
Discover the erased heroines who built our digital world. "Broad Band" reveals how women like Ada Lovelace and Grace Hopper shaped computing across two centuries, challenging tech's male-dominated narrative. What groundbreaking online communities did women create while men got all the credit?
Claire L. Evans, author of Broad Band: The Untold Story of the Women Who Made the Internet, is a technology historian, Grammy-nominated musician, and celebrated voice in speculative fiction. A founding editor of VICE's science-fiction platform Terraform and singer of the avant-pop group YACHT, Evans intertwines art, technology, and cultural critique in her work.
Broad Band, a groundbreaking non-fiction exploration, reclaims the erased contributions of women in computing—from 19th-century programmers to dot-com pioneers—challenging Silicon Valley’s male-dominated narratives. Evans’ research draws from firsthand interviews with surviving tech pioneers, blending rigorous scholarship with narrative urgency.
A frequent contributor to The Guardian, WIRED, and Aeon, Evans also co-edited the anthology Terraform: Watch/Worlds/Burn and advises graduate design students at Art Center College of Design. Her interdisciplinary approach extends to her music: YACHT’s AI-collaborative album Chain Tripping and her talks at institutions like MIT reflect her fusion of creativity and technical innovation. Recognized by The Verge as one of the Greatest Tech Books of All Time (2023), Broad Band has become essential reading for reunderstanding technology’s hidden histories.
Broad Band uncovers the pivotal yet overlooked contributions of women to computing and internet development, from WWII-era programmers to 1990s web pioneers. Claire L. Evans traces their roles in creating ARPANET, hypertext systems, and early online communities, challenging the male-dominated narrative of tech history. The book blends technical innovation stories with social commentary on gender and technology.
Tech enthusiasts, feminists, and history buffs will find this book essential. It’s ideal for readers interested in intersectional tech history, reclaiming women’s legacy in STEM, or understanding how marginalized voices shaped the internet. Computer science students and professionals seeking a nuanced perspective on digital evolution will also benefit.
Yes. Evans’ well-researched narrative fills critical gaps in mainstream tech history, offering fresh insights into groundbreaking women like Elizabeth Feinler and Radia Perlman. Reviews praise its balance between technical detail and accessible storytelling, calling it a “satisfactory introduction” to internet origins and gender dynamics in tech.
The book highlights:
Evans argues that women’s contributions were systematically erased despite shaping foundational tech, from military computers to social web platforms. She critiques how commercialization replicated real-world inequalities online but also emphasizes these pioneers’ resilience as a blueprint for inclusive design.
The book spans:
Evans notes that while early web communities like Echo fostered inclusivity, commercialization entrenched sexism, racism, and class divides. She contrasts pioneers’ optimistic visions with modern challenges like misinformation, urging readers to “remake” tech by learning from this history.
Stacy Horn’s Echo, launched in 1990, was one of the first online spaces prioritizing gender balance and “safe” sub-communities. Evans frames it as a precursor to modern social media, highlighting how Horn’s grassroots approach countered the male-dominated internet culture of the time.
Unlike male-centric narratives (e.g., The Innovators), Broad Band recenters women as architects of digital infrastructure. It merges technical milestones (like Perlman’s networking protocols) with social context, offering a holistic view of innovation.
Some readers find the ending abrupt, as Evans shifts from critiquing tech’s flaws to advocating for systemic change without a clear roadmap. Critics suggest this pivot feels underdeveloped, leaving practical solutions for future works.
As debates about AI ethics and online equity intensify, Evans’ examination of historical exclusion offers lessons for building inclusive tech. The book’s focus on community-driven design resonates with current movements toward decentralized platforms.
Siente el libro a través de la voz del autor
Convierte el conocimiento en ideas atractivas y llenas de ejemplos
Captura ideas clave en un instante para un aprendizaje rápido
Disfruta el libro de una manera divertida y atractiva
Technology is never wholly separate from us.
Computing had become so associated with women that mathematicians measured machine power in 'girl-years'.
Johnson famously noted she was a computer back when 'the computer wore a skirt.'
It felt like history had been made that day, and then it had run over us and left us in its tracks.
Programming was seen as merely manipulating hardware.
