For most of NASA’s history, space was a man’s domain, a boys’ club in orbit. The first astronauts were all military test pilots, white men trained to push the envelope of flight, not question traditions. In that world, the very idea of a woman climbing aboard a spacecraft seemed almost absurd.
“There’s no need for women astronauts,” NASA officials said through the 1960s.
Then, in 1978, six women walked into the astronaut corps. Their names — Sally Ride, Judy Resnik, Anna Fisher, Kathy Sullivan, Rhea Seddon, and Shannon Lucid — became synonymous with a new era. But as Valerie Neal reveals in her new book On a Mission: The Smithsonian History of US Women Astronauts, their arrival wasn’t the end of a struggle. It was the beginning of a long negotiation.
Neal, a veteran historian and former curator at the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum, spent years documenting that transformation. Her book, released October 28, traces nearly half a century of women’s participation in NASA’s astronaut corps — from the shuttle era that made it possible for scientists and engineers to fly, to the upcoming Artemis missions that promise to send the first woman to the Moon.
Her interviews with thirty of the thirty-two living U.S. women astronauts are intimate portraits of ambition and resilience. The women she spoke to are not only astronauts but also parents, physicians, pilots, oceanographers, chemists, and engineers. They endured a system designed for male bodies — from oversized spacesuits to aircraft cockpits built for taller frames — and a skeptical culture that demanded they succeed not just for themselves, but for every woman who might come after. “They all felt the responsibility to do their best so they would not affect the chances for future women to follow them,” Neal told me in an interview.
On a Mission captures the slow creep of institutional change at NASA, whose gender reforms evolved not through sweeping reforms but through the steady persistence of individuals. The early women astronauts didn’t see themselves as revolutionaries. They were pilots, scientists, and engineers who loved their work, who also happened to be making history. In their daily routines — studying orbital mechanics, testing sensitive telescopes, juggling families — they redefined what a “normal” astronaut looked like.
Today, NASA’s astronaut corps is one of the most diverse professional groups in government. Women have commanded the International Space Station, walked in space, led laboratories, and shaped mission design. And yet, as Neal points out, the struggle for inclusion never fully ends; it simply takes new forms.
Read our interview with Neal below.
ZME Science: Your book “On a Mission” traces 46 years of women’s participation in NASA’s astronaut corps. When you look back at that trajectory, what do you see as the single most transformative moment for women in space?
Valerie Neal: NASA’s decision in the early 1970s to develop the space shuttle—a much larger, more versatile spacecraft than previous “capsules”—and the corollary decision to categorize astronauts into two groups, pilots and mission specialists (scientists and engineers)—opened the door for women and others who were then called minorities to vie for astronaut candidacy. Until that point, when questioned about women astronauts, NASA officials generally said there was no need for women or that women weren’t qualified.
NASA’s decision in 1976 to recruit women and minorities into the astronaut corps and then actually selecting them in 1977 and introducing them to the public in January 1978 was a visibly transformative moment; six women were among the thirty-five new astronaut candidates. But the actual transformation began with the decision to operate a spacecraft that needed only two pilots but had room and work for up to six more people who were not pilots. These mission specialists would operate the shuttle’s systems and carry out much of each mission’s program by launching satellites, conducting scientific research, doing spacewalks, and making the most of the shuttle as the workhorse it was intended to be. The shuttle was also roomy enough to permit a modicum of privacy (a curtained toilet compartment, as well as sleeping bags and sleep enclosures) that helped to alleviate concerns about women and men flying together.
The mission specialist role vastly expanded the pool of eligible talent for the astronaut corps to include civilians who were scientists and engineers with advanced academic degrees, unlike the earlier astronauts who were mostly military test pilots and, at the tim,e were all white males. As a result, the astronaut corps for the space shuttle era included PhDs, MDs, a veterinarian, astrophysicists, biologists, chemists, physicists, and engineers of all types (aeronautical, biomedical, ceramics, chemical, electrical, materials, mechanical, etc.). The space shuttle and the mission specialist position enabled a population explosion of eligible candidates and a more diverse astronaut corps. Women, African Americans, Hispanics, Asian Americans, Native Americans, Americans born abroad, and naturalized citizens benefited from this newly opened door, and so did NASA.
