A Gypsy Who Found her City
americasgreatoutdoors:

President Obama signed S.23 into law yesterday, legislation designating 32,557 acres of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore in Michigan as wilderness, the first congressional designation under the Wilderness Act since 2009. The Wilderness Act, signed into law in 1964, established the highest level of conservation protection for federal lands. It prohibits permanent roads and commercial enterprises, except commercial services that may provide for recreational or other purposes of the Wilderness Act. Wilderness areas generally do not allow motorized equipment, motor vehicles, mechanical transport, temporary roads, permanent structures or installation. Visitors can engage in non-motorized recreation in wilderness areas, including hiking, fishing, camping, and hunting.To learn more, click here: http://bitly.com/1nWeiwvPhoto: Debbie Maglothin (www.sharetheexperience.org)

Used to camp here when I was little. Glad to it getting protection.

americasgreatoutdoors:

President Obama signed S.23 into law yesterday, legislation designating 32,557 acres of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore in Michigan as wilderness, the first congressional designation under the Wilderness Act since 2009. 

The Wilderness Act, signed into law in 1964, established the highest level of conservation protection for federal lands. It prohibits permanent roads and commercial enterprises, except commercial services that may provide for recreational or other purposes of the Wilderness Act. Wilderness areas generally do not allow motorized equipment, motor vehicles, mechanical transport, temporary roads, permanent structures or installation. Visitors can engage in non-motorized recreation in wilderness areas, including hiking, fishing, camping, and hunting.

To learn more, click here: http://bitly.com/1nWeiwv

Photo: Debbie Maglothin (www.sharetheexperience.org)

Used to camp here when I was little. Glad to it getting protection.

nicolemaxali:

After years of jumping from relationship to relationship, I know now that it’s important to be my own self (strong, independent, etc.), and not to lose myself/identity in any future relationships or people. I was in monogamous relationships since I was 18 years old. It was just in the last four…

#12 I’m still working on. :)

thereconstructionists:

French writer, philosopher, cultural critic, and public intellectual Simone de Beauvoir (January 9, 1908–April 14, 1986) is celebrated as the mother of contemporary feminism. Her 1949 treatise The Second Sex, a seminal account of woman’s role as an “other” in a world dominated and defined by male power, framed much of the dialogue on women’s rights and gender equality in the decades that followed, shaping the subsequent work of iconic reconstructionists like Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem.
An intellectually inclined child raised in a borderline bourgeois family, Beauvoir received early encouragement from her father and went on to pursue mathematics and philosophy after high school. In 1929, she met the odd-looking, spirited young man who would eventually become the iconic existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre as well as Beauvoir’s lifelong lover and intellectual companion. At the time of their first encounter, both were studying for the agrégation in philosophy — the high French graduate degree — and Beauvoir placed second in the entrance exam, behind Sartre, though the examination jury reportedly agreed that she was the better philosopher of the two. Only twenty-one, she became the youngest person in history to have passed the exam.
Despite — or perhaps because of — their intense love, as evidenced by their letters, Sartre and Beauvoir maintained an open relationship for the half-century that they were together. Each had multiple affairs, but in the context of a French bourgeois society, where the practice appeared to be a mundane male prerogative, their arrangement was much more radical and norm-defiant for Beauvoir, who had a number of both male and female lovers over the years, than it was for Sartre — it became her way of reclaiming the same equality and freedom in matters of the heart and body that society had afforded to men.
In 1949, Beauvoir published The Second Sex in French — her landmark conception of feminist existentialism, which not only outlined the systematic moral evolution necessary for true gender equality but also called, in unambiguous terms, for a fundamental moral revolution.
The book was quickly translated into English and published in America under the efforts of Blanche Knopf, the wife of publisher Alfred A. Knopf. But what may at first glance appear an admirable feat was in fact a lamentable and far-reaching cultural mistake: Howard Parshley, the translator Knopf had enlisted in the task, had only basic proficiency in French and hardly any grasp of philosophy, which rendered his translation a travesty of Beauvoir’s work — much was mistranslated, resulting in damaging distortion and loss of meaning, and entire parts were cut. To make matters worse, Knopf deliberately suppressed competing translations for more than a quarter century, which made Beauvoir’s seminal treatise largely misunderstood and underappreciated in America. It wasn’t until the book’s 60th anniversary in 2009 that a complete English translation finally saw light of day, thanks to the combined efforts of translators Constance Borde and Sheila Malovany-Chevallier, who not only restored Beauvoir’s intended meaning but also salvaged a third of her original work that had been entirely cut.
Lisa Appignanesi writes in her biography of Beauvoir:

