The women pilots that history shouldn’t forget …

Queen B: Bessie Coleman

Bessie Coleman broke multiple barriers when she took flight in 1921, and became the first African-American woman to earn a pilot’s license.

Today’s Google Doodle commemorates the 125th anniversary of her birth. Coleman was among a small group of female aviators in the early 20th century who successfully flew around the detours of racial prejudice and sexism to become queens in the air.
Worldwide, only 3 percent of airline pilots are women, the Royal Aeronautical Society said last November.
Recently, there’s a move to change that.
The obvious place to begin is by highlighting the achievements of those long-forgotten — the women who ignored the men who scorned them, broke through the restrictions society placed on them, and paved the way for Amelia Earhart.
Bessie Coleman set her sights high when she left rural Texas in her 20s. She moved to Chicago and worked as a manicurist, but it was her brothers’ stories from from World War I that piqued her interest in flying. They’d make jokes about about how French women were better than African-American women because they could fly. Those taunts became inspiration, but flight schools in the US denied her entry because of her race and gender, according to the Smithsonian.
Very few American women of any race had pilot’s licenses by 1918, but those who did were often white and rich. Undeterred, she learned French and moved to Paris. In 1921, Coleman became the first female pilot of African-American and Native-American descent.
Upon her return to the US she still faced discrimination and found work barnstorming, according the Chicago Defender newspaper. As a stunt pilot she dazzled crowds as she parachuted from planes and performed aerial tricks. The pioneering daredevil was given the nickname “Queen Bessie.”
She died at 34 in 1926 during a practice run with another pilot. About 10 minutes into the flight, as they were doing a dive, the engine stopped working and Coleman fell from the plane. While she never fulfilled her dream to open a flight school for future black pilots, Coleman’s imprint on aviation history lives on.
Here are some of them, whose stories researcher and author Laurie Notaro dug up for her book, Crossing the Horizon.

Miss America of Aviation: Ruth Elder

Ruth Elder was known for her beauty and acting, but her real dream was to become the female version of transatlantic aviator Charles Lindbergh.
Newspapers at the time loved to describe her as ‘the pretty American girl‘ who refused to give up her dream of flying from New York to Paris.

Elder refused to disguise herself as a man to become a pilot. Her popular hairstyle was known as 'Ruth Ribbons.'

A woman out of her time, she even put flying above marriage.
“Her husband complained that she devoted all her attention to aviation and none to her home,” reported The Scotsman in 1930.
But mechanical problems caused her monoplane, and dream, to crash in her last attempt on October 11, 1927.
She survived, floating in the Atlantic Ocean, 360 miles from land before she was rescued. At the time, it was the longest flight ever made by a woman.
“I knew if the venture succeeded it would lift me from obscurity. If it failed, and I went down, it would only be another useless life lost,” Elder told the Sunday Mail.
Her name, while often overlooked, will forever linked to the title “Miss America of Aviation”.

A British Earl’s daring daughter: Elsie Mackay

The daughter of British Earl James Mackay, Elsie Mackay insisted on being both an actress and a flier.
She was better known by the public as Poppy Wyndam. That’s the name she picked to avoid her father’s ire in her career choices.

Mackay, better known as actress Poppy Wyndham, was so famous that candy companies gave away trading cards with her photo on them. Her, dream, however, was to fly.

But while Mackay stared in eight films, she died trying to accomplish her true dream: becoming the first woman to cross the Atlantic by air in March 1928.
Mackay flew under a male pseudonym and planned her entire flight in secrecy, researcher and author Laurie Notaro told CNN. This included “bringing an airplane over from the United States because no one would sell her one in England.”

The queen of diamonds and air: Mabel Boll

Mabel Boll, got her nickname — the Queen of Diamonds — because she loved her sparkly jewelery. But the American socialite loved flying even more. She wanted to be remembered as the ‘Queen of the Air.’
When living in Paris as a young widow, she tried to find a pilot to fly with her across the Atlantic in January 1928.
“Mabel Boll was also Amelia Earhart’s closest and fiercest competitor. She and Earhart were stationed 90 miles apart on Newfoundland, depending on the same weather reports to make their transatlantic attempts,” Notaro told CNN.
Boll didn’t succeed. Earhard made the crossing six months later, in June.

Why remember these women?

“Everyone knows about Charles Lindbergh, but that’s not the case for these women,” Notaro said. “History turned its back on them. I very much wanted to right that wrong.”
“We have to remember the other pioneering aviatrixes who paved the way for Amelia Earhart as well as all of the woman pilots that came after them,” she added.
For Hamilton, the aviation researcher, focusing on these women can inspire young girls.
“It helps young women see that they can actually follow their aviation or aerospace dreams because they see the face of a woman trailblazer,” Hamilton said.