ZME Science: You interviewed 30 of the 32 living former U.S. women astronauts. What surprised you most about what they shared with you?
Valerie Neal: It was most surprising that no matter when they became an astronaut, all felt the responsibility to do their best so they would not affect the chances for future women to follow them. It was a reasonable burden for the first women to feel this way. They knew the world was watching, and any weakness or failure on their part could become a reason to reduce expectations or perhaps bar women. That feeling of responsibility to the future remained keen in all of those women, and many still feel it today as they appear in public as highly-regarded role models. They are all self-motivated, focused high achievers who press themselves to do their best in any role, and no one ever wanted to “mess up.”
Men who are astronauts also don’t want to make mistakes or fail, but they don’t have the sense that their performance might make it harder for future men to succeed. Even after more than forty years of taking their place in space and being excellent in their work, women astronauts are still aware that their performance could have an effect on future opportunities for women. They have a generous, selfless sense of keeping the door open and helping the next women come along.
ZME Science: The book highlights that even in space, women face gendered challenges — from ill-fitting spacesuits to subtle biases. Which of these issues do you think still persist today, and how are they being addressed?
Valerie Neal: The spacesuit fit issues should disappear, or at least be remediated, in the next-generation extravehicular activity (EVA) suit under development for the Artemis mission. NASA has pledged that spacesuits will fit any size of astronaut, and they will be designed with enhanced features for comfort and ease of working.
I was not able to interview current women astronauts (NASA policy), so I do not know whether they are encountering any subtle biases. I suspect they are not, because it is now normal to have successful women in virtually all work environments once dominated by men, and their predecessors were effective in dispelling latent biases. Women are so well integrated into the astronaut corps now and they have served in every technical and leadership role that their abilities and professionalism are proven. If women do detect resistance to their presence, I would guess that it may be from an individual outlier, not an aspect of the NASA or aerospace culture. NASA is proud of, and committed to the success of, its astronauts.
ZME Science: What’s one story that shows just how intense or even absurd astronaut training can be, especially for women breaking into that world?
Valerie Neal: This isn’t absurd, but it does indicate that early on, there was little awareness that training exercises, facilities, and equipment were predicated on men, and standard-size men at that. Military astronauts had gone through parachute training and survival training, but most mission specialists had not, so they were promptly scheduled to learn those skills. One of the astronauts reported an incident in parachute training at sea, getting airborne from the deck of a boat or by running off a dock, while tethered to a boat by a long tow rope. Once she had some altitude, a training officer in the boat would signal her to detach the rope and begin her descent to the water. However, when she detached, she kept rising. A petite woman, she didn’t weigh enough to counteract the lift of her parachute. She drifted for a while and finally began to descend. When the crew finally recovered her, she said they had feared they were going to lose an astronaut. For the next training session, they gave her a smaller chute, and she was fine.
The first women astronauts arrived at facilities that were equipped for men only. The astronaut gym had no locker room or restroom for women; they had to be added. Men were issued athletic supporters for workouts but women had to ask for sports bras. The airfields where they went on their training flights had no women’s restrooms, so the women had to take turns using the men’s room. The pilot and commander seats on the shuttle flight deck were sized for men; women pilots sat on a cushion or placed one behind their back to be in the correct position to fly the shuttle. Some of the smaller women learned to stuff padding into the EVA suits used for underwater training to keep their bodies centered in a too-large suit. The fiberglass upper torso of the EVA suit, molded for the flatter shape of a man’s chest than a curvier woman’s shape, caused discomfort.
These are all instances of assumptions made in a masculine environment; until women arrived, evidently no one had thought about their needs for restrooms, adjustable seats, or a spacesuit torso that didn’t mash them flat. The women proved resilient in adapting to the conditions they found themselves in, creating remedies when they could and asking for what they needed to be provided equally to the men.
ZME Science: You write that the women astronauts didn’t want to be labeled “female astronauts,” just astronauts. At one point, the book asks when we will reach a point where saying “female astronaut” is as odd as saying “male astronaut.” Do you think we are now at the point where gender no longer needs to be the qualifier (i.e., the term “female astronaut” is obsolete) or, on the contrary, do you feel the qualifier remains necessary for historical/representational reasons?