Beauvoir was a woman who was ardent for life in its full sensuous possibility. A highly trained intellectual, she was yet intensely aware of her body — which is what made her such a perceptive observer of women’s and her own condition… . If she felt her body had left her before the end, not even burial has been able to keep her indomitable spirit down.

Indeed, on April 19, 1986, more than 5,000 mourners of all ages followed Beauvoir’s funeral cortège as it traveled to her final resting place, the Montparnasse Cemetery in Paris. “Women, you owe her everything!” was the phrase that floated through the grieving crowd and echoed across the world.
Beauvoir’s legacy permeates the very fabric of modern society and has shaped our understanding of equality, but folded into it is also a subtle reminder that we, as a culture, still have a long way to go: It’s been argued — right here, right now, for instance — that Beauvoir deserves a Nobel Prize for her work, but, true to the Prize’s gender bias, she was never even nominated for one. And yet what greater contribution to global peace and justice than laying the foundation for a model of humanity in which one half is equal to, not lesser than, the other?
Learn more: The Prime of Life: The Autobiography of Simone De Beauvoir | | Simone de Beauvoir | Brain Pickings | Wikipedia

I love this blog.

thereconstructionists:

French writer, philosopher, cultural critic, and public intellectual Simone de Beauvoir (January 9, 1908–April 14, 1986) is celebrated as the mother of contemporary feminism. Her 1949 treatise The Second Sex, a seminal account of woman’s role as an “other” in a world dominated and defined by male power, framed much of the dialogue on women’s rights and gender equality in the decades that followed, shaping the subsequent work of iconic reconstructionists like Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem.

An intellectually inclined child raised in a borderline bourgeois family, Beauvoir received early encouragement from her father and went on to pursue mathematics and philosophy after high school. In 1929, she met the odd-looking, spirited young man who would eventually become the iconic existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre as well as Beauvoir’s lifelong lover and intellectual companion. At the time of their first encounter, both were studying for the agrégation in philosophy — the high French graduate degree — and Beauvoir placed second in the entrance exam, behind Sartre, though the examination jury reportedly agreed that she was the better philosopher of the two. Only twenty-one, she became the youngest person in history to have passed the exam.

Despite — or perhaps because of — their intense love, as evidenced by their letters, Sartre and Beauvoir maintained an open relationship for the half-century that they were together. Each had multiple affairs, but in the context of a French bourgeois society, where the practice appeared to be a mundane male prerogative, their arrangement was much more radical and norm-defiant for Beauvoir, who had a number of both male and female lovers over the years, than it was for Sartre — it became her way of reclaiming the same equality and freedom in matters of the heart and body that society had afforded to men.

In 1949, Beauvoir published The Second Sex in French — her landmark conception of feminist existentialism, which not only outlined the systematic moral evolution necessary for true gender equality but also called, in unambiguous terms, for a fundamental moral revolution.

The book was quickly translated into English and published in America under the efforts of Blanche Knopf, the wife of publisher Alfred A. Knopf. But what may at first glance appear an admirable feat was in fact a lamentable and far-reaching cultural mistake: Howard Parshley, the translator Knopf had enlisted in the task, had only basic proficiency in French and hardly any grasp of philosophy, which rendered his translation a travesty of Beauvoir’s work — much was mistranslated, resulting in damaging distortion and loss of meaning, and entire parts were cut. To make matters worse, Knopf deliberately suppressed competing translations for more than a quarter century, which made Beauvoir’s seminal treatise largely misunderstood and underappreciated in America. It wasn’t until the book’s 60th anniversary in 2009 that a complete English translation finally saw light of day, thanks to the combined efforts of translators Constance Borde and Sheila Malovany-Chevallier, who not only restored Beauvoir’s intended meaning but also salvaged a third of her original work that had been entirely cut.

