.
Purpose is often carried by unseen hands. Today, notice them. Thank the colleague who quietly keeps things running, the caregiver who stabilizes life, the stranger who does the unnoticed work that sustains you. And reflect inward: what is your invisible labor, and how might you honor it as part of your purpose?
Your gratitude can turn the invisible into the luminous.
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