From the President’s Desk: The woman who refused to be grounded

Too often, there are people in history whose accomplishments get overshadowed by the headlines they make. 

In business, as in life, success isn’t just about skill – it’s about persistence. We’ve all encountered roadblocks that make us question whether pushing forward is worth it. But the people who redefine industries, challenge norms and create lasting change are the ones who refuse to accept “the way things are” as the way things have to be. That brings me to a story you may not know but should: 

As a child, Shannon spent a year in a World War II internment camp. The isolation she experienced there didn’t detain her dreams though. Actually, she became fascinated with aviation after traveling by plane with her family after they were released. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the stars and purchased a Piper Clipper, a small, single-engine aircraft, in the early 1960s. She was determined to become a commercial pilot and logged many hours behind the controls. But when she applied, she was told she wasn’t qualified. The reason? She was a woman.

Undeterred, Shannon pursued a degree in chemistry. After earning her B.S., she approached a professor about job opportunities. As Loren Grush recounts in “The Six,” the professor scoffed at the idea, incredulously informing her that there were, of course, no jobs in chemistry available to women.

Shannon eventually secured a part-time role at an oil company, which got her foot in the door. It wasn’t the career she envisioned, but she saw it as a way forward. She went on to earn a master’s in biochemistry, and didn’t give up on her flying aspirations. Like the rest of the world, she followed news of NASA’s newly formed “Mercury Seven,” the pioneering astronauts chosen to lead the United States’ first human spaceflight program. She couldn’t help but notice: every American astronaut was white and male.

Shannon wrote a letter to the government, questioning whether the push to send Americans to space considered ALL Americans. She received a noncommittal reply, but what spoke louder was an answer from John Glenn’s 1962 testimony before Congress. Glenn, celebrated for his spaceflight achievements, made his stance clear: “It’s just a fact. The men go off and fight the wars and fly the airplanes. That women are not in this field is just a fact of our social order.”

Can you imagine being competent at a job, but being denied it with an excuse like “it’s a fact of our social order”? As years passed, these prejudices were slowly challenged. In 1978, society finally caught up – Shannon and five other women earned their place in NASA’s newest astronaut class, breaking barriers as six of the 35 selected members.

That’s right: the determined woman in this story is none other than Shannon Lucid, the sixth American woman to fly in space. She overcame adversity and redefined what was possible, becoming an invaluable scientist and incredible leader. Among her many accolades, she remains the only American woman to have stayed on the Russian space station Mir, was the first woman awarded the Congressional Space Medal of Honor, and held the American record for most time in space until 2007.

It’s easy to overlook the hard work so many historical figures put into their accomplishments. But, history doesn’t just happen – it’s made. For women like Shannon, overt discrimination was prevalent and accepted. Their talents were dismissed, their credentials questioned, and their worth outright ignored.

Progress is made when people refuse to accept the status quo. Over time, society has, in many ways, realized that degrading others isn’t a path to success. It stifles talent, fuels resentment, and holds back innovation. It is a detriment to the progress of the human race. This Women’s History Month, I encourage you to reflect on the grit of so many trailblazers moving our collective needle ahead, especially those like Shannon for whom the path was even steeper, yet who didn’t back down. 

On July 8, 2011, the Space Shuttle Atlantis stood poised on launch pad 39A under a cloudy Cape Canaveral sky. This was the 135th and final shuttle mission. In Houston, Shannon Lucid served as the capsule communicator (CAPCOM), guiding the launch. Meanwhile, I was in Florida, standing on a weathered wooden dock, staring at the shuttle’s towering silhouette. As smoke and steam billowed from the boosters, my breath caught. At first, the shuttle seemed hesitant to rise. Then, with a deafening roar, it ascended, brilliant flames propelling it skyward. Within moments, Atlantis disappeared into the gray clouds, leaving only a hazy trail behind.

Twelve days later, Shannon completed her CAPCOM duties. I, on the other hand, drove 22 hours back to Michigan in my mom’s 2002 Corolla. Though our paths diverged, the launch left me in awe. And it was the work of Shannon and other visionaries that brought me that moment of inspiration.

Shannon’s story is a reminder that progress doesn’t come from waiting for permission – it comes from challenging limits, not taking “no” as the final answer, and proving what’s possible through action. In business, as in space exploration, the biggest leaps happen when we push past resistance and pursue what others deem impossible.

So, what barriers are in your way? And more importantly, are you going to let them stop you?