Desglosa las ideas clave de Broad Band en puntos fáciles de entender para comprender cómo los equipos innovadores crean, colaboran y crecen.
Experimenta Broad Band a través de narraciones vívidas que convierten las lecciones de innovación en momentos que recordarás y aplicarás.
Pregunta cualquier cosa, elige tu estilo de aprendizaje y co-crea ideas que realmente resuenen contigo.

Creado por exalumnos de la Universidad de Columbia en San Francisco
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Creado por exalumnos de la Universidad de Columbia en San Francisco

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Your first computer probably wasn't remarkable-maybe a beige box with a screeching modem that transformed your bedroom into something magical. Mine certainly wasn't special by today's standards, yet it opened portals to worlds I'd never imagined. Those machines are gone now, recycled or rusting in distant landfills, but what they enabled remains: human connection across impossible distances. Here's what most technology histories won't tell you-the internet wasn't built by lone geniuses in garages. It was constructed, programmed, and imagined into existence by women whose names you've likely never heard. From the first algorithm to the social architecture of online communities, women have been there at every technological revolution, often doing work nobody valued until suddenly everyone did. For nearly two centuries, "computer" wasn't a machine-it was a job title. Classified ads sought human computers to perform complex calculations, charting stars and solving equations in intellectual factories. By the mid-twentieth century, this work became so associated with women that mathematicians measured machine power in "girl-years" and "kilogirls." The connection between textiles and computing runs deeper than metaphor. Joseph-Marie Jacquard's revolutionary loom used punched cards to weave intricate patterns, separating design from execution for the first time. Charles Babbage, inspired by a silk portrait of Jacquard woven using 24,000 punched cards, adopted textile language for his computing machines-"store" and "mill" became memory and processor.
Ada Byron, Lord Byron's daughter, met Babbage at seventeen and became fascinated by his Difference Engine. Denied university access due to her gender, she studied mathematics privately and realized what Babbage missed: his Analytical Engine could process any symbolically represented information - music, language, anything reducible to symbols. Her notes anticipated computer science by nearly a century. During World War II, the Navy sent Grace Hopper - a thirty-six-year-old mathematics professor deemed too old and underweight for service - to Harvard's physics laboratory. She mastered the Mark I computer without manual or instruction, maintaining 95% uptime during wartime. Her lasting contribution was democratizing computers through reusable code and documentation that let people communicate with machines using words rather than pure mathematics. In winter 1951, Grace completed the first compiler, A-0, enabling computers to write their own programs by compiling reusable subroutines into machine code, slashing development time from weeks to hours. The proliferation of different compilers created chaos. In 1959, Grace organized meetings that produced COBOL, a common business language. By 2000, 80% of planetary code was written in COBOL.
The ENIAC-Electronic Numerical Integrator and Computer-is celebrated as the first general-purpose electronic digital computer. What's rarely mentioned: it was programmed entirely by six women. Betty Snyder Holberton, Betty Jean Jennings Bartik, Ruth Lichterman Teitelbaum, Kathleen McNulty Mauchly Antonelli, Marlyn Wescoff Meltzer, and Frances Bilas Spence made the massive machine perform its calculations, yet press coverage of its 1946 debut completely ignored them. The New York Times erased both the female computers who did such calculations manually and the women who programmed them. After the demonstration, none of the six women were invited to the celebration dinner. Betty Jean Jennings later wrote that it felt like "history had been made that day, and then it had run over us and left us in its tracks." This erasure reflected programming's status as "subprofessional, clerical work." After the war, many pioneering women joined the Electronic Control Company, the world's first commercial computer company. Betty Holberton became its secret weapon-a programming genius who thought "like a radar screen," circling challenges until she understood them completely. She changed UNIVAC's color to the oatmeal beige that became standard and created the first program that could write other programs. Their work elevated programming to the same level as hardware engineering-forging connections with symbols instead of soldering wire.
