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  For everyone looking for inspiration to live their own gutsy life

  Introduction

  When CNN published the eye-catching headline “Rare blue pigment found in medieval woman’s teeth rewrites history,” we both read the article, then immediately sent it to each other. It explained that researchers examining burial remains at a women’s monastery in Germany had come across the skeleton of a woman who had died as early as 997 AD. As they looked at the skeleton, they noticed something strange: There were flecks of blue in her teeth. Those blue flecks turned out to be a rare, expensive pigment made from crushed lapis lazuli stones, once as expensive as gold. Only the most talented artists were permitted to use it. So how—in a time when artists were presumed to be men—did it find its way into this woman’s teeth? According to the scientists, she was most likely a painter, dipping her brush in her mouth after each stroke.

  “That the discovery was made in a rural German monastery is no surprise; books were being produced during this time in monasteries across the country,” the article explains. “But women were not known to be the illustrators of such prized creations.… In fact, the writers and illustrators often didn’t sign their work, as a gesture of humility—and if women were those writers and artists, the practice would effectively erase them from history.” Reading the story brought to mind Virginia Woolf’s famous work A Room of One’s Own: “I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.”

  Power has largely been associated with—and defined by—men since the beginning of time. Yet women have painted, written, created, discovered, invented, and led for just as long. It’s simply that their work is more likely to go unrecognized—sometimes for centuries. We believe it is past time for that to change.

  Take the women on the cover of this book, civilian firefighters pictured during a training exercise at the Pearl Harbor Naval Shipyard circa 1941. The photo was published countless times before a librarian and writer named Dorothea Buckingham came across it on a website and looked it up in the Hawaii War Records Depository. Seventy years after the photograph was taken, the public learned who the women were: Elizabeth Moku, Alice Cho, Katherine Lowe, and Hilda Van Gieson. “We were rugged,” Katherine, then ninety-six years old, remembered fondly. “We carried heavy stuff, oil drums, bags, anything that needed to be stored.”

  By now it’s a familiar idea, beautifully echoed by Sally Ride: “You can’t be what you can’t see.” But many of the women in this book set out to become exactly what they couldn’t see. They had no route to follow, no guarantee they’d ever reach their destination—whether that destination was freedom, the right to vote, the chance to be a doctor, or the opportunity to compete in sports or in anything else. But every time someone has the courage to try, she shows the way. And that helps little girls and boys alike to know that girls’ dreams are equally as valuable, valid, and important as those of their brothers, their friends, and most of the faces they see in their history books. Each of us has seen—first in her own life, then through the eyes of her daughter—just how powerful representation can be.

  That’s what drove then ten-year-old Marley Dias to start the campaign #1000blackgirlbooks after she noticed that there were no characters in the books she read who looked like her. It’s what inspired Chelsea to write She Persisted and She Persisted Around the World, and to include inspiring women in It’s Your World and Start Now!, her books for young activists. It’s why movies like Hidden Figures, about three black women working in the space program, and On the Basis of Sex, about Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, are so important. It’s why it’s so thrilling to cheer for female athletes around the world, from ice hockey players in India to synchronized swimmers in Jamaica to the four-time World Cup champion women’s soccer team in the United States. It’s why the leadership shown by Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern after the mosque massacre in New Zealand and the significant speech against misogyny by former Australian prime minister Julia Gillard are so powerful. It’s why we love hearing from girls—and boys—about who their favorite female heroes are and sharing our own favorites. And it’s why we loved writing this book.

  Throughout history and around the globe, women have overcome some of the toughest and cruelest resistance imaginable, from physical violence and intimidation to a total lack of legal rights or recourse, in order to redefine what is considered “a woman’s place.” That is the great achievement of the women featured in this book. And thanks to their talents and guts, we have all made progress.

  So how did they do it? The answers are as unique as the women themselves. The writers Rachel Carson and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie named something no one had dared talk about before. Civil rights activist Dorothy Height, LGBTQ trailblazer Edie Windsor, and swimmer Diana Nyad kept pushing forward, no matter what stood in their way. Labor Secretary Frances Perkins and tennis stars Venus and Serena Williams had laser focus despite a storm of sexism made even more challenging because each was a “first” in her own way. Harriet Tubman and Malala Yousafzai stared fear in the face and persevered. Pioneering nurse Florence Nightingale and organizer Ai-jen Poo relied on seemingly endless reserves of compassion. Wangari Maathai, who sparked a movement to plant trees, understood the power of role modeling. Early women’s rights advocate Sojourner Truth and Clara Barton, founder of the American Red Cross, saw how one cause was linked to another. Teenage climate activist Greta Thunberg remained fiercely true to herself even when she was ignored or belittled. Every single one of their lives was or is optimistic—they had faith that their actions could make a difference.

