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Ellen Euphemia Johnson was born October 29, 1938 in Monrovia, Liberia. Her father Jahmale was the first indigenous Liberian to sit in the national legislature. Her mother Juah was a market woman of mixed Gola and German heritage. Ellen grew up during a time when Liberia was dominated by descendants of freed American slaves who controlled the government and looked down on indigenous Africans.
Ellen was smart. Exceptionally smart. She excelled in school, absorbing everything. But in 1955, when she was 17 years old, Ellen made a decision that would trap her in violence for over a decade. She married James Sirleaf.
He was older. Charming at first. From a good family. Everyone thought it was a perfect match. Ellen dropped out of high school to become a wife.
The beatings started almost immediately. James would come home and hit her. Punch her in the face. Shove her against walls. The violence was constant and unpredictable. Ellen never knew what would set him off.
She had four sons with James—three biological and one adopted. She was trapped. A teenage mother in an abusive marriage with no education and no way to support herself. Every time she thought about leaving, she looked at her children and didn't know how she'd feed them.
For 12 years, Ellen endured. The beatings continued. She'd show up to events with bruises hidden under makeup. The community knew but said nothing. Domestic violence was considered a private family matter.
Finally in 1961, when Ellen was 23, she couldn't take it anymore. She left. Took her four sons and walked away from James Sirleaf. Everyone told her she was making a mistake. That she should go back to her husband. That a woman couldn't survive alone.
Ellen didn't care. She'd survived 12 years of beatings. She could survive anything.
But she needed education. At 23 with four children, Ellen went back to school. Finished her high school diploma. Then in 1961, she won a scholarship to study economics and business administration in the United States.
She left Liberia and enrolled at Madison Business College in Wisconsin. Then transferred to the University of Colorado Boulder. Then earned a master's degree in public administration from Harvard's Kennedy School of Government in 1971.
Ellen was no longer the teenage bride being beaten by her husband. She was an economist. Educated. Powerful. Ready to change her country.
She returned to Liberia in 1972 and joined the government as Assistant Minister of Finance under President William Tolbert. She was one of the few women in government. The only one who spoke up. Who challenged male colleagues. Who refused to stay quiet.
Then in 1980, Master Sergeant Samuel Doe led a military coup. Soldiers stormed the presidential palace and executed President Tolbert. Doe seized power and established a brutal military dictatorship.
Ellen spoke out against Doe's regime. Criticized his economic policies. Accused him of corruption and human rights abuses. In 1985, Doe had her arrested and thrown in prison.
Ellen sat in a cell waiting to be executed. Doe's government had killed dissidents before. She expected to die. But international pressure forced Doe to release her instead. He exiled her.
Ellen moved to Washington D.C. and worked for the World Bank and Citibank. She could have stayed in America. Built a comfortable life. Never returned to the country that had imprisoned her.
But in 1997, Ellen went back to Liberia. The country had descended into civil war. Charles Taylor—a warlord who'd committed horrific atrocities—was running for president. Ellen ran against him.
Taylor's campaign slogan was: "He killed my ma, he killed my pa, but I will vote for him." A threat. Vote for me or die.
Ellen knew running against Taylor could get her killed. She ran anyway. Taylor won through intimidation and violence. Ellen had to flee Liberia again.
For the next six years, Liberia was destroyed by civil war. Taylor's forces committed unspeakable atrocities. Child soldiers. Mass r**e. Amputations. Genocide. Over 200,000 people died.
Finally in 2003, international pressure forced Taylor into exile. Liberia was destroyed. The economy was shattered. Infrastructure was gone. Entire generations were traumatized.
In 2005, Ellen ran for president again. She was 67 years old. Running to lead a country that had exiled her, imprisoned her, sentenced her to death, and was now a war-torn wasteland.
Her opponent was George Weah, a famous footballer beloved by young people. Everyone thought Weah would win. He was younger, more popular, a celebrity.
But Ellen ran on competence. On her Harvard education. On her economic experience. On her refusal to be intimidated by warlords or dictators. On being the only candidate who could rebuild Liberia.
On November 23, 2005, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf won. She became the first elected female head of state in Africa. At 67, the woman who'd been beaten by her husband for 12 years, imprisoned and sentenced to death by a dictator, and exiled twice, was now president.
She inherited a nightmare. Liberia had no electricity. No running water. No functioning schools or hospitals. The economy was destroyed. Unemployment was 85%. Entire towns had been burned to the ground.
Ellen got to work. She negotiated debt forgiveness. Rebuilt infrastructure. Established electricity for the first time in 15 years. Built schools. Created jobs. Fought corruption.
She brought Charles Taylor to justice. He was arrested and tried for war crimes at The Hague. Convicted and sentenced to 50 years in prison.
In 2011, Ellen won the Nobel Peace Prize for her work promoting peace, democracy, and women's rights. She stood on that stage in Oslo—a survivor of domestic violence, imprisonment, exile, and civil war—accepting one of the world's highest honors.
She served two terms as president, leaving office in 2018 after 12 years of leadership. She transformed Liberia from a failed state into a functioning democracy.
From beaten by her husband at 17 to escaping with four children at 23 to Harvard at 33 to imprisoned and sentenced to death at 47 to exiled twice to running against a warlord to becoming Africa's first elected female president at 67 to winning the Nobel Peace Prize at 73.
Ellen Johnson Sirleaf proved that women who survive domestic violence can lead nations. That victims of political persecution can become presidents. That you're never too old to change the world.
The teenage bride who was beaten became the president who rebuilt a nation.

~Forgotten Stories

Bridget “Biddy” Mason (1818-1891) is an American Hero. Born enslaved, Mason and her 3 daughters were forced to walk cross-country before becoming one of the first prominent citizens and landowners in Los Angeles in the 1860s. She also founded the First African Methodist Episcopal Church in Los Angeles in 1872.

In 1912, when Serbia called for soldiers, Milunka Savić cut her hair, put on her brother’s clothes, and enlisted under a man’s name. Nobody knew her secret—until she was wounded in battle.
When her commanders discovered she was a woman, they expected her to leave. Instead, impressed by her courage, they let her stay. And Milunka went on to become a legend.
She fought with unmatched bravery through the Balkan Wars and the First World War, earning honors from across Europe: the French Legion of Honor (twice), the Russian Cross of St. George, Britain’s Medal of St. Michael, Serbia’s Medal of Miloš Obilić. In all, she became the most decorated female combatant in history.
But glory on the battlefield did not protect her in peace. After the war, France offered her a pension if she settled in Paris. She refused—choosing to return to her homeland. There, Serbia left her to poverty. She raised four daughters as a cleaner, and during WWII, she was even imprisoned in a N**i camp for refusing to cooperate.
In her final years, she lived in misery, caring for her sick daughter. Only public outcry forced the government to grant her a small apartment in 1972. One year later, she died.
Milunka Savić’s story is both inspiring and tragic: the world’s most decorated woman soldier, a heroine on the battlefield, and yet forgotten in her own home.

~Old Photo Club

In the spring of 1965, Viola Liuzzo, a 39-year-old white mother of five from Detroit, could not stay silent or inactive while African Americans in the South were being denied their most basic civil rights. Driven by a profound belief in equality and human rights, Viola traveled to Selma, Alabama, to help in the aftermath of the harrowing Selma to Montgomery marches. These marches were pivotal in the civil rights movement, aimed at securing equal voting rights and highlighting racial injustice in America.

The atmosphere was charged with tension and hostility. Viola, undeterred, worked tirelessly, providing transportation for the marchers. On the night of March 25, 1965, while ferrying fellow activists back from a successful march, tragedy struck. Viola's car was intercepted by members of the Ku Klux Klan on Highway 80. In a senseless act of violence fueled by racial hatred, Viola was shot and killed by the Klansmen, marking her as the only white woman martyred during the civil rights movement.

Viola Liuzzo's sacrifice brought national attention to the civil rights struggle and helped galvanize public opinion in favor of the movement. Her death was a poignant reminder of the high cost of freedom and the brutal resistance to change. President Lyndon B. Johnson spoke of Viola in a national address, declaring her a hero of the cause, and her story became a beacon of hope and a poignant reminder of the universal fight for justice.

We remember Viola Liuzzo not just for how she died, but for the undying spirit and deep compassion that guided her actions. She crossed racial and geographical boundaries to stand by those who were fighting for their basic rights. Her legacy teaches us that courage can be found in the most ordinary of us and that change often comes at a great cost.



~Forgotten Stories

Mother Jones: Labor’s Most Dangerous Woman #MotherJones #LaborHistory #UnionStrong