Celluloid Ceiling

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Our differences aren’t the problem.

The divide comes from refusing to recognise, accept, and celebrate them - as Audre Lorde warned.

Justice means dismantling the discrimination that targets those differences.

Another world is possible when no one is asked to shrink, hide, or disappear.

Congrats to Autumn.

‘Sinners’ Cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw Makes History as First Woman to Win The director of photography, who is of Filipino and African American Creole descent, had a powerful moment onstage as she invited all of the women in the Dolby Theatre to stand up.

For more on Agnes Varda read Paul Sutton’s excellent book ‘In the Scene: Agnes Varda’ **** from Aurora Metro Books.

The pioneering French filmmaker and artist Agnès Varda met Calder in 1952, and the pair went on to become friends. Varda photographed Calder on many occasions during those years, capturing a range of indelible images, such as this iconic view of the artist with his standing mobile L’empennage in the streets of Paris.
“For me Calder is a great master. He was a friend, but he was a master,” Varda recalled in a 2015 interview. “He invented, instinctively, a way of re-creating the gentle movements of trees in the wind. He reinvented the beauty of nature.”

📷Calder with L’empennage (1953), Paris, 1954. Photograph by Agnès Varda. © Calder Foundation, New York / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York; © Agnès Varda

Happy 92nd birthday to an iconic journalist, feminist, and activist who needs no introduction: the one and only Gloria Steinem ✨

"The first problem for all of us, men and women, is not to learn, but to unlearn. We are filled with the popular wisdom of several centuries just past, and we are terrified to give it up.

Patriotism means obedience, age means wisdom, woman means submission, Black means inferior: these are preconceptions imbedded so deeply in our thinking that we honestly may not know that they are there.

Whether it's woman's secondary role in society or the paternalistic role of the United States in the world, the old assumptions just don't work any more."

Excerpted from "A New Egalitarian Lifestyle" by Gloria Steinem, published in The New York Times on August 26, 1971

On Gloria Steinem’s birthday, we’re celebrating a trailblazing activist who gave voice to women’s stories that had long been ignored. From advocating for workplace equality to championing reproductive rights, her impact continues to ripple across generations.

During Women’s History Month, we honor Gloria Steinem—and all those who speak up, push forward, and refuse to accept the status quo. The fight for equality is ongoing, and so is the power of using your voice.

Read about Katherine Johnson in our book ‘50 Women in Technology’ alongside other women in STEM.

