Overlooked No More

Since 1851, The New York Times has published thousands of obituaries, detailing the lives of heads of state, scientists, athletes, entertainers, and other notable people. But until recent decades, the newspaper devoted the vast majority of these obituaries to White men. Even women who had achieved a measure of fame or made important advances in their fields were often ignored.

In 2018, the Times began making up for that, publishing an ongoing series of obituaries under the heading “Overlooked No More,” of people from the past, including many women, who were left out of the obituary pages—and, in most cases, your history textbooks.

Here are the stories of five such women who were once overlooked in history—but are finally getting their due.

Since 1851, The New York Times has published thousands of obituaries. They detailed the lives of heads of state, scientists, athletes, entertainers, and other notable people. But until recent decades, the newspaper devoted the vast majority of these obituaries to White men. Even women who had achieved a measure of fame or made important advances in their fields were often ignored.

In 2018, the Times began making up for that, publishing an ongoing series of obituaries under the heading “Overlooked No More.” The series includes people from the past, including many women, who were left out of the obituary pages. In most cases, they were also left out of your history textbooks.

Here are the stories of five such women who were once overlooked in history—but are finally getting their due.

A century before the dawn of the computer age, in an era when women were not considered to be prominent scientific thinkers, Ada Lovelace imagined the modern-day, general-purpose computer. It could be programmed to follow instructions, she wrote in 1843. It could not just calculate but also create, as it “weaves algebraic patterns just as the Jacquard loom* weaves flowers and leaves.”

The computer she was writing about, the British inventor Charles Babbage’s analytical engine, was never built. But her writings about computing have earned Lovelace—who died of cancer in 1852 at age 36—recognition as the first computer programmer.

Lovelace saw the potential of computing. The machines could go beyond calculating numbers, she said, to understand symbols and be used to create music or art.

“This insight would become the core concept of the digital age,” Walter Isaacson wrote in his book The Innovators. “Any piece of content, data or information—music, text, pictures, numbers, symbols, sounds, video—could be expressed in digital form and manipulated by machines.”

A century before the dawn of the computer age, in an era when women were not considered to be prominent scientific thinkers, Ada Lovelace imagined the modern-day, general-purpose computer. It could be programmed to follow instructions, she wrote in 1843. It could not just calculate but also create. It “weaves algebraic patterns just as the Jacquard loom weaves flowers and leaves.”

The computer she was writing about was the British inventor Charles Babbage’s analytical engine. It was never built. But her writings about computing have earned Lovelace recognition as the first computer programmer. She died of cancer in 1852 at age 36.

Lovelace saw the potential of computing. The machines could go beyond calculating numbers, she said, to understand symbols and be used to create music or art.

“This insight would become the core concept of the digital age,” Walter Isaacson wrote in his book The Innovators. “Any piece of content, data or information—music, text, pictures, numbers, symbols, sounds, video—could be expressed in digital form and manipulated by machines.”

She also explored the ramifications of what a computer might do, writing about the responsibility placed on the person programming the machine, and raising but then dismissing the notion that computers could someday think and create on their own—what we now call artificial intelligence.

Lovelace, a British socialite who was the daughter of Lord Byron, the Romantic poet, had a gift for combining art and science, one of her biographers, Betty Alexandra Toole, has written. She thought of math and logic as creative and imaginative, calling it “poetical science.”

Math “constitutes the language through which alone we can adequately express the great facts of the natural world,” Lovelace wrote.

Her work, which was rediscovered in the mid-20th century, inspired the U.S. Department of Defense to name a programming language after her, and each October, Ada Lovelace Day signifies a celebration of women in technology.

—Claire Cain Miller

She also explored the ramifications of what a computer might do. She wrote about the responsibility placed on the person programming the machine. She raised but then dismissed the notion that computers could someday think and create on their own. This is what we now call artificial intelligence.

Lovelace was a British socialite and the daughter of Romantic poet, Lord Byron. She had a gift for combining art and science, one of her biographers, Betty Alexandra Toole, has written. She thought of math and logic as creative and imaginative, calling it “poetical science.”

Math “constitutes the language through which alone we can adequately express the great facts of the natural world,” Lovelace wrote.

Her work was rediscovered in the mid-20th century. It inspired the U.S. Department of Defense to name a programming language after her, and each October, Ada Lovelace Day signifies a celebration of women in technology.

—Claire Cain Miller

On New Year’s Day in 1922, a scientific paper described a drug that would help revolutionize the treatment of leprosy in Hawaii and beyond. It also gave belated credit to the drug’s developer: Alice Ball.

The report extolled the therapeutic potential of chaulmoogra oil. For centuries, the foul-tasting tree oil had been known as a nasty medicine—it was so vile that some refused to take it. But with the Ball Method, a simple injection freed dozens of people in the Territory of Hawaii—which later became the 50th U.S. state—from draconian isolation measures.

