The year was 1892, and in a one-room shack in Atlanta, Texas, a little girl named Bessie Coleman was born to a world that offered her almost nothing. She was Black. She was a woman. And she was poor—three strikes in a society determined to keep her grounded.
But Bessie was different. From the moment she could walk, she dreamed big—bigger than cotton fields, bigger than segregation, bigger than anything the Jim Crow South had to offer.
From a young age, she excelled in school—especially in math—but opportunities for Black women were limited. She became a manicurist in Chicago to make ends meet, but her dreams didn’t stop at the salon. They took flight—literally—when her brothers returned from World War I with incredible stories of France, where women, even Black women, were flying airplanes.
Bessie decided then and there: If they can do it, so can I.
But there was a problem. Actually, several. In America, flight schools did not accept women. They certainly didn’t accept Black women. Racism and sexism clipped her wings before she even reached the runway.
Most people would have given up. Not Bessie.
She saved every penny she could from her job as a manicurist in Chicago. And when that wasn’t enough, she found a way. With the help of Robert Abbott, the influential founder of the Chicago Defender newspaper, Bessie raised the money to chase her dream—across the ocean.
In 1920, she boarded a ship to France, alone, speaking barely any French. But she had courage. And that was enough.
In France, Bessie enrolled at the Caudron Brothers’ School of Aviation in Le Crotoy. There, on a windy airfield, surrounded by men who doubted her, Bessie Coleman learned to fly. She learned to handle a plane with skill and daring—looping and rolling through the skies like a bird set free.
On June 15, 1921, she did the impossible: Bessie Coleman earned her international pilot’s license from the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale. She was the first Black woman—and the first Native American woman—to become a licensed pilot in the world.
When Bessie returned to America, she was a sensation. The press called her “Queen Bess.” Crowds flocked to see her at air shows, where she performed death-defying stunts—barrel rolls, figure eights, and heart-stopping dives.
But Bessie wasn’t just flying for fame. She had a mission: to inspire other Black men and women to dream bigger. She refused to perform at events that excluded African Americans, insisting on equality even when it cost her opportunities.
Bessie wanted to open a flight school for Black pilots—so that no one would ever have to cross an ocean just to chase a dream.
Tragically, on April 30, 1926, during a practice flight for an air show in Jacksonville, Florida, tragedy struck. A mechanical failure sent her plane spiralling. Bessie, who wasn’t wearing a seatbelt so she could lean out and scout the landing area, was thrown from the plane. She was only 34 years old. The world mourned. Thousands attended her funeral. And yet, Bessie Coleman’s dream didn’t die with her. Her courage inspired generations of Black aviators, from the Tuskegee Airmen to the astronauts who would one day soar beyond the skies.
Today, Bessie Coleman is remembered as a trailblazer who refused to be told “no.” Her name graces schools, scholarships, and even a U.S. postage stamp. In 2023, American Airlines honoured her by featuring her on a commemorative aircraft—because the skies she once fought to enter now celebrate her presence.
Bessie Coleman lived in a time that told her no—and she answered with flight. Her story isn’t just about aviation; it’s about courage, vision, and the relentless pursuit of dreams.
Because of Bessie, the next generation of pioneers—on Earth and beyond—knows this truth: when you dare to dream, even the sky cannot hold you.
