When it comes to biblical immorality, no one quite delivers like King David upon seeing Bathsheba. Their story reads like a fever dream of soap opera scandal: a king’s rooftop lust, a bathing beauty, a husband sent to his doom, and a prophet with receipts from the Almighty. Oh, and let’s not forget the aftermath: a dead child, a cursed lineage, and a second son who would go on to build the Temple and become one of the wisest (and most infamous) monarchs in history. Bathsheba emerges as a cunning power player, securing her son Solomon’s place on the throne. The tale is as layered as it is unsettling, leaving us questioning the nature of power, agency, and how one royal misstep has echoed throughout history.

King David on a Rooftop, Instead of Fighting a War

By the time of the infamous rooftop incident, David had been king for over 15 years. He had transformed from the shepherd boy who took down Goliath to a seasoned ruler, well-established in his palace in Jerusalem. His kingdom was flourishing, his conquests were piling up, and his personal life was, let’s say, complicated. With six wives already sharing his royal quarters, David wasn’t exactly experiencing poverty in the consort department.

By ancient custom, spring was the season when kings went out to war. Yet David, the once-hands-on warrior-king, stayed behind in his palace, delegating the campaign to his loyal general Joab. Joab and the Israelite army were laying siege to the Ammonite capital, Rabbah; a grueling campaign. Among those enduring the brutality of the battlefield was Uriah the Hittite, one of David’s elite soldiers. Calling him a Hittite, and remembering him thusly, also seems to be a bit of a literary backhand. He was probably a second-generation Israelite, as the name Uriah isn’t one of Hittite origin.

Uriah was part of “the Thirty,” a group of highly skilled warriors who formed the backbone of David’s military might. To reach that rank required immense courage and skill; Uriah had earned this place. Yet as he fought on the front lines, his king stood on his palace rooftop, enjoying the comforts of home. It was there that David noticed Uriah’s wife, Bathsheba, bathing nearby.

The story spiraled from there. David, already married in the multiple, was overcome by his desire for Bathsheba and summoned her to a meeting.

The Girl on the Rooftop

Bathsheba’s story invites modern readers into deeply uncomfortable territory. When modern folk imagine her bathing on a rooftop, the titillating scene conjured is often one of a grown woman intentionally seducing the king, soaping up where he can easily spy on her. But let’s pause and look at the context: Bathsheba was likely very young. Young enough, in fact, that she just may have been purifying herself after experiencing her first menstrual cycle.

Bathsheba wasn’t a stranger to King David, either. Her grandfather, Ahithophel, was one of David’s most trusted advisors, a man renowned for his wisdom and influence. Her father, Eliam, had been one of David’s elite warriors, also counted among “the Thirty.” Bathsheba had grown up in a family that served David’s court and military. She wasn’t some unknown beauty who suddenly appeared on a rooftop one day. She was part of the extended network of loyalty and service that bolstered David’s reign.

Additionally, historical context can clear up a lot of common misconceptions about the rooftop. The bath Bathsheba was taking was most likely part of a mikvah, a ritual purification mandated by Jewish law. She wasn’t luxuriating in plain sight to attract attention; she was following religious tradition. The very idea that she was seducing David collapses under scrutiny. If anything, she was fulfilling a religious and cultural obligation, not orchestrating an affair.

What makes Bathsheba’s situation even more tragic is her youth and vulnerability. She had been married to Uriah the Hittite, but given her age, their union was likely a political arrangement rather than a marriage of equals. Some scholars argue she may have been too young for the marriage to have even been consummated yet.

The story of Bathsheba as a “siren” says more about historical biases than the truth of her circumstances. She was a young girl from a family who gave themselves into the service of the royal house, married to a soldier, and likely living under the shadow of courtly politics. Her “choices” were shaped by the world around her, where a king’s summons was not a request but a command. She simply had no choice.

David Summons Her, She Gets Pregnant, Then What?

They meet. They “know” each other. Then, as far as the king is concerned, the tryst is over and his hunger is sated. That is until Bathsheba notifies him that she is carrying proof of the affair. If, as some suspect, she hadn’t known any man before the king, her life was suddenly in even more dire straits. The consequences of being labeled an adulterer were fatal: stoning was the punishment prescribed by law. Bathsheba’s fate, and the fate of the child that grew within her, were tied to David’s decisions. Both of their survival depended on the king’s willingness to protect her, and his choices left much to be desired.

David’s first attempt to cover up his actions was riddled with faulty smoke and mirrors. He summoned Uriah back from the battlefield, ostensibly for a report on the war. The king’s real intention was to send Uriah home to sleep with Bathsheba, creating the illusion that her child was conceived within the bonds of matrimony. However, Uriah’s loyalty to his comrades and his unyielding sense of duty prevented him from enjoying comforts denied to his fellow soldiers. Not even David’s ploy of getting the soldier drunk could sway him.

When deception failed, David’s solution turned deadly. He sent Uriah back to the front lines with sealed orders instructing Joab to position him where the fighting was fiercest and then withdraw support, ensuring Uriah’s death. The man unknowingly delivered his own death sentence. The plan worked, and Uriah was killed in battle; a betrayal that left Bathsheba widowed and free to remarry…quickly.

After a brief mourning period for Uriah, Bathsheba was brought to the palace and married to David. To the public, it may have seemed like an act of gentle stewardship, a king caring for the widow of a soldier who had served him well. In reality, it was damage control. But the prophet Nathan saw through David’s ploy and delivered a devastating rebuke. In a parable that mirrored David’s sins, Nathan likened him to a rich man who stole and slaughtered a poor man’s only lamb. When David condemned the hypothetical man, Nathan struck with the truth: “You are the man!”

Nathan’s prophecy foretold violence and tragedy within David’s household; a punishment that began with the death of Bathsheba’s child. The baby did not live longer than seven days, leaving Bathsheba to grieve yet another loss. In a matter of months, she had been torn from her first marriage, thrust into a dangerous relationship with a much older man, and lost her firstborn child.

Again, somehow, she managed to pick up the pieces and continue living. She went on to have four more sons with David: Shammua, Shobab, Nathan (not to be confused with the prophet), and Solomon. Her enduring friendship with the prophet Nathan, who had foreseen that David’s sins would lead to death in her own family, suggests a remarkable strength and resilience in the face of such overwhelming trauma.

Enter Solomon

Solomon’s birth marked a turning point in Bathsheba’s story, both as a mother and as a woman wielding political influence in a world shaped by and for men. By the time of Solomon’s birth, David was nearly 50 years old burdened with a tumultuous household. Bathsheba, likely still a teenager, now had to navigate the childhood of a vulnerable son; a son whose future would shape the destiny of Israel.

When Solomon was born, the prophet Nathan, who had once rebuked David for his sins, delivered a message of grace: God loved this child. While in the womb, the Almighty called this baby a Jedidiah, meaning “beloved of the Lord,” signaling to all his divine favor. This blessing set Solomon apart, but it was Bathsheba’s calculated influence that secured his path to the throne.

Though Solomon was not David’s eldest son, Bathsheba’s determination ensured he was not overlooked in the scramble for succession. David’s indulgence with his other children, particularly his older sons, had already proven to produce nothing but chaos. Amnon, David’s firstborn, committed an unspeakable crime against his half-sister Tamar, and David’s refusal to act led to Absalom’s vengeful murder of Amnon. Absalom, in turn, declared himself king and forced David into a humiliating retreat. After all, if David couldn’t protect his own daughter or take retribution on her abuser, how could he effectively run a country? Through all this, Bathsheba and Solomon witnessed firsthand the destructive consequences of unchecked ambition and parental inaction.

Bathsheba understood the precarious position Solomon was in. Absalom, with his striking beauty and magnetic charisma, had stolen the hearts of the people and likely dismissed Solomon as a mere child. It wasn’t this older brother but Bathsheba who saw what others overlooked: David’s growing affection for Solomon and the divine promise attached to him.

As David aged, his remaining sons jockeyed for power. Adonijah (the next in line after Absalom’s murder of Amnon and then his own death after usurping the crown) declared himself king with the backing of key allies. During this final power grab, Bathsheba, in a masterful display of political acumen, approached the ailing David alongside the prophet Nathan. She reminded the king of his earlier vow that Solomon would succeed him all while exposing Adonijah’s premature claim to the throne. Her timing and tact were impeccable, compelling David to publicly anoint Solomon as his heir, effectively quashing Adonijah’s rebellion before it could take hold.

Bathsheba’s role didn’t end with securing Solomon’s kingship. She remained a trusted advisor and a powerful presence in the royal court (after all, she was now queen mother). Even after David’s death, she skillfully navigated palace intrigues, including Adonijah’s attempt to marry Abishag, one of David’s concubines; a move that Solomon interpreted as a threat to his reign. It was Bathsheba who brought this request to Solomon, a gesture that demonstrated her continued influence. She likely knew the outcome would not extend Adonijah’s lifespan.

Solomon grew to be a man of contrasts, renowned for his wisdom and wealth, but flawed by his insatiable appetite. His request for wisdom at Gibeon earned him divine favor, and his legendary judgment solidified his reputation as Israel’s wisest ruler. Yet, as he aged, Solomon’s heart turned toward the foreign gods of his many wives and concubines, leading to spiritual decline and the eventual fracturing of the kingdom after his death. Bathsheba probably did not live to see this change of character.

As the mother of the wisest king of Israel, she left an indelible mark on history. One can only wonder what Bathsheba thought of Solomon’s many marriages and his eventual straying from Yahweh. Did she warn him against repeating David’s mistakes, or was she powerless to prevent her son from repeating history?

Though the Bible leaves much of Bathsheba’s inner life to speculation, her actions speak volumes. She rose above scandal and tragedy to become a mother of kings and a wise strategist in a complicated court. Solomon’s reign, with all its splendor and flaws, was a testament to the strength and influence of the woman who ensured he could live long enough to flourish.

Albert Einstein, Alan Turing, Alexander Graham Bell and even Pythagoras—all famous for their contributions to the fields of science, technology, engineering, and mathematics, making them household names. But what about the women in STEM? Historically, women in STEM fields have been plagued by misogyny as well as the absence of female colleagues to support and inspire them. As a result, STEM fields remain dominated by men. Here are six inspiring and influential women in STEM that we should all know!

1. Hedy Lamarr (1914-2000)

Hedy Lamarr, a popular actress during the 1940s and 50s, was once seen as a fixture of popular American culture. Today, Lamarr is best known for her beauty and acting—in fact, few people know that a technology she co-invented helped create a staple of modern life: Wi-Fi.

Though best known for her achievements in acting, having been honored with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1960, Lamarr had been interested in technology from a young age. She was not trained in any STEM subjects, but she read books about engineering voraciously and as a result would design her own inventions. In the early days, these inventions were quite rudimentary—a glow-in-the-dark dog collar, for example—but World War II changed everything.

Working alongside George Antheil, an American composer, Lamarr discovered “frequency hopping.” This ingenious invention meant that switching radio frequencies became easier and signals jammed less often. Lamarr and Antheil aimed for their discovery to be used as a secret communications system; secret messages sent using their frequency hopping system were prevented from being intercepted.

Lamarr patented the invention in 1942 and planned to sell it to the US military, to help the navy command torpedoes underwater undetected, but frequency hopping wasn’t actually put into use until the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Frequency hopping, as well as the spread spectrum invented by Lamarr, provided the basis and earliest models of modern wireless communication technology like Bluetooth and Wi-Fi.

