Explore the Collection
History doesn't arrive all at once. Pinned is organized the way a museum organizes a timeline — walk through in order, or step directly into the era that interests you.
Each section of the scale spans fifty years, except the last, which runs from 2000 to today.
1858–1979
The pattern at its starkest: a man's word, a doctor's compliance, and a woman with no legal standing to object. Decades before the Hatpin Laws, the same reflex — treating a woman's independence as a problem to be diagnosed and contained.
June 18, 1860. Elizabeth Packard disagreed with her husband's theology. He had her committed on his word alone — and Illinois law said that was enough.
April 1867. London's surgeons voted to expel a colleague for removing the clitoris to treat insanity. Similar operations went on in America for decades.
November 1941. Rosemary Kennedy was singing on an operating table when the doctors decided she'd said enough. Her father never asked her.
October 1971. Wisconsin police committed Alberta Lessard without a hearing. She sued from inside the system — and rewrote the rules for the whole country.
June 1858. Rosina Bulwer-Lytton confronted her husband at his election and was certified insane within weeks. Illinois had already put that power in writing.
1903–1920
Where the pattern for this project starts: a decade of women defending themselves in public, and the press that turned them from heroines into a menace.
May 1903. Leoti Blaker, a hatpin, and the incident popular memory calls the beginning.
A month earlier, in East St. Louis, a woman named Mayme Andrews did the same thing — and nobody remembers her name.
How a single well-told story became a summer of copycat headlines, and what actually spread.
1903 to 1910, headline by headline: how an accident narrative and a self-defense narrative quietly merged into one "hatpin problem."
Real accidents, a foot-long steel pin, and a widely repeated death story that may never have happened at all.
Sydney, 1912: sixty women jailed rather than pay a hatpin fine, and the international spread of a panic that never really needed America to start.
Chicago, March 1910: a packed council chamber, a $50 fine, and a vote that looked like consensus but wasn't.
Nan Davis got the floor before the vote and told the council exactly what was wrong with the ordinance. It passed anyway.
A circus rider fined $1, ordinances copied almost word for word from Chicago's, and penalties from a dollar to six months in jail. Every version targeted the pin.
The hatpin bills that died, in Philadelphia, St. Louis, Los Angeles, and Wilkes-Barre, where a council clerk named Emma Schwager was handed the deciding vote.
1911–1960s
A woman didn't have to picket or ride a streetcar to trigger the pattern. She just had to work.
1911. Hallie Janes Jameson was barred from her own classroom for getting married, sued, and won — and it took decades for the ruling to matter.
September 1945. A UAW committee told its board that women were being pushed out of the plants. Federal figures, a job-service letter, and local papers show how it worked.
1913–1920
The same pattern, raised in stakes: what happens when the claim to public space becomes a claim to political power, and the backlash moves from newspaper columns into prison cells.
November 14, 1917. Thirty-three women, a superintendent named Whittaker, and a night the Silent Sentinels made sure the country couldn't ignore.
March 3, 1913. A parade, a mob the police wouldn't clear, and Ida B. Wells refusing to march at the back.
A cartoonist who drew for both sides, and the postcards, pamphlets, and household hints that argued a woman who wanted the vote had already lost something better.
1928–Today
A rule said women couldn't go the distance. When they did, the argument moved from what they could do to whether it had counted.
April 19, 1966. Roberta Gibb ran the Boston Marathon from the bushes and finished ahead of most of the men. The next day, the race director said she hadn't run it.
April 19, 1967. Kathrine Switzer ran Boston with an official number. Two officials went after it, so she wouldn't count as a contestant.