WHEN INDIA JACKSON TORE OPEN THE ENVELOPE FROM NASA ON A SPRING AFTERNOON IN 2019, SHE KNEW SHE’D ARRIVED AT A DECISIVE MOMENT IN HER CAREER AS AN ASTROPHYSICIST. BUT SHE DIDN’T KNOW JUST HOW BITTERSWEET IT WOULD TURN OUT TO BE.
WHEN INDIA JACKSON TORE OPEN THE ENVELOPE FROM NASA ON A SPRING AFTERNOON IN 2019, SHE KNEW SHE’D ARRIVED AT A DECISIVE MOMENT IN HER CAREER AS AN ASTROPHYSICIST. BUT SHE DIDN’T KNOW JUST HOW BITTERSWEET IT WOULD TURN OUT TO BE.
Inside was a letter informing the Georgia State doctoral student that she’d been awarded a highly coveted summer internship with the agency’s Space Radiation Analysis Group in Houston, where she’d research how to keep astronauts safe from the deadly radiation of solar flares.
But as she read on, her heart sank. There it was in bold letters: Travel and housing costs are the student’s responsibility.
It was a career-making offer for India, who loves science fiction and sports a tattoo of a mathematical equation on her chest. But the then-32-year-old single mom who’d already taken a huge pay cut to pursue her academic dream had no idea how she could afford to accept the internship. Paying rent in Atlanta was hard enough on her graduate student stipend. How would she manage to afford a second apartment in Houston, plus airfare, a car and 10 weeks of activities for her then-12-year-old daughter, Jewel?
“Unfortunately, it was a feeling I’d felt several times before, where opportunities present themselves but require you to have money,” she says. “But this was different. This was NASA. I thought, ‘Let’s try to make the impossible possible.’”
A cousin suggested raising the money on crowdfunding website GoFundMe.com, but India was skeptical anyone would want to give money to a stranger. Her cousin insisted: India was doing something exceptional, and people would see that. So, they posted a link to the fundraiser on social media. Then she went to bed.
When she woke up the next morning, the fundraiser had gone viral.
“It just went crazy,” India remembers. Her phone lit up with texts, emails and messages on social media from places as far away as Hawaii, Italy and Australia. She got encouraging letters from educators and students around the world who found her story inspiring.
“One anonymous donor gave me $1,000,” she says, incredulous. “But others gave me $1 or $5, which is just as significant because that means people were giving me what they could, you know?”
Within 24 hours, India had raised the $8,000 she needed to cover the costs of the internship, plus about $500 extra. The money was pouring in so fast she worried it could amount to $50,000 or even higher.
“I didn’t need all the extra money — for what? This is not a cash grab,” explains India, who radiates a disarming charm.
Having met her goal, she shut it down. Then the floodgates really opened. People wrote in begging her to reopen the fundraiser so they could send more money. “What if something unexpected happened?” they asked. “Wouldn’t it be helpful to have a little buffer?” Her answer was a hard no. Then came the interview requests from international media: BBC News, CNN, The New York Times.
“People were genuinely shocked that somebody would do that, but money doesn’t motivate me,” she says. “When you decide to be a scientist, you do it to make history, not to make money.”
The attention was overwhelming, and not everybody was on board, including India’s own family. But now that her name, photo and story had been plastered everywhere from Univision to Essence magazine, there was no going back. India Jackson was on her way to NASA.
Since then, Jackson returned to campus to earn a Master’s in Physics. This spring, she’ll graduate with two more pieces of paper — a Master’s in Computer Science and her Ph.D in Physics. She’ll become the first Black woman to earn a Ph.D. in Physics from Georgia State. She was also recognized by the Georgia State Alumni Association as a Class of 2024 40 Under 40 honoree.
Before she walks across the stage with her fifth degree from the university, she’ll work with NASA for a third time in the Heliophysics Mission Design School.
“NASA Mission Control is a dream, and that's where I want to end up," she says.
INDIA’S MOTHER KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING SPECIAL about her daughter from the time she was 2 years old.
“She would talk in full, complete sentences,” recalls Laquanda Jackson (A.A. ’08, B.A. ’08, M.A. ’13). “She used to do my older son’s homework. At two, she was adding, doing ABCs. I just knew: This little girl is different.”
When India was in third grade, teachers suggested she skip ahead, but Laquanda, a sociologist, thought it would be better for her daughter to stay among kids her own age. By middle school, though, there was no denying India’s talents.
“She was doing calculus in the eighth grade,” Laquanda remembers.
That same year, India was selected to participate in an exclusive STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) program at Atlanta’s Fernbank Science Center. It was there, in the planetarium, where India became captivated with the stars, driving her to reach the highest echelons of academic science. However, her journey from Lithonia, Ga., to NASA wasn’t without tension. Frequently caught between her steadfast commitments to both her family and her calling, she has time and again relied on her intuition to make difficult decisions, despite the misgivings of her friends and family.