Lisa Appignanesi writes in her biography of Beauvoir:

Beauvoir was a woman who was ardent for life in its full sensuous possibility. A highly trained intellectual, she was yet intensely aware of her body — which is what made her such a perceptive observer of women’s and her own condition… . If she felt her body had left her before the end, not even burial has been able to keep her indomitable spirit down.

Indeed, on April 19, 1986, more than 5,000 mourners of all ages followed Beauvoir’s funeral cortège as it traveled to her final resting place, the Montparnasse Cemetery in Paris. “Women, you owe her everything!” was the phrase that floated through the grieving crowd and echoed across the world.

Beauvoir’s legacy permeates the very fabric of modern society and has shaped our understanding of equality, but folded into it is also a subtle reminder that we, as a culture, still have a long way to go: It’s been argued — right here, right now, for instance — that Beauvoir deserves a Nobel Prize for her work, but, true to the Prize’s gender bias, she was never even nominated for one. And yet what greater contribution to global peace and justice than laying the foundation for a model of humanity in which one half is equal to, not lesser than, the other?

I love this blog.

jhnmyr:

It’s day three of 2014 and I’m not feeling any less guilty about not posting some thoughts I have, so I guess that’s good enough reason to write them down and send them to you.

I guess a part of me wants to lay out some predictions for the culture-at-large, and wouldn’t that feel great for a…

Love always. Gots to DO IT!

isenpaikun:

Greg Dunn: Hippocampus II

Enamel on composition gold and aluminum.



Wow. This is pretty baddass.

isenpaikun:

Greg Dunn: Hippocampus II

Enamel on composition gold and aluminum.

Wow. This is pretty baddass.

thereconstructionists:

The longest-serving American First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt (October 11, 1884—November 7, 1962) endures as one of the most remarkable luminaries in modern history — a relentless champion of human rights, an advocate for working women, and a tireless supporter of underprivileged youth.
At the age of seventy-six, Roosevelt collected her life’s wisdom in You Learn by Living: Eleven Keys for a More Fulfilling Life — an elegant and timeless manual of personal exploration emanating universal insight, which went on to inspire generations and influence entire genres, from political memoirs to spiritual life-guides. Above all, however, the book was and remains a testament to Roosevelt’s extraordinary generosity of spirit, her clarity of purpose, and her unflinching integrity. She writes:

Happiness is not a goal, it is a by-product. Paradoxically, the one sure way not to be happy is deliberately to map out a way of life in which one would please oneself completely and exclusively. After a short time, a very short time, there would be little that one really enjoyed. For what keeps our interest in life and makes us look forward to tomorrow is giving pleasure to other people.

While a beloved and celebrated public figure, however, Roosevelt was also undeniably controversial, both politically and personally. She was unafraid to publicly disagree with some of her husband’s politics, pushing for improving women’s rights in the workplace and civil rights for African American and Asian American families. In 1928, she met journalist Lorena “Hick” Hickok, with whom the first lady embarked on a thirty-year relationship peppered with some extraordinarily intimate letters. In one, Roosevelt writes:

Hick, darling

Ah, how good it was to hear your voice. It was so inadequate to try and tell you what it meant. Funny was that I couldn’t say je t’aime and je t’adore as I longed to do, but always remember that I am saying it, that I go to sleep thinking of you.

And in another:

I wish I could lie down beside you tonight & take you in my arms.

That Roosevelt chose to life as she did — a life of enormous public good and service to others, and yet one undeterred by other people’s standards — is the ultimate embodiment of one of her most poignant points in You Learn by Living:

The standards by which you live must be your own standards, your own values, your own convictions in regard to what is right and wrong, what is true and false, what is important and what is trivial. When you adopt the standards and the values of someone else or a community or a pressure group, you surrender your own integrity. You become, to the extent of your surrender, less of a human being.