2. Dame Elizabeth Anionwu (1947- )

Dame Elizabeth Anionwu started her career in STEM as a nurse working for Britain’s National Health Service when she was just 16 years old. Working as a community nurse, Anionwu learned about sickle cell disease, an inherited variation of anemia that mainly affects those of African heritage, and decided to dedicate her career to helping those affected.

Anionwu felt as if sickle cell disease wasn’t thoroughly understood, or studied, by the NHS, and that there weren’t enough developments being made to help those who suffered from the disease. So, Anionwu traveled to the US to learn more about sickle cell disease and sickle cell anemia, as the resources and courses she needed were not available in the UK at the time.

In 1979, working alongside Dr. Milica Brozović, she opened the first UK center for counseling and screening for sickle cell disease, led by nurses in London. As more than 30 additional centers of this sort opened nationwide, Anionwu lectured at University College London and later became the dean of the School of Adult Nursing Studies and Professor of Nursing at the University of West London.

Anionwu wrote The Politics of Sickle Cell and Thalassemia in 2001, and A Short History of Mary Seacole in 2005. She is committed to fighting medical racism and discrimination that Black and minority ethnic patients face.

3. Katherine Johnson (1918-2020)

American mathematician Katherine Johnson is the reason man walked on the moon. One of NASA’s “human computers,” Johnson conducted and completed the complex calculations that sent astronauts into orbit in the 1960s and then to the moon in 1969.

Born in 1918, Johnson was a very bright child, having completed the eighth grade when she was only ten years old. Her town didn’t offer any further education for African Americans after the eighth grade, and so her father moved her family 120 miles away so she could attend high school. She ultimately graduated from high school at 14 and then from college, with a degree in mathematics, at 18.

In 1952, she applied to NASA after learning that they were hiring African American women to work as computers and check calculations. Those at NASA were impressed with Johnson’s adeptness and curiosity, and two weeks later she was moved to the flight research division.

Johnson found that geometry was the easiest way to calculate how to fly to space, and was given the task of plotting America’s first space journey in 1961. Johnson also worked on America’s space journey in 1962, 1969’s Apollo 11 mission, and calculated how to safely return the astronauts on the failed Apollo 13 mission in 1970. Johnson retired from NASA in 1986. The book by Margot Lee Shetterly and subsequent 2016 film Hidden Figures were based on Johnson’s work at NASA alongside fellow Black mathematicians Dorothy Vaughan and Mary Jackson.

4. Barbara McClintock (1902-1992)

In 1983, Barbara McClintock won the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine when she was 81 years old. Thought of as one of the greatest modern geneticists, McClintock discovered mobile genetic elements, which are genes that move between chromosomes.

Studying botany at Cornell University’s College of Agriculture, McClintock discovered her love and passion for genetics when studying maize chromosomes and how they change during reproduction. In 1929, McClintock identified all ten maize chromosomes, and was the first person to do so. McClintock was also the first person to be able to describe the genetic map of maize—before the DNA structure was discovered in 1953!

In the 1940s and 50s, she began her work and breakthroughs in the field of mobile genetic elements. At that time, most scientists believed that genes were static and stationary, and so McClintock’s work proving that some forms of genetic material can move was met with hostility. McClintock received so much backlash that she stopped publishing in 1953.

It wasn’t until the 1960s that her work was fully understood and accepted, and in 1970 she received the National Medal of Science, the first woman to do so. She later won her Nobel Prize, and in 1986 she was inducted into the National Women’s Hall of Fame.

After her death in 1992, biographies about her life and her discoveries were published to help inspire other young women and girls to study science and other STEM subjects.

5. Chien-Shiung Wu (1912-1997)

Known as the “first lady of physics,” nuclear physicist Chien-Shiung Wu worked on the Manhattan Project. Born in a small town near Shanghai, education was always very important to the Wu family. Her mother was a teacher and her father was an engineer, and so she was encouraged to pursue STEM subjects from a young age.

She first attended Nanjing University to study mathematics but switched to physics after being inspired by Marie Curie and graduated top of her class in 1934.

From 1935-1936, Wu completed her first experimental research, studying X-ray crystallography under the tutelage of Dr. Gu Jing-Wei. A fellow female researcher, she encouraged Wu to study at Berkeley, prompting Wu to move to the US. She later became the first female instructor to teach in Princeton’s physics department.

In 1944, she joined Columbia’s Manhattan Project, the program working to develop the first nuclear weapons, focusing her work on radiation detectors. She also discovered a way to improve uranium ore to produce large amounts of uranium, to be used as the bomb’s fuel.

Wu retired from teaching in 1981 and organized educational programs for people in the US, Taiwan, and China. She also dedicated the rest of her life to advocating for equal opportunities and rights for women in STEM and lectured worldwide to inspire young women in STEM.

6. Dr. Indira Hinduja (1946- )

Dr. Indira Hinduja is a highly respected gynecologist and obstetrician who is one of the leading doctors in the field of combating infertility in India. Studying medicine at the University of Mumbai Medical School and practicing at the King Edward Memorial Hospital in Mumbai, she began experimenting with cell biology and embryology. This led her to her PHD in “Human In-vitro Fertilization and Embryo Transfer,” and this medical research helped make possible the birth of India’s first “test tube” baby.

Later in her career, Dr. Hinduja developed the Gamete Intrafallopian Transfer (GIFT) Technology and went on to deliver India’s first GIFT baby in 1988. Her GIFT technique involves removing eggs from the ovaries and placing them in the fallopian tubes with the sperm.

Other medical breakthroughs she has pioneered include the development of the Oocyte Donation Technique, which helps patients with premature and menopausal ovarian failure. In 1991, the first baby was born using this technique.

Dr. Hinduja’s groundbreaking medical procedures have paved the way for even more research into stem cell biology, and her research has helped many couples struggling with infertility.

Elizabeth Woodville, also known as the White Queen, was a formidable figure in history. Though she was not born into nobility, Woodville’s status did not deter Edward IV, who fell in love with and secretly married her. A wife, mother, and queen consort, she navigated a court that disliked her, took refuge in Westminster Abbey twice during the turbulent years of the Wars of the Roses, and fought to save her family’s claim to the throne. Her daughter, Elizabeth of York, would go on to marry King Henry VII and establish the Tudor dynasty, while two of her sons would disappear under mysterious circumstances.

The White Queen’s Early Life

Born in 1437, Elizabeth Woodville was the eldest daughter of Richard Woodville, 1st Earl Rivers, and Jacquetta of Luxembourg, Duchess of Bedford. Her parents’ marriage was “scandalous” at the time, due to the fact that the Duchess, a wealthy widow and a member of King Henry VI’s extended family, decided to marry for love.

Richard was a knight who came from a modest family, having also served as a squire for Jacquetta’s deceased husband. They married in secret without permission from the royal family, a stipulation the couple ignored. The court was furious at Jacquetta for marrying “beneath” her, and the couple were fined a thousand pounds and stripped of their lands. Later, they received a royal pardon and had their lands restored to them.

Elizabeth grew up at Grafton Regis in Northamptonshire, England, alongside her 13 brothers and sisters in a respectable household. She was known for her beauty and had many suitors even from a young age. Her father’s career flourished under King Henry VI, and eventually, he was granted the title of Baron Rivers, thereby elevating him to nobility.

Jacquetta was an influential figure at court and formed a close bond with Queen Margaret of Anjou, wife of King Henry VI, serving in various roles for the Queen. They were loyal supporters of the Lancastrian cause.

A Fortuitous Meeting

Elizabeth’s family became entangled in a violent upheaval that became known as the Wars of the Roses, a series of civil wars fought between the Houses of Lancaster and York for the English throne. This period of English history was later named from the supposed badges of the contending Houses: the white rose for York and the red rose for Lancaster.

The Woodville family sided with the Lancastrian King Henry VI and Queen Margaret of Anjou. In 1452, Elizabeth married a Lancastrian knight by the name of Sir John Grey. The couple had two sons together before Grey was killed less than ten years later, defending the House of Lancaster at the Second Battle of St. Albans in 1461. As the Yorkist cause grew, the widow Elizabeth and her sons were forced to return to Grafton Regis while their lands were seized by the Crown.

However, the return home proved fortuitous for Elizabeth as she was introduced to King Edward IV of the House of York while he was hunting in the area. Edward, who had defeated King Henry VI’s forces in 1460, fell in love with Elizabeth’s beauty and charm and started a hidden romance that eventually led to a secret marriage on May 1, 1464. A year later, on May 26, 1465, Elizabeth was crowned in Westminster Abbey in a lavish coronation ceremony.

Elizabeth Woodville: Queen Consort of England

Though Edward and Elizabeth were happily married, the royal court was furious with their marriage. Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, also known as “the Kingmaker,” was particularly angry as he had been secretly creating an alliance with France that would involve Edward marrying a French princess.

As queen consort, Elizabeth’s family’s status grew in prominence and prestige. Her siblings and children benefited from the advantageous marriage, further angering the court. With Elizabeth’s father and her first husband being staunch Lancastrians, many members of the House of York disapproved of her union with King Edward IV and resented Elizabeth. Despite this, Edward and Elizabeth remained married and had ten children together, securing the York lineage.

However, the rift between the Earl of Warwick and Edward IV continued to grow, causing “the Kingmaker” to switch alliances to the House of Lancaster. He allied himself with George, Duke of Clarence, Edward IV’s brother, who accused Elizabeth and her mother of practicing witchcraft. The two even led a revolt and fled to France.

Warwick’s new allegiance to the Lancastrian Queen Margaret of Anjou felt personal to Elizabeth, as her father and brother both were executed at the hands of Warwick in 1469 after the Battle of Edgcote. In October 1470, Edward was deposed and Henry VI ascended the throne for a second time. Edward was forced to flee the country while Elizabeth and their daughters were left at the Tower of London.

One cold night in October of that same year, Elizabeth secretly fled the Tower with her family, including her mother, and claimed Sanctuary at Westminster Abbey. The Abbey was a chartered sanctuary for political figures, traitors, and felons, giving them immunity from justice within its walls and houses nearby. Thomas Millyng, the Abbot of Westminster, cared for the royal family, including Edward V, who was born and baptized while in Sanctuary.

Warwick was defeated a year later at the Battle of Barnet, and Edward was restored to the throne in April of 1471. Elizabeth and her family left the Abbey once her husband regained the throne. Later, Elizabeth would commission the construction of the chapel of St. Erasmus, which adjoined the Lady Chapel at Westminster Abbey, though it was later demolished by Henry VII.

A Scorned Woman

Elizabeth once again was scrutinized and her status was in peril when her husband Edward IV died in 1483, making Elizabeth a widow for the second time. The court planned to usurp her power and her son’s right to be king. Briefly, her son became King Edward V, but this was short-lived due to his uncle Richard of Gloucester, King Edward IV’s younger brother, who seized Edward V and took him to the Tower of London.

Elizabeth and her family once again found sanctuary at Westminster Abbey, though her other son, Richard, Duke of York, was forced to join his brother Edward V in the Tower of London. With the two boys imprisoned in the Tower, Richard of Gloucester could claim the throne. However, he first had to accuse Elizabeth of engaging in a bigamous marriage with Edward IV, thus making her two sons illegitimate heirs to the throne, in order to gain favor from the public for his rightful kingship. The rumors worked, and Richard of Gloucester was crowned King Richard III on June 26, 1483.

Elizabeth was subsequently stripped of her lands and title of Dowager Queen and was then referred to as “Dame Elizabeth Grey.” Whilst in sanctuary, Elizabeth learned that her two sons in the Tower had died, presumably murdered by their rivals. The two boys became known in history as the “Princes in the Tower.” Grieved by the death of her children, Elizabeth became determined to get revenge.