Her first controversial choice was going to Georgia State instead of Spelman after getting accepted to both schools. (“I love this school so much. It's definitely one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life,” she says.) Then, after graduation, came the decision to stay in school for a master’s degree in mathematics. Her family frowned on the notion of India remaining a “career student” when she had a young child to raise. (Jewel arrived during India’s junior year.)
Still, she was determined to follow her gut. Fresh out of graduate school, she began teaching college math at age 26, earning a good salary. But she soon decided to go back to Georgia State for a Ph.D. in physics, her true passion. Again, everybody discouraged her. “They thought that I was crazy. They’d say, ‘You’re making good money. Why would you stop what you have going on now?’”
She tried to explain that everything in her — mind, body, heart and soul — was pulling her back to the stars.
This determination is partly what intrigued astronomy professor Piet Martens to sign on as India’s doctoral adviser.
“She’s totally different from your average graduate student,” he says. “She’s older, she’s had life experience, she’d already taught college, and she clearly has a passion for math. I thought it would be a great fit.”
Martens works closely with NASA’s Space Radiation Analysis Group, and it was he who suggested India apply for her first NASA internship.
“She dares to take risks, she has initiative and she’s curious,” says Martens, who adds that Jackson’s background brings much-needed diversity to an organization that depends on researchers creatively solving problems together. “I’m very motivated to make our field more diverse. It’s better for NASA if there’s more balance.”
By the time the NASA letter arrived, though, India had been walking a lonely road. Friends and family members questioned her decision to swap a teaching salary for a graduate stipend one-third the size. Her car was repossessed, occasionally forcing her to walk to class. An internship at NASA was a sign all these risks could finally pay off.
Still, Laquanda discouraged her daughter from accepting.
“I’m old school,” Laquanda says. “You’re talking about a very traditional African American Christian family, where your family comes first, and you yourself as a career woman come second. I told her, ‘No, you need to focus on your daughter and family, and your career comes later.’”
It wasn’t until India’s story went viral that Laquanda began to realize just how remarkable her daughter’s achievement was.
“Even my in-laws in Pittsburgh were calling me,” she remembers. “When I saw my daughter’s and granddaughter’s faces on TV, and then ‘Good Morning America’ just happened to mention it, that’s when it hit me: Wow, she’s famous! And doing things! This is amazing.”
Laquanda came around, and she now displays framed printouts of news stories about her daughter around the house. She admires India for having the courage to pursue her goals in the face of adversity — the struggles that come not only with being a Black woman in science, but also with having to convince her reluctant family of the wisdom of her decisions.
“She’s independent. She’s fierce. She’s fearless,” Laquanda says. “And she’s a really good mother.”
“When you decide to be a scientist, you do it to make history, not to make money.”
“When you decide to be a scientist, you do it to make history, not to make money.”
“When you decide to be a scientist, you do it to make history, not to make money.”
INDIA’S MOTHER KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING SPECIAL about her daughter from the time she was 2 years old.
“She would talk in full, complete sentences,” recalls Laquanda Jackson (A.A. ’08, B.A. ’08, M.A. ’13). “She used to do my older son’s homework. At two, she was adding, doing ABCs. I just knew: This little girl is different.”
When India was in third grade, teachers suggested she skip ahead, but Laquanda, a sociologist, thought it would be better for her daughter to stay among kids her own age. By middle school, though, there was no denying India’s talents.
“She was doing calculus in the eighth grade,” Laquanda remembers.
That same year, India was selected to participate in an exclusive STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) program at Atlanta’s Fernbank Science Center. It was there, in the planetarium, where India became captivated with the stars, driving her to reach the highest echelons of academic science. However, her journey from Lithonia, Ga., to NASA wasn’t without tension. Frequently caught between her steadfast commitments to both her family and her calling, she has time and again relied on her intuition to make difficult decisions, despite the misgivings of her friends and family.
Her first controversial choice was going to Georgia State instead of Spelman after getting accepted to both schools. (“I love this school so much. It's definitely one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life,” she says.) Then, after graduation, came the decision to stay in school for a master’s degree in mathematics. Her family frowned on the notion of India remaining a “career student” when she had a young child to raise. (Jewel arrived during India’s junior year.)
Still, she was determined to follow her gut. Fresh out of graduate school, she began teaching college math at age 26, earning a good salary. But she soon decided to go back to Georgia State for a Ph.D. in physics, her true passion. Again, everybody discouraged her. “They thought that I was crazy. They’d say, ‘You’re making good money. Why would you stop what you have going on now?’”
She tried to explain that everything in her — mind, body, heart and soul — was pulling her back to the stars.