Source: The women pilots that history shouldn’t forget – CNN.com

The Story Behind The Movie Hidden Figures …

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Melba Roy

As America stood on the brink of a Second World War, the push for aeronautical advancement grew ever greater, spurring an insatiable demand for mathematicians. Women were the solution. Ushered into the Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory in 1935 to shoulder the burden of number crunching, they acted as human computers, freeing the engineers of hand calculations in the decades before the digital age. Sharp and successful, the female population at Langley skyrocketed.

Many of these “computers” are finally getting their due, but conspicuously missing from this story of female achievement are the efforts contributed by courageous, African-American women. Called the West Computers, after the area to which they were relegated, they helped blaze a trail for mathematicians and engineers of all races and genders to follow.

“These women were both ordinary and they were extraordinary,” says Margot Lee Shetterly. Her new book Hidden Figures shines light on the inner details of these women’s lives and accomplishments. The book is being adapted into a movie that will receive a wide release release in January.

“We’ve had astronauts, we’ve had engineers—John Glenn, Gene Kranz, Chris Kraft,” she says. “Those guys have all told their stories.” Now it’s the women’s turn.

 Growing up in Hampton, Virginia, in the 1970s, Shetterly lived just miles away from Langley. Built in 1917, this research complex was the headquarters for the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA) which was intended to turn the floundering flying gadgets of the day into war machines. The agency was dissolved in 1958, to be replaced by the National Aeronautics and Space Agency (NASA) as the space race gained speed.

The West Computers were at the heart of the center’s advancements. They worked through equations that described every function of the plane, running the numbers often with no sense of the greater mission of the project. They contributed to the ever-changing design of a menagerie of wartime flying machines, making them faster, safer, more aerodynamic. Eventually their stellar work allowed some to leave the computing pool for specific projects—Christine Darden worked to advance supersonic flight, Katherine Johnson calculated the trajectories for the Mercury and Apollo missions. NASA dissolved the remaining few human computers in the 1970s as the technological advances made their roles obsolete.

The first black computers didn’t set foot at Langley until the 1940s. Though the pressing needs of war were great, racial discrimination remained strong and few jobs existed for African-Americans, regardless of gender. That was until 1941 when A. Philip Randolph, pioneering civil rights activist, proposed a march on Washington, D.C., to draw attention to the continued injustices of racial discrimination. With the threat of 100,000 people swarming to the Capitol, President Franklin D. Roosevelt issued Executive Order 8802, preventing racial discrimination in hiring for federal and war-related work. This order also cleared the way for the black computers, slide rule in hand, to make their way into NACA history.

Katherine Johnson at her desk at Langley with a
Katherine Johnson at her desk at Langley with a “celestial training device.” (NASA)

Exactly how many women computers worked at NACA (and later NASA) over the years is still unknown. One 1992 study estimated the total topped several hundred but other estimates, including Shetterly’s own intuition, says that number is in the thousands.

As a child, Shetterly knew these brilliant mathematicians as her girl scout troop leaders, Sunday school teachers, next-door neighbors and as parents of schoolmates. Her father worked at Langley as well, starting in 1964 as an engineering intern and becoming a well-respected climate scientist. “They were just part of a vibrant community of people, and everybody had their jobs,” she says. “And those were their jobs. Working at NASA Langley.”

Surrounded by the West Computers and other academics, it took decades for Shetterly to realize the magnitude of the women’s work. “It wasn’t until my husband, who was not from Hampton, was listening to my dad talk about some of these women and the things that they have done that I realized,” she says. “That way is not necessarily the norm”

The spark of curiosity ignited, Shetterly began researching these women. Unlike the male engineers, few of these women were acknowledged in academic publications or for their work on various projects. Even more problematic was that the careers of the West Computers were often more fleeting than those of the white men. Social customs of the era dictated that as soon as marriage or children arrived, these women would retire to become full-time homemakers, Shetterly explains. Many only remained at Langley for a few years.

But the more Shetterly dug, the more computers she discovered. “My investigation became more like an obsession,” she writes in the book. “I would walk any trail if it meant finding a trace of one of the computers at its end.”

She scoured telephone directories, local newspapers, employee newsletters and the NASA archives to add to her growing list of names. She also chased down stray memos, obituaries, wedding announcements and more for any hint at the richness of these women’s lives. “It was a lot of connecting the dots,” she says.

“I get emails all the time from people whose grandmothers or mothers worked there,” she says. “Just today I got an email from a woman asking if I was still searching for computers. [She] had worked at Langley from July 1951 through August 1957.”

Langley was not just a laboratory of science and engineering; “in many ways, it was a racial relations laboratory, a gender relations laboratory,” Shetterly says. The researchers came from across America. Many came from parts of the country sympathetic to the nascent Civil Rights Movement, says Shetterly, and backed the progressive ideals of expanded freedoms for black citizens and women.

Read more: The True Story of “Hidden Figures,” the Forgotten Women Who Helped Win the Space Race