Advantageous Political Alliances

Elizabeth found herself in an alliance with Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, and Margaret Beaufort, the mother of Henry Tudor, the future King Henry VII. They worked together to make sure that Henry Tudor, a direct descendant of Edward III, would claim the throne.

The conspirators created a plan to unite the families, bringing an end to the fighting and establishing one powerful royal family line. Therefore, Elizabeth and Margaret agreed that Henry and Elizabeth’s eldest daughter, Elizabeth of York, heiress to the House of York, would marry. In December 1483, Henry Tudor swore an oath, agreeing to the plan.

Elizabeth and Margaret continued to plot behind the scenes as Elizabeth and her daughters were allowed back at King Richard III’s court. Henry Tudor, exiled in France, made his first attempt to invade England in 1483, though he was unsuccessful due to a storm. In August of 1485, however, Henry and his army arrived in Wales and began to march to London, amassing a large number of followers who joined his army.

A New Era

Henry Tudor’s army met Richard and his supporters in Leicestershire, and a conflict ensued in what would become known as the Battle of Bosworth Field. On August 22, 1485, the Lancastrians secured a victory over the House of York. This battle was significant as King Richard III died on the battlefield, ensuring that Henry Tudor would become king which ushered in the Tudor dynasty. After decades of conflict, the Wars of the Roses were finally over. Henry Tudor was crowned King Henry VII and married Elizabeth of York.

Elizabeth Woodville was named the Dowager Queen. Her titles were restored, though she had to submit to Lady Margaret Beaufort’s prominence and power. Eventually, the Dowager Queen moved to Bermondsey Abbey, where she spent the final years of her life in quiet solitude. On June 8, 1492, she died and was buried at Windsor Castle next to her second husband, King Edward IV.

Legacy of the White Queen

Elizabeth Woodville’s legacy is tied to her role in shifting the English monarchy toward the Tudor era. Her choices and alliances shaped the course of English history. She found herself at the center of the conflict between the Houses of Lancaster and York, with her crown taken away and then restored, and two of her children presumably murdered at the hands of her opponents. She was forced to take sanctuary at Westminster Abbey and hide her children away from danger.

Yet, she was also able to use her political prowess to secure an alliance that would ultimately lead to her daughter becoming the head of a new dynasty in England. The Tudor dynasty saw the reign of the infamous King Henry VIII, and the current royal family is distantly connected to the Tudors through Queen Margaret of Scotland, who was the grandmother of Mary, Queen of Scots, and the sister of King Henry VIII.

Elizabeth Woodville’s life reflected the volatility and complexity of noble and royal women’s roles in late medieval England—balancing personal ambition, family loyalty, and political survival.

Poor Valentina was pregnant for nearly two straight decades. Now imagine doing that while living as a Russian peasant in the 1700s, without so much as an aspirin to take the edge off. That was reportedly the reality of Valentina Vassilyeva, a woman who—according to an 18th-century monastic report to Moscow—gave birth to 69 children over 27 pregnancies. She managed to produce twins, triplets, and quadruplets. Her womb was basically an assembly line in her 20s, 30s, and 40s. Despite historical documentation, many people refuse to believe she could have pulled off such a shocking feat of fertility. And honestly, such cynicism is more than fair when you crunch the numbers. Between the astronomical odds of so many multiple births, the grueling toll on the human body, and the fact that she somehow survived all of it, Valentina’s story teeters somewhere between medical marvel and historical myth.

What We Know About Valentina… and Her Children

Valentina Vassilyeva remains an enigma. She holds the world record for the most children born to a single woman—69 in total—yet we know almost nothing about her beyond a handful of historical records. Her existence is a paradox: documented yet doubted, famous yet entirely faceless. Even her maiden name is disputed. Some sources claim she was called Valentina Bauer at birth, while others act as though she simply appeared as a pregnant mom, a woman without a girlhood or identity outside of her husband and children. What we do know is that she lived in Shuya, a rural town in western Russia, and was the first wife of Feodor Vassilyev, a peasant.

The primary record of Valentina’s remarkable reproductive career comes from the Monastery of Nikolsk, which, in 1782, reported her births to the Russian government (kind of like a census that the church was responsible for). The monks had allegedly documented each of her 27 pregnancies—16 sets of twins, seven sets of triplets, and four sets of quadruplets—over the course of 40 years, between 1725 and 1765. The report was later sent to Moscow, where it caught the attention of the counting officials and, eventually, the wider world. Even in the 18th century, this was an eyebrow-raising claim.

Feodor Vassilyev reportedly outlived Valentina and went on to have another 18 children with his second wife, bringing his rather disquieting grand total to 87. This raises several questions—chiefly, how Valentina survived that many pregnancies and who, between her and her husband, was the medical freak. After all, historically, maternal mortality was high, and the physical toll of repeated childbirth, especially when families didn’t have great food security, was extreme.

Complicating matters further, if she breastfed each baby (as most 18th-century peasant women who couldn’t afford a wet nurse did), the natural suppression of ovulation would have made back-to-back pregnancies even less likely. Yet, if the monastery’s records are accurate, Valentina managed it.

Adding to the mystery, her children—presumably quite a few of whom lived to adulthood—left behind no widely known legacy. If a woman truly gave birth to 69 children, wouldn’t we see some trace of them in historical records? Some theorists suggest that the Vassilyevas’ story was exaggerated, either for political reasons or due to clerical errors. Others believe Valentina may have had a rare genetic condition that caused her to hyper-ovulate, increasing her chances of multiple births.

Whatever the case, the tale of Valentina Vassilyeva remains one of history’s most extraordinary and improbable maternal feats—if, of course, it actually happened at all.

Reasons to Believe It Didn’t Happen

Let’s start with the obvious: pregnancy is hard, even in this modern age of medically assisted delivery and prenatal vitamins. Pregnancy with twins, triplets, and quadruplets? That’s even more challenging. Doing it 27 times in a row over 40 years, with no modern technology, the absence of obstetric care, and the unending physical demands of peasant life: that stretches the limits of credibility. Valentina Vassilyeva’s supposed reproductive record isn’t just impressive—it is close to impossible.

The toll of pregnancy and childbirth is enormous. After all, contemporary pregnancies that are well monitored can cause a range of issues, including chronic pelvic pain and the weakening of bodily structures that may lead to conditions such as pelvic organ prolapse. Carrying multiples puts additional strain on the body. The risk of complications—hemorrhage, infections, and uterine ruptures—skyrockets with each pregnancy and each fetus carried within the pregnancy.

In an era when childbirth was one of the leading causes of death for women, the idea that Valentina survived 27 labors, most of them involving multiple babies, without succumbing to any of these dangers is a superhuman act. In addition, she did all this without cesarean interventions, which were pretty much guaranteed fatal for the mother in that era (not that a peasant woman would’ve had access to a professional able to complete the procedure).Today, with advanced medical care, carrying so many pregnancies would still be a serious health risk and would certainly be advised against.

Then there’s the issue of the child’s survival. The 18th century wasn’t exactly a golden age for infant mortality. High fatality meant quite a few babies didn’t survive their first year, especially in families without access to wealth to purchase medical care. Yet, according to claims, 67 of Valentina’s 69 children lived to adulthood. If true, this would be an astonishingly low infant mortality rate, particularly for an era when the children of aristocrats often died young. Multiple births tend to result in premature and underweight babies, both of which would have drastically lowered their chances of survival in the 1700s.

On top of all that, there are many practical questions: where did they put all these kids? How did they feed them? How did Valentina manage to feed herself with the necessary increased calories while she was both pregnant and breastfeeding all those offspring? Feodor and Valentina were most likely subsistence farmers, which meant they lived in a small, modest home with few resources. Feeding and housing five dozen children—plus themselves—would have been a logistical nightmare. Peasant families often struggled to feed just a handful of children. While it is fair to assume the older kids helped supervise the younger ones, it is difficult to imagine how they could have afforded enough food, clothing, and housing to accommodate such a bloated family.

Finally, the only real source of this claim is a report from a monastery, which was later sent to Moscow. There are no supporting records, no diaries or personal accounts—just a single institutional document. Given the tendency of historical records to exaggerate, misinterpret, or outright fabricate details, skepticism is more than warranted. The story of Valentina Vassilyeva might be a record-breaking feat of motherhood, an act of phenomenal fertility, or a myth that refuses to die.

Documents That Say It Did Happen

While modern skepticism is understandable, historical records insist that Valentina Vassilyeva really did turn baby-making into an astounding accomplishment. The primary source of this claim comes from the Monastery of Nikolsk, which reported in 1782 that Feodor Vassilyev’s wife had given birth to 69 children through 27 pregnancies. This report was then forwarded to Moscow, where it became part of official records. Therefore, at least on paper, someone in 18th-century Russia genuinely believed this woman had an invulnerable uterus.

The case didn’t fade into obscurity, either. The story popped up again in The Gentleman’s Magazine, a British publication, in 1783. Later, in the 19th and 20th centuries, multiple references to Valentina’s alleged superhuman fertility appeared in books and encyclopedias, including Quadruplets and Higher Multiple Births by Marie M. Clay. The Russian Academy of Sciences reportedly even investigated the claim, though their findings didn’t exactly settle the debate (however, a statement was uncovered that Valentina’s descendants were still receiving benefits from the government).

What is notable is that these documents aren’t just hearsay—they are official records, meaning someone took the time to write this all down with the expectation that others would take it as fact. Feodor himself was supposedly honored by the Russian government for his attempts to repopulate the empire.

Does this serve as proof that Valentina really did birth an entire village? Not quite, but it does mean the claim wasn’t pulled out of thin air centuries later—it was considered true at the time. Whether that’s because it was absolutely true or because an overworked monk haphazardly jotted down some wildly exaggerated numbers is another question entirely.

Other Women Who Had Handfuls of Children

While Valentina Vassilyeva’s alleged 69 children put her in a category of her own, history has recorded other women whose wombs worked overtime. Whether due to genetics, lack of birth control, or sheer chance, a handful of women have also produced numbers of offspring that would leave a normal mom-to-be both sick and overwhelmed.

Germany’s Barbara Stratzmann is one such case. Born in the 15th century, Barbara reportedly gave birth to over 50 babies, which included an exhausting mix of singletons, twins, triplets, and even quadruplets. Her story was recorded in a 1498 church document and later depicted in an altarpiece in St. Cyriakus Church in Bönnigheim, Germany. The painting shows Barbara surrounded by her (alleged) dozens of children, though there is little documentation on how many of them actually survived birth/early childhood.

If you thought giving birth to a small army was a medieval or early modern trend only, think again. A Ugandan woman named Mariam Nabatanzi Babirye (born in 1980) holds the record for birthing the most children in Africa, having carried 44 kids. Married off at 12 to a man 28 years her senior, she had her first child at 13 and continued to have multiple sets of twins, triplets, and quadruplets. Medical evaluations showed that Mariam has an extremely rare condition that causes her to hyper-ovulate, releasing multiple eggs per cycle—essentially making her body a human incubator.

With her astounding number of children, Mariam’s life has been anything but easy. Her husband abandoned her, leaving her to raise the 44 children alone. She is obligated to work multiple jobs (and a side hustle here or there)—including tailoring and hairdressing—to provide for her massive family. Unlike Valentina and Barbara, Mariam’s case is well-documented, proving that extreme fertility isn’t just a historical curiosity. It can happen. It does happen. And, though rare, exceptionally large families with a single maternal figure are possible.