This determination is partly what intrigued astronomy professor Piet Martens to sign on as India’s doctoral adviser.
“She’s totally different from your average graduate student,” he says. “She’s older, she’s had life experience, she’d already taught college, and she clearly has a passion for math. I thought it would be a great fit.”
Martens works closely with NASA’s Space Radiation Analysis Group, and it was he who suggested India apply for her first NASA internship.
“She dares to take risks, she has initiative and she’s curious,” says Martens, who adds that Jackson’s background brings much-needed diversity to an organization that depends on researchers creatively solving problems together. “I’m very motivated to make our field more diverse. It’s better for NASA if there’s more balance.”
By the time the NASA letter arrived, though, India had been walking a lonely road. Friends and family members questioned her decision to swap a teaching salary for a graduate stipend one-third the size. Her car was repossessed, occasionally forcing her to walk to class. An internship at NASA was a sign all these risks could finally pay off.
Still, Laquanda discouraged her daughter from accepting.
“I’m old school,” Laquanda says. “You’re talking about a very traditional African American Christian family, where your family comes first, and you yourself as a career woman come second. I told her, ‘No, you need to focus on your daughter and family, and your career comes later.’”
It wasn’t until India’s story went viral that Laquanda began to realize just how remarkable her daughter’s achievement was.
“Even my in-laws in Pittsburgh were calling me,” she remembers. “When I saw my daughter’s and granddaughter’s faces on TV, and then ‘Good Morning America’ just happened to mention it, that’s when it hit me: Wow, she’s famous! And doing things! This is amazing.”
Laquanda came around, and she now displays framed printouts of news stories about her daughter around the house. She admires India for having the courage to pursue her goals in the face of adversity — the struggles that come not only with being a Black woman in science, but also with having to convince her reluctant family of the wisdom of her decisions.
“She’s independent. She’s fierce. She’s fearless,” Laquanda says. “And she’s a really good mother.”
“Quitting was not an option.”
“Quitting was not an option.”
INDIA JACKSON WITH HER DAUGHTER, JEWEL.
INDIA JACKSON WITH HER DAUGHTER, JEWEL.
INDIA ARRIVED IN HOUSTON during the summer of 2019, and she was absolutely terrified. Born and raised in Atlanta, she’d barely been west of Six Flags, let alone four states away from her entire family. Houston was uncharted territory, and she didn’t know a soul.
She got Jewel situated at the Boys & Girls Club and reported for NASA orientation, where she was expected to hit the ground running.
She discovered that her reputation had preceded her when a fellow intern came up to congratulate her on her GoFundMe campaign. It was awkward, but thankfully, “scientists get over it real quick,” she says.
Assigned to NASA’s Space Medicine Operations Division, India conducted research on solar flares and radiation belts, which will be critical in keeping astronauts safe on two important upcoming missions. NASA is gearing up to send astronauts to Mars and launch Project Artemis, which will mark the United States’ first crewed landing on the moon since 1972. Named for Apollo’s twin sister, the mission also aims to land a woman on the moon for the first time in history.
As it turns out, that extra $500 India collected from her crowdfunding campaign came in handy after all. About halfway through her internship, she started to feel ill. She drove herself to the emergency room, where doctors diagnosed her with uterine fibroids. The bleeding was so bad that she had to undergo three blood transfusions in Houston before traveling back to Atlanta to see her regular doctor.
Once again, her parents urged her to stay home to look after her health, but India was back at work within days.
“People believed in me. They gave me money that I had already spent. I worked my whole life for the opportunity,” she says. “Quitting was not an option.”
IN SOME WAYS, INDIA’S JOURNEY TO NASA was the epitome of a feel-good story: strangers coming together to make a deserving woman’s dreams come true. But focusing only on her individual experience obscures the systemic obstacles that keep fields like astrophysics so overwhelmingly white and male.
“Single moms — anyone who has financial obligations because of the reality of life — should have as much of an opportunity to do physics as anyone else,” Shannon Palus argued for Slate in an op-ed inspired by India’s story. “It’s hard to imagine a world in which GoFundMe’s are consistently filling in the gaps for all of the budding researchers who wouldn’t otherwise be able to float the bill.”
India considers herself lucky to have built a large enough social media following for her crowdfunding campaign to go viral, but she recognizes that’s not a solution for everyone.
“It’s tough for the poor to pull themselves out of poverty, and poverty-stricken students of color always have a tougher time,” she says. “For deserving students to take these opportunities, we need to have more community involvement.”
Still, she encourages people like her to find the courage to take risks and follow their destiny — even all the way to NASA.
“As a scientist and mathematician, I work off logic most of the time, but for life decisions, I work off intuition,” she says. “Logic works sometimes, but your intuition works every time.”
