Posts tagged with: Women’s History Month
Preserving Her Legacy: Coming Together to Preserve the Legacy of Women Scientists on Wikipedia
On a recent spring afternoon, ten Wikipedians and staff members came together at the Smithsonian Institution Archives to participate in an edit-a-thon in celebration of Women’s History Month. What is an edit-a-thon? It’s a gathering of Wikipedia editors who come together to write and improve Wikipedia articles about subjects. This event was the first Wikipedia related event to be held at the Archives and the final in a series of month-long Women’s History Month edit-a-thons around the world held by Wikipedians. The event served to not only celebrate this partnership between the Archives and Wikipedia, but also to help memorialize and celebrate the lives and works of women scientists who have a connection to the Smithsonian.
As a long-time Wikipedian, and a student passionate about the representation of underrepresented peoples in public history and culture, the opportunity to join forces with the Smithsonian Institution Archives made absolute sense for me. My role as a fellow at the Wikimedia Foundation involves me seeking to bring more women and women’s related content to the world’s largest encyclopedia, and the Archives can serve two purposes related to that: first, by sharing their unique and interesting content related to women connected to the Smithsonian, the world’s largest museum complex; and second, encouraging archivists and staff members to participate in the partnership by learning to edit Wikipedia themselves. The latter is all the more important in the goal to involve more women in Wikipedia: anyone who works in the GLAM (Galleries, Libraries, Archives and Museums) world knows that it is a world that has an opposite problem than Wikipedia does—there are more women than men in the industry.
So, when this first event brought ten people together, I was so excited to see seven women as part of that group, including staff members and volunteer Wikipedians. I’m always happy when anyone wants to edit Wikipedia, but I’m even happier when women take the reigns and represent their interests (whether it’s women in science, or rock n' roll) and themselves on the website. And we did just that! As the group came together, everyone instantly supported each other by explaining editing processes, helping new editors make accounts, explain the often intimidating but easy ways to cite sources and add images to articles, and how to post those articles to the Wikipedia mainspace. The archivists shared rarely seen biographical materials from the collection with Wikipedians, and Wikipedians utilized those resources to create four new articles, expand one, and upload three new images. Articles were written about entomologist Doris Holmes Blake, botanist Clara H. Hasse, geologist Helen M. Duncan, zoologist Viola Shelly Shantz, and naturalist Anna Blackburne.
While Wikipedia struggles to retain existing editors, and works to improve conditions to be more friendly and helpful to new editors, the edit-a-thon experience furthers that mission by providing both new and experienced editors with a supportive atmosphere and a social editing experience. One of the most powerful experiences of the afternoon happened when two new articles about Clara H. Hasse and Helen M. Duncan, posted by newish editors, were nominated for deletion by other Wikipedians after the editors hit the save button. As the deletion nominations were frustratingly announced in the edit-a-thon "war room," the group came together to fight the deletions: helping one another find reliable sources to demonstrate the notability of the women scientists, and fighting the good fight on Wikipedia discussion pages that debated the deletions. The articles were saved, and even though Helen M. Duncan’s article was nominated for deletion again a few days later, it was saved by support from the community that quickly snowballed. Wikipedians had various valid reasons for declaring the article to be kept, with one editor stating: "Duncan's papers are held by the Smithsonian Institution Archives, which gets this subject 100% over the bar in five seconds in my opinion."
As the community and edit-a-thon group rallied, five more women were represented on Wikipedia with the help of the Smithsonian Institution Archives. As we work to continue to expand on women in science, and related subjects, we hope you’ll sign up to participate on our project page, and help us preserve the legacy of women in science from around the world on the world’s largest free encyclopedia.
Let’s Play the Name Game: Identifying Women Scientists on the Flickr Commons
For the past four years, the Smithsonain Institution Archives has honored Women’s History Month by publishing images of women in science to The Commons on Flickr. Among those, we include a selection that offer very little in the way of identification. Often times, with no name at all. To accompany this selection, we also call upon the Flickr Commons community to share their brilliant research skills and help expand on these skimpy image descriptions.