The Hyperovulation Hypothesis

A woman’s body usually releases one egg per cycle, but some unlikely individuals experience hyperovulation, which is a state in which a woman’s ovaries engage in releasing multiple eggs at a time. That’s one method to get twins, triplets, and, in extreme cases, greater numbers of multiples. Hyperovulation is an event more common in women with a family history of multiples, those at the extreme ends of their fertile years (either very young adolescents or women about to enter menopause), and those with certain feminine hormonal imbalances. Even so, that can result in an occasional multiple birth—not 16 sets of twins, seven sets of triplets, and four sets of quadruplets. That’s not hyperovulation: that’s a curse.

Yet, we are expected to believe Valentina pulled this off without so much as a prenatal vitamin. No records of her mother or sisters popping out armies of children exist. Her life would have been one of no apparent breaks between pregnancies for her body to recover—just one long reproductive marathon.

Was Valentina the one responsible for these pregnancies, or could her husband’s genes have been a catalyst? For her husband, Feodor, there are theories that some men might have particularly potent sperm or a naturally occurring higher sperm count per relation. What is unlikely is that he would have had a genetic quirk that somehow favored multiple pregnancies. So far, modern science hasn’t found a direct link between a man’s fertility and the chances of multiples. What most experts conclude is that Feodor’s contribution here was probably just good old-fashioned persistence.

However, this discussion of Valentina’s versus Feodor’s genetics can be distracting from the real issue. Even if Valentina was naturally prone to multiples, the real shocker isn’t the number of children—it is that she survived all those births. History wasn’t kind to mothers and babies.

The most prolific killers were puerperal fever (a postpartum infection, sometimes spread from doctors and midwives who didn’t understand good handwashing) and retained placenta (when bits of the placenta stay inside the uterus, causing deadly infections). Queen Jane Seymour, Henry VIII’s third wife, died from one of these causes after giving birth to Edward VI. Which of them was the culprit has never been determined, but Jane lingered for twelve days before succumbing to fever. Elizabeth of York, mother of Henry VIII, met the same fate on her 37th birthday. Aemilia, wife of the Roman general Pompey, was one of countless women who died of childbirth complications in the ancient world.

Now, imagine rolling those very weighty dice 27 times—with multiple babies per pregnancy—before germ theory even existed. This boils down to no antibiotics, no sterile birthing conditions, no understanding that bacteria even existed or that soap could kill them. Valentina would have been constantly running the reproductive gauntlet.

Before dismissing Valentina’s marathon of babymaking entirely, it must be acknowledged that some women in history truly did survive an absurd number of pregnancies. Take Charlotte Lee, Countess of Lichfield—one of Charles II’s many illegitimate children. Unlike most women who endured the childbirth roulette in the 17th century, Countess Charlotte somehow managed to survive giving birth 18 times.

Charlotte made her way through 18 pregnancies while thriving. By 19 years old, she had already given birth to four children. Meanwhile, she was reported to be living it up, riding horses, playing billiards, decorating her houses, and enjoying a marriage that was unusually happy for her day. The woman basically turned motherhood into an aristocratic side hobby.

It is important to keep in mind that Charlotte was a noblewoman, the beloved, if illegitimate, daughter of the reigning king, one with access to better nutrition, medical care, and a home that wasn’t a drafty peasant hut in the middle of rural Russia. Since physicians were still using leeching at this time, 18 successful births in the 1600s are almost as eyebrow-raising as 69 in the 1700s.

So, was Valentina just the peasant version of Charlotte Lee? Or was she the historical version of “Mother Uganda,” Mariam Nabatanzi Babirye? She just might have been.

Alice tumbles down a rabbit hole rather than sit politely by the riverbank. Wendy flies out the window for the promise of enchanted Neverland instead of staying in the nursery like an obedient Edwardian daughter. Both are young girls who reject the expectations placed upon them, preferring adventure over predictability—and both were inspired by real-life girls who did much the same. Alice Liddell bullied her chaperone, Lewis Carroll, into writing down his Wonderland stories, while Margaret Henley charmed J.M. Barrie into immortalizing her as Wendy. When Disney brought these headstrong heroines to life, he chose yet another sweetly strong-willed young girl—Kathryn Beaumont—to give them a voice.

Who Was Alice in Wonderland?

Alice Liddell was the kind of girl who didn’t take no for an answer. If she had been, we might never have had the classic Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. She was born in 1852, the daughter of the Dean of Christ Church, Oxford, which gave her an unusual childhood filled with boat rides, gardens, and a certain socially awkward mathematics lecturer named Charles Dodgson—better known to history as Lewis Carroll.

Now, Carroll was many things: a mathematician, an amateur photographer, a stammering academic. Most importantly for little Alice Liddell, he was an oddball who liked entertaining children with nonsense tales. Alice was exactly the sort of child who could take advantage of such a combination. On a summer day in 1862, she and her sisters went on a rowing trip with Carroll, and Alice did what any bored child is likely to do—she pestered the adult in charge until she was entertained. She demanded Carroll tell her a story, and not just any story—one about her.

Thus, Alice’s journey down the rabbit hole came to be on a sunny day by the water. Carroll later wrote it down and gifted the manuscript, Alice’s Adventures Under Ground, to the original Alice herself. Later, when he polished it into Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland for widespread distribution in 1865, he made the heroine not Alice Liddell but a fictionalized, stylized version of her, one with her curiosity but not necessarily her dark hair or frank demeanor.

Alice Liddell grew up, as real girls are wont to do. She developed a crush on Prince Leopold (yes, Prince Leopold, Queen Victoria’s son), but she ended up married to a wealthy cricketer instead. Life took its turns, and by 1928, two of her three sons were dead, fighting in the First World War, and she was a widow who needed to support herself. So what did she do? She sold her original, hand-illustrated copy of Alice at auction. It fetched a fortune, proving once and for all that her younger self had been right—this fantasy was a story worth writing down.

Fast forward to the 1940s, and Walt Disney needed an Alice of his own. He found her in Kathryn Beaumont, a ten-year-old British actress with a voice full of curiosity and pluck. When she auditioned, she had no idea she was about to become the Alice for generations to come. Not only did she voice the role, but Disney had her act out scenes on film so animators could capture her expressions and movements—meaning that the Alice we see on screen is, in many ways, her.

Beaumont later recalled how much fun it was to play Alice, even if it involved running around a soundstage talking to things that weren’t actually there. “It was very much like playing dress-up,” she said, “and I loved that.” Her performance gave Alice a mix of intelligence, stubbornness, and just enough consternation concerning Wonderland’s nonsense to make her an ideal leading lady.

Who Was the Real Wendy Darling?

Wendy Darling—the sensible, storytelling, slightly bossy girl who flies off to Neverland—was the invention of J.M. Barrie, but like Alice, she didn’t spring from thin air. In fact, she was stitched together from at least two real girls: one who gave her the “Wendy” moniker and one who gave her the unyielding personality.

The name “Wendy” wasn’t exactly common in 1904, when Peter Pan debuted on stage. That’s because it was a rarity. Barrie got it from a little girl named Margaret Henley, the daughter of poet William Ernest Henley (the guy who wrote Invictus). Margaret called Barrie her “fwiendy,” thanks to a childhood speech impediment, and he found it so charming that he shortened it to “Wendy” and made it immortal with his older sister style character. Unfortunately, Margaret didn’t live to see it—she died at age five from a very nasty bout of cerebral meningitis. In some way, however, her name has been soaring over London rooftops ever since.

As for Wendy’s personality? That came from another source, an unlikely one: the five Llewelyn Davies boys, whom Barrie more or less adopted after their parents, his close friends, died. They were the real inspiration behind Peter Pan and the personality of his gang of lost boys. What is Wendy but a big sister wrangling a pack of adventure-loving boys? Barrie guided these kids as they grew up and infused Wendy with that mix of motherly authority, practicality, and deep, unshakable belief that bedtime stories must be told, even in the wilds of Neverland.

Fast forward to the 1940s, and Disney was on the hunt for his Wendy. He knew he already had the perfect talent for the role: Kathryn Beaumont—yes, the same girl who voiced Alice in Alice in Wonderland. She was just eleven when she landed the role, making her the voice of not one but two of the most famous fictional girls in history. Once again, she not only provided Wendy’s voice but also acted out scenes on stage and on film for the animators to study.

Beaumont later described Wendy as “the kind of girl who had to be the reasonable one,” the one keeping Peter and the boys from total chaos. She brought warmth and intelligence to the role, making Wendy both a dreamer and a girl who knew that real life had to continue beyond Neverland. Staying a child forever was never in her cards. Daring to fly and making her way toward the second star on the right was fun…once.

The Life of Kathryn Beaumont

Kathryn Beaumont didn’t just voice Alice and Wendy—she really was them. The British-born actress and singer was a mere ten years old when Walt Disney handpicked her for the role of Alice, won over by her crisp English accent and her ability to bring a certain no-nonsense charm to a girl tumbling like a weed through Wonderland. She is the reason that Alice is a blonde, and it is her mannerisms that are depicted when Alice speaks to the white rabbit, when she confronts the Queen of Hearts, and when she drinks the liquids that shrunk and supersized her. Then, when it came time to cast Wendy Darling, Disney didn’t have to look far. Kathryn’s voice—and her knack for playing girls who could both dream and deliver a good scolding—was a perfect fit.

Her contribution went beyond voice work. Disney’s animators needed more than audio to bring the characters to life, so Kathryn acted out entire scenes in full costume, performing for reference footage. Imagine being barely in the double digits, pretending to fly around a soundstage or reacting to invisible Mad Hatters while a crew of adults studied and recorded your every move. Sounds overwhelming, but Kathryn took it all in stride. Walt Disney himself was reportedly fond of her, treating her like a treasured member of the studio family rather than just another budding starlet.

Kathryn’s journey to Hollywood stardom started long before Disney came calling, coming from a family with a penchant for stage work. Born in London in 1938 to a professional dancer mother and a father who worked as a multi-band musician, Kathryn was surrounded by both music and movement—a fitting combination for someone who’d voice two girls known for their imaginative yet sensible personalities. Her family relocated to Los Angeles when she was young, and by the time she auditioned for Alice in Wonderland, she was already a seasoned performer.

Unlike many child actors, Kathryn didn’t stick around for the glitz and glamor or come out with a story soaked in tragedy detailing her formative years in showbiz. After Peter Pan wrapped, she chose to leave Hollywood behind, pursuing an education instead. Later in life, she would clarify that she didn’t feel left behind by the ever-changing movie scene.

Instead, she felt that her interests and goals were what shifted, as they do for so many, as she grew. She earned a degree in education from the University of Southern California and went on to teach elementary school for decades. Her students had no idea their teacher was Disney royalty—unless, of course, they caught wind of her secret and asked her to please say something as Alice (yes, she sometimes obliged).

One curious detail? Kathryn never had children of her own, which surprises some people given her rather iconic career voicing legendary girls. After all, who wouldn’t want Wendy Darling or Alice who traversed Wonderland as their mom? But motherhood isn’t the only way to shape young minds—she spent years inspiring kids from the front of a classroom, proving that influence takes many forms.

Even after stepping away from the limelight, Kathryn never distanced herself from her Disney roots. In interviews, she’s called voicing Alice and Wendy “one of the greatest privileges” of her life, a legacy she embraces with both gratitude and humility. Decades later, she’s still celebrated at Disney fan events, where grown adults (and plenty of kids) light up at the chance to meet the voice behind two of the most beloved girls in animation history.

