Seeking Out The Invisible Woman
By Gloria Steinem
ONE recent night while switching television channels, I happened onto "Amadeus," the movie based on Mozart's life. I had seen it before, but without noticing that it had obliterated Nannerl, Mozart's older sister. Learning only a little women's history had revealed this other Mozart, who was also a pianist and composer as a child genius, and later in life a teacher of other musicians. Perhaps women's history, like all the other courses trying to widen the killing narrowness of our academic canon, might better be called remedial history. Only with such help did I begin to understand that I was missing half of this pair of prodigies who had traveled together through the courts of Europe. Until Nannerl was 15 years old and was sent home to marry, each had been the other's only friend and companion. We don't know whether some compositions attributed to Amadeus might really be Nannerl's, as some musicologists speculate, but we do know from his letters that in his eyes, she was the talented one.
That same night, also through the century-skipping magic of television, I came upon "The Right Stuff," a movie about the first United States astronauts. This time, I hadn't even a book to tell me what was missing, but thanks to Joan McCullough's cover story in Ms. magazine -- historical research even when she wrote it in 1973, since the astronaut testing program had started in the 1950's -- I was painfully aware of the absence on screen of 25 female pilots who had been given the same tests as John Glenn and Alan Shepard and had passed them with flying colors. Indeed, one of them, Jerrie Cobb, had entered the program with twice as many air miles as John Glenn, and also emerged lucid from hours in a sensory deprivation tank that had left a male astronaut crying and imagining he heard dogs barking. By its end, this first Mercury Program had found that women in general were more resistant to radiation, less subject to heart attacks and better able to endure extremes of heat, cold, pain, noise and loneliness. Since they weighed less than the men and required less food and oxygen, they would also have saved money in the expensive per-pound business of capsule launching. Nonetheless, their success seemed to come as such a shock that NASA simply decreed: No women. Although two of these candidates, Ms. Cobb and the pioneer helicopter pilot Jane Hart, fought back by organizing a Congressional hearing on this ban in 1962, John Glenn and Alan Shepard testified that women had not met the established jet-pilot requirements. (Never mind that women were not eligible for the program established to meet such requirements.) A NASA spokesman was quoted as saying, "Talk of an American spacewoman makes me sick to my stomach." As Ms. Cobb said after the subcommittee let stand the no-women rule, but failed to question NASA's expensive training program for a chimp named Glenda: "Millions for chimps, but not one cent for women!"