The Necklace That Flies: Honoring Maggie Gee and the Legacy of Powerful Women
Maggie Gee
“When I was little, something special happened every Sunday. Other families went to baseball games or the movies, but not mine . . . We went to watch the airplanes.”
A Girl Who Looked Up
That little girl was Maggie Gee—born in 1923 in Berkeley, California, to a third-generation Chinese American family. At a time when girls—especially girls of color—were rarely encouraged to dream big, Maggie dared to look to the skies.
Like me, Maggie admired Amelia Earhart. Amelia wasn’t just a pilot—she was a symbol of adventure, courage, and fierce independence. She inspired generations of girls, including both of us, to imagine a life beyond limitations. While others looked straight ahead, we looked up.
When the World Changed, So Did She
When World War II broke out, Maggie left her physics studies at UC Berkeley to serve her country. She worked as a draftsman at Mare Island Naval Shipyard, one of the few women in her department. She saved every penny to attend flight school in Nevada.
Her determination paid off. Maggie became one of only two Chinese American women accepted into the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASP) program.
Service Without Recognition
As a WASP, Maggie:
Flew military aircraft
Ferried planes between bases
Co-piloted B-17s in mock dogfights to train bomber crews
Despite the real dangers and the skill it took, Maggie and her fellow WASPs were denied military benefits, honors, and even proper burials. If a WASP pilot died in service, her family had to pay to bring her home.
It wasn’t until 1977 that WASPs were finally granted veteran status—and not until 2010 that President Barack Obama awarded Maggie and the surviving WASPs the long-overdue Congressional Gold Medal, one of the nation’s highest civilian honors.
In recognition of her service and heritage, Maggie Gee was also awarded a second Congressional Gold Medal posthumously—this time as a Chinese American veteran of World War II, further honoring her place in both American and Asian American history.
In a 2003 interview, Maggie reflected on life and hope by saying:
"I'm very optimistic about the world and people... it will be alright... You can make changes. I think just one small person can make a little bit of change..." – Maggie Gee
Beyond the Cockpit
After the war, Maggie returned to UC Berkeley and completed her physics degree. She went on to work at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, where she was the only woman in her department—continuing to break barriers in science just as she had in aviation. There, she contributed to research in weapons systems and fusion energy, working in spaces where few women had ever been.
Maggie also became a leader in her community, serving on the Alameda County Democratic Central Committee and the California Democratic Party’s Executive Board.
I Met Maggie
I had the honor of meeting Maggie several times. She always drank hot water with lemon and had something wise to share. She didn’t speak loudly, but she always made an impact. Her presence was calm, intentional, and quietly powerful.
The Necklace
This necklace was a gift from Alexander Calder to his sister.
Maggie received a necklace—a silver piece with a large amber stone—from Margaret "Peggy" Calder Hayes, the sister of the legendary artist Alexander Calder. Peggy, an accomplished woman in her own right, was deeply involved in the arts and contributed to the development of the UC Berkeley Art Museum. Like her brother, she moved through the world with creativity and a sense of generosity—and this necklace was one of those gifts.
The piece wasn’t one of Alexander Calder’s iconic sculptural designs, but it carried the same spirit: bold, elegant, and full of presence. A wearable work of art.
Later, Maggie passed the necklace on to one of her best friends, Nancy Platford, saying: “A powerful women should have this.”
Nancy was a force of nature. She traveled the world, made her own money, and lived life fully on her own terms. She didn’t follow anyone’s map—she drew her own. Fierce, brilliant, and unapologetically herself, she was the embodiment of what it means to live with purpose and adventure.
On her deathbed—her body ravaged by cancer, yet still composed, present, and commanding the moment—Nancy passed the necklace on to me.
She looked at me, held my hand, and said the same words Maggie had spoken to her:
“A powerful women should have this.”
Legacy Around My Neck
That necklace is now one of my most cherished possessions. It holds more than silver and amber—it holds memory. It holds legacy. It holds love.
It’s a living symbol:
Of courage passed down
Of women who lift one another through generations
Of stories that carry more weight than we sometimes realize
And it reminds me that we must continue telling these stories—because they are how we stay connected, how we honor the women who came before us, and how we light the path for those yet to come.
A Story That Needs to Be Told
Maggie Gee’s life is a testament to how immigrants and their descendants have shaped this country—not just by surviving, but by contributing, dreaming, and leading.
Nancy’s life reminds me that you don’t have to follow a traditional path to leave a legacy. Some women forge their own.
And the necklace? It ties us all together.
One woman to the next.
One story to another.
One sky, opened wide for us all.
Until next time,
Wendy
