Category Archives: Feminism

Spacesuits, lingerie, and the heroes hiding in plain sight

Check this out: Playtex—yes, that Playtex; the company famous for its bras and girdles—outcompeted a host of military and space contractors in a bid to design and develop the NASA spacesuit that went to the moon.

Last September, Brian Abrams in Hollywood magazine The Credits introduced us to Nicholas de Monchaux, whose nonfiction work Spacesuit: Fashioning Apollo has been picked up by Hollywood. Playtex’s founder, Abram Nathaniel Spanel, a former TV repairman and self-taught engineer, created a design that was so immeasurably better than all the others submitted that they won the contract.

…without the technology behind that brassiere (or girdle), the moon landing would have been impossible. It turns out that the 21-layers of gossamer-thin fabric in the Apollo spacesuits that kept Armstrong and Aldrin from “the lethal desolation of a lunar vacuum,” as Nicholas de Monchaux puts it in his remarkable book “Spacesuit: Fashioning Apollo,” was created by the same people who made your grandma’s bra. Playtex. And now, Warner Bros. has hired Richard Cordiner to adapt De Monchaux’s book, which is a story so good you almost believe it was scripted by a Hollywood scribe, not part of historical fact.

Main-ImageEven better, the story showcases how crucial the contribution of the seamstresses was. Our first lunar spacesuits were built by a team of women.

Yeah, even more important than the material story is the human story, because it was of course made not by men but by women, and the seamstresses who were literally taken off of the bra and girdle line and, instead, asked to create a spacesuit that had to be sewn to within a sixty-fourth of an inch without any pins that might puncture the bladder. So it was kind of a super-human feat of sewing, and on the same regular sewing machines that they used to assemble underwear and undergarments they were sewing 21 layers of fabric together to a sixty-fourth of an inch tall, and, on that seam, the life of the astronauts depended.*

How big is 1/64 of an inch? To illustrate, here is a ruler:

277622

Those little marks on the uppermost level are not even reproduced clearly in this image. That’s how tiny it is. Imagine the effort and dedication it took to make those suits.

History is riddled with heroes, hiding everywhere. Right in plain sight.

I hope the movie is made, and I hope they do right by the story, Spanel, and the dedicated women whose efforts ensured the spacesuits’ success and safety of our astronauts.

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*To clear up any misunderstanding, as the article is a bit confusing in this regard: the 1/64th inch refers to the error tolerance. They didn’t have to make the spacesuits 1/64th of an inch thick. They had to follow the suit design specifications without deviating more than 1/64th of an inch from the pattern. As someone who sews, myself, it’s mind-boggling to me, how they could have managed to achieve such precision, by hand. Seriously impressive!

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Updates – 12 Apr 2014:

Here is another good article on the subject.

Here is the book’s website. F*ing brilliant! I love this!

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Howling at the moon


blog pic answeringHere’s one for you to ponder. This morning I answered a call on the house phone. Like many families, we all have our own cell phones, but we’ve kept the landline for emergencies, so mostly what we get there are calls from my family members (who are used to reaching us there from decades of experience), and solicitations.

A male voice on the phone asked for my older (21-year-old) daughter by name. It sounded like a young man, and (while this isn’t a sure thing), his accent was Midwestern white guy. She is currently away at college, and all her friends know this. It’s almost unheard-of for her to ever get calls on the landline, even when she is home. It seemed unlikely he was someone who knew her.

Here is (approximately) how the conversation went.

Continue reading Howling at the moon

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Writers Write

Fiends, Romulans, Mouseketeers: take a potty break, warm up your personal poison, and settle in. This will be a long ride.

Canadian blogger and independent academic Kathryn Allan has written a review of my book Up Against It that is also about her own personal journey as a feminist scholar over the past year. She talks about meeting me at WorldCon last fall and reading my latest book. She reflects on my decision to take a new byline, and how that decision and my work have intertwined with her own transition from the academic life to one as an independent scholar—someone who clearly has suffered, made some important and life-alter(nat)ing decisions 🙂 , who is facing uncertainty now and, I sense, may have had to let go of some cherished dreams, but who is looking forward to her future with anticipation and (at least, so I hope) joy.

