New England Public Radio

Unsung Women Who Pushed The Bounds In Space

The toy company LEGO recently announced it would release a new line of plastic figures immortalizing the women of NASA. The new NASA set will feature astronauts Sally Ride and Mae Jemison, as well as computer scientist Margaret Hamilton, astronomer Nancy Grace Roman — and mathematician Katherine Johnson of Hidden Figures fame. Commentator and author Martha Ackmann says, as laudable as the Lego’s move is,  she’s got some advice.

Keep going. How about adding other women who pushed the bounds in space?

In the early 1960s, a group of 13 hotshot women pilots were secretly tested to become astronauts.  They took the same arduous exams as John Glenn, Alan Shepard and the other Mercury men. Dr. Randy Lovelace, NASA’s head of life sciences, was not surprised when women aced the tests and he was disappointed when push-back immediately occurred. Why waste money and time testing women when men should go first, critics said. NASA agreed.

That’s when Jerrie Cobb, leader of the Mercury 13 women, spoke out. She met with Vice President Lyndon Johnson, unaware that he’d already written a letter about Cobb’s concerns to NASA. LBJ did not want the women’s program to go forward. ‘Let’s stop this now,’ he’d scrawled on the top of his typed letter.

Cobb was not finished. She pushed for a special Congressional hearing on astronaut qualifications. John Glenn was among those who testified. ‘Men go off and fight the wars and fly the airplanes,’ he said. ‘It’s a fact of our social order.’

It took Congress less than a day to make up its mind. All astronauts would be  drawn from the ranks of military jet test pilots. Since women were barred from that job, outer space was off limits as well.

It would take the enormous social changes of the next decade before Sally Ride blasted off the launch pad in 1978.

When Eileen Collins became the first woman to command the space shuttle in 1999, she invited the Mercury 13 women to stand in witness. No one knew who they were; just a group of older women with large handbags and water bottles. I stood next to them.

As the space shuttle lifted off into a limitless sky, I turned when Wally Funk, one of the 13, began speaking quietly to herself. ‘Go, Eileen,’ she said. ‘Go for all of us.’ “

Martha Ackmann is the author of “The Mercury 13: The True Story of Thirteen Women and the Dream of Space Flight.” She lives in Leverett, Massachusetts.

Democracy’s Doubters

Commentator and law professor Austin Sarat is nervous. He says federal judges’ rulings to block president trump’s executive order on immigration were stirring victories for the rule of law. But he says no one should be resting on their laurels.

The Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals held that the federal judiciary retains the authority to challenge executive action. Its decision echoes one made by the Supreme Court more than 40 years ago, when it ordered President Richard Nixon to turn over evidence in the Watergate case.

Back then, there was a widespread consensus on the virtues of the rule of law and the superiority of democracy as a form of government. Both were powerful symbols of American identity — so powerful that one hardly needed to discuss them.

That’s no longer so. Polls have shown that there’s been an erosion of faith in the foundations of our political system. Among Americans born in the 1930s, approximately 75 percent believed that democracy was essential. Among those born in the 1980s, however, only about 25 percent held a similar view.

President Trump is appealing to a remarkably receptive audience in his attempts to rule by decree.

Other studies found only half of the American people can name all three branches of the government or know that the power to declare war belongs to Congress.

I see this decline first-hand on the college campus where I teach. My students have come of age in an era of partisan gridlock and growing social inequality. Doubt about the effectiveness of democratic government is now the norm.

I grew up in a time when civics was a regular part of the public school curriculum. My junior high civics class, while by no means a galvanizing experience, at least offered a rudimentary overview of the foundations of our political life. Civics education plays an essential role in equipping Americans for democratic citizenship. Though not necessarily in the form I experienced, it should be revived.

Our founders admonished us that, ‘Government must be able to control the governed. But,’ they said, ‘we must also oblige it to control itself.‘

The freedoms that Americans traditionally have prized depend on the rule of law and a functioning democracy. We need to rehabilitate both before this alarming crisis of faith worsens.”

Austin Sarat teaches law at Amherst College.

Journalists: Members Of The Opposition Party?

Commentator and journalist Shaheen Pasha has a rule in her house. Her kids are never allowed to tell each other to shut up. It’s not just a matter of politeness, she says. Shutting people up can be dangerous.