Following the success of previous years, this year was no different. Of the initial fifteen unidentified (or partially identified) images, the Smithsonian Institution Archives has officially updated the records of seven Women in Science images (pictured in the slideshow above), thanks to your help!
With each new comment added, so grew the excitement of the Archives staff working closely with these images. I would even gamble to say, these fellow colleagues start off with a favorite and silently root for her recognition. (Speaking of gambling, for future calls, we should place pseudo bets on which woman will be identified first! However, let it be stated, gambling is an unhealthy distraction for the workplace. And this concludes our impromptu PSA . . . I digress.)
Our supervisory archivist, Tammy Peters, was especially thrilled about the identification of Bertha Parker Pallan [Cody] (1907-1978) provided by Flickr member, Pixel Wrangler. Through this contribution, we learned of great accomplishments throughout her career, notably, that she has been referred to as the first woman to pursue archaeology professionally, and she was the first female Native American archaeologist. Including the fun fact: in 1936, Bertha Pallan married Oscar Cody (a.k.a “Iron Eyes Cody”)—an American actor best remembered for the "Keep America Beautiful" television advertisements in the 1970s.
I commend all the fascinating discoveries this year. However, there are eight remaining images that await more information or have yet to be addressed. In fact, my personal favorite needs some love. She currently goes by the name, “Unidentified Woman.”
There is nothing sadder than an image entitled “Unidentified woman.” Particularly, an image of a woman that looks so darling! The description mentions that “in other images she is standing with electrical engineer and Deutsches Technical Museum founder Oskar Von Miller (1855-1934).” Does this spark some insight into this woman’s past? Let the names begin.
(Anyone else have the chorus of Madonna’s “Who’s That Girl” playing in their head? . . . No? Just me?)
Dorothea Dix: Mental Health Reformer and Civil War Nurse
Throughout the next months, the Smithsonian Institution Archives will feature posts related to the Smithsonian and the Civil War in honor of the 150th anniversary of the American Civil War.
Throughout her life, Dorothea Lynde Dix (1802–1887) worked in many different occupations to improve the lives of the less fortunate. Dix’s devotion to caring for others was evident from her youth. From an early age, Dorothea was a caregiver to her two younger brothers, and later, to her grandmother. At only fifteen years old, Dorothea began a small school for girls, who were not welcome in public schools at the time. Dix continued to teach for many years, until a troubling experience in a Massachusetts jail influenced her to take up a new cause. Emboldened by her observations of the appalling conditions that mentally ill prisoners were subjected to, Dix visited other prisons throughout the state and successfully petitioned for improvements. She then travelled throughout the US and parts of Europe evaluating prisons and mental hospitals and advocating for better treatment for the mentally ill and less fortunate. She was a caretaker for her family, a school teacher to girls, and an advocate and reformer for the mentally ill. In addition to this impressive list of efforts, during the US Civil War, Dix volunteered her services and directed a body of nurses to minister to injured Union soldiers.
This Women’s History Month we commemorate the altruistic accomplishments of Dorothea Dix, who, we discovered, had an interesting connection to the Smithsonian Institution’s first family. In 1848, she requested that the US Congress set aside lands across the country for facilities for the mentally ill, which initiated legislative deliberations for many years to come. During these years, Dorothea constantly visited Washington, DC, to negotiate with Congress, and became a close friend and frequent house guest of Joseph Henry, first Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, and his family. In 1852, Congress finally succeeded in establishing the Government Hospital for the Insane in DC, today known as St. Elizabeth’s Hospital, which formally opened in 1855. In 1863, Joseph Henry was appointed to the board of the hospital, and remained a member until his death in 1878.
At the start of the Civil War in 1861 Dix was inspired to aid the war effort. On April 19, when a Massachusetts regiment en route to Washington was attacked by a secessionist mob in Baltimore, Maryland, Dix immediately took action. She took a train to Baltimore intending to help care for the wounded, but found improvised hospitals already providing aid. She then continued on to DC where, on the same day as the attack in Baltimore, she offered her services as a nurse at the War Department. Though she had no formal medical training or experience, Dix was made Superintendent of the United States Army Nurses on June 10. She quickly and adeptly acquired medical supplies and selected and trained nurses to administer to DC hospitals. Dix was a strict captain, requiring that all of her nurses be over thirty, plain looking, and wear dull uniforms. She earned a reputation for being firm and inflexible, but ran an efficient and effective corps of nurses.