Alice Ball was the Black chemist who had developed the formula in 1915, when she was 23. Her method became the most widely used treatment for leprosy in the pre-antibiotic years of the 1920s and ’30s. Leprosy is a slow-growing infection caused by the bacteria responsible for tuberculosis. During the time of Ball’s research, leprosy was steeped in stigma. Those afflicted were dealt with harshly and forced into permanent exile, even though leprosy wasn’t easily transmitted. Untreated, it can cause paralysis and disfigurement.

In Hawaii, people with leprosy were shipped out of sight, marooned on Molokai island for life. Most of the isolated were Native Hawaiians. Until the Ball Method, death was their only relief.

On New Year’s Day in 1922, a scientific paper described a drug that would help revolutionize the treatment of leprosy in Hawaii and beyond. It also gave belated credit to the drug’s developer, a woman named Alice Ball.

The report extolled the therapeutic potential of chaulmoogra oil. For centuries, the foul-tasting tree oil had been known as a nasty medicine. It was so vile that some refused to take it. But with the Ball Method, a simple injection freed dozens of people in the Territory of Hawaii from harsh isolation measures.

Alice Ball was the Black chemist who had developed the formula in 1915. She was 23 years old. Her method became the most widely used treatment for leprosy in the pre-antibiotic years of the 1920s and ’30s. Leprosy is a slow-growing infection caused by the bacteria responsible for tuberculosis. During the time of Ball’s research, leprosy was steeped in stigma. Those afflicted were dealt with harshly. They were forced into permanent exile, even though leprosy wasn’t easily transmitted. Untreated, it can cause paralysis and disfigurement.

In Hawaii, people with leprosy were shipped out of sight. They were stuck on Molokai island for life. Most of the isolated were Native Hawaiians. Until the Ball Method, death was their only relief.

For roughly 20 years, when the Ball Method was popular, few people knew that a Black woman had developed it. Ball died suddenly in 1916, at age 24, before she could publish her findings. It would take years for Ball to receive credit for her work.

Ball was born in 1892 in Seattle. Throughout her middle school and high school years, she excelled in science. Ball was one of the few girls in her 1909 graduating class to concentrate in her school’s scientific program. She earned two bachelor of science degrees from the University of Washington: one in pharmaceutical chemistry in 1912 and the other in pharmacy in 1914.

Twenty-first century scientists marvel at Ball’s ability to hunt down chaulmoogra’s active constituents using her era’s bare-bones technology.

“A lot of techniques back then were not as sophisticated as they are now, so chemical intuition was very important,” says Gregory Petsko, an adjunct professor of bioengineering at Harvard Medical School. “To do what she did when she did it was remarkable. She was a very talented chemist.”

 —Delthia Ricks

For roughly 20 years, when the Ball Method was popular, few people knew that a Black woman had developed it. Ball died suddenly in 1916, at age 24, before she could publish her findings. It would take years for Ball to receive credit for her work.

Ball was born in 1892 in Seattle. Throughout her middle school and high school years, she excelled in science. Ball was one of the few girls in her 1909 graduating class to concentrate in her school’s scientific program. She earned two bachelor of science degrees from the University of Washington. One was in pharmaceutical chemistry in 1912 and the other in pharmacy in 1914.

Twenty-first century scientists marvel at Ball’s ability to hunt down chaulmoogra’s active constituents using her era’s bare-bones technology.

“A lot of techniques back then were not as sophisticated as they are now, so chemical intuition was very important,” says Gregory Petsko, an adjunct professor of bioengineering at Harvard Medical School. “To do what she did when she did it was remarkable. She was a very talented chemist.”

 —Delthia Ricks

Soon after Kitty Cone enrolled in school in her home state of Illinois, she felt the grip of discrimination. Cone walked with a cane, and her school’s headmistress began imposing strange rules that segregated her from the rest of the student body and eventually got her expelled.

It wasn’t the first time Cone experienced injustice because of her disability, and it wouldn’t be the last. This was the 1960s, a time when people with disabilities didn’t have basic civil rights in the U.S. It wasn’t until 1990 that discrimination against them was banned under the landmark Americans with Disabilities Act (A.D.A.).

Cone’s expulsion from school helped inspire her to devote the rest of her life to fighting for disability rights. She became the lead organizer and strategist of the 504 Sit-In, a four-week-long protest in April 1977 in which nearly 150 disabled people and their allies took over the San Francisco office of the U.S. Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. Their intent was to pressure officials to sign regulations prohibiting programs receiving federal aid from discriminating against any “otherwise qualified individuals with a disability.”