And what a monumental human being Roosevelt was.
Learn more: Brain Pickings | Wikipedia | You Learn by Living

I must add her book to my reading list.

thereconstructionists:

The longest-serving American First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt (October 11, 1884—November 7, 1962) endures as one of the most remarkable luminaries in modern history — a relentless champion of human rights, an advocate for working women, and a tireless supporter of underprivileged youth.

At the age of seventy-six, Roosevelt collected her life’s wisdom in You Learn by Living: Eleven Keys for a More Fulfilling Life — an elegant and timeless manual of personal exploration emanating universal insight, which went on to inspire generations and influence entire genres, from political memoirs to spiritual life-guides. Above all, however, the book was and remains a testament to Roosevelt’s extraordinary generosity of spirit, her clarity of purpose, and her unflinching integrity. She writes:

Happiness is not a goal, it is a by-product. Paradoxically, the one sure way not to be happy is deliberately to map out a way of life in which one would please oneself completely and exclusively. After a short time, a very short time, there would be little that one really enjoyed. For what keeps our interest in life and makes us look forward to tomorrow is giving pleasure to other people.

While a beloved and celebrated public figure, however, Roosevelt was also undeniably controversial, both politically and personally. She was unafraid to publicly disagree with some of her husband’s politics, pushing for improving women’s rights in the workplace and civil rights for African American and Asian American families. In 1928, she met journalist Lorena “Hick” Hickok, with whom the first lady embarked on a thirty-year relationship peppered with some extraordinarily intimate letters. In one, Roosevelt writes:

Hick, darling
Ah, how good it was to hear your voice. It was so inadequate to try and tell you what it meant. Funny was that I couldn’t say je t’aime and je t’adore as I longed to do, but always remember that I am saying it, that I go to sleep thinking of you.

And in another:

I wish I could lie down beside you tonight & take you in my arms.

That Roosevelt chose to life as she did — a life of enormous public good and service to others, and yet one undeterred by other people’s standards — is the ultimate embodiment of one of her most poignant points in You Learn by Living:

The standards by which you live must be your own standards, your own values, your own convictions in regard to what is right and wrong, what is true and false, what is important and what is trivial. When you adopt the standards and the values of someone else or a community or a pressure group, you surrender your own integrity. You become, to the extent of your surrender, less of a human being.

And what a monumental human being Roosevelt was.

I must add her book to my reading list.

thereconstructionists:

Not only did Scottish mathematician, science writer, and polymath Mary Fairfax Somerville (December 26, 1780—November 28, 1872) defy the era’s deep-seated bias against women in science, she was the very reason the word “scientist” was coined: When reviewing her seminal second book, On the Connexion of the Physical Sciences, which Somerville wrote at the age of 54, English polymath and Trinity College master William Whewell was so impressed that he thought it rendered the term “men of science” obsolete and warranted a new, more inclusive descriptor to honor Somerville’s contribution to the field.
Reconstructionist Maria Mitchell, herself a pioneer who paved the way for women in science, captured Somerville’s singular genius in a May 1860 article for The Atlantic:
To read mathematical works is an easy task; the formulae can be learned and their meaning apprehended: to read the most profound of them, with such appreciation that one stands side by side with the great minds who originated them, requires a higher order of intellect; and far-reaching indeed is that which, pondering in the study on a few phenomena known by observation, develops the theory of worlds, traces back for ages their history, and sketches the outline of their future destiny.
Somerville came to science by way of the arts, the era’s traditional domain for young girls. When her art teacher made a passing reference to Euclid and his theories of geometry to explain perspective in painting, noting that they also illuminated the foundations of astronomy and physics, young Mary found herself mesmerized by the promise of a science so expansive and dimensional. So she pleaded with her brother’s science tutor to help her learn about Euclid. But her ascent to science was far from smooth — this early initiative was met with adamant resistance by her father, who found mathematics not only unsuitable but also sanity-jeopardizing for his daughter. Somerville recalls in her journals:
My father came home for a short time, and, somehow or other, finding out what I was about, said to my mother, ‘Peg, we must put a stop to this, or we shall have Mary in a strait jacket one of these days. There was X., who went raving mad about the longitude!’
To correct young Mary’s intellectual aberrations, her parents put her on a steady diet of illustrated ladies’ journals. But those happened to contain puzzles and logical riddles, many of which required mathematical solutions. It was in them that Mary discovered the curious symbols of algebraic equations and was once again enthralled.
Rather than thwarting her budding crush on mathematics, her parents had inadvertently turned it into a lifelong love.
Even so, however, they were bent on sending their daughter down the traditional path destined for women of the era. When she was twenty-four, Mary was married to her distant cousin, Samuel Grieg — a severe man with little faith in women’s capacities beyond their childbearing ability, who forbad Mary from pursuing her studies.
When Grieg died three years later, he left Somerville with two young children, but also with an inheritance and a freedom that opened a new horizon for learning. She soon began corresponding with the mathematician William Wallace at the University of Edinburgh, who mentored her studies in math and astronomy as she at last indulged her intellectual calling.
In 1832, Somerville married another cousin, Dr. William Somerville — a bright and gentle man who thought the world of her, encouraged her studies, and relentlessly helped her master the physical sciences. After the couple moved to London, along with their four children and the two boys from the previous marriage, Somerville met some of the era’s greatest scientific minds, from legendary astronomer William Herschel to computing pioneer Charles Babbage. It was there she became the first mathematical tutor of reconstructionist Ada Lovelace, the world’s first computer programmer, thus illustrating the beautiful daisy chain of brilliance that unfolds when the hunger for knowledge is set free from the shackles of stereotypes and cultural norms.
In 1835, Somerville and Caroline Herschel, sister of William Herschel and a trailblazing astronomer in her own right, became the first female members of the Royal Astronomical Society.
Above all, however, Somerville embodied the richness of mind and spirit that marks out the true scientist. Maria Mitchell, who had met her in 1858, poignantly observes in her Atlantic essay:
No one can make the acquaintance of this remarkable woman without increased admiration for her. The ascent of the steep and rugged path of science has not unfitted her for the drawing-room circle; the hours of devotion to close study have not been incompatible with the duties of the wife and the mother; the mind that has turned to rigid demonstration has not thereby lost its faith in the truths which figures will not prove.
Learn more: Personal Recollections, from Early Life to Old Age, of Mary Somerville | Wikipedia

Love this blog!

thereconstructionists:

Not only did Scottish mathematician, science writer, and polymath Mary Fairfax Somerville (December 26, 1780—November 28, 1872) defy the era’s deep-seated bias against women in science, she was the very reason the word “scientist” was coined: When reviewing her seminal second book, On the Connexion of the Physical Sciences, which Somerville wrote at the age of 54, English polymath and Trinity College master William Whewell was so impressed that he thought it rendered the term “men of science” obsolete and warranted a new, more inclusive descriptor to honor Somerville’s contribution to the field.

Reconstructionist Maria Mitchell, herself a pioneer who paved the way for women in science, captured Somerville’s singular genius in a May 1860 article for The Atlantic:

To read mathematical works is an easy task; the formulae can be learned and their meaning apprehended: to read the most profound of them, with such appreciation that one stands side by side with the great minds who originated them, requires a higher order of intellect; and far-reaching indeed is that which, pondering in the study on a few phenomena known by observation, develops the theory of worlds, traces back for ages their history, and sketches the outline of their future destiny.

Somerville came to science by way of the arts, the era’s traditional domain for young girls. When her art teacher made a passing reference to Euclid and his theories of geometry to explain perspective in painting, noting that they also illuminated the foundations of astronomy and physics, young Mary found herself mesmerized by the promise of a science so expansive and dimensional. So she pleaded with her brother’s science tutor to help her learn about Euclid. But her ascent to science was far from smooth — this early initiative was met with adamant resistance by her father, who found mathematics not only unsuitable but also sanity-jeopardizing for his daughter. Somerville recalls in her journals:

My father came home for a short time, and, somehow or other, finding out what I was about, said to my mother, ‘Peg, we must put a stop to this, or we shall have Mary in a strait jacket one of these days. There was X., who went raving mad about the longitude!’