As a child, my Pakistani immigrant mother taught me no one has the right to silence another person. She told me to respect a person’s voice even if you disagree.

That lesson, delivered to me at age 4 , stuck with me as I became a foreign journalist, reporting from the Middle East. There, rulers and government lackeys silenced the masses. Journalists were told to toe the government line. Stories were killed for calling into question the government’s motives or business dealings.

‘If the public lost faith in the government, there would be anarchy,’ we were scolded. And we would be to blame for the chaos that ensued. We were warned: shut your mouth or face the consequences.

I expected that in the autocratic regimes in which I reported. I never thought to hear those words — told to reporters here in the U.S. as we have been by the President’s chief strategist, Steve Bannon, who said the media should, and I quote, ‘Keep its mouths shut.’

Journalism is suddenly under siege here in America. President Trump has announced he is in a running war with the media. We, he said  ‘are among the most dishonest human beings on earth.’ Purveyors of fake news.

It’s classic. I’ve heard it all before. It’s exactly what leaders around the world say to manipulate the public into losing faith in the press.

Every semester, I teach my students that journalists’ first obligation is to the truth. When Bannon calls media the opposition party, he’s not completely wrong. To be in opposition of anything that’s not true is precisely our job. Freedom of press is protected by the constitution to serve as society’s watch dog. In other words, to keep powerful people honest.

It can be a thankless job, especially in today’s politically divisive environment. But what’s the alternative? In countries where the state controls the media, journalists learn to self-censor. Government minders shape the narrative. Human rights violations are swept under the rug. Corruption runs rampant with a handful of elites gaining power and wealth because there is no one to expose them.

Rumors abound, stirring up unrest because citizens aren’t sure what to believe.

As a journalist, I’m not willing to shut up. When you silence the media, you control the message. You control the people.

We should all be afraid of that.”

Commentator Shaheen Pasha teaches international journalism at UMass Amherst. She lives with her family in Amherst.

When Not-Bad People Obey Not-Good Orders

Commentator Shaheen Pasha has a passport full of stamps from Muslim nations as well as European countries and far-flung Asian destinations. It’s always been a source of pride to have been able to see the world. Now it’s a source of concern.

I’m a Muslim-American journalist with a Pakistani name. Being pulled out of passport control lines for additional searches or to answer questions about my travel history has been part of the job in our post 9/11 society. Not a big deal. But with recent government orders targeting Muslims and people of color, for the first time I’m afraid.

There’s report of individuals now being forced to hand over passwords to their computers, phones and social media accounts. I’m afraid my phone could be seized. Then the government would have access to my sources and their contact information. I’m even more afraid of being treated as less of an American despite my blue passport and New York birth.

I’m not the enemy. I never felt the need to explain that to anyone until this year. But now, in certain situations, I feel I have to reassure people.
I don’t believe everyone sees me as a threat, of course. According to polls during this past election year, about 70 percent of Americans had more favorable attitudes toward Muslims than in the past. Yet other polls show nearly half of all Americans support the ‘Muslim ban.’ In other words, some people say they’re okay with the Muslim faith. Just don’t come here.

Yes, there are massive crowds gathering across the U.S., chanting ‘No Ban’ and ‘No Wall.’ The courts stepped in. And it’s comforting. But Americans working in airports or conducting government raids were and are tearing families apart. The news is full of examples. A breastfeeding baby kept from her mother. A child detained by customs officials. An undocumented mother snatched from her children and deported back to a country she hadn’t seen in decades.

The Americans carrying out these act have the power to make a difference. But they’re choosing to stay silent when faced with directives that challenge their humanity. That both saddens and frightens me.

These aren’t bad people. But they’re doing bad things. Some may well believe in the ban. I’m betting others are pretty conflicted. History has shown us what atrocities occur when societies dutifully follow orders that are inhumane.

Americans are at a crossroads. We must choose to stand up for what’s right. Now. While we still have the power to make a difference.”

Shaheen Pasha teaches international journalism at UMass Amherst.

A Son Reckons With His Father’s Hunger To Escape Poverty

A recent graduate from New England Public Radio’s Media Lab program wrote this piece about his father, who no longer lives at home with him.

