I have been fascinated by space my whole life. Like many of the women in this book, I remember looking up in awe at the night sky as a child, learning the constellations, hoping to catch sight of a shooting star. I was captivated by the Moon, bright and beautiful, by the stories of those who had walked on it years before I was even born, and by the Space Shuttles that were roaring into orbit.
But I didn’t long to be an astronaut or to work in the space industry – to me, those were jobs done in America, a world away from the suburbs of London where I was growing up. I simply enjoyed solving puzzles, trying to understand what I observed around me, and playing with machines and computers.
Three decades later, and I’ve taken my fascination with space and turned it into a career that has fulfilled and surpassed anything I ever thought possible back then. The story of how I went from one to the other is part ambition, part determination and part good fortune, but it is a path that I believe anyone can tread, just as the amazing women in this book have done.
At school, I liked maths, science, music, and learning how the world worked. Aged ten, I followed eagerly when the papers were full of the first British astronaut going to space – Helen Sharman. Six years later, my physics teacher, Mr Farrow, held up a yellow leaflet and asked if anyone was interested in going to something that sounded very exciting, Space School. Generously my parents agreed that I could go. So I trundled off on my own that summer, and spent a week enthralled by lessons in rocketry and engineering. To my amazement I even visited a company in the UK which made satellites. Slowly, I started to see that my passion for space might actually lead to a job, something that had never crossed my mind before.
In the first year of A levels, my friends and I were tasked with finding placements for work shadowing. I clearly remember us sitting in the common room, discussing what we would like to do. Some were writing to doctors, lawyers and vets, others to musicians or theatres. Someone asked what I would like to do and without blinking I replied, ‘I want to work at NASA one day.’ Two of us hatched a plan – we would email NASA – not for a moment thinking it would succeed. A couple of weeks later, we were flabbergasted. Not only had we got a reply, but they had said yes! So in March 1998 we set off for two weeks in Houston.
Out of this world doesn’t even begin to cover the visit, and all the brilliant things we saw, from the Moon rocks to spacewalk training and many things in between. But I will never, ever, forget walking into mission control, sitting next to Cathy Larson, the propulsion engineer, and watching the team practise Shuttle launch-and-abort scenarios. As soon as I put on the headset, heard the flight director bring the team of hugely talented people together, and watched as they harmoniously responded to problems in real time, I knew this was where I belonged.
I came back from that trip with a new dream – to work in mission control. How that was going to happen, I had no idea. I was a Brit and NASA only hired US citizens. The British government did not support human space flight, so after Helen Sharman surely we’d never have anything as exciting as another astronaut. I quietly filed my ambitions away, thinking it was most likely impossible.
I went off to study physics at university, then a fascinating master’s degree in space engineering, before joining a graduate training scheme at Astrium, the satellite company I had visited years before. I spent three years installing a new control centre for some communications satellites, and preparing for their launch, loving every moment of my work. But as I learnt that the European Space Agency (ESA) was going to become part of the International Space Station (ISS) and was preparing to launch a new scientific laboratory into orbit called Columbus, I became restless and started thinking about how I could be a part of the programme.
When I saw an advert for an instructor at the Columbus Control Centre in Germany, I applied and was very excited when I was asked to visit for an interview. After being quizzed on my abilities, I was given a tour of the facility. As my guide held his pass up to enter the control room, my heart raced. When I stepped into the cavernous room, I had the same feeling I had had a decade earlier in Houston – the peace and tranquillity of a control room, bathed in the glow of dozens of computer monitors, the beating heart of a space mission. Though I spoke no German and had no clue what moving to Europe would involve, when they offered me the job I knew I had to take it.
As soon as I began training flight controllers, I told anyone who would listen that I wanted to be one myself, and that one day I wanted to be a flight director. My managers took note and my tenacity paid off – before long, I was going through the months of intense training. I finally took my seat in mission control as a data and communications flight controller. Then three years later my impossible dream became a reality – I was in charge of a control room, overseeing day-to-day operations as a Columbus flight director.
My job brought together two of my great passions: solving puzzles and space. I led the mission control team during shifts, keeping the crew and the spacecraft safe whilst we worked to help them accomplish their daily planned activities. I relished simulations, when we were challenged with problem after problem. Most days in the simulated version of the space station ended with experiments that refused to work properly, malfunctioning life support and data systems, and often a fire or a water leak. The practices made sure we could handle real problems confidently and safely, and help the crew get the science experiments done every day.
I was just thirty years old, with the job of my dreams. What on earth would I do next?
In 2013, on holiday with a friend, I was waiting in the baggage reclaim hall at Munich airport and idly scrolling through Twitter. Suddenly I squealed. My friend looked over quizzically. ‘Tim Peake is going to space!’ I all but shouted across the airport. In November 2012, the UK government had somewhat unexpectedly decided to contribute to the ISS. Just six months later, much sooner than I had thought would happen, Tim Peake had been assigned a flight – finally a second astronaut representing the UK was going into space. I simply had to be part of the mission.
When the UK Space Agency advertised for someone to manage their education and outreach programme for Tim’s flight, I knew, just knew, that the job was perfect for me. Throughout my career, I had always believed that the inspirational value that space, and particularly astronauts, gives young children is priceless. Although I didn’t have all the qualifications listed, I applied, hopeful that if I could just get an interview I could show them what they were missing.
One dreary December day I made my way to the UK Space Agency in Swindon. I had done my homework and came with a vision for a space education programme like nothing before. A few weeks later, my preparation and passion paid off and to my utter elation, I was offered the job. The Union Jack was on an astronaut’s arm once more, and supported by colleagues from the UK Space Agency and a host of other organisations, we planned and delivered a hugely successful educational programme – determined that children from all around the country would have the opportunity to learn and be inspired by science and space.
I now manage human space flight and microgravity science in the UK, something that throughout my life seemed unimaginable for anyone to do, let alone me. Today though, space isn’t just for those in the USA or Russia; it is a worldwide industry that underpins everyday life, from weather forecasting to satellite navigation, communications to exploring the solar system. The sector is growing and needs young people to follow their dreams and join it.
I’ve never lost sight of my own dreams, have seized every opportunity, and always worked as hard as possible to do my very best. I’m so proud of all I’ve done in my career, but some of my most treasured achievements are from life outside of work. I was terrible at languages, my English teachers despaired of me, and I was always the last to be picked for any sports team. Since then I’ve moved to another country and learnt to speak the language, I’ve run the London Marathon – twice – and now, to my amazement, I’ve written a book. With hard work and determination anyone can achieve anything they set their mind to.
This book, so beautifully illustrated by students from the London College of Communication, tells the extraordinary stories of over fifty talented and heroic women from throughout history who have all played their part in humankind’s journey into the stars above. In a field that has historically been dominated by men, it is vitally important to celebrate the achievements and contributions of women to remind us all, particularly young people, that anyone can follow their dreams into the world of space. The historical dominance of the USA and the Soviet Union in the early days of exploration mean that many of the women featured are from these countries, but this is not a reflection of the industry today. Space is by its very definition an international arena and in such a large undertaking, countries find that working together can be much more beneficial to all.
There are, of course, thousands of women worldwide who play and have played vital roles in the story of human space flight, and to pick out just fifty in this book was incredibly difficult. Many more engineers, scientists, doctors, lawyers, managers, technicians, astronauts and people in countless other jobs have made superb contributions, and the fact that they are not included here is no reflection on their abilities or achievements.
There are some common themes that run through the stories in this book. The women, regardless of the period of history they were living in, refused to be limited by any barriers that society tried to place upon them, and wouldn’t listen to anyone suggesting that they couldn’t or shouldn’t strive to fulfil their ambitions. They have followed their passions, grabbed opportunities whenever they arose, stayed motivated and always endeavoured to do their very best. It wasn’t possible to include all of the amazing details of their lives in these pages, but I hope I am able to give you a taste of their remarkable achievements. I urge you to find out more about them, and indeed the many other people who have made human space flight possible. I promise you will be enthralled by their stories.
Remember, find your passion in life, whatever it might be. Never lose sight of it and don’t be afraid to tell anyone what it is. Seek out opportunities and grab them wholeheartedly. Don’t shy away from making difficult decisions, and never be scared to ask. You can do anything you set your mind to. Above all, have fun and enjoy all you do, life is too short for anything else.
When I left school, my head teacher wrote in everyone’s yearbook, ‘The sky’s the limit!’, but then she said, ‘I don’t think that’s true’. It’s the same for everyone. The whole universe is out there and it’s waiting for you.
LIBBY JACKSON, August 2017