While she may have traded film sets for chalkboards, Kathryn Beaumont remains, at her core, the girl who fell down a rabbit hole and flew off to Neverland—reminding us all that adventure and imagination never truly grow old.

What Carroll and Barrie Taught the World With Girls in Fiction

When Lewis Carroll and J.M. Barrie introduced Alice and Wendy to the world, they didn’t just create memorable characters—they crafted girls who refused to quietly fit into the neat little boxes society had built for them. Victorian girlhood literature often served as a moral compass, nudging young readers toward domesticity, obedience, and self-sacrifice. Girls in these stories were expected to embody the “angel in the house”—kind, quiet, and, above all, compliant. Yet, here came Alice and Wendy, tripping through Wonderland and flying off to Neverland, challenging authority, asking inconvenient questions, and—perhaps most shockingly—thinking for themselves.

Take Alice, who, while navigating the topsy-turvy rules of Wonderland, thinks of herself: “she generally gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it).” Contemporary expectations urged girls to be docile and dutiful, but Alice’s journey is one of constant questioning and challenging.

When she admits, “I–I hardly know, sir, just at present–at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then,” she voices what every growing child (and let’s be honest—adult) has felt: the confusion of identity in a world that wants to define you before you’ve figured out who you are. And while Wonderland’s rules are absurd, Alice isn’t fooled. The quip, “If you drink much from a bottle marked ‘poison,’ it is certain to disagree with you sooner or later,” is a reminder that even in a world that expects and rewards blind compliance, a little skepticism can act as an element of protection.

Wendy Darling, on the other hand, embodies a different kind of rebellion. She steps into Neverland ready for adventure but is quickly cast as the “mother” to the Lost Boys—a reflection of how even in fantasy, girls were often pigeonholed into caregiving roles. Yet Barrie offers complexity here. Wendy may tuck the boys in at night, but she also grapples with what bravery means. “There are many different kinds of bravery. There’s the bravery of thinking of others before one’s self,” she informs, acknowledging both the strength in nurturing and the courage in choosing her own path.

By the end, Wendy opts for adulthood—a choice that speaks volumes against the era’s glorification of perpetual girlhood and the childish submission expected of women. In this light, let’s not forget Peter Pan’s reluctant (but telling) admission: “Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys.” High praise, even if Peter is too inexperienced to fully grasp why.

These characters emerged at a time when literature was a key tool for shaping young girls into “proper” women. Texts like A Little Princess and The Secret Garden often walked the line between reinforcing traditional roles and hinting at new possibilities for women outside of the domestic sphere. As scholars note, girlhood literature of the period simultaneously questioned and then reinforced the ideal of a compliant woman and warm mother, greatly influencing how young readers saw themselves.

Carroll and Barrie—perhaps unintentionally—pushed back harder than most. Their heroines weren’t just reacting to their worlds; they were reshaping them. They were not ideal, but a realistic depiction of the makeup of little girls: sweet and brassy, brave and bold, obedient and a bit insolent all at once.

Then, decades later, along came Kathryn Beaumont. With her clear, thoughtful voice, she breathed life into Alice’s curiosity and Wendy’s wisdom, ensuring that these girls’ bold and before-their-time spirits would speak to new generations. Beaumont’s portrayals reminded audiences that, while the worlds of Wonderland and Neverland are fantastical, the challenges their heroines face—figuring out who you are, standing up for yourself, and navigating society’s expectations—are universal and not dependent on gender or age.

In the end, what Carroll and Barrie taught us was simple yet radical: girls are capable of more than just being supporting characters in someone else’s story. Whether drinking from suspicious bottles or flitting off to magical lands, they’re leaders, thinkers, and even protagonists in their own right. Or, to borrow from Peter Pan, “To die will be an awfully big adventure,”—but living boldly? That might just be the biggest adventure of all. And, while thinking about how Margaret Henley’s life ended so early, maybe the written word was a hope that she found her own perfect Neverland.

Used for the first time in the 1980s in Robert Zemeckis’s Back to the Future, Florence Nightingale syndrome is a term used for a situation in which a caregiver falls for their patient. Named after one of the most influential nurses in history, Florence Nightingale syndrome, or effect, can create ethical and personal dilemmas. However, while this so-called syndrome is popular in the media, there is little evidence of it in the real world, and its use detracts from Nightingale’s legacy and her impact on the world of medicine and nursing.

Who Was Florence Nightingale?

Also known as “The Lady with the Lamp,” Florence Nightingale founded modern nursing and reformed the healthcare system. Nightingale earned this nickname, as well as “the Angel of Crimea,” due to her work during the Crimean War (1854-1856). Nightingale was born to a wealthy landowner and, as a member of the elite upper class, was not expected to work. Despite this, since she was a young girl, she dedicated her life to helping others. It came as no surprise that she went against the social norms of her class and trained to be a nurse.

She received her training in Germany in the 1850s and later worked at a women’s hospital in Middlesex. Only a year later, Nightingale had already gained a reputation as one of the best nurses working there and was promoted to superintendent. For a woman to have this type of respect and responsibility in Victorian English society was also a rarity, though it could be argued that the country was becoming more progressive and equal. Feminist ideas and views had begun to emerge, but it was still a patriarchal society. Not only did Nightingale’s high-powered job separate her from other women of this era, so too did her refusal to marry.

Married women had severely limited rights in the Victorian era, as under common law, they lost their property and their legal independence. Women were expected to have “feminine” qualities like sympathy, sensitivity, and empathy—qualities that nurses should have as well—but to have no ambitions. The ideal Victorian woman was utterly devoted to her husband, children, and home and belonged in the private, domestic sphere.

Coventry Patmore’s popular 1854 poem, “The Angel in the House,” highlights the oppressive domesticity that was expected of Victorian women and how men viewed them. Upper-class women were expected to marry and have children young, and becoming a mother was seen as the highest achievement a woman could attain. However, as women in the upper classes weren’t supposed to work or have further education, married women were completely dependent on their husbands and would have to endure whatever struggles their marriage entailed.

Nightingale’s refusal to conform to the Victorian era’s societal expectations and patriarchy arguably allowed her to become the revered nurse she is today. However, her upper-class status and good education did put her at an advantage, and other women in similar situations didn’t have the same opportunities.

How Did Florence Nightingale Change Nursing?

When Florence Nightingale began working as a nurse at the Middlesex Hospital, conditions were extremely unsanitary. In fact, many hospitals in Victorian England were extremely dirty and were seen as places that would make you worse, not better. The filthy conditions and lack of ventilation meant that cross-contamination was rife, and nurses themselves often fell ill as well. The hospital was already suffering from a cholera outbreak, and the lack of good hygiene practices increased the death rate.

Nightingale implemented ways to improve the cleanliness of the hospital, which decreased the number of lives lost. She would also stay up all night long with afflicted patients, which nurses were not expected to do. Due to these new strategies, Sidney Herbert, the War Secretary, requested that Nightingale and a group of nurses be sent to Crimea in 1854. When they arrived, they were shocked and horrified at just how bad the conditions in the hospital were, despite the warnings they were given.

The wounded were left to lie in their own bodily fluids, and some were left in random beds in the hallways. The hospital was overcome by a rat infestation, and supplies were dwindling dangerously. Yet soldiers continued to be sent in for treatment. Often, it wasn’t their injuries that killed them, but instead the hospital’s conditions. The poor state the hospital was in meant that the biggest killers were cholera and typhoid. Nightingale, just as she had at Middlesex, improved the hospital’s sanitation. The more able injured were required to clean the hospital, and a laundry service was implemented, as clean sheets would help reduce the spread of disease.

Nightingale dedicated the majority of her time there to helping the soldiers, which is why she was called “The Lady with the Lamp.” She would constantly check on her patients throughout the night, using the light from her lamp to guide her. After her arrival, hospital deaths fell by nearly 70%.

After her time in the Crimea, she became one of the nation’s most respected and revered nurses, even being rewarded a brooch by Queen Victoria. She published a report on the appalling conditions in the Crimean hospitals, which led to the establishment of a Royal Commission for the Health of the Army in 1857. In 1860, she also established the Nightingale Training School for Nurses, which is still teaching today.

What Is Florence Nightingale Syndrome?

Florence Nightingale syndrome has become a colloquial, pop culture term used to refer to a caregiver developing feelings for their patient. Though it can be used in both romantic and platonic terms, popularly, it most often has romantic connotations. There is no proof or evidence of Nightingale ever falling for one of her patients, but the syndrome is named after her due to the unprecedented care she showed. The origins of this term are also unknown, but the 1985 Back to the Future film may be credited with the first popular use of this phrase. Examples of “Florence Nightingale Syndrome” can also be seen in Wonder Woman and in Ernest Hemmingway’s 1929 novel A Farewell to Arms.

It is perhaps understandable that a caregiver could fall for their patient, or vice versa, as they often do develop a close relationship. The Florence Nightingale Pledge that all nurses must take includes a vow to care for their patients and treat them compassionately. Yet, while it is expected that nurses undertake the best care possible for their patients, being “too” caring may lead to ethical concerns. For this reason, hospitals establish certain guidelines and boundaries. Nurses are not allowed to share personal details, meet patients outside of work, or have any unnecessary physical contact with patients. These policies exist to protect both nurse and patient, and any nurse found breaking these rules may be subject to consequences such as loss of license.

Should an instance of Florence Nightingale syndrome arise, it may infantilize, and even hurt, the patient and their recovery. As a caregiver begins to spend more time with the patient in question, giving them more attention and help, this may affect not only their recovery but that of other patients as well. If a nurse takes on more responsibility to help them, it may impact or delay the patient’s own healing process, though some believe a nurse who has fallen victim to this syndrome may become less interested in the patient once they begin to progress and heal.

While there may be some truth to the existence of Florence Nightingale syndrome, and it would be ignorant to pretend it couldn’t exist, pop culture seems to have exaggerated it, particularly with the rise of the “I can fix him” romantic cliche. Nightingale’s legacy should not live on in this pop culture trope but instead through her trailblazing work. Having changed so many elements of both nursing and hospital hygiene, Nightingale deserves to be the face of modern nursing.

The Legacy of Florence Nightingale Syndrome

Throughout history, women have played the role of caregivers, and nursing, seen as akin to caregiving, is still viewed as a predominately female profession—perhaps due to a lack of knowledge about what, exactly, nurses do. While many believe that nurses simply wash, feed, and provide emotional support to patients, in truth, they play a key role in their healing process. Nightingale herself didn’t agree with nursing being a female-dominated field. While she was a staunch supporter of the suffragettes and other female liberation movements, she focused her attention on equality in medicine and nursing. It is commonly assumed that Nightingale opposed male nurses, as she thought that men would not be good at the job, but this is untrue.

Nightingale saw the field of nursing as going beyond caring for the patient and helping them heal; she believed that it was instead a bond, a sort of relationship, between caregiver and patient. She believed that army and navy nursing should be done by the men and that all men in the forces should receive nursing training and supervision.

To portray Florence Nightingale as a weak-minded, impulsive, and unprofessional nurse (or, arguably, woman) by associating her with this syndrome arguably discredits all her hard work. It is well documented that nursing is seen as a “feminine” job, and so to suggest that female nurses can’t help falling for their patients misunderstands the role and status of caregivers. The media and pop culture’s obsession with Beauty and the Beast, “Florence Nightingale Syndrome”-style stories should be seen as just that: stories, or tropes, that have nothing to do with Nightingale herself. Instead, the focus should remain on the advances in nursing and hospitals owed to the influential and inspirational Florence Nightingale.