My name is Gary, first born of Sophia, and Gary senior. As a young boy, I had more stuff than the average kid. So did my brothers, Tyriek and Ke’naz. I never wondered why we got all these things. I just figured they were cool! My home was comfortable, clean, like the smell of OxiClean and Fabuloso. But at times there was also a different aroma. That other smell I’d been smelling all my life was weed. And the person smoking it was my dad.

My father, who was born in Saint Ann, Jamaica, was a weed dealer. He was also a block-party DJ. He’d play stuff he loved: hip-hop from Nas, Jay Z and Biggie, then reggae by Buju Banton, Garnett Silk and Bob Marley.

When I was around seven, everything changed. My father began talking to himself, seeing things that weren’t there. It turned out he’d developed schizophrenia. My mom says it was activated by a hard drug given to him by one of my family members. Sometimes, even though you think they are, family isn’t family.

After that, Dad moved to Chicago to live with my grandmother. Nobody told me why at the time. Or why we suddenly didn’t have Columbia coats, Timberlands and Polos to wear.

Life became difficult. Catastrophic is proably more like it. I didn’t know what welfare was until welfare hit us. My mom had four more kids with two other fathers. Sometimes they were not around either. I had to grow up — fast. I couldn’t afford to be reckless like other kids. I was too worried about how my family was going to make it.

My dream has always been to stay in school and write music. But in eighth grade I was invited to join a gang. The plan was to rob a Chinese-food delivery person. The money would help my mom. But I couldn’t stoop that low.

I wanted to be true to myself and live according to the law. And I have.

Sometimes I get to see dad in the summer. But even when I can’t, I talk to him on the phone and tell him I love him. I can’t see his face, but I know he’s smiling as he says, ‘I love you too, son.’

There are times I look in the mirror and see in me my father’s eyes and his hunger to escape poverty. It’s frightening. But I take that hunger and I flip it to fuel my dreams.”

Gary Campbell is a senior at Springfield High School of Science and Technology.

Dear Hartford: Climb Right In.

Commentator Julia Pistell moved to Hartford years ago on a compromise.

Her not-yet-husband had a job in insurance in Hartford, so Pistell packed up her books and sublet her South Bronx apartment. She’s been here ever since, and is happy about what the city has asked of her. She wants others in the region to recognize it’s asking things of them too.

We didn’t have a car. I didn’t have a job. I had about $200 from walking pit bulls.

I challenged myself to a new experience every day. I walked to the Colt building, looked at the broken glass and thought it’s crazy that you can walk right up to this incredible building, and, if you’re brave, climb right in.

I wandered into a brewery a week later and got hired as a host.

I wandered into Hartford.

Seven years later, there are many things about Hartford I respect. I never get over the shock of being alone in a room with Miró at the Wadsworth, the wooded path by the Connecticut River, the sets at Hartford Stage, or Heaven Skate Park.

Or in the suburbs: Simsbury in the fall, the apple orchards, and R.J. Julia Booksellers in Madison.

‘But those aren’t Hartford!’ some protest.

Sure they are.

This city puts me close to all those things. The most frustrating thing about Connecticut is how neighborhoods pretend there’s an ocean between them. There isn’t. We can enjoy the region’s successes, and we’re all responsible for the region’s problems.

If you live close enough to a place to feel personally affronted by its issues, then you’re responsible for the collective fix. I moved here because it seemed good enough, and I live here because it forces me to be good enough.

The big Hartford secret? You can have an impact. There are so many empty spaces: literal (all those empty storefronts; all those unrenovated buildings) and figurative.

When I complain that Hartford lacks something, that’s an opportunity to build. On that principle, I went from being an intern at the Twain House to the founder of its writing programs and co-createdHartford’s first improv theater. Hartford deserves the credit for those things. It made space for me.

We have to be brave enough to keep working. That’s true of any place. It’s dangerous to be brave. Walk right up to Hartford, look it in the eye. Even if there’s broken glass, climb in.

I’m distantly related to one of Hartford’s founders, Zachary Field — the city’s first chimney-viewer. Sometimes I look at the fireplace in my historic home, and wonder, ‘Did he inspect this chimney?’

Here are his questions as I imagine them. They are also my questions.

Have you cleared out what has burned?
Will you arrange your kindling so that it won’t burn your house down?
Have you let in the air?
Are you ready for a new fire?
When will you build it?”

Commentator Julia Pistell lives and works in downtown Hartford.