  Before we had even finished writing, we were seized with regret that we couldn’t include every woman who has inspired us with her tenacity and commitment to improving our world, whether she defined that as her own family or our global community. We initially included a courageous DREAMer fighting for comprehensive immigration reform, but she told us that doing so would likely expose her family to retribution. And we could have written an entire book about our friends who have proven, through their own bravery and brilliance, that one gutsy woman can spark a chain reaction within her community.

  The list went on and on. What about Babe Didrikson Zaharias, who shattered nearly every athletic barrier in the early 1900s and, when asked whether there was anything she didn’t play, answered, “Yeah, dolls”? What about artists like Mary Cassatt, Georgia O’Keeffe, Frida Kahlo, Carrie Mae Weems, and the rest of the page-long list we came up with? What about Laverne Cox, whose courage has changed hearts, minds, and laws—not to mention television? What about Zainab Bangura, the first woman to run for president of Sierra Leone and someone who has dedicated her life to speaking out against the atrocity of rape used as a tactic of war? What about fearless journalists like April Ryan, who are standing up for freedom of the press despite personal attacks from the president of the United States? What about the three mighty women on the United States Supreme Court, or the 127 in Congress? What about Joy Harjo, who became the first Native American U.S. poet laureate as we handed in our final manuscript? What about the six—six!—women running for president of the United States in mid-2019? We are living through a time of upheaval and tumult around the globe, but
we’re also living in an era of gutsy women from all walks of life.

  We hope this book will be the beginning of a conversation, or the middle—but certainly not the end. If reading about these women sparks your curiosity, we encourage you to go out and learn more about them. We hope you’ll go to your local public library and check out a book; we used to go to the library across the street from our church in Little Rock on Sunday after services, and it was there that Chelsea first discovered some of the women she writes about here. If the book you want to read doesn’t yet exist, maybe you’re the one to write it. Maybe there’s a woman you think is missing from the pages of history. Maybe it’s your mother, your grandmother, your aunt, or your daughter. Maybe it’s you. Heroes are everywhere. It’s up to each of us to seek them out, tell their stories, and celebrate the women who inspire us every day—and then, even more important, to take their example to heart by finding our own unique way to make our mark on the world.

  Ensuring the rights, opportunities, and full participation of women and girls remains a big piece of the unfinished business of the twenty-first century. Finishing it is going to take all of us standing shoulder to shoulder, across the generations, across genders. This is not a moment for anyone to leave the fight, or sit on the sidelines waiting for the perfect moment to join. We are reminded of Gloria Steinem, who described being asked repeatedly when she planned to “pass the torch.” Her answer summed it up perfectly: “I’m not giving up my torch. I’m using it to light others. That’s the only way there can be enough light.”

  So, to borrow from a well-known quote: Here’s to gutsy women. May we know them, may we be them, may we raise them. And may we thank and celebrate them. We’re grateful every day to the women in this book, and to all the gutsy women of yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

  Early Inspirations

  First Inspirations

  DOROTHY RODHAM (GRANDMA DOROTHY)

  VIRGINIA KELLEY (GRANDMA GINGER)

  Hillary and Chelsea

  Hillary

  As a young girl growing up outside Chicago in the 1950s, I personally did not know any woman who worked outside the home, except for my public school teachers and our town’s librarians. My mother, like the mothers of all my friends, was a full-time stay-at-home mom. She and the other mothers I knew lived lives like the ones I saw portrayed in the television shows of that era, tending children and the house while trying to keep life on an even keel. My mother may never have vacuumed in a dress and pearls like I saw on The Donna Reed Show, but to a child’s eye, there were more similarities than differences between her and Donna Reed. When I went to a friend’s house, the mother was usually there. I might be offered a peanut butter and jelly sandwich by my friend’s mom, just like at home or like I saw June Cleaver doing on Leave It to Beaver. The images I saw on TV comfortably and predictably reinforced the roles and behaviors I saw around me.

  CHELSEA

  I still remember telling you, Mom, when I was probably seven, that my best friend Elizabeth’s mom was my second favorite mom—after you—followed by Donna Reed. When I was at Grandma and Pop-pop’s, we watched lots of Nick at Nite. Donna reminded me so much of Grandma Dorothy and how she took care of me. (As I got older and saw more of my friends’ moms making different, loving choices for their families, Donna Reed fell far down the leaderboard—in the best possible sense—while Grandma Dorothy stayed at the top of her own category!)

  HILLARY

  I remember that, too! Clearly, Donna’s appeal was intergenerational.

  I loved my mother and respected the other moms I knew who took good care of their kids and treated me like a member of their own families. I watched and learned from them. As a young girl, I knew that my mother loved her family and home but felt limited by the narrow choices in her life. It can be easy to forget now how few choices there were for women in her generation—even for white, middle-class women who had far more options open to them than most black women did. With my mother’s encouragement, I wanted more choices in my life than she’d had and was always looking for inspiration to believe that was possible. She nourished my interest in school and books, and took me to our local library every week, where she helped me pick out books and discussed the characters with me.

