Bessie Coleman

Hello! My name is Bessie Coleman, and I was the first African American and Native American woman to earn a pilot’s license. My story starts long before I ever saw an airplane, back in a small town called Atlanta, Texas. I was born on January 26th, 1892, into a big family. I had twelve brothers and sisters! We lived in a small house and my family worked as sharecroppers, picking cotton under the hot sun. It was hard work, but I had a big dream. I loved school, especially math, and I read every book I could find. I knew, even as a little girl, that I wanted to do something special with my life.

When I was 23 years old, in 1915, I moved to the big city of Chicago to live with my brothers. I worked as a manicurist, painting nails in a barbershop. My brothers had been soldiers in France during World War I, and they came back with amazing stories. They told me that in France, women were allowed to fly airplanes! My brother John even teased me, saying that French women were better than Black women because they could fly. That dare lit a fire in me. I decided right then and there: I was going to become a pilot. But when I tried to sign up for flying schools in America, every single one turned me away. They said no because I was a woman and because I was African American. But I refused to give up.

If America wouldn't teach me, I would go to France! I got help from important people in Chicago, like Robert S. Abbott, who owned a newspaper. I worked hard, saved my money, and even took French classes at night. Finally, on November 20th, 1920, I sailed across the ocean. In France, I learned to fly in a rickety plane that looked like it was made of sticks and wires. It was scary, but also thrilling! Just seven months later, on June 15th, 1921, I earned my international pilot's license. I had done it! I was so proud to be the first woman of my race to become a licensed pilot.

When I came back to America in September of 1921, people were amazed. They called me 'Queen Bess' and 'Brave Bessie.' I became a 'barnstormer,' which is a fancy word for a stunt pilot. I performed at airshows all over the country, twisting and turning my plane in the sky. I would do loop-the-loops and figure eights, making the crowds gasp and cheer. But I had a bigger goal than just doing tricks. I wanted to open my own flying school for African Americans. I used my fame to fight for fairness. If a town wanted me to perform, I told them that everyone, Black and white, had to be able to come in through the same gate. My very first American airshow was on September 3rd, 1922, and it was a huge success.

My dream was to inspire others to fly, but my life in the sky was cut short. On April 30th, 1926, I was practicing for an airshow in Florida when there was a tragic accident with my plane. I lived to be 34 years old. Though I never got to build my school, my dream didn't end. I inspired a whole new generation of African American pilots, both men and women, who followed in my footsteps. People formed aviation clubs in my name, and my story continues to show people everywhere that you should never let anyone tell you that your dream is impossible.