Elizabeth Cady Stanton was a revolutionary figure in her day, speaking out about women’s rights, especially voting rights for women. Alongside fellow suffragist Susan B. Anthony, she worked tirelessly to change the way society treated women. A writer, philosopher, women’s rights activist, and mother of seven children, Stanton used her talents and skills to uplift women’s voices in a patriarchal society. Though her rhetoric has been criticized as being elitist and racist in nature, Stanton ignited a feminist rebellion that would continue into the 20th century. So, what did Elizabeth Cady Stanton do?

Elizabeth Cady Stanton’s Early Life

In 1815, Elizabeth Cady Stanton was born to a large, wealthy family in Johnstown, New York. Her mother was a progressive thinker and the daughter of an esteemed hero of the American Revolution. Her father was a landowner, attorney, and later a state Supreme Court judge. The Stanton family was very influential in the community.

Stanton was one of ten children, though many of her siblings died in infancy. The Stantons were bereaved by the loss of four of their five sons in childhood, with the fifth son passing away soon after he graduated from Union College. This left Stanton’s parents devastated since, at this time, male heirs were crucial for the survival of a family’s future. Elizabeth Cady Stanton felt that she was a disappointment to her parents, especially her father, who, upon the death of his eldest son, expressed to her that he wished she was a boy.

As a child, Stanton was caught sifting through her father’s law books and attempting to cut out passages that prevented women from having rights equal to men. Though her father stopped her before she managed to cut them out, he explained to her that in order for a law to be changed, a person must appeal to the lawmakers who pass the laws.

This incident inspired Stanton and remained with her when, in 1854, she appeared before the New York State Legislature to demand property rights for women. Stanton’s childhood experiences changed how she saw women’s role in society.  She was emboldened to speak out about the unfair treatment of women in their communities and across the country.

In other words, Elizabeth Cady Stanton demanded change.

A Radical Woman

Though Stanton was highly intelligent, outspoken, and interested in learning, women in the 19th century were unable to access higher education. She attended an all-female academy but felt it was unfair that she was prevented from attending college like her brother and attaining the same education as males.

Once she graduated from the academy, she surrounded herself with intellectuals and radical thinkers, including her cousin Gerrit Smith, a staunch abolitionist and supporter of social reforms. Within this circle of intellectuals, Stanton met abolitionist Henry Stanton, and the two were married in secret in May 1840. Stanton’s parents disapproved of the marriage.

During the wedding ceremony, Stanton refused to utter the word “obey,” She also kept her maiden name, which was highly unusual during this time. She wished to start the marriage on equal footing and sustain her individuality within the marriage.

For their honeymoon, the couple left for London to attend the first-ever World Anti-Slavery Convention. Though Stanton was excited to be part of this momentous occasion, British delegates refused to accept the female delegates from America. They were allowed to sit in on the meetings, but that was it. The women, including Stanton, were disallowed from speaking out about oppression and freedom. Stanton socialized with the other excluded female abolitionists and women’s rights activists, including feminist Lucretia Mott, and the two continued to correspond with one another after the convention.

Upon returning from their honeymoon, Elizabeth Cady Staton and her husband settled in Johnstown but eventually moved to Boston, where they continued growing their family. Though Stanton was busy raising her young children, she found time to attend intellectual meetings and lectures where writers like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Nathaniel Hawthorne enlightened audiences with their radical, progressive ideas.

Seneca Falls

In 1847, the Stantons left Boston for Seneca Falls, New York. Though conversations about women’s rights had been occurring for years, Seneca Falls is considered the birthplace of the women’s rights movement in the United States, as it represents the first time a wider meeting was called specifically to address women’s rights.

In early July 1848, Stanton joined a meeting of Quaker women at Lucretia Mott’s request. Though Mott couldn’t attend, she wanted the other women to become acquainted with Stanton. The group discussed the plight of women in society, especially their lack of rights.

Stanton was discontented with the roles of women in society as merely wives, mothers, and housekeepers, shut off from the wider world, and forced to toil at home. After the assembly, the women placed a public meeting notice in a local paper. Stanton began drafting the Declaration of Sentiments and Resolutions, formed in unison with the world’s first women’s rights convention on July 19, 1848, in Seneca Falls.

The document, modeled after the Declaration of Independence, demanded rights for individual women in society. The meeting lasted two days, and hundreds of people attended. Attendees discussed how the law and religion limit women and do not allow them to utilize their talents and intellect. They indicated that the participation of women in society and law was crucial for a well-rounded, functioning democracy. Stanton even discussed women’s suffrage, an issue that her husband, friends, and fellow activists believed was an unrealistic resolution.

However, Frederick Douglass, a fellow convention attendee and speaker, supported Stanton’s resolution, and Stanton acknowledged that his support ultimately saved the resolution. Those in attendance addressed the need to change laws and societal customs for women’s liberation, with 68 women and 32 men signing the Declaration of Sentiments and Resolutions.

A Pivotal Meeting

In the spring of 1851, Stanton and Susan B. Anthony met for the first time. Their friendship would span decades, changing the course of the women’s rights movement.

Because Anthony chose not to marry, she was able to travel freely and speak at meetings about women’s rights, especially women’s suffrage. She often highlighted Stanton’s work in the movement while Stanton remained home to care for her young children. Eventually, Anthony came to stay with the Stantons and care for the children, giving her friend the space to write and strategize for the movement.

Susan Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton were powerful figures, representing the strength of the women’s rights movement. Stanton wrote eloquent, insightful pieces, and Anthony delivered them to audiences. The two women worked on changing the laws in New York and the country’s northern regions before turning their focus to the federal government and amending the United States Constitution. They garnered national support by inspiring women’s rights activists and social reformers to stand up for women.

A Revolution

For half a century, Stanton and Anthony led the US women’s rights movement, though they were met with resistance and animosity from both men and women.

They advocated for voting rights for women along with other fundamental rights, including a woman’s right to attend college, own property in her name, share custody of her children, end a marriage on the grounds of cruelty or drunkenness, be treated as a full citizen, run for office in public elections, serve on a jury, and run for the position of senator, representative, or president, among other rights.

Once her children were older, Stanton worked for over a decade, traveling and giving speeches. In the 1860s, she spoke in front of legislatures, conventions, and judicial committees about such topics as voting rights for all women regardless of race, access to property, and divorce.

She believed that marriage should be defined as a legal agreement, explaining that it was a fallible institution unfair to women since a man who marries does not give up his rights, but a woman who marries forfeits every right.

In 1869, Stanton and Anthony formed the National Woman Suffrage Association (NWSA) to promote voting rights for women, with Stanton serving as president of the NWSA for two decades. The NWSA later merged with the American Woman Suffrage Association (AWSA) to form the National American Woman Suffrage Association (NAWSA) in the late 19th century.

Elizabeth Cady Stanton’s Feminist Writings

During her later years, Elizabeth Cady Stanton was a paid lecturer and wrote powerful works on women’s rights, including co-authoring History of Woman Suffrage (1881-1886) alongside Anthony and other women’s rights activists, The Woman’s Bible (1895 & 1898), in which Stanton challenges the traditional idea that women should be subservient to men (an idea she believed was often supported by religion), and a memoir called Eighty Years and More (1898). Her writings explore the injustices women face in the domestic sphere, law, politics, and places of worship.

In 1892, Stanton produced the speech Solitude of Self, written for the House Committee on the Judiciary of the United States Congress. In it, Stanton argued for women’s rights as citizens, individuals, and human beings, emphasizing the need for women’s education and for women to be independent and self-reliant in society. She explained that individuals, men and women alike, are ultimately responsible for themselves and know their own needs. Therefore, women cannot be adequately served in politics by male family members representing them; only women as individuals can understand what they want and what they need.

Stanton gave the speech in an address to the NAWSA and at a Senate Committee on Woman Suffrage hearing. The text was later published, and thousands of copies were sent across the country by Congress.

Elizabeth Cady Stanton’s Legacy

Though Stanton was successful in spearheading a revolution focused on women’s liberation in society, her activism has been criticized, particularly the elitist attitudes and racist rhetoric used in her writings and speeches.

In one instance, Stanton likened the status of women in society to that of an enslaved person, despite the fact that there were enslaved people, including enslaved women, in the United States at that time, and white women had more rights than Black women.

While some abolitionists and women’s rights activists during the American Civil War believed that the enfranchisement of Black men was vital to ensure the safety of the Black community, Stanton disagreed, believing that women were a priority and should receive voting rights first. She felt that white, educated, moneyed women were “worthier” of the vote than Black men.

Stanton even began arguing against universal male suffrage, explaining that white women were morally and intellectually superior to Black men or foreign-born men. Her exclusive stance on voting rights was met with vitriol as many abolitionists and other women’s rights advocates disagreed with her elitist beliefs.

Still, Stanton was a revolutionary figure in the women’s rights movement, highlighting the unfair treatment and injustices women faced in society. She used her talent for communication and access to resources to petition for women’s rights, especially women’s suffrage.

Though she died in 1902 before women’s suffrage was granted in the United States, her work inspired feminists in the 20th century and beyond to continue their fight for women’s rights.

In a time when the traditional roles of men and women within the family unit were emphasized and adhered to, a young Apache woman named Lozen bucked trends to become an impressive warrior in her own right. Her skills grew as she did, and she became one of the most revered people within her tribe. Her abilities were not limited to those of a warrior but included skills with medicines, and she became a respected shaman. Despite her capabilities, the US Army would eventually come calling, dooming this incredible warrior woman.

1. Lozen Was the Only Female Warrior in Her Band

Lozen was born sometime in the 1840s in the Southwestern area of what is now New Mexico. She was part of the Apache tribe, specifically a branch of the Chiricahua Apache known as the Warm Springs or Ojo Caliente band. While Apache women underwent physical training from a young age, there were still strict gender roles within the tribe. For example, when enemies attacked, the role of women was to gather valuables and flee to safety with the children, while men took on the attackers. Lozen grew up learning traditionally female skills, such as sewing and preparing food but also loved the rough and tumble war games that the boys played. She was small, but she was agile and often won games that required speed and endurance.

Lozen was first exposed to real warfare when she was a child when her people were lured to a celebration by local Mexicans, and then ambushed. This trauma stayed with Lozen, and she channeled it into the development of her skills. When it came time for her coming-of-age ceremony, Lozen fasted and spent time on her people’s Sacred Mountain, where she received visions. When she returned home, she told her brother and tribal elders that she had been given a power that would enable her to detect the enemy. Her brother, Victorio, believed in her and, as he ascended to leadership, allowed Lozen to join the men on raids. She quickly earned respect from the men in her own right, and her professed abilities would soon bear fruit.

2. She Was Her Brother’s Right Hand

Lozen’s older brother, Victorio, was close to 20 years her senior, but the two siblings were incredibly close. Victorio emerged as a tribal leader after the death of legendary headman Mangus Coloradas in 1863. Victorio made efforts to avoid confrontation with the increasing white population in the area, but conflict was inevitable. Victorio valued the contributions of his sister, but she often felt uncomfortable advising him in public, worried that the other warriors would find fault with her “improper” role as a woman in politics and war. However, she did act as her brother’s advisor in private, and he had no shame in his dependence on his sister’s opinions and skills. He is quoted as saying, “Lozen is my right hand… strong as a man, braver than most, and cunning in strategy. Lozen is a shield to her people.”

3. Lozen Was a Skilled Thief

When Lozen was about seven years old, she rode a horse for the first time. The people around her noticed almost immediately that the young girl had a way with these four-legged beasts. She became one of the best riders in her band, a skill that was essential in the Apache raiding culture. Another component of the raiding culture was the ability to effectively procure resources. Lozen proved herself in this area as well, using her presence with horses to establish herself as a capable horse thief by the time she was twenty. In fact, her name, Lozen, means “dextrous horse thief.”