To correct young Mary’s intellectual aberrations, her parents put her on a steady diet of illustrated ladies’ journals. But those happened to contain puzzles and logical riddles, many of which required mathematical solutions. It was in them that Mary discovered the curious symbols of algebraic equations and was once again enthralled.

Rather than thwarting her budding crush on mathematics, her parents had inadvertently turned it into a lifelong love.

Even so, however, they were bent on sending their daughter down the traditional path destined for women of the era. When she was twenty-four, Mary was married to her distant cousin, Samuel Grieg — a severe man with little faith in women’s capacities beyond their childbearing ability, who forbad Mary from pursuing her studies.

When Grieg died three years later, he left Somerville with two young children, but also with an inheritance and a freedom that opened a new horizon for learning. She soon began corresponding with the mathematician William Wallace at the University of Edinburgh, who mentored her studies in math and astronomy as she at last indulged her intellectual calling.

In 1832, Somerville married another cousin, Dr. William Somerville — a bright and gentle man who thought the world of her, encouraged her studies, and relentlessly helped her master the physical sciences. After the couple moved to London, along with their four children and the two boys from the previous marriage, Somerville met some of the era’s greatest scientific minds, from legendary astronomer William Herschel to computing pioneer Charles Babbage. It was there she became the first mathematical tutor of reconstructionist Ada Lovelace, the world’s first computer programmer, thus illustrating the beautiful daisy chain of brilliance that unfolds when the hunger for knowledge is set free from the shackles of stereotypes and cultural norms.

In 1835, Somerville and Caroline Herschel, sister of William Herschel and a trailblazing astronomer in her own right, became the first female members of the Royal Astronomical Society.

Above all, however, Somerville embodied the richness of mind and spirit that marks out the true scientist. Maria Mitchell, who had met her in 1858, poignantly observes in her Atlantic essay:

No one can make the acquaintance of this remarkable woman without increased admiration for her. The ascent of the steep and rugged path of science has not unfitted her for the drawing-room circle; the hours of devotion to close study have not been incompatible with the duties of the wife and the mother; the mind that has turned to rigid demonstration has not thereby lost its faith in the truths which figures will not prove.

Love this blog!

burningmanproblems:

Truth.

The what it’s actually like is missing that the water rolling off the person would be tan color.

burningmanproblems:

Truth.

The what it’s actually like is missing that the water rolling off the person would be tan color.

theatlanticcities:

Looking for a parking spot in downtown Detroit? No problem. According to one local planner, nearly 40 percent of downtown is dedicated to parking.
Not surprisingly, the metro area has one of the lowest shares of workers who commute by public transit. Detroit also has the highest percentage of commuters who drive to work alone (84.2 percent).
Read: How Too Much Parking Strangled the Motor City
[Graphic: Rob Linn]


Those Detroiters do love their cars. American designed and made of course.

theatlanticcities:

Looking for a parking spot in downtown Detroit? No problem. According to one local planner, nearly 40 percent of downtown is dedicated to parking.

Not surprisingly, the metro area has one of the lowest shares of workers who commute by public transit. Detroit also has the highest percentage of commuters who drive to work alone (84.2 percent).

Read: How Too Much Parking Strangled the Motor City

[Graphic: Rob Linn]

Those Detroiters do love their cars. American designed and made of course.

thereconstructionists:

Elizabeth Jane Cochrane (May 5, 1864 — January 27, 1922), better known by her pen name, Nellie Bly, was a trailblazing journalist who not only paved the way for women in media at a time when women still didn’t have the right to vote, but also also championed the power of journalism as a tool of social justice.
In 1887, writing for Joseph Pulitzer’s pioneering New York World newspaper, she went undercover and feigned insanity for an investigative story on Women’s Lunatic Asylum on Blackwell’s Island after hearing of the appalling neglect, patient abuse, and brutality taking place at the institution. She went to extraordinary lengths to enact her diagnosis, then subjected herself to insufferable indignities. The exposé she wrote led to a grand jury investigation into the practices of the asylum, on which Bly was invited to collaborate and which spurred a $850,000 increase in the Department of Public Charities and Corrections budget for treating the mentally ill.
As Matthew Goodman aptly puts it in Eighty Days: Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland’s History-Making Race Around the World ,
No female reporter before her had ever seemed quite so audacious, so willing to risk personal safety in pursuit of a story.
Indeed, only two years later, in November of 1889, Bly packed a single bag and set out to circumnavigate the globe, aiming to beat Jules Verne’s fantasy journey of Eighty Days Around the World. She braved formidable weather, risked deadly illness, and returned in “seventy-two days, six hours, eleven minutes and fourteen seconds.” So remarkable was her feat that it reverberated in a radio dramatization more than two decades after Bly’s death.
Early in her career, she went around and interviewed every major newspaper editor in New York at the time — all, of course, white males — about why there were so few, if any, women in journalism. The answers ranged from the unabashedly, matter-of-factly sexist (“Accuracy,” said Charles Anderson Dana, editor of the Sun, “is the greatest gift in a journalist. … Women are generally worse than men in this regard. They find it impossible not to exaggerate.”) to the misguidedly mannered (Reverend Dr. Hepworth, editor of the Herald, pointed out that papers were mainly in the business of scandal and sensation, and “a gentleman could not in delicacy ask a woman to have anything to do with that class of news.”) Bly’s resulting essay caused a furor as arguably the first major piece on gender politics in the media world.
But perhaps most admirable of all was how indefatigably she embodied that highest journalistic ideal of integrity and passion. Bly herself articulated it best, writing in The Evening-Journal a mere nineteen days before her death:
I have never written a word that did not come from my heart. I never shall.
Learn more: Brain Pickings | Eighty Days | Wikipedia

thereconstructionists:

Elizabeth Jane Cochrane (May 5, 1864 — January 27, 1922), better known by her pen name, Nellie Bly, was a trailblazing journalist who not only paved the way for women in media at a time when women still didn’t have the right to vote, but also also championed the power of journalism as a tool of social justice.

In 1887, writing for Joseph Pulitzer’s pioneering New York World newspaper, she went undercover and feigned insanity for an investigative story on Women’s Lunatic Asylum on Blackwell’s Island after hearing of the appalling neglect, patient abuse, and brutality taking place at the institution. She went to extraordinary lengths to enact her diagnosis, then subjected herself to insufferable indignities. The exposé she wrote led to a grand jury investigation into the practices of the asylum, on which Bly was invited to collaborate and which spurred a $850,000 increase in the Department of Public Charities and Corrections budget for treating the mentally ill.

As Matthew Goodman aptly puts it in Eighty Days: Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland’s History-Making Race Around the World ,

No female reporter before her had ever seemed quite so audacious, so willing to risk personal safety in pursuit of a story.

Indeed, only two years later, in November of 1889, Bly packed a single bag and set out to circumnavigate the globe, aiming to beat Jules Verne’s fantasy journey of Eighty Days Around the World. She braved formidable weather, risked deadly illness, and returned in “seventy-two days, six hours, eleven minutes and fourteen seconds.” So remarkable was her feat that it reverberated in a radio dramatization more than two decades after Bly’s death.

Early in her career, she went around and interviewed every major newspaper editor in New York at the time — all, of course, white males — about why there were so few, if any, women in journalism. The answers ranged from the unabashedly, matter-of-factly sexist (“Accuracy,” said Charles Anderson Dana, editor of the Sun, “is the greatest gift in a journalist. … Women are generally worse than men in this regard. They find it impossible not to exaggerate.”) to the misguidedly mannered (Reverend Dr. Hepworth, editor of the Herald, pointed out that papers were mainly in the business of scandal and sensation, and “a gentleman could not in delicacy ask a woman to have anything to do with that class of news.”) Bly’s resulting essay caused a furor as arguably the first major piece on gender politics in the media world.

But perhaps most admirable of all was how indefatigably she embodied that highest journalistic ideal of integrity and passion. Bly herself articulated it best, writing in The Evening-Journal a mere nineteen days before her death:

I have never written a word that did not come from my heart. I never shall.