For the rest of this post to make much sense, it might help to read her post first. It’s OK; I’ll be here when you get back.

Continue reading Writers Write

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Science and Math are Civil Rights

February is Black History Month. There was a great broadcast on the radio last weekend about the 1960s and the Civil Rights movement. The broadcasters had interviews by people who had lived and marched for equality during those years. It was deeply moving.

I was driving and wasn’t able to take notes, so I don’t know who produced the broadcast or the speakers were, but I tuned in while they were interviewing a renowned mathematician, who recounted his experiences as a child. He had to fight every single day to gain access to the resources that would enable him to eventually earn him his doctorate in science, math, and engineering. I got choked up listening to him talk about how hard he had to fight against the prejudices of his teachers, the peer pressure from his classmates, who saw science and math as the province of whites, the weight of societal certainty, that told him that as a black, he had no business striving to master mathematics.

“Math is a civil right,” he said, and I felt as if he had struck a tuning fork next to my heart. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Knowledge is power. Science and math give us the ability to understand how the world works. Engineering gives us tools to apply that knowledge to improve people’s lives. And yet, many people of color and women avoid careers in science, math and engineering. We are suspicious, perceiving technical professions as fields of endeavor that are hostile to us. With good reason; the habits of patriarchy and racism are deeply embedded in STEM professions. As a woman who has spent most of her adult life working as an engineer, I can attest that I have often felt as though I was having to prove myself over, and over, and over again, in ways my male colleagues never had to do.

Is it any wonder that women and people of color turn away from careers in STEM?

And yet I cling to that love of science and technology that I discovered as a girl. Understanding how the universe works is the real magic. The real truth. It’s our world to savor too, those of us excluded from power by our gender, or our ethnicity, by our sexuality or whatever otherness we carry that causes those in power to shun us. We have the right to dive deep into the language of science, embrace and discover its mysteries.

In my stories, I’ve written on the harder side of SF, and I’ve had friends and family lament that fact. “You’re such a good writer,” they say. “Why do you have to write science fiction? Can’t you write something more… accessible?”

Yeah, I probably could. But I don’t want to. I write what I write because I want to share that love of science and technology. I want to share that passion. I want to paint worlds in which girls, and other Others, who dream those techie dreams–traveling to other worlds; building their own robots; curing diseases that cripple and destroy–grow up to achieve great things. Make a contribution. Matter.

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Info Miner Strikes a Rich Vein: The Cascadia Subduction Zone

I was (OK–I admit it; *toe scuff*) ego-surfing around the internet and came across a find: the Cascadia Subduction Zone. It’s a quarterly literary magazine that…well, I’ll let them tell you:

The Cascadia Subduction Zone aims to bring reviews, criticism, interviews, intelligent essays, and flashes of creative artwork (visual and written) to a readership hungry for discussion of work by not only men but also women.

I haven’t read their review of UP AGAINST IT yet (and of course I could end up in a quivering puddle of angst when I do *writer brain; sigh*), but regardless of what they think of my own work, I LOVE the fact that there are people out in the world who are casting their gaze onto works by women.

Speaking of which, I was delighted to see that CSZ reviews Andrea Hairston’s fine new fantasy novel, REDWOOD AND WILDFIRE (which by the way, you should definitely go out right now and buy). She’s a writer who deserves a broad readership. Check her out.

In CSZ’s words, here is their mission:

The relationship between readers and reviewers interests us. We want to bring attention to work critics largely ignore and offer a wider, less narrowly conceived view of the literary sphere. In short, we will review work that interests us, regardless of its genre or the gender of its author. We will blur the boundaries between critical analysis, review, poetry, fiction, and visual arts. And we will do our best to offer our readers a forum for discussion that takes the work of women as vital and central rather than marginal. What we see, what we talk about, and how we talk about it matters. Seeing, recognizing, and understanding is what makes the world we live in. And the world we live in is, itself, a sort of subduction zone writ large. Pretending that the literary world has not changed and is not changing is like telling oneself that Earth is a solid, eternally stable ball of rock.

Well said, and goddess-speed.

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