4. It Was Said She Could Detect the Enemy’s Presence

Lozen’s power, which she claimed to have attained during her coming-of-age ceremony, proved its accuracy many times over, helping her band avoid capture. To use her gift, or perform her “ceremony,” Lozen would say a prayer, extending her arms and turning slowly in a circular motion until her palms began to tingle. The tingling would alert her to the direction from which an enemy was approaching. Victorio and other leaders would use this information to plan their next move.

5. She Saved a New Mother

In 1877, Victorio, Lozen, and their people were in the midst of a campaign to return to their homeland in Ojo Caliente, located in what would become New Mexico. The US military attempted to force them back, but the Apache band persisted. Along their travels, they raided and engaged with the army several times. Late in the campaign, Lozen left the main group, volunteering to take a new mother and her baby to the safety of the Mescalero Reservation. The three left with only a three-day food supply, a rifle, ammunition, and a knife. To replenish their provisions, along their route, Lozen killed a longhorn cow with only her knife so as not to attract attention, as the area was crawling with Mexican and American soldiers. She stole horses from the Mexican cavalry for her and the mother to speed up their journey and took the soldier’s supplies, including a blanket, clothing, and ammunition. She delivered the new mother and her baby safely to their destination, then alone, made it back to her band without consequence.

6. Lozen Fought Alongside Geronimo

Lozen was devastated by the news that Victorio was killed in battle in 1880. This, however, did not dissuade her from raiding. Her band was now led by elderly patriarch Nana, someone who had supported Lozen throughout her life. The group of warriors raided across New Mexico and Arizona in revenge. Eventually, they joined famed Apache leader Geronimo, fighting in a series of conflicts that would become known to US history as the Apache Wars. Lozen held out as part of the last remaining free band of Apaches, finally surrendering to the US government in 1886.

7. She Negotiated for Peace

When she joined Geronimo’s forces, Lozen was no longer the sole female warrior of the band. She befriended Dahteste, a woman who had fought alongside Geronimo. Though, unlike Lozen, Dahteste was married. Dahteste spoke fluent English, which enabled her to act as a mediator between her people and US forces.

Dahteste and Lozen worked together and attempted to negotiate a peace treaty between the Apache and the United States. Unfortunately, the United States did not take these attempts seriously, and surrender was the only option left for Apache survival.

8. She Died as a Prisoner of War

After the surrender of their remaining Apache forces in 1886, Lozen and her compatriots became prisoners of war. The US government decided that they would move the remaining Apache prisoners across the country to Fort Marion, Florida. Lozen’s fellow warriors elected to avoid mentioning Lozen’s role as a warrior, hoping that it would elicit better treatment for her from their oppressors if they thought she was just an average Apache woman. This treacherous trip was made by train, and disease was rampant—not only on the journey but within the prison itself. There were just under four hundred people imprisoned at the Fort, and at one time, almost seventy cases of illness were reported as active.

Lozen was later transferred to the Mount Vernon Barracks in Alabama. Little is known of Lozen’s imprisonment after she reached the East Coast. She died at some point during her stay in Mount Vernon, likely from tuberculosis. Lozen was buried in an unmarked grave at Mount Vernon. After Geronimo’s death in 1908, the government eased its restrictions on the Apache, and in 1912, survivors were allowed to move to either Indian Territory in Oklahoma or the Mescalero Apache Reservation. Today, the descendants of Lozen, Victorio, and others who fought for Apache freedom reside on the Mescalero Apache Reservation in Mescalero, New Mexico.

Recommended Reading: 

Aleshire, Peter (2001), Warrior Woman, St. Martin’s Press.

When the US officially became an independent country, voting was restricted to property-owning white men. It wasn’t long before other groups began demanding an equal voice in the fledgling democracy. Beginning a decade before the Civil War, the women’s suffrage movement would battle for more than 70 years to secure voting rights for women—as well as grappling with internal issues that at times threatened to derail the movement entirely.

19th Century: The Early Push for Suffrage

Though there were undoubtedly women calling for voting rights from the outset, the beginning of the formal suffrage movement is generally regarded as the Seneca Falls Convention. Held on July 19, 1848 and often referred to as the first women’s rights convention, the event was organized by a number of women also active in the abolitionist movement.

The key document resulting from the Convention was the Declaration of Sentiments, modeled after the Declaration of Independence and intended to secure for women the same rights and freedoms men had won when the former colonies became a sovereign nation. The signatories adopted a set of 12 resolutions calling for women’s equality with men, including the right to vote. A second national convention was organized the following year, bringing together more than 1,000 participants, including famed abolitionist Frederick Douglass. Yearly meetings continued through 1860.

Disrupted by the Civil War, the suffrage movement picked up in earnest in 1865 with the formation of the American Equal Rights Association, which sought universal suffrage—voting rights for men and women of all races. Efforts continued to push for women’s suffrage, including suffrage bills petitioned from state governments, lawsuits challenging male-only voting laws, picketing, and hunger strikes. In response, a formal amendment granting women suffrage was introduced to Congress in 1878—where it would languish for four decades.

The Women’s Suffrage Movement: Key Players

Lucretia Mott, a Quaker and prominent abolitionist, has long been considered the founder of the women’s suffrage movement, but she worked alongside numerous other women who would become central players in the decades-long battle for voting rights. Other early key figures included Elizabeth Cady Stanton, who helped organize the Seneca Falls Convention. She was well-educated and outspoken but ultimately considered too radical and became controversial for her apparent racism, even while fighting for abolition.

Stanton formed a bond with fellow suffragette Susan B. Anthony, who provided powerful support for the movement by organizing conventions, petitions, lectures, and other public events. She collaborated with Stanton and Matilda Joslyn Gage to write The History of Woman Suffrage. She was perhaps the best-known figure of the movement, with the Amendment that ultimately passed named for her.

As the movement aged, new players came on the scene, including Lucy Stone, Carrie Chapman Catt, and Alice Paul, who each brought new perspectives and approaches to the movement. Stone founded the Women’s Journal, a prominent voice for the suffrage movement, while Catt worked to establish international ties and helped found the International Woman Suffrage Alliance. Paul took a prominent leadership role in the movement in the 20th century, adopting more radical public actions aimed directly at Washington and with fellow activist Lucy Burns is often credited with engineering the final push that secured women’s suffrage. Unfortunately, she also, on numerous occasions, segregated or excluded prominent Black activists in order to pander to Southern white women.

Paul’s actions embody one of the suffrage movement’s most persistent failings: recognizing Black women’s contributions. The early suffrage movement took many of its organizing and demonstration tactics from the abolition movement, and Black women—notably excluded from The History of Woman Suffrage—worked tirelessly for the cause from its earliest days.

Initially, Black women participated in the same organizations as their white counterparts, working side-by-side on both suffrage and abolition in the 1850s and 60s, taking on leadership roles and organizing events. Prominent activists during this period included Sojourner Truth, who delivered her famous “Ain’t I a Woman?” speech at the 1851 women’s rights convention, saying, “The poor men seem to be all in confusion, and dont know what to do. Why children, if you have woman’s rights, give it to her and you will feel better. You will have your own rights, and they wont be so much trouble.”

As the movement progressed, Black women often formed their own organizations, both local and national, to fight for suffrage—often because white suffragettes were minimizing their roles or discriminating against them in a bid to court Southern whites for the cause. Central figures of the later movement included Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Mary E. Church Terrell, and Ida B. Wells, who, together with other Black suffragettes, formed the National Association of Colored Women to better address the unique needs of Black women—who faced the dual challenges of racism and sexism. While Black and white women continued to fight together for suffrage in many arenas into the 20th century, racism continued to plague the movement, festering since its earliest days.

Controversy: Votes for White Women vs. Black Men

In the mid-19th century, movements seeking equal rights for Black citizens and those working toward women’s equality were often intertwined and mutually supportive, sharing a common goal. Sadly, this informal coalition fell apart during the Reconstruction period with the introduction of the 15th Amendment, granting Black men the right to vote—at least in theory, if not in practice.

Some activists, including Stanton and Anthony, felt it was unfair for Black men to be granted the right to vote before white women. Racism and sexism both seemed to rear their heads in the debate over the proposed Amendment. At one meeting, Frederick Douglass, criticizing Stanton’s earlier claims that Black people were ignorant of the laws and political system, insisted that it was more urgent for Black men to have the vote because their very lives were at stake—a true claim, but one Douglass seemingly failed to recognize could also be made by women, then viewed as the property of their fathers and husbands. Anthony responded, “If intelligence, justice, and morality are to have precedence in the government, let the question of women be brought up first and that of the negro last.”

With a number of suffragettes insisting on an “all or nothing” approach to voting rights, a schism developed in the suffrage movement. In 1869, Stanton and Anthony formed a new activist group, the National Woman Suffrage Association, which opposed a 15th Amendment that did not include women and advocated for a number of measures to ensure women’s equality, including a Constitutional amendment granting them the right to vote.

A separate organization that supported the 15th Amendment, the American Woman Suffrage Association, formed that same year, focused exclusively on suffrage and began to pursue a state-by-state strategy to increase women’s access to the vote without the need for an amendment. With its focused goals and inclusive membership, AWSA became the more popular organization.

Five Decades of Fighting

The 15th Amendment was ratified in 1870, legally enfranchising all male US citizens aged 21 and over. Women’s fight continued—not only against the men in power but also against other women. Opposition anti-suffrage organizations were founded by and often included prominent women who argued that getting involved in political issues would distract women from their “natural” roles as mothers and wives.

While the Women’s Suffrage Amendment proposed in Congress in 1878 remained stalled—despite the Select Committee on Woman Suffrage supporting its passage—progress was slowly made in securing voting rights in individual states. Wyoming was the first territory to permit women to vote in 1869 and was joined over the next two decades by the Utah, Washington, and Montana territories—which some suggest was a ploy to encourage women to move into the sparsely populated lands being opened up by pioneers, rather than any meaningful recognition of women’s equality. Other states, while denying full suffrage, opted to allow women to vote in specific elections—for example, school boards—where their concerns were considered relevant.

Lawsuits continued to be filed arguing that denying women the vote was unconstitutional, including the Minor v. Happersett case, which made it to the Supreme Court. The Court, however, while recognizing the plaintiff as a citizen, declared that voting was not one of the citizenship privileges guaranteed by the Constitution. Some activists simply started registering and trying to vote, forcing polls to turn them away. Susan B. Anthony famously cast a vote in the 1872 presidential election and was later arrested and tried, bringing widespread public attention to the suffrage cause.

By 1890, tensions between the two leading suffrage organizations had abated, and they merged once more, forming the National American Woman Suffrage Association, led by Elizabeth Cady Stanton. The group continued to push individual states to grant suffrage through the end of the century.

20th Century: Winning the Right to Vote

At the turn of the century, as women increasingly left the domestic sphere and entered the workforce, historians note an increased push for a Constitutional amendment to grant women’s suffrage nationwide. An increase in activism was seen at the seat of government in Washington DC. Members of the National American Woman Suffrage Association took advantage of their annual meeting to appear at the Capitol and lobby lawmakers. Parades and marches with thousands of participants were organized in DC, New York, and other major cities—marchers were often assaulted by bystanders with little police intervention.