The group ultimately succeeded in getting the regulations signed, paving the way for the A.D.A., a landmark civil rights act that guarantees equal opportunity for people with disabilities in public accommodations, employment, transportation, and more.

“We showed strength and courage and power and commitment,” Cone said in a victory speech, “that we the shut-ins, or the shut-outs, we the hidden, supposedly the frail and the weak, that we can wage a struggle at the highest level of government and win.”

Cone, who was born in Illinois but lived her later life in Oakland, California, learned she had muscular dystrophy around her 15th birthday. At the time, doctors said she wouldn’t live beyond her 20th birthday. She died of cancer in 2015, at age 70.

Her efforts, particularly with the 504 Sit-In, helped give birth to a new era that empowered many people with disabilities and gave them a sense of pride.

“I am thankful for my disability,” she said in the 1990s for an oral history. “I feel like the constraints and the choices that it has given me have made me who I am. And, you know, I like who I am.”

—Wendy Lu

Soon after Kitty Cone enrolled in school in her home state of Illinois, she felt the grip of discrimination. Cone walked with a cane. Her school’s headmistress began imposing strange rules that segregated her from the rest of the student body. Eventually she got Kitty expelled.

It wasn’t the first time Cone experienced injustice because of her disability. It wouldn’t be the last. This was the 1960s, a time when people with disabilities didn’t have basic civil rights in the U.S. It wasn’t until 1990 that discrimination against them was banned under the landmark Americans with Disabilities Act (A.D.A.).

Cone’s expulsion from school helped inspire her to devote the rest of her life to fighting for disability rights. She became the lead organizer and strategist of the 504 Sit-In, a four-week-long protest in April 1977. Nearly 150 disabled people and their allies took over the San Francisco office of the U.S. Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. Their intent was to pressure officials to sign regulations prohibiting programs receiving federal aid from discriminating against any “otherwise qualified individuals with a disability.”

The group ultimately succeeded in getting the regulations signed. It paved the way for the A.D.A., a landmark civil rights act that guarantees equal opportunity for people with disabilities in public accommodations, employment, transportation, and more.

“We showed strength and courage and power and commitment,” Cone said in a victory speech, “that we the shut-ins, or the shut-outs, we the hidden, supposedly the frail and the weak, that we can wage a struggle at the highest level of government and win.”

Cone was born in Illinois. She learned she had muscular dystrophy around her 15th birthday. At the time, doctors said she wouldn’t live beyond her 20th birthday.  She lived her later life in Oakland, California, and died of cancer in 2015, at age 70.

Her efforts, particularly with the 504 Sit-In, helped give birth to a new era that empowered many people with disabilities. It gave them a sense of pride.

“I am thankful for my disability,” she said in the 1990s for an oral history. “I feel like the constraints and the choices that it has given me have made me who I am. And, you know, I like who I am.”

—Wendy Lu

Beneath a late-afternoon sun in New York City on May 4, 1912, a brigade of women on horseback set off leading 10,000 people on one of the biggest marches for women’s suffrage the nation had ever seen. One of the women was Mabel Ping-Hua Lee. Like the others, she wore a black three-cornered hat and a sash with the words “Votes for Women.” But she was different from her fellow suffragists: She was a Chinese immigrant.

At a time when Chinese migration to the United States was largely banned, Lee, who was just a teenager at the time, refused to blend into the background. She published articles in a monthly magazine for Chinese students in America and gave speeches in which she articulated a bold, transnational vision for democracy based on Christian values of equality.

In one article, in 1914, she wrote that giving women the right to vote was “nothing more than a wider application of our ideas of justice and equality” and that suffrage was extending “democracy to women.”

Beneath a late-afternoon sun in New York City on May 4, 1912, a group of women on horseback led 10,000 people on one of the biggest marches for women’s suffrage the nation had ever seen. One of the women was Mabel Ping-Hua Lee. Like the others, she wore a black three-cornered hat and a sash with the words “Votes for Women.” But she was different from her fellow suffragists. She was a Chinese immigrant.

At the time Chinese migration to the United States was largely banned. Lee, who was just a teenager at the time, refused to blend into the background. She published articles in a monthly magazine for Chinese students in America. She gave speeches in which she articulated a bold, transnational vision for democracy based on Christian values of equality.

In one article, in 1914, she wrote that giving women the right to vote was “nothing more than a wider application of our ideas of justice and equality” and that suffrage was extending “democracy to women.”

Lee is believed to have been born about 1895 in Guangzhou, China. She moved to the U.S. around 1905 to join her father, the Reverend Lee To, a Christian missionary who had been assigned to a church in New York City’s Chinatown. The Lees were among the rare Chinese immigrants allowed into the U.S. at the time under federal legislation that had sharply restricted their entry. In 1882, Congress had passed the Chinese Exclusion Act, banning Chinese laborers to appease White nativists who had resented an influx of Chinese-immigrant prospectors and railroad workers in the West. Only a small number of Chinese teachers, diplomats, merchants, and missionaries were allowed to enter the country, and only with proper certification.

“No nation can ever make real and lasting progress in civilization unless its women are following close to its men, if not actually abreast with them,” Lee once said in a speech.

It’s not clear if Lee ever became a U.S. citizen so that she could exercise what she had marched for as a proud young woman on horseback so long ago: the right to vote.

—Jia Lynn Yang

Lee is believed to have been born about 1895 in Guangzhou, China. She moved to the U.S. around 1905 to join her father, the Reverend Lee To. He was a Christian missionary who had been assigned to a church in New York City’s Chinatown. The Lees were among the rare Chinese immigrants allowed into the U.S. at the time under federal legislation that had sharply restricted their entry. In 1882, Congress had passed the Chinese Exclusion Act, banning Chinese laborers. The law was passed to appease White nativists who had resented an influx of Chinese-immigrant prospectors and railroad workers in the West. Only a small number of Chinese teachers, diplomats, merchants, and missionaries were allowed to enter the country. They had to have proper certification to enter.

“No nation can ever make real and lasting progress in civilization unless its women are following close to its men, if not actually abreast with them,” Lee once said in a speech.

It’s not clear if Lee ever became a U.S. citizen so that she could exercise what she had marched for as a proud young woman on horseback so long ago: the right to vote.

—Jia Lynn Yang

Ora Washington, a dominant two-sport champion over two decades, was so good at basketball and tennis that she was hailed in the Black press as “Queen Ora” and the “Queen of Two Courts”—and for good reason.

From the 1920s through the 1940s, long before female athletes like Serena Williams and Simone Biles became immensely influential sports figures, Washington was in all likelihood the first Black star in women’s sports the U.S. had ever seen.

In one basketball game, she sank an improbable basket from beyond midcourt. In another, she scored 38 points when entire women’s teams normally didn’t score that many in a single outing.

Washington “can do everything required of a basketball player,” the sports columnist Randy Dixon wrote in 1939 in the Black weekly newspaper The Pittsburgh Courier. “She passes and shoots with either hand. She is a ball hawk. She has stamina and speed that make many male players blush with envy.”

Ora Washington, a dominant two-sport champion over two decades, was good at basketball and tennis. She was hailed in the Black press as “Queen Ora” and the “Queen of Two Courts”—and for good reason.

From the 1920s through the 1940s, Washington was in all likelihood the first Black star in women’s sports the U.S. had ever seen. This was long before female athletes like Serena Williams and Simone Biles became immensely influential sports figures.

In one basketball game, she sank an improbable basket from beyond midcourt. In another, she scored 38 points. This was more than entire women’s teams normally scored in a single outing.

Washington “can do everything required of a basketball player,” the sports columnist Randy Dixon wrote in 1939 in the Black weekly newspaper The Pittsburgh Courier. “She passes and shoots with either hand. She is a ball hawk. She has stamina and speed that make many male players blush with envy.”

On the tennis court, Washington was perhaps even more spectacular. Beginning in 1929, she won eight national singles championships as part of the American Tennis Association.

“If you’re looking at Black women’s sports in the pre-integration era, she was the star,” says Pamela Grundy, a historian and a pre-eminent source of Washington’s life and career.

Washington is believed to have been born in the late 1890s in Virginia. As a teenager, she left the increasingly violent segregated South for Philadelphia, where she picked up tennis at the Y.W.C.A. She was a natural.

Throughout Washington’s pro career, years went by without her losing a single match. But White Americans didn’t notice because Washington had been relegated to a segregated corner of the sports world. And that was their loss, the tennis champion Arthur Ashe asserted decades later. “Because,” he wrote in The New York Times in 1988, “Washington may have been the best female athlete ever.”

—Juliet Macur

On the tennis court, Washington was perhaps even more spectacular. Beginning in 1929, she won eight national singles championships as part of the American Tennis Association.

“If you’re looking at Black women’s sports in the pre-integration era, she was the star,” says Pamela Grundy, a historian and a pre-eminent source of Washington’s life and career.

Washington is believed to have been born in the late 1890s in Virginia. As a teenager, she left the increasingly violent segregated South for Philadelphia. It was there she picked up tennis at the Y.W.C.A. She was a natural.

Throughout Washington’s pro career, years went by without her losing a single match. But White Americans didn’t notice because Washington had been relegated to a segregated corner of the sports world. And that was their loss, the tennis champion Arthur Ashe asserted decades later. “Because,” he wrote in The New York Times in 1988, “Washington may have been the best female athlete ever.”

—Juliet Macur