Tributes collected for Women’s History Month remind us of the myriad forms that inspiration can take in our lives
Photo illustration: Momo Shinzawa
We asked members of the university community, in honor of Women’s History Month, to share stories of the women who inspire them, drawing from either the public sphere or the personal. The tributes we received spotlight scholars and survivors, leaders and loved ones who illustrate the many ways in which care, courage, and conviction can be modeled.
We hope you enjoy these reflections.
When I was 9, my mother, Gabrielle Burton, bought a motorcycle. She was doing research for her first novel, about a contemporary historian retracing the 1849 cross-country route of pioneer Tamsen Donner. First-gen and with no artists in her family, my mother was also figuring out her voice as a writer, how to balance parenting and work, how to have life adventures as a wife and mother of five daughters.
Her motorcycle trip morphed into our whole family piling into our Chevrolet station wagon to follow the Oregon Trail. We camped on Tamsen’s farm in Illinois, connected with historical experts, laid flowers on pioneer graves, examined diaries in archives, and kept our own daily journals. This trip is a touchstone for so much of who I am and for my work with Five Sisters Productions and the Half the History Project. My mother went on to carve out an amazing life, running as a delegate for Shirley Chisholm, mentoring refugees, going to film school in her 50s, organizing regular family gatherings that cemented our bonds. And through it all, she wrote.
Thirty years after our trip, she published two books about Tamsen, the novel Impatient with Desire and the memoir Searching for Tamsen Donner (a Fresh Air top 10 book-of-the-year). It’s never over until it’s over, as she would say. So, I honor my mother, who inspires me every day to explore the richness of historical women’s stories, to care deeply for community and family without losing myself, to follow the trail of my most expansive imaginings.
—Jennifer Burton, professor of the practice, Theatre, Dance, and Performance Studies
I met Dr. Louise Nadeau on the inaugural Governing Council of the newly formed Canadian Institutes of Health Research (CIHR). The CIHR was established to transform medical research funding in Canada by bringing the biomedical, clinical, health services, and determinants of health research communities together.
A renowned and decorated clinical psychologist, Louise was vice-chair and had the challenging role of advocating for and leading the integration of the biopsychosocial community into the CIHR. Louise graciously welcomed me as an early career faculty member and soon became a mentor. Her inspiring fight to expand our view of health research, effectively combining expertise with passion to advocate for change, had a profound effect on me that has lasted over 25 years.
—Alastair Cribb, dean and Henry and Lois Foster Professor, Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine
I first discovered Elaine Goodale Eastman in college, when I had a summer job in an archive.
Image: Wikimedia Commons
From the yellowed newspaper clippings and frayed letters, the forcefulness and agency of this young white woman who defied her conservative New England roots and society’s admonitions to travel West, teach Native American children with innovative pedagogies, marry a Lakota doctor despite the disapproval of her family, and develop her own voice through different genres of writing spoke to and inspired me. Fast-forward decades: even though my research for Love and Loss After Wounded Knee made me aware of aspects of Elaine’s character and life I questioned, I’ve never lost the sense that she was a strong, compelling, complex woman who should be better known than she is.
—Julie Dobrow, teaching professor, Eliot-Pearson Department of Child Study and Human Development
I am inspired by countless women who have worked fiercely to feed the world.
Photo: Wikipedia/Library of Congress
I am fortunate that my work in the Mississippi Delta brought me to Fannie Lou Hamer’s memorial garden to celebrate her life. Fannie was a women’s rights activist and community organizer who, among many accomplishments, started the Freedom Farm Cooperative, an agricultural organization that supplemented the nutritional needs of and inspired economic development for the people in the Delta. Her courage, determination, and fight for food and nutrition equity are an ongoing inspiration for me.
—Christina Economos, dean, professor, and New Balance Chair in Childhood Nutrition, Gerald J. and Dorothy R. Friedman School of Nutrition Science and Policy
My daughter Christina continues to inspire me every day. She was 22 when she died, but her impact during those short years was profound. Christina modeled how to live a joyful life grounded in her commitment to making a difference in people’s lives.
Everybody was important to her, and she made everybody feel special. For Christina, it was about putting others before herself. While disappointed that she did not make the Division I lacrosse team when she was a student at Boston University, she instead started BU’s first girls’ lacrosse club, modeling what it means to be a team player. It was with this same spirit that she served as a coach at Revolution Lacrosse, teaching and mentoring young girls.
There is no greater tragedy in a mother’s life than to lose a child. Christina taught me how much opportunity we have, every day, to make a difference in people’s lives. In my office, I have one of her journals in which she wrote, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” It is my reminder that I can make an impact every day. That is the essence of who she was, and that is the essence of who I am, because of her.
—Caroline Genco, provost and senior vice president
I learnt to cook from my mother-in-law, Hema Murli. Always dressed in a sari, she keeps an impeccable home. If you meet her, you might think that she is a traditional Indian homemaker. You would be dead wrong.
She earned a Ph.D. in biology from Johns Hopkins in the early 1960s. At Hopkins at that time, the undergraduate program was not co-ed and Ph.D. students from India were quite rare. She worked for decades as a scientist, helping drug development. Widely read, she can hold her own in any debate. And she is an avid baseball and football fan, following both Washington and Baltimore.
I learnt more than cooking from my mother-in-law. I learnt that you let your achievements speak for themselves, that confidence comes from knowing that you have contributed to society rather than how it might superficially view you, that you can keep the best of your cultural roots while being a productive citizen of your adopted country.
—Sunil Kumar, president
My mom, Irene Kimball, inspires me. She is the most positive and upbeat person I’ve ever known.
She has been through a lot, but no matter what she has on her own plate, she prioritizes others and always makes time for everyone else. Her smile and spirit are contagious, and her selfless acts of kindness make everyone around her better. Even when faced with grim circumstances, she seems to effortlessly exude relentless positivity. She is thoughtful, caring and committed, but it is her optimism and selflessness that are most inspiring to me. She is determined to do good and goes above and beyond to make things better. Her family and friends would emphatically agree that she is undoubtedly our biggest fan. My mom inspires me—to be better! Here she is performing at halftime of the Celtics game with the POMtastics, her cheerleading team!
—Alexis Mastronardi, deputy director of athletics
When I moved from the South to Massachusetts as a recent college graduate, everything around me felt unfamiliar.
I was searching for something steady, something that felt like home, and that search led me to a group of women who changed my life. Through them, I found Gladys “Skippy” Daniel and her young daughter, and with them, a sense of sisterhood and family I didn’t even know I was missing.
Skippy became more than a mentor or a model of professional success—though she was both accomplished and deeply respected. She became my chosen sister. She is the person I lean on, the one who shows up with love, honesty, and strength. She knows when to comfort me and when to challenge me, always wanting the best for who I am and who I am becoming. She inspires me to keep growing and reminds me, in quiet and meaningful ways, that I hold a special place in her heart—and she will always hold one in mine.
—Katrina Moore, director, Tufts Africana Center
As a Tufts undergraduate, after taking cell biology and electron microscopy with [Professor of Biology] Nancy Milburn, I was inspired to do a special project with her, looking at tissues from patients with periodontal disease, using electron microscopy.
Photo: Tufts Archival Research Center
(I obtained samples from Dr. Irving Glickman at Tufts School of Dental Medicine; my parents, who were both dentists, were friends of his.) I was awed by the great love Professor Milburn had for research, and how patiently she worked to achieve her goals. I learned that you must persevere to achieve results. It was not always easy or straightforward. She was always positive and encouraging. Working with Nancy Milburn inspired me to follow in her footsteps and focus on dental research. First, I isolated enamel proteins for my Ph.D., and then after dental school, I pursued clinical translational research to study Sjögren’s disease. Her mentorship helped me try several treatments, and now, finally, this winter, we are going to the FDA with the first biologic for Sjögren’s disease.
—Athena Papas, J67, A97P, A04P, Distinguished Professor of Basic and Clinical Translational Sciences and Johansen Professor of Dental Research, School of Dental Medicine
I first met Sally Aman in 1992, when I was a 19-year-old college student volunteering for the Clinton–Gore campaign in Missouri. Sally was the campaign’s state communications director, responsible for organizing high-profile events, managing press coverage, coordinating with Little Rock, and keeping a complex operation running in a critical bellwether state into which both campaigns were pouring resources.
(Don’t laugh: From 1904 to 2004, Missouri only voted for the losing presidential candidate once.) Sally had a demanding role that she carried off with confidence, composure, and, ultimately, success. (Clinton won Missouri by 10 points.)
Sally later gave me opportunities to continue working with her on the inauguration and, eventually, at the White House when she landed a senior position. I’m writing today not in appreciation of the chances she gave me (though I am forever grateful), but because of what she taught me about leadership. When chaos erupted, Sally stayed calm. When things went wrong, she focused not just on fixing the problem, but on how a crisis could be transformed into an opportunity. And she was willing to give people a chance, even a 19-year-old kid who should have been focusing a bit more on his classes.
Watching Sally work taught me that effective leadership isn’t loud or performative. It’s about being calm and steady under pressure. Decades later, the lessons I learned from Sally still shape how I try to approach challenges and work with others.
—Mike Rodman, vice president of communications and marketing
In thinking about women who inspire me, I turn not to historical figures but to a woman who is making history as I write these words: Gisèle Pelicot.
In 2020, Madame Pelicot was informed that her husband of 50 years had been drugging her into a coma-like state and, from 2011 to 2020, inviting dozens of men to their home to rape her. Her husband had filmed the rapes, which provided gruesome hours of evidence of the abuse by upwards of 50 men. Many of the accused insisted they had not committed rape because her husband had granted them permission to abuse his unconscious wife.
When her case went to trial, the assumption was that this would be a closed hearing of the sort meant to protect the victim-survivor’s privacy and, by extension, dignity. In the trial chambers, Mme. Pelicot flipped the shame script by demanding an open trial. Yes, her name would be made public, but so would the names and photos of the men who had raped her. As she insisted, it was time for shame to shift sides. Rather than serving as further victimization for survivors, the shame belongs squarely on the shoulders of those who earned it: the rapists.
Thank you, Gisèle Pelicot, for scripting a new way forward.
—Kimberly Theidon, Henry J. Leir Professor in International Humanitarian Studies, The Fletcher School