With many failures over the previous two decades, an increasing number of states passed laws guaranteeing women’s suffrage. Still, without a nationwide right to vote established, women could only vote in 20 states by the end of the 1910s. While 1912 presidential candidate Teddy Roosevelt came out in support of women’s suffrage, he ultimately lost the election, and the winner, Woodrow Wilson, opposed the initiative.

The Congressional Union, once a committee of the NAWSA, broke with the organization and formed the National Woman’s Party. More activist and controversial, the NWP engaged in acts of civil disobedience to bring attention to the cause, including a two-year protest in front of the White House that resulted in many suffragettes being jailed, assaulted, and tortured. At the same time, World War I was bringing more women into the workforce, as well as relying on them for patriotic wartime services: serving as nurses, knitting for soldiers on the frontlines, managing their households through rationing, and sowing victory gardens.

After more than half a century of activism, the tide began to turn. More Americans, perhaps in recognition of women’s essential contributions to the war effort, favored suffrage while also being repulsed by the treatment of the suffragettes imprisoned for their peaceful demonstrations. President Wilson did an about-face and came out in support of women’s suffrage in 1918, deeming it necessary as “a war measure.” The Amendment, first introduced in 1878, was finally approved by both chambers of Congress in 1919 and ratified by just a single vote in 1920.

The passage of the 19th Amendment was a resounding victory for the equal rights movement—but hardly the end of the battle. Some women remained disenfranchised because they were not recognized as citizens, while those who had won the right to vote, particularly Black women, continued to face discrimination and encountered various forms of voter intimidation and suppression. And the ability to vote did little to dismantle the many other forms of gender-based inequality, some of which remain to this day.

Following the passage of the Amendment, the NAWSA became the League of Women Voters, intended to help women undertake their new role as informed voters. In 1923, the LWV proposed the Equal Rights Amendment, demanding that “Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any state on account of sex.” To date, it has not been adopted.

Margaret Butler was transported to Tasmania in 1845 for stealing potatoes, leaving behind four children. After remarrying, she was beaten to death by her second husband. Mary Jones, transported at 18 for petty theft, became a wealthy widow, leaving a substantial inheritance to her children.

Between 1820 and 1853, around 12,500 female convicts were sent to Tasmania, Australia forced to abandon their families and endure hardship, yet offered the chance to live with adequate food, and medical care, and to make their own life choices. These two stories highlight the vastly different outcomes convict women could face in Tasmania, and how these women had a higher potential for both new opportunities and new tragedies.

The Logic of Transportation

“Transportation” was the British term for sending convicts to the colonies. The idea behind the policy was that women sent to Australia no longer stole from Britain’s wealthier citizens and became unpaid laborers for settlers, cooking and cleaning for at least a sentence of seven years. The British state hoped that convict labor would reform these women into useful members of society. Additionally, the British state considered transportation a practical alternative to the death penalty, which was a more common sentence than you might imagine.

Britain had not truly created a prison system yet, seeing prisons as a quaint American idea. Therefore a prisoner could receive the death penalty for stealing minuscule amounts of money or even for cutting down a tree. In the 19th century, about half of all prisoners who were condemned to death had their sentences reduced to transportation. Women were more likely to have their sentence commuted to transportation than men, especially if they were pregnant.

The Convicts’ Crimes

The women sent to Tasmania were primarily poor British and Irish women. Between 1843 and 1853, 86% of convicts had been convicted of petty theft, with 60% of stolen items being basic necessities. Only a small percentage were hardened criminals; most, like Margaret Butler, stole out of necessity. Of the 12,500 women transported, 67% received seven years, the lightest possible sentence, and only 3% were sentenced to life.

The Trip to Tasmania

The women convicted of transportation were in for a long journey, which could be a pleasant or terrible experience depending on the surgeon on board. While these surgeons were there to be doctors they also controlled a large portion of the convict’s time, leading prayers, handing out rations, and often mediating convicts’ disputes. Some, such as Dr. Clifford, were thanked for “their kind attention and humanity” by the convicts of the ship Harmony in 1829 after they landed. Then there were surgeons like James Hall. He was known for locking women up in cramped spaces for weeks at a time on the voyage to Tasmania, and in a few instances he hit women so hard he drew blood.

Overall, the women’s health improved during the journey, as they were fed well and given fresh air and freedom on deck from 8 am to sunset. There were never any serious contagious disease outbreaks on any of these ships, and the surgeons seemed to have followed a rigorous system of isolating prisoners and fumigating these clothes immediately if they showed any sign of having a contagious illness. Women were also forced to have, at minimum, a weekly bath and change all their clothes to maintain good hygiene. As a result of these measures, only two percent of women being transported to Tasmania died, and when they did they usually died of a previous condition.

In theory, there was a very strict schedule that women were supposed to follow on these ships, but they usually seemed to have been given a freer reign than that. They often made clothes on these trips and attended school classes and religious services, but they were allowed to talk freely among themselves, and even with the sailors as long as the conversation seemed proper. On many voyages, women enjoyed even more freedom, often leading to illicit sex. The surgeon on the Mary Ann complained that one of his patients, a “wicked woman,” had been impregnated by one of the sailors and now seemed to be suffering from a miscarriage. While the captain and surgeon were supposed to prevent such behavior, on many voyages they chose to have sex with the women instead. For instance, aboard the Duke of Cornwall, the surgeon fathered at least one stillborn.

Babies struggled during these trips. Even though young mothers or very pregnant women were not supposed to be transported, they often ended up on the ships anyway. Many births aboard ships were either stillborn or children that died very quickly. Women’s milk often dried up on ships, and with no alternative on board, the infant would die. Many surgeons were outraged by this system, such as the Surgeon of Mary III who railed in his journal at the “inhumanity” of sending young infants on such a long journey. Mary III had 28 infants under twelve months on board, and over the course of the journey, six of the children died—a dreadfully high child mortality rate.

Servants in Tasmania

Whether women arrived in Tasmania relaxed from a pleasant voyage or grieving the loss of a child, women were quickly reintegrated into the system as convicts. They were first interviewed about their crimes, then sent to work as servants or, if they arrived between 1843 and 1847, they attended a six-month domestic training course. Children under the age of three would be sent to the convict nursery and older children would be sent to an orphan school that had been created specifically to raise the children of convicts.

Domestic labor in the 19th century was very grueling, and few of these convicts had backgrounds that prepared them for such work. Women had to manage wood stoves and cook to a high standard while using only basic ingredients. For women who had simply been petty thieves in Britain or Ireland, being asked to do housework competently was asking a lot.

These women also struggled to shed the stigma of their past life. For example, a woman named Jane Miller worked as a servant for one household until she became very ill. Because of her background as a thief, the mistress of the house believed she was lying about her sickness and therefore pretended she had stolen something to “humble” her. Jane was given a year of hard labor as punishment and sent to the nearby female factory.

While society accepted that male convicts would swear, get drunk, and openly have sex, women faced severe punishments for similar behavior. In addition, women were often locked up for stealing clothes or calico cloth to use as menstrual pads. Before 1842, the women had no money of their own so if their master refused to give them basic necessities, stealing was their only option.

Grace Heinbury’s experience is a prime example. In her first assignment, her master refused to give her soap, as he was not technically required to. In her second assignment, she faced even worse conditions when her master expected her to work as a prostitute to bring the household money, and in her third assignment, she was sexually assaulted by a fellow servant. When she ran away to escape the abuse, she was punished with six months of hard labor.

Convicted women were completely at the mercy of the system. For instance, the day after one of her twins died, Sarah McArdle was charged with drunkenness and sent for two months of hard labor. No one cared she had just lost a child. Women’s lives could also be lost to uncaring masters—such as Christina McClinnis who died because when she fell sick her master sent her to the female factory for being “useless” as opposed to calling for a doctor. The system showed little compassion for these women.

Marriage in Tasmania

Women in Tasmania were often encouraged to abandon their marriages in England or Ireland and remarry locally, under the belief that a husband would “civilize” them, particularly if they were considered unruly. To marry, convicts had to apply to the government, with recent offenders at risk of having their petition denied.

For instance, Sarah Waters had to apply four times between 1831 and 1833 before being granted permission to marry. Additionally, the master of the man they wished to marry had to approve and promise that any resulting children would not become a burden on the state. Women who would never have found a husband at home got married in Tasmania. For instance, Sarah Myers, previously a prostitute, married, and led a respectable life.

Oftentimes women who had been troublemakers disappeared from the records after marriage. While some, like Mary Jones, had happy marriages, others, like Margaret Butler, were abused or killed by their husbands. Men could take their wives to court for misbehavior. For instance, Annie Spong was brought into court in 1849 for using obscene language in front of her husband and sentenced to one month of hard labor. Such threats may have simply convinced women to conform to the role of a quiet and proper wife.

Freedom

After gaining their freedom, many convict women faded into the background of Tasmanian society. A third of them never committed another crime or infraction, and only existed in records because they were tracked as convict servants. These women enjoyed a higher standard of living than their Irish and English counterparts with access to a better diet and medical care, at a time when women in England had to pay for hospital beds. They likely focused on enjoying their children and daily lives, free from the constant struggle for existence they had waged back home.

The main record of these women involves efforts to reunite with their children. Women often lost track of their children, as they could be sent into service before their mother’s sentence ended. One woman, Jane Bradshaw, put an advertisement in the paper in 1855, looking for her missing twelve-year-old by the name of Mary Jane. Many women petitioned the state, claiming that due to a new marriage or a new job, they now could raise their children. Interestingly enough, women sometimes had their new husbands write these letters. James Hollorrway wrote for his new wife that “The mother is languishing on account of their absence from her.” Women hoped a respectable man would be enough to get their children released to them.

They also often promised to teach the child a trade. Women were much more likely to receive control of their children if they promised that their husbands could teach them useful skills. Unfortunately, there was no guarantee the authorities would release a child to their parent’s care. If their child had already been apprenticed elsewhere, the request would be refused even if the authorities deemed that the mother seemed responsible enough to look after their child. Ultimately, many family members lost track of each other in Tasmania.

Women who never married, or lost their husbands, were left alone without enough money to sustain themselves. These women ended up right where they started, in pauper establishments that were often created in old female factories following the end of transportation. These facilities were poorly managed, with insufficient food, overcrowding, and poor hygiene. Women could be punished for minor infractions as if they were convicts again. In the wintertime women in these invalid depots had to find somewhere to go from 7 am to 5 pm because the shelter would kick them out.

In 1860, Mary Mcdonald and several other women died from inhaling carbonic gas at one of these establishments. In response, a reporter came to examine the facility and he discovered that there were only eleven nurses for 114 patients. He said that many of the weakest patients had gauze put all over their faces because they could not brush the flies away. These places were the cruelest outcome for women who had fought hard for a better life in Tasmania, only to fall back into poverty.

Conclusion

These women, having endured traumatic experiences, largely faded from historical records, quietly marrying and raising children. Despite the fact that in the 19th and 20th centuries, Tasmania had a higher percentage of convicts than anywhere else in Australia, the crime rate was remarkably low. Once free, many of these women led lives not unlike those they might have had in Europe—except they were better fed, with access to medical care and more opportunities to choose their path.

However, a woman in Tasmania had little chance of surviving independently. Women simply could not make enough wages to sustain themselves. Therefore, these women mostly spent their time finding a man and working with them to pull off a life in Tasmania. Some, like Margaret Butler, died from choices forced on them through transportation, while others, like Mary Jones, overcame it to leave a better future for their children.

Yet, most simply survived—accepting their circumstances and doing the best they could in a land far away from home. Their struggles are largely forgotten by history but their legacy lives on in the families they built, and in the quiet ways they helped to create modern-day Australia.