Though extremely busy during the war, Dix did stay in contact with her friends the Henrys. On one occasion in 1861 she visited Joseph Henry to discuss "business connected with the storage of articles for the invalids." Henry noted her exhaustion, and asked Dix why she had walked over instead of riding in a horse-drawn wagon, to which she replied that "her expenses were so great in the way of her sanitary operations that she could not afford to hire a carriage." The following day Henry wrote to Simon Cameron, the Secretary of War, to request that the War Department furnish a one-horse wagon for the use of Dorothea, who was "devoting her time and pecuniary means to the welfare of the army of the United States and with exertions far beyond a prudent regard for [her own] health." Cameron approved of Henry’s suggestion and shared the note with President Abraham Lincoln who did the same. But when a carriage was offered to Dorothea Dix she refused, in keeping with her charitable nature. She wrote to Cameron "I give cheerfully my whole time, mind, strength and income, to the service of my country," and would not "receive any remuneration for what I cheerfully render as a loyal woman."
Dix served as Superintendent of Nurses through the end of the war in 1865, at which time she returned to her work advocating for the mentally ill. She continued this service until her death in 1887.
Also see So Much Need of Service: The Diary of a Civil War Nurse, a 2011 exhibit at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History, which highlights the diary of Civil War nurse Amanda Akin, to learn more about the lives of Civil War era nurses.
Truth and Beauty
This is one of a series of posts written in celebration of Women's History Month, and profiling additions of new images of female scientists added to the Smithsonian Flickr Commons. We invite you to subscribe to The Bigger Picture blog and to the Smithsonian Flickr Commons feed to keep up with new posts and image additions.
Maud Slye, (1879–1954), was a pathologist and tireless cancer researcher whose contributions to the role of genetics and cancer were game changing.
While at the University of Chicago working with Japanese "waltzing mice"—which suffer from a genetic neurologic disorder—Slye became interested in the link between genetic inheritance and disease expression. Her work with cancer, however, was prompted by what she was observing in her own lab mice and a report of cattle from the same ranch who all suffered from the same sort of cancer of the eye. Based on this report and additional scientific evidence, she set out to determine if there was a genetic link to explain why cancer developed in some animals and not in others.
Using her skill in breeding mice (her breeding records and charts are in the archives at the University of Chicago, she was able to develop strains of cancer-prone and cancer-resistant mice and reliably predict which pairings would develop cancer. Her success with the mouse model was compelling and challenged the long-held notion that cancer spread through a contagion. Her findings also led her to advocate for a comprehensive archive of human medical records to identify genetic weaknesses and help control cancer through healthy pairings. As she stated in a January 1937, Time article, "I breed out breast cancers. I don't think we should feel so hopeless about breeding out other types. Only romance stops us. It is the duty of scientists to ascertain and present facts. If the people prefer romance to taking advantage of these facts, there is nothing we can do about it." I bet Eugenicists loved that. But I digress…
Although her exacting work answered some questions regarding why cancers run in families, it was criticized as overly simplistic and not fully appreciative of the complexity of extraneous factors that could also prompt the emergence of cancer. Nevertheless, there was more to Maud Slye than mice and cancer.
Like many scientists, Slye had an artistic and expressive side. Poetry may, on its face, appear to be at odds with her detailed statistical analysis of mouse heredity and cancer, but I think her propensity for it makes perfect sense. Good science and poetry require keen observation, analysis, interpretation, and persuasive presentation for success.
Her two books of poetry, Songs and Solaces (Stratford Co., 1934) and I the Wind: Symphony no. 1 and minor songs (Stratford Co., 1936) are not thin little volumes published by a vanity press. These are substantial works of several hundred pages each and were received well by critics. The poems (what snatches I’ve been able to find) are evocative, romantic, and linguistically rich.
Maud Slye was a complex women who managed to combine the pursuits of truth and beauty and succeeded at both.
Fame ... By Any Other Name
This is one of a series of posts written in celebration of Women's History Month, and profiling additions of new images of female scientists to the "Women in Science" set on the Smithsonian Flickr Commons. We invite you to subscribe to The Bigger Picture blog to keep up with new posts, and to help us identify some of the unidientified scientists in our "Women in Science" set.
How long does fame last? And is the foundation of scientific fame changing? Within science, professional reputations were traditionally built upon peer-reviewed publications or prizes. For those scientists who became celebrities—well-known to the general public, and interviewed in newspapers or on television—the construction of fame was a different, often collaborative activity, involving a cooperative (possibly ambitious) scientist and an eager journalist or broadcaster.
Today, the peculiar combination of electronic evanescence and eternity found in cyberspace has changed the game. Scientists can cultivate fame proactively, setting up Twitter accounts and Facebook pages, and they can survive as cyber-celebrities after death.
Two scientists who achieved public fame in the twentieth century—Margaret Mead and Dixy Lee Ray—exemplify the curious manifestations of this latter situation. Both Mead and Ray were rarities in the circle of "visible scientists." In their day, the media tended to notice female scientists only if they won the Nobel Prize or were exotic, eccentric pathbreakers, comfortable in the spotlight and seemingly impervious to criticism.
Margaret Mead became a celebrity during the 1930s. The young, photogenic anthropologist, who analyzed adolescent sexuality among primitive tribes, understandably attracted journalistic attention. Mead could write accessible popular articles. She was relaxed before television cameras. When she lectured, she dominated the room.
Mead is well represented in the Smithsonian’s archival and art collections. However, in addition to such material culture, famous people can now retain "celebrity longevity" on the web. On the website of the American Museum of Natural History, where Mead worked for over fifty years, you can watch her walk through curatorial storage areas. And in 2011, to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Mead’s birth, the Library of Congress (which houses her papers) created an online exhibit about her life and work.
Dixy Lee Ray offers a more complex example, in part because during mid-career she simmered in the hot spaces of national politics, yet lived a quieter life in her early and later decades.
After graduating from college, Ray taught in public schools and then, in 1942, entered a Stanford University PhD program and became a marine biologist. In 1963, after years of university teaching, Ray turned to public service, first as director of the Pacific Science Center and then, in 1972, on the US Atomic Energy Commission (AEC).
By 1974, she was so well known that she received a “Woman of the Year” award in the company of activist Dorothy Height, tennis star Billie Jean King, and actress Katherine Hepburn. Nevertheless, while at the AEC, Ray chose to live in a 28-foot motor home in suburban Maryland, with her deerhound and miniature poodle, hiking the nearby woods rather than engaging in the political high life.
In 1977, Ray became governor of Washington state. The Washington Post had called her an "unconventional anti-politician," "sometimes gruff, often outspoken, always colorful," and that tough nature did not always win political friends. She lost a reelection bid, under constant attack from environmentalists, in part for supporting nuclear energy as an alternative to fossil fuels.
After her death, Ray was included, along with Native American leaders Hazel Pete and Billy Frank, Jr., and musician Jimi Hendrix, in the Centralia College Clocktower Diversity Project. A rhododendron cultivar and a major environmental award have been named in her honor. Ray is represented within Smithsonian art and other collections and her speeches, too, can be watched on YouTube.
Will cyber-celebrity last forever? Is achieving online scientific fame now an egalitarian process? As a historian who has studied gender bias in how scientists appear in print, radio, and television, I cannot help but wonder whether the opportunities presented through modern social media might be a game-changer for female scientists, if they are willing to follow the paths blazed by Mead and Ray and to step boldly onto the cyber-stage.
Historian Marcel Chotkowski LaFollette is a Research Associate at the Smithsonian Institution Archives, and author of "Science on the Air: Popularizers and Personalities on Radio and Television." Her latest book, "Science on American Television: A History," will be published by the University of Chicago Press in Fall 2012.
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