  Early on, I looked to women in fairy tales and myths, on television, in books, and in the pages of Life magazine. The women I discovered there did things and had adventures unlike anything I saw around me, planting seeds in my imagination and widening my view of what women could do. I was also an avid reader of the cartoon strip about Brenda Starr, the flaming-red-haired, beautifully dressed reporter, and her far-flung global adventures. She was the only character in the comics I identified with and was inspired by as a young girl. Fictional though she was, Brenda became one of my first professional role models.

  All through school, I had dedicated, challenging teachers who inspired me, but my sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Elizabeth King, stood out. She drilled us in grammar, encouraged us to think and write creatively, urged us to try new things, and pushed us to excel. She often paraphrased a verse from the Gospel of Matthew: “Don’t put your lamp under a bushel basket, but use it to light up the world.” She assigned me and four of my classmates to write and produce a play about five girls taking a trip to Europe, a place none of us had ever visited. We dove into the project and were so proud when we presented it on the stage in our elementary school auditorium, complete with our energetic Parisian cancan dance performance.

  Also at the behest of Mrs. King, I wrote my autobiography. In more than twenty-nine pages filled with my scrawly handwriting, I described my parents, brothers, pets, house, hobbies, school, sports, and plans for the future. Because of my parents’ encouragement and expectations from teachers like Mrs. King, I knew a few things: I wanted to go to college and then have a job and family. My mother didn’t have the chance to attend college when she was young, and my dad went to Penn State to play football, which wouldn’t apply to me. So I’d have to figure it out along the way. To do that, I would need guidance from as many courageous women as I could find.

  Almost instinctively, I found myself leafing through books, eagerly looking for girl characters I could root for. I was delighted when I found Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women with the March sisters and their mother, Marmee—captivating, complex characters. Free-spirited Jo was my favorite. I couldn’t help but identify with the tension she felt between a fierce love and loyalty for her family, and an equally fierce desire to throw herself into the world. “I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle,” she vowed, “something heroic, or wonderful, that won’t be forgotten after I’m dead. I don’t know what, but I’m on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all, someday.”

  I also adored Nancy Drew, the intrepid sixteen-year-old high school graduate who solved mysteries. Nancy inspired my friends and me to no end. We pretended to be her as we played around our neighborhood, looking for made-up criminals we wanted to catch. We weren’t old enough to drive a “roadster,” and our parents wouldn’t have let us travel around chasing bad guys, but we loved imagining. We knew we weren’t detectives, but we wanted to be more like Nancy Drew: smart, brave, and independent. And, of course, I admired the way Nancy would sometimes do her detective work in sensible pants. (“There’s only one thing left to do,” she said before climbing up into the rafters of a building in pursuit of a fleeing cat in The Clue of the Tapping Heels. “I’m glad I wore pants.”) Many women who grew up in the 1950s, from Supreme Court Justices Sandra Day O’Connor and Sonia Sotomayor to Laura Bush and Gayle King, have said that this imaginary character was an important influence on them.

  CHELSEA

  Nancy Drew was the first literary hero you, Grandma Dorothy, and I shared. She was indomitable—a word I learned because of her! Grandma had saved some of your original books, so I got to read the same books you read when you were my age. The stories were later shortened, and Nancy changed to be more “ladylike” and deferential to the me
n in her life. I adored the original Nancy, and it felt magical to hold the books I knew had so inspired you.

  After I’d read the first ten or so original books, I asked my grandmother if we could one day take a trip to River Heights, Nancy Drew’s hometown. She gently told me it wasn’t a real place, and no, she said, there was no Nancy Drew museum to visit, either. But she reassured me that what was real and important about Nancy was her curiosity, unapologetic smarts, and doggedness. She never gave up on a case even when her life was in danger. I knew that Nancy was completely improbable—what sixteen-year-old had the financial freedom and wherewithal to travel the world solving mysteries? How did she always manage to escape danger? It was absurd, yet still inspiring.

  In addition to Nancy Drew, I was thrilled when I came across a book about Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and war, and Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and wild animals. They had special powers and presided over activities and places I had always associated with men being in charge. I took their examples to heart.

  There were lots of kids in my neighborhood, and when we weren’t in school, we were outside playing in all kinds of weather. We were always dividing ourselves into teams and making up elaborate games like one we called “chase and run,” an elaborate version of hide-and-seek that included capturing prisoners. Because I had read the Greek myths that featured strong female figures, I felt comfortable taking leadership roles, planning our strategy and speaking up when I disagreed with the boys. I even asked my mom if I could get a bow and arrow like the hunter Artemis. She wisely refused, despite my best argument that the Roman name for Artemis, Diana, was like my middle name, Diane.