A GREAT GENIUS WOMEN MATHEMATICIAN: KATHERINE JOHNSON WHO CALCULATED MATH FOR FLY❤️🌹♥️

The astronauts would not fly until she checked the math.
In the early 1960s, as America raced to catch the Soviet Union in space exploration, NASA acquired its first IBM computers—powerful machines designed to calculate trajectories that would send humans beyond Earth's atmosphere. The computers were new, impressive, and completely unproven.
When lives were at stake, the astronauts wanted one thing: Katherine Johnson's numbers.
Johnson was a Black mathematician working at NASA's Langley Research Center in Hampton, Virginia, during an era when segregation was still law across much of the South. She walked past "colored" bathroom signs on her way to a job calculating rocket trajectories by hand. Page after page of complex equations. No calculators. No safety net. Just her mind, a pencil, and paper.
In February 1962, astronaut John Glenn was preparing to become the first American to orbit Earth aboard Friendship 7. NASA's new IBM 7090 computer had calculated his trajectory—the precise path from liftoff through orbit and back to splashdown. Everything depended on those calculations being perfect.
But Glenn didn't trust the computer.
He made his position clear to NASA officials: "Get the girl to check the numbers. If she says they're good, I'm ready to go."
The "girl" he was referring to was Katherine Johnson. She was 44 years old, a mathematician with a mind that astronauts trusted more than IBM's room-sized machine.
Johnson sat at her desk and began working. She manually verified every calculation the computer had made, building phone-book-thick stacks of data sheets, checking each number in the labyrinth of trajectory equations. It took her a day and a half of eye-numbing, disorienting work—watching tiny digits pile up, blocking out everything except the math.
When she finished, she gave her approval.
Glenn flew. He orbited Earth three times. He returned alive.
Because Katherine Johnson said the numbers were good.
But this wasn't her first mission, and it wouldn't be her last.
In 1961, she had calculated the trajectory for Alan Shepard's Freedom 7 mission—the first American launched into space. Her mathematics ensured he would reach space and come back down exactly where NASA needed him to land.
In 1969, her work helped land Apollo 11 on the moon. Her calculations ensured Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins could navigate to the lunar surface and return home safely. She considered the Apollo missions her greatest contribution—the math that helped the lunar lander rendezvous with the orbiting command module.
She also contributed to the Apollo 13 mission, helping develop emergency return procedures after an onboard explosion threatened the crew. Her calculations helped bring them home alive.
Throughout her 33 years at NASA, Johnson's work was indispensable. Yet she remained largely invisible to the public.
She worked in a segregated computing unit called West Area Computing, where Black women performed the same calculations as their white colleagues but were paid less and forced to use separate bathrooms. The unit wasn't officially dissolved until 1958, and even after integration, the discrimination persisted in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.
In 1960, Johnson became the first woman in NASA's Flight Research Division to receive credit as an author on a research report she co-wrote with an engineer. It was a small victory in an agency that rarely acknowledged the women doing the most critical mathematical work.
She never asked for recognition. She asked better questions. She demanded correct answers. She believed in accuracy because mistakes meant astronauts didn't come home.
Johnson retired in 1986, earning three Special Achievement Awards during her career. She had helped send humans to space, to the moon, and safely back to Earth. She had made space exploration possible.
And almost nobody knew her name.
For decades, her contributions remained hidden. The space program celebrated rockets, astronauts, and engineers while the mathematicians who solved the hardest problems stayed in the shadows—especially the women, especially the Black women.
The world continued moving forward, landing on the moon, launching space shuttles, building the International Space Station—all built on foundations that Katherine Johnson and women like her had laid with pencil and paper.
Then in 2015, when Johnson was 97 years old, President Barack Obama awarded her the Presidential Medal of Freedom, America's highest civilian honor. It was one of the first times most Americans had ever heard her name.
One year later, the book and film "Hidden Figures" told her story to the world. Suddenly, millions learned about the Black woman mathematician whose calculations had launched America into space.
By then, Katherine Johnson was 98 years old. She had lived nearly a century before the world finally acknowledged what astronauts had known in the 1960s: her mind was one of NASA's greatest assets.
She died on February 24, 2020, at the age of 101—during Black History Month, just days after the anniversary of John Glenn's historic orbital flight that she had made possible.
In 2017, NASA dedicated the Katherine G. Johnson Computational Research Facility in her honor. In 2018, Mattel released a Katherine Johnson Barbie doll. In 2024, she was posthumously inducted into the Women in Aviation International Pioneer Hall of Fame.
The recognition came. But it came decades too late.
Katherine Johnson never sought fame. When asked about her achievements, she remained modest, echoing her father's philosophy: "You are no better than anyone else, and no one is better than you." She would say she "didn't do anything alone," giving credit to colleagues like Dorothy Vaughan and Mary Jackson, the other women who helped pave the way.
But the truth is simple: Katherine Johnson's mathematics sent Americans to space and brought them home safely. Astronauts trusted her calculations over computers. Her accuracy was legendary. Her contributions were essential.
She worked through segregation without spectacle, focused on getting the numbers right because lives depended on it.
She proved that brilliance doesn't need permission. That genius exists regardless of race or gender. That progress often depends on people history forgets to name.
John Glenn trusted her with his life in 1962.
The world took 54 years to notice.
Astronauts knew what they were doing when they refused to fly until Katherine Johnson checked the math. They understood something that history took half a century to acknowledge:
Some minds are irreplaceable.
Some calculations can only be done by a specific person.
Some heroes work in segregated buildings, doing math by hand, while the world celebrates everyone except them.
Katherine Johnson was one of those heroes.
She sent men to the moon.
History almost forgot to say thank you.