Valerie Neal: Like the astronauts, I think the gender qualifier is unnecessary. I was a bit conflicted about calling them women astronauts, but there was no way around it since the book doesn’t include their male colleagues, so at several points in the book I stated their preference to be known only as astronauts. NASA doesn’t overtly track gender, race, or ethnicity in its public information except occasionally in heritage month posts. If you want to know how many women or African American or other astronauts there are or have been, you either check Wikipedia or do some research and make a tally yourself. It is hard to find such tallies in NASA sources, which suggests that such distinctions are no longer newsworthy.
The astronaut corps is diverse in all dimensions, not just gender or race, but also in education, personal and professional backgrounds, universities attended, home states, etc. Much of that information can be found in the Astronaut Fact Book. It’s fairly easy to figure out who the women are by first names, and surnames are often a clue to Hispanic or Asian heritage, but it is less evident to identify African Americans from names only. The astronaut corps is a unity, not a cluster of groups.
ZME Science: Many astronauts have families, and you discuss “balancing acts.” Did you find that motherhood or family expectations shaped women’s NASA careers in ways that men’s weren’t?
Valerie Neal: I didn’t interview male astronauts, so I can only speculate about this. I would rather talk to some men about it. From the women I interviewed, it was clear that a married, parent astronaut must have the support of her spouse, a dependable nanny or family member for child care, and a lot of flexibility in her daily life to accommodate travel and training demands. Steady, flexible child care is a paramount concern. This is especially true when both spouses are astronauts or the other is an airline pilot or a physician, or in a career with an irregular work schedule and frequent travel. The women noted that their family circumstances are not unique; women in military service, medicine, politics, first responder positions, and other demanding professions face the same kinds of pressures and complications. The expectations about a woman astronaut’s role in her family are either negotiated with her spouse or possibly affected by general cultural expectations about how a woman manages family and career.
Ultimately, the couple makes choices that work for their family. No one said that her career suffered from being a parent, and in fact, they said that NASA accommodated their pregnancies and maternity leaves quite satisfactorily. Some of the women who became mothers waited until after they had flown at least one mission; others flew multiple missions after becoming mothers. In either case, they decided how they wanted to manage their family and career and did so without detriment.
ZME Science: How does the story of women astronauts mirror broader social changes in America since the 1960s? Were NASA’s milestones cause or effect of that progress?
Valerie Neal: This book examines the broader context of social change in America since the 1960s, with attention to aviation, military service, scientific and technical education, civil rights, and women’s rights. NASA’s decision to admit women into the astronaut corps came after progress occurred in universities and in military aviation that enabled women to earn the same degrees and fly the same aircraft as men and to gain the highly-valued experience as test pilots. NASA’s decision also followed social progress through the passage and enforcement of civil rights and equal opportunity legislation. As society’s tide turned toward equal access and equal opportunity, NASA turned to new policies and practices in response to that progress.
ZME Science: What do you hope young readers — especially young women — take away from this book about ambition, science, and belonging in space?
Valerie Neal: One of the women astronauts’ most consistent messages to young people is to find your passion, devote yourself to it, and it may lead you into places and careers to which you aspired or didn’t imagine. The book is filled with stories of girls who loved learning math and science, the natural world, the stars and planets, airplanes, and flight. They were often unusual in those pursuits, the only girl in a class, or the first girl to win a science or math award. But they were driven by their passion and persisted if they encountered obstacles. Some of these women, as youngsters believed that female astronauts were inevitable and that is what they wanted to be when they grew up. They were ready when NASA was ready for them. Others didn’t think of becoming an astronaut until they completed their education and realized that they matched the necessary qualifications, or that their career in submarines or undersea diving gave them skills relevant to spaceflight. Each woman’s journey to becoming an astronaut started with a passion that gave her life meaning and purpose.
The odds of being selected as one out of thousands of astronaut applicants are daunting, but if a young woman has cultivated her passion, she will likely have a rewarding career in whatever role she lands, whether astronaut or not. I hope that readers of this book will be fascinated and encouraged by the different paths and journeys these women took to achieve their dreams of spaceflight.