In 1970s San Francisco, a technological commune operated from a massive warehouse. Pam Hardt-English, Sherry Reson, Mya Shone, and Chris Macie lived in hand-built spaces surrounding an SDS-940 mainframe computer worth $150,000. Pam, a Berkeley dropout with "stupendous determination," convinced TransAmerica Leasing to donate the machine as a tax write-off. Despite concrete floors and freezing temperatures, the group believed in making technology accessible through their community computing center, Resource One. When networking Bay Area social service switchboards failed, they installed a terminal at Leopold's record store in Berkeley, housed in a cardboard box labeled "Community Memory." Jude Milhon, a female hacker who later co-edited Mondo 2000, seeded the system with engaging questions like where to find decent bagels. The terminal became a vibrant community bulletin board, demonstrating how networked computing could strengthen local bonds years before the web existed. After Pam left in 1975, the remaining women created the Social Services Referral Directory-a shared database that expanded to two three-inch binders in every library and social services office across the Bay Area. While male hackers touted world-changing technology, these women applied computing locally for immediate community benefit-unglamorous work that connected social workers with families in desperate need.
Elizabeth "Jake" Feinler arrived at Stanford Research Institute in 1972, standing out in her business suit among bearded men in beanbags. Douglas Engelbart hired her to produce a "Resource Handbook" for ARPANET, the skeletal Internet funded by the Department of Defense. Jake contacted every host site, documenting their resources in the first comprehensive map of Internet infrastructure. She built the Network Information Center from a two-person operation into an eleven-million-dollar project managing the registry for new hosts and maintaining the crucial Host Table. She excluded formal titles from the directory, creating an egalitarian space where "a kid hacker would be talking to a Nobel Prize winner" without hierarchy. When the paper directory grew unwieldy, she built WHOIS-the original user profile system tracking domain ownership today. As the network expanded, Jake suggested dividing hosts into domains with now-familiar suffixes: .mil, .edu, .gov, .org, and .com. Near Jake's career end, Radia Perlman revolutionized networking at MIT. In 1985, she woke with an elegant solution to Ethernet's scaling limitations-the spanning-tree protocol. Her algorithm created unique, non-looping paths between networked computers, making the system infinitely scalable and self-healing.
While ARPANET was designed for research, email became its killer app, transforming it into a social medium. In 1988, Stacy Horn created Echo-East Coast Hang-Out-as a grittier New York alternative to The WELL. Despite banks dismissing the idea that "people would want to socialize via their computers," she invested her savings and recruited users at bars and art openings. Echo achieved nearly 50% female users when the Internet was only 10-15% women-through active recruitment, making membership free for women in 1990, and partnering with women's groups. Echo wasn't just virtual-83% of users met face-to-face at monthly Art Bar meetups, softball games, and cultural events. This real-world connection made Echo the "bedrock of Silicon Alley." Physical gatherings fostered online accountability-it's harder to be cruel to someone you'll see Monday. When Tim Berners-Lee demonstrated the World Wide Web at Hypertext '91, experts were unimpressed. However, being free and built on the Internet, the Web's network effect proved unstoppable. Marisa Bowe joined Echo as "Miss Outer Boro" and later led Word magazine in 1994, bringing her online cultural perspective to digital publishing.
Frustrated with the BBS boys' club, Nancy Rhine and Ellen Pack created Women's WIRE in the early 1990s-the first commercial online service for women. With user-friendly software, plain English commands, and all-female customer support, it quickly became a powerful community. By 1998, nearly 40 million women were online. Women's WIRE rebranded as women.com and pioneered web advertising, selling the first sponsored content to Levi's. Computers have no inherent gender, but cultural messaging discourages female participation early. Brenda Laurel founded Purple Moon to make games for girls. After interviewing nearly 1,000 children, she found girls avoided boys' games-they hated repetitive dying, found violence stressful, and weren't motivated by mastery alone. They preferred exploration, strong storylines, and collaborative play. In summer 1992, a provocative Sydney billboard proclaimed: "WE ARE THE VIRUS OF A NEW WORLD DISORDER." The Cyberfeminists-artists, coders, and writers-saw the Internet as a platform for free expression. Though commercialization showed the Internet wouldn't automatically liberate anyone from sexism, this overlap of activism and technology creates powerful tools for change. When we create technologies, we shape the world. The first step is seeing our technological history clearly, beyond myths of garages and lone geniuses. The second is learning from forebears like Ada Lovelace, Grace Hopper, and the women of Resource One who understood that technology's power lies in who gets